#and i just tease it a bit and fix it with hairspray before going to the venue???

[born-to-lose]

What do I do with my hair for the H.E.A.T concert

[britany1997]

Hey it’s me!! 😁 just wanted to say keep up the amazing work and if you don’t mind, ima throw in a request! If you don’t feel like doing it, feel free to delete it! We do share a favorite, that’s for sure, paul! However do you write for Paul x reader x marko? If so here’s what I have (totally can just write for one too. Doesn’t have to be both! Like your rules said, have open artistic freeedom!) :) >

Paul x rocker fem! reader x marko? Maybe like a woman who loves rock but definitely dressed to impress? Like a blinged out jacket and leather skirt? Huge! Huge hair! (Kinda self projecting aha-) but would love to have like a blasting bike ride? Have blaring music riding down a Santa Carla high way on the back with one of their bikes just being terrors on the road? Being ahem ✨bike candy✨ or ✨backseat princess✨

And a spicy idea— maybe RIDING *wink wink* one of them while they ride their bike? Or sit on the bike. However? Just sounds like some shit they’d do. But really it’s open to you. I’m just projecting some ideas I’ve had for a while!

Love the visual of them all standing at a gas station like ✨⛽️🧍🏍️✨⛽️🧍🏍️✨⛽️🧍🏍️✨⛽️🧍 🏍️all filling up their bikes and just jingling subtly with all the jewelry and chains.

So sorry this got long. LOL! But again keep up the great work and I’ll always support you boo! 💗💗

Passenger Princess

Hey bestie🫶 thanks so much for the encouragement, you’re so sweet🥹 this was so fun to write! Hope you love it💕

Paul x Fem reader x Marko

Reblog or comment to support my writing:)

Warnings: Smut minors DNI, fingering, nipple play, riding (fucking on the bike while it’s on) biting, cum eating, p n v sex, think that’s it

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You squealed, bouncing on the back of Marko’s bike as he sailed over yet another bump in the road. You brought your hands closer together, tightening your grip around his waist. Vampires weren’t exactly the most cautious drivers, and you weren’t wearing a helmet.

Your boys had tried, but you’d refused. You spent way too much on hairspray to have your masterpiece ruined by helmet hair.

Marko had rolled his eyes at your protesting, but Paul had understood.

“It’s hard work keeping up with a mane like this,” he’d pleaded your case while fixing his own glorious hairstyle into place.

You almost regretted it when Marko hit a huge pothole, but nothing beat the feeling of the salty sea wind blowing through your locks while you zoomed through Santa Carla at night.

Marko turned towards you a bit when he felt your grip tighten around him. “Gonna stop to fuel up soon bella ragazza,” he promised.

You nodded back and leaned your head against his back as he sped.

The hum of the motor died down as Marko pulled to a stop at a pump. It wasn’t long before Paul rode up to the other side.

“Hey slowpoke, was wondering if you’d make it here before morning,” Marko teased.

“Ha ha.” Paul replied, “had to drive behind ya so I’d catch her if she flew off the bike Evel Knievel.”

He dismounted and strode over to your side as Marko began to fill up his tank. You moved to slide off but Paul picked you up before you could.

“Hey!” you exclaimed as he spun around with you in his arms.

“Princess like you shouldn’t have her feet touchin’ the ground baby, we’re gonna carry you everywhere,” he promised as he rubbed his nose against yours.

You blushed at Paul’s sweet talk, “yeah you’re a real prince Paulie, you gonna put me down now?”

Marko shoved the fuel dispenser back into place before stealing you from Paul. “Serious baby,” he smiled as he held you, “let us take care of our pretty little rockstar yeah?”

Your face flushed a deeper red while Paul pouted at his suddenly empty arms. “Not cool bud,” he mumbled.

“Go fill up your bike Paulie,” Marko teased as he placed you back on his motorcycle.

His hands fell to your knees as he pulled them apart and moved to stand between your legs. You let out a tiny gasp at his sudden closeness.

Marko leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he began to toy with the hem of your jet black skirt. He licked your ear, forcing a whimper from your full lips.

“Love you in a skirt dolcezza,” he placed his hands on your thighs, pushing up the skirt so it bunched around your hips.

“Marko,” you warned, “people will see…”

Marko quirked a brow as he took one of his hands from your hips and reached under your skirt. A gasp fell from your lips.

“See what baby?” he asked as you fought to keep a moan from spilling out, “see me standin’ in front of you? Can’t see anything else from this angle,” he pulled your soaked panties to the side and pushed a finger into you. You took in a sharp breath.

Paul waved frantically, causing your head to turn as Marko crooked his finger inside you. “I dunno guys, I’m seeing a lot more than standing from over here,” he mocked.

“Jealous,” Marko sing-songed.

Paul crossed his arms, his lip jutting out as he leaned back against the pump.

You reached out for him, your other hand wrapped around Marko’s shoulder. “Need you too Paulie,” you breathed between whimpers and moans as Marko pushed another finger into you, swiping his thumb across your swollen clit.

If Paul had a tail it’d be wagging. His smile stretched from ear to ear. He came up behind you, pulling off your deep purple leather jacket and sliding his hands under your top. “Thought you’d never ask honey,” he whispered in your ear.

“Hey Paulie,” Marko smirked as he continued to toy with you.

“Hey Marko,” Paul replied as he leaned forward.

Marko’s lips met his, both boys pressing their bodies against yours as they shared a sensual kiss.

The sight, combined with Marko stroking your clit, and Paul circling your nipples threw you over the edge. Your head fell back onto Paul’s shoulder as you coated Marko’s hands with your release.

Marko smiled into Paul’s lips as he felt your legs shake. He pulled away from Paul before withdrawing his fingers from you with a pop. You whimpered.

He sucked his middle finger clean, “mmm so sweet baby,” he said, kissing your forehead, “wanna taste Paulie?” he held out his hand to Paul.

“You know I do,” Paul replied as he leaned forward and sucked the rest of you off of Marko’s pointer finger.

“Taste so good honey,” Paul whispered in your ear, “that’s why I call ya sugar,” he winked.

Your head turned towards him with a lazy smile, “you’re pretty sweet yourself Paulie,” you pecked his lips, “you too,” you pecked Marko’s.

“But I’m gonna spend the rest of our joyride with sticky thighs, so not fair,” you pouted.

Marko’s angelic face turned devilish as a smirk spread across his lips, “can’t have that now can we bella?”

He kneeled in front of you as Paul held your waist from behind. Your hands found their place in Marko’s curly hair, pulling lightly as he licked your thighs clean.

When he finished he smoothed your skirt back into place and put his head on your lap, “can’t get enough of you pretty girl.”

You couldn’t stop the blush that rose to your cheeks, they knew exactly what to say to make your heart race.

Paul cleared his throat from behind, “speaking of not gettin’ enough, I think maybe I deserve to have ya on my bike the rest of the night.”

You giggled, “ok Paulie, whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? How bout I take you for a ride then?”

You shot him a confused look, “Isn’t that what you just said?”

He smirked, “no babe, I’m takin you on my bike, but I’d also like to take you on my bike, ya know?”

Your lips parted in shock.

“Betcha wish you had that helmet now, huh babe?” Marko teased.

You hesitated, but the proposition made your thighs clench. “What if we crash?”

Paul’s face turned serious, “sugar I wanna make you feel good, I would never let anything happen to you,” he promised, “if you’re not comfortable, say the word and I’ll just drive you around, it’s whatever you want baby.”

You bit your lip, “no…I want to,” you told him, your voice heavy with desire, “I trust you.”

He smiled and kissed you softly, “I’ll take real good care of you babe I promise.”

He slithered around to your front, wrapping his hands around your thighs and squeezing lightly. He moved down and slid his hands up your skirt, rolling down your panties and stuffing them in Marko’s back pocket.

“Paul,” you breathed in shock.

“Just woulda gotten in the way sugar,” Paul winked as he squeezed Marko’s ass.

You smiled as your wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He slipped his hands under your thighs and carried you to his bike, placing you down towards the front of the seat.

You turned slightly to reach out and unbuckle paul’s belt, much to his surprise. You winked, “it’d just get in the way.”

He smiled and kissed you as he took over for you, turning you back to face the handlebars before freeing himself from his jeans and mounting the bike behind you. He flicked the kickstand up, but before he could start the engine, you gasped.

His brow furrowed and he leaned around to your side, “what’s wrong baby?”

“My jacket…” you pouted.

“Got it!” Marko called from his bike, holding it up for you to see, “don’t worry dolcezza, I know a thing or two about keeping a jacket safe,” he teased.

You smiled, “let’s ride.”

Paul smirked, “don’t gotta tell me twice.”

He reved the engine, sending pleasurable vibrations throughout your body. You squeaked.

Paul laughed softly, “don’t get too excited, not even inside you yet honey.”

You couldn’t see him behind you, but you knew he was smirking. You rolled your eyes.

You gripped the handlebars, your hands sandwiched in between Paul’s so he could steer. He kissed your cheek before taking off down the road, Marko not far behind.

Paul pressed into you slowly as he maneuvered the bike.

You moaned as you felt the familiar stretch of him. You pushed back onto his throbbing cock.

He was half way in when he popped a wheelie, knocking a gasp from your lips and causing you to slide down on his dick until he was balls deep inside you.

“Paul!” you screamed, half in shock and half in pleasure.

He kissed your cheek in apology, “sorry sugar, couldn’t wait, you feel too good,” he moaned, “god you’re so warm, and wet, and tight. Fuck. Love this pretty little pussy more than anything. Love you more than anything.” His praise sent shivers through you.

He bit down on your shoulder as he began to move in and out of you slowly, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm, careful not to give you too much all at once.

Moans, gasps, and whimpers fell from your lips as Paul fucked you gently.

After awhile, he pulled a hand from the steering wheel and pushed you towards the fuel tank, pressing you clit up against it. He twisted the throttle, causing the bike to speed up and the tank to vibrate harder.

“Fuck Paul,” you moaned loudly as you felt the vibrations rip through you.

“Mmm feel good baby?” he whispered as he rolled his hips into you roughly, stroking the spongey spot deep inside you. You both moaned in unison as his movements caused you to clench down around him.

“Close sugar?” he asked, his voice strained and thick with arousal.

“Yeah,” you breathed in reply, “you?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, “cum with my baby, coat my dick for me,” he said as he roughly hit your g spot once more.

That sent you tumbling over the edge and you fell apart on his cock. He moaned your name as he came inside you, filling you up.

As he came down from his high, Paul pulled over to let you catch your breath. As soon as his kickstand went down, you collapsed forward on the motorcycle, exhausted. Your cum and his leaking out of you onto the seat.

He chuckled and gathered you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest. “You with me baby?” he asked as he pushed sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, “let’s do that again sometime.”

Paul laughed, “whenever you want babe, just say the word.”

Marko pulled to a stop next to the two of you. “How’s she doin?” he asked.

“She’s great,” you replied, “maybe ready to head home.”

Marko’s lips pulled up into a smile, “sounds good, but first…”

He stole you from Paul and set you down on his bike seat, legs facing him.

“First what?” you asked confused.

“Gotta take care of those sticky thighs again bella,” Marko winked as he kneeled down in front of you.

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Italian words:

Bella Ragazza- beautiful girl

Bella- beautiful

Dolcezza- sweetness

Taglist❤️:

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[maverickcalf]

Felt inspired by one of my friend's @ruztyryan real genius fic, so i wrote a bit more of the ship Chris x Vince (color of money). It deals with Vince's worries about meeting two of Chris's friends, but it will have more of a bittersweet vibe about it. Anyway since it is their birthday, I decided to post what I have so far.

Fic snippet under the cut!

Vince had spent far too much time fixing his hair. Far more than usual. But he really couldn't help it. Nerves had taken hold of him harder than they had before.

When he dated Carmen it was simple. It was just them. He didn't have to impress anyone else just to be with her.

Not that he had impressed Chris’s friends to stay with him… right? Sure Chris’s friends meant a lot to him but it wasn't like if he failed to please them he would break up with him…

Vince shook his head, damn, he just repeated his own thoughts. He was in a downward spiral, part of him knew that. The other part… well, remained in the spiral.

That being said he was quickly brought back to reality by a gentle kiss on his neck, followed by hands circling around his waist.

“If you use any more of that hairspray you are gonna get a headache not hungover.”

Chris's voice was smooth as ever and even if he was teasing Vince knew it wasn't any ill intentions behind it. 

Mostly because Chris told him that if he took this tone, that's what he meant.

Vince's hand gripping the hairspray fell to his side, only to lift it slightly, setting it down on the dresser.

“What if they don't like me?”

Chris sighed as he moved from breathing against Vince's neck to leaning his head against the other man's.

“They will.”

This time he sounded much more serious. Like he wanted to leave no room for doubt.

But it was still there, stewing in his stomach.

The lack of response got Chris to speak again, “We don't have to go.”

A lie. Vince knew Chris wouldn't back down from a promise. And that's what he had promised to his friends Ick and Mitch. That they would get to meet his new partner… partner.

“Do they… do they even know my name?”

Chris breathed in and out. Then hummed, “I haven't told them much of anything.”

Ah. That could be bad, what if they didn't know their friend liked men… or would accept a guy like him? Vince tried his best to keep his breathing steady, “So they don't know-?” 

“No. I figured you would tell them in your own time.” Chris spun Vince around to face him, now Vince could see the smile on his face, “Like you did with me.”

Vince found his face turning hot, his cheeks burning, and then he chuckled, “It was hard to hide it from you with you grinding against me.”

Chris smirked, kissing him on the cheek, seemingly unbothered by the heat, “So. It's not like they are gonna do that.”

“Sure…” Vince rolled his eyes, “They might be too busy being pissed at you for not telling them you have a boyfriend.”

He meant to keep the sharpness out of his voice, but sometimes fear makes it impossible. As much as that was attempted to have been drummed out of him… it just happens.

Chris frowned slightly at the tone, but it was only there for a moment, “They always knew I was a bit… eccentric. It won't be too much of a shock.”

“Eccentric?” Vince huffed, “Is that what we are calling it these days?” It was kinder than faggot, but not by much.

“It's what my mother calls it,” Chris said in a tone far too casual for Vince's liking. Vince tried to read the expression on Chris's face but if there was hurt behind it, he couldn't find it.

“Chris…” Vince sighed. Was this how the whole night was gonna be, him struggling to understand what was going on? And suddenly finding his words missing? Indeed he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

There was a moment's pause before Chris sighed, and his expression finally became gentler, “Ick already knows. And even if Brian doesn't take it well, we can handle it.”

Another deep breath from Vince, “... I guess I can't really argue with you about that.”

“You can.” Chris replied back simply, “If that's what you want.”

Something about the way Chris said that put him at ease, just the fact he could fight back if he wanted to. If he wanted to bail he could. 

Not that he was going to.

“Hey, you know me, I don't like to lose.”

Chris smiled and leaned down for a kiss, lifting him up slightly.

[x-ceirios-x]

I THINK I'M OKAY

desmin and dominic go on their first official date and struggle to figure out exactly what their relationship means to each other

cw: smoking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of homophobia & historical homophobia. hurt/comfort & angst things but nothing horribly heavy

Desmin glared at himself in the mirror. This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be going on this stupid date, but there was no backing out now. Dominic had pulled him in, and he had no other choice than to go along with his plans for the evening. 

He told his sister for the hour leading up to dinner he’d like not to be disturbed, which she respected. Unfortunately, it left him alone with his thoughts for a while. He tried to focus on his music playing through his phone speaker on the counter instead, considering his hands were shaking when he tried to hold them still. 

He cursed, checking the now bloody cut on his jaw. This is what he gets for doing things the mundane way like Eleanor suggested—to unwind a bit before Dominic arrived. Apparently, he was loud enough she noticed, because there was a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Dez?” Eleanor asked on the other side of the door. “You okay?”

He sighed. “Fine, yeah,” he said, opening the door for her. “I nicked myself shaving. I’m good.”

She stuck her lower lip out, mock-pouting, then smiled at him. “You poor boy,” she teased, running her hand over the cut. With a couple sparks, the pain ceased and the mark was gone. “All fixed.”

He could tell she was still worried about him. Rightfully so, possibly, but he didn’t need her doting while he was so nervous. 

“Thank you,” he said plainly. He didn’t want to be rude, so he was careful about his next words. “Can we…go back to the original deal for the night?”

“Are you telling me to buzz off because you don’t want me to bother you?”

“Maybe a little.”

She chuckled and nodded. “I’ll leave you be. Just know that it’s a quarter till, alright? And Dom’s so nervous I expect him to be punctual.”

He hums in acknowledgment and she backs out of the bathroom. Again, he’s left with his music and thoughts. 

Dominic.

He hadn’t cared about anyone like that in a long time. Maybe decades were like the blink of an eye in his age, but he still regretted everything with Fabían. Now, he was probably going to lead himself down another path to heartbreak. It inevitably happened. After a while, being immortal became boring—when he was young, stupid, and power-hungry, he knew he had all the time in the world. But now all the time in the world meant losing friends and loves that he’d never see again. 

The song changed and caught his attention. He remembered a time, just a few weeks ago, after a long night with Dominic when he’d sang him a quiet lullaby of a rock version to sleep. The next morning, he made breakfast and woke him up with eggs, toast, and coffee before he had to return to the institute. They spent the morning talking and laughing with each other on the balcony—he couldn’t remember a time when he was more relaxed. For a while, he managed to forget all the things he didn’t want to think about. 

That was what Dominic did to him. He made him forget anything troubling and let him be. The time he spent with him was the happiest he’d been in years, despite how desperately he tried to hold onto his ill-tempered demeanor around him. Even Eleanor mentioned he seemed to be smiling more lately. 

So when Dominic asked him out, he said yes. And now he was on his way. 

He heard the front door creak open and Eleanor chat happily with someone, though he couldn’t hear what she was saying. Desmin opened the bathroom door and stuck his head through, and Dominic’s voice rang clearly through the hallway. 

Or, he was here now. 

Doing himself a favor, he decided to fix his hair and clothes with magic, fixing flyaways and wrinkles faster than it would be if he fought with hairspray. He smooths his shirt and steps into the hallway, mentally preparing himself for the surprise evening Dominic had planned. He wasn’t a fan of surprises, but he trusted him. 

He walked into the living room with as much confidence as he could muster and tried his best to smile. 

Dominic sat up a bit from leaning against the doorway and stared at him for a minute. “You, er– you clean up nice, Dez.”

He smirked—if he had the opportunity to make fun of him a bit, he’d be less likely to psych himself out. “I wear a suit most of the time.”

His face turned a few shades pinker and tried his best to come up with a comeback. “I– you–” he started, failing miserably. “You knew what I meant! Take the compliment.”

Desmin laughed. Actually, he laughed harder than he thought he would (which was a low bar), but he started to fall into the usual routine with him. 

Eleanor stepped through the kitchen, glass of wine in hand and blanket around her shoulders. When she saw her brother, she all but squealed and dropped the blanket, pulling out her phone. “I want a picture! You two look so cute!”

“El, please, no–”

“Ah, come on, you and I both know she won't leave us alone until she gets it,” Dominic piped up. 

He glared at the encouragement. “I am not a teenager going to prom, Eleanor.”

“Hey, we went to prom that one time!” 

Dominic looked up at him quizzically. “When did you go to prom? Weren’t you around before that even was a thing?”

He pinched his nose. “I was a teacher in the ’70s for a bit and chaperoned, I never went to prom.”

“A teacher, huh?” Dominic asked, sliding his arm around his waist and pulling him tightly next to him. “Maybe I’m-”

“If you say ‘hot for teacher’ and start singing the damn song, I will kill you.”

He laughed and Eleanor snapped a couple of pictures of them—not necessarily pretty ones, but ones of them laughing and smiling. 

“You boys have fun!” she said on their way out the door. “And text me if you need me to visit Magnus tonight!”

She slammed the door after them and Desmin, more embarrassed than he wanted to admit, pulled at the sleeves of his shirt, ensuring everything was sitting flat and straight as it should. It was a nervous habit he started eons ago. 

He noticed and took his hands, keeping him from anxiously fidgeting. “Hey,” Dominic said gently, squeezing his hands for a moment. “No pressure, alright? She’s just teasing.”

“I know.”

“I told you before, tonight’s about you. I made the plans, but if you don't want to do something, I want you to tell me, okay?”

He nodded, smiling slightly when he kissed the back of his hand. A part of him felt guilty—Dominic had no idea why he was so anxious about a regular date, and he didn’t know how or what to tell him. But he was understanding as ever, and that was quite a bit of the reason he even agreed to go with him tonight. 

“Shall we?” he asked, dropping his hands and offering his arm.

Desmin felt rather silly but put his arm through his and followed his lead, taking off down the streets of Brooklyn. 

***

The two return to the twins’ apartment in the early hours of the morning, with Dominic walking him to the front door of the building. He had his hand in his and felt incredibly comfortable in the leather jacket he’d borrowed (since he didn’t think to bring a jacket—the evening was much colder than he thought it would be). 

It surprised him—Dominic was quite the gentleman. He’d been on dates in his time, but never ones where he was the one treated to a night out (though he did insist on paying for dinner, much to his dismay). So there they stood, on the steps leading up to the building, not wanting to leave each other’s presence quite yet.

“I–I had fun tonight, Dominic,” he said quietly, hoping he wasn’t embarrassing himself too terribly. “This was…nice. I can’t find a better word right now.”

He chuckled. “Don’t sweat it.”

He shifted to take off the jacket but was soon stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Keep it,” Dominic said, a cheeky grin growing on his face. “Means I’ll get to see you again pretty soon, right?”

“You can always come over to visit Eleanor.”

He held a finger up to his lips and shook his head. “You’re so literal, Dez. I want to see you again, alright? Keep the jacket.”

“Okay. Then, ah, goodnight.”

“Night.”

He turned with a final smile, heading inside the building so he could get to bed. It was much later than he thought, he noticed, when he checked his watch. When he finally got upstairs, he looked around for his sister and noticed her outside on the balcony through the glass door. 

He made himself a quick drink and headed out, leaning against the banister with her. 

“That’s not yours,” she says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She sounds tired—not tired like she needs to sleep, but like there’s something wrong. 

He doesn’t want to push, but he’s worried about her. “Dominic’s,” he says, now noticing the cigarette between her fingers. He sighed, knowing there was no point in starting an argument about it now. She’d been without for a few days, he thought, but she was always sneakily clever. “You alright, El?”

She nodded, though it didn’t make him feel any better. She took another drag and put it out. “Just thinking a lot, is all. Tell me about your date.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking about first.”

She sighed deeply and shook her head, turning to lean against him. He hugged her in return, one arm around her and the other ensuring his drink didn’t fall. “We can talk in the morning,” he says gently, knowing better than to push her right now. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

Eleanor didn’t put up much of a fight, which made his life a little easier. He got her tucked into bed and sat on the edge, brushing a bit of hair out of her face. “You get to sleep, alright? I’ll make breakfast in the morning and then we can talk. If you're ready.”

She nods at his words and catches his hand before he can leave. “You had fun, right?” she asked. “With Dom, I mean.”

He smiled and leaned over, quickly kissing the top of her head. “I did. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

Satisfied with his answer, she rolled over and got comfortable. He turned her lights off for her on his way out and returned to the balcony where he’d left his drink and where he was sure she’d stashed her cigarettes. It didn’t take long for him to find them considering she was horrible at hiding things from him) and took one, leaving the box where it was. He lit it with the lighter left there. Usually, he tried not to get back into habits like these, but he felt like tonight he deserved it. He leaned back in the chair on the balcony and took a long drag, trying to think about what the next morning would hold and reflecting on his evening with Dominic. 

It was then his phone buzzed—speak of the devil and he shall text, he guessed. He read the following few texts with a small smile. 

Dominic Blackweather

heyy des 

thanks again for coming out with me tonight. I could use the night off

plus what’s better than a pretty piece of arm candy with me all night huh?

really I had fun. hope you did too 😘

Desmin smiled and rolled his eyes at him. While he still wasn’t sure how to feel about the night’s events, he knew Dominic could always make him smile. 

Me

go to sleep, it’s late

Dominic Blackweather

oh you do care! with that cold stare I can never tell :(((

Me

you’re eternally a pain in my ass, Dominic 

Dominic Blackweather

I could be 😉 

Desmin had to set his phone down to process that joke, finding himself somewhere between embarrassed, frustrated, and a touch disgusted. When he picked it back up, he noticed more messages. 

Dominic Blackweather

eh, I’m just teasing. I gotta go shut down a jace n rowan fight again so I’ll catch ya later. night!

Knowing he was busy with those two, he decided to put his phone down. Between stories from Dominic and Magnus, he knew just how horrible those fights could turn. Sometimes even physical. 

Nephilim, he thought. The kids of trouble they get into. 

What kind of trouble was Dominic going to get him into—at least, what he hadn’t already?

***

Dominic didn’t understand what was wrong. 

Four days had passed since he’d had the best night he’d had in a long time—a date with Desmin Rige. No longer just sleeping together when someone wanted to blow off some steam, but something real. He’d been burned before, but he didn’t think Desmin would do that to him. 

Maybe he was wrong. 

The following two days after, things proceeded as normal. He hadn’t had time to go visit since then because of missions at the Institute, but he didn’t seem any different over text. Everything seemed normal, if not, a bit better. Then Desmin stopped answering his phone, and Eleanor wouldn’t say why. Not to mention the fact that Magnus hadn’t heard from either of them in a few days, so he wasn’t any extra help. 

He sat around the institute pouting, checking his phone, then pouting even worse (in Rowan’s words). They’d gotten tired of it and said he should go get his jacket back, at the very least. Maybe he could do some digging while he was there. 

So he went to visit, and Eleanor let him in with no hesitation, like usual. She was fine but was cleverly avoiding talking about her brother. 

“Cosmo?” she asked from behind the counter, mixing herself a drink. “Or anything else you want?”

“My jacket from Dez would be great. He home?”

She sighed, looking down and picking at her nails. “He’s in his room, but I wouldn’t bother him. He’s in a mood.”

“What’s that mean?”

She was quiet for a long moment before she glanced back up at him. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but he hasn’t talked to me…well, since yesterday, probably.”

“What happened yesterday?”

Eleanor obviously did not want to answer that question based on the way she drank about half of the glass in front of her without flinching. “We got into a fight,” she mumbled over the rim of her glass. “He doesn’t wanna talk about it.”

It wasn’t often that the twins fought, he knew. They’d been together for so long that, for the most part, they’d worked out all their pet peeves with each other and got to a point where they knew how to exist without driving the other crazy. It reminded him of himself and Isabelle if they had another thousand years or so under their belt. 

“Can I give it a shot?” he asked. “Maybe…maybe he just needs another point of view, y’know?”

She hesitated; he didn’t know why. They’d worked out plenty of Desmin-related issues together in the past, this would be a no-brainer! Something about it made her worried, though, and that had him concerned as well. “You’re welcome to try,” she said, waving her hand and refilling her drink. “Good luck.”

She left for the balcony and he turned down the hall. Whatever was awaiting him there, he wasn’t sure, but it might mean he’d take Nora up on her offer for a drink. 

He knocked on the door and cracked the door open. The moment he did, he was blasted in the face with some of the loudest rock music he’d heard (and he knew loud music very well). So loud, in fact, that it took him a moment to adjust to it and even notice Desmin laying on his bed. 

For the chaos coming from non-existent speakers (or at least not ones he saw right away), he looked strangely peaceful. He laid there, body straight and rigid, and his hands folded over his middle. He had a neutral expression on his face—Dominic thought he looked rather pretty like that.

He walked around to the other side of his bed without being noticed and found the speakers that were trying to make his eardrums burst in his head. On top of them sat his phone, silenced and on do not disturb (which made sense as to why he wasn’t answering his texts). He tapped the screen and paused it, sitting in the desk chair next to them. 

“I was listening to that,” he said, monotonously and with more of a bite in his words than he’d heard before. “Turn it back on.”

“What’s wrong, first?” he says, knowing full well how stubborn he is and that the truth won’t come out without a fight. “Nora said you’ve been in here since yesterday.”

“I have, and I plan on staying here until I come to a conclusion about everything.”

“What’s everything?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“I think it does.”

“I will tell you what you need to know when you need to know it.”

Dominic sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere. He stood from the chair and sat on his bed, trying to decide if touching him was going to be a good or much worse idea. “Des,” he said softly, placing his hand over his—it was all or nothing at this point, and he decided it was his best bet. “Talk to me. Please. You were my friend before we were anything else.”

He slowly opened his eyes and twisted slightly, pulling his hands away from him. “You were Eleanor’s friend before we were anything else.”

He froze for a moment. What was his deal? What had he done to deserve him being such a prick? He was trying to help! “You don’t have to be a–”

“I do because no one will leave me alone.”

“Because I care about you, you ass!” Dominic felt tears prick his eyes and he curled in on himself, letting his head rest on his knees. He buried his face there, trying to make himself calm down before he spat anything else out. After several beats of silence, he looked up again, to see Desmin sitting up against his headboard. 

He spoke when he knew he had his attention again. His speech started slow and decisive, as always, like he very explicitly chose each word to convey exactly what he meant. But the longer he spoke, the less he held his composure. “I’ve spent my entire life pretending I’m something—someone I’m not because what I am has been frowned upon in societies and histories around the world.”

“Des, what are you–”

“You wanted me to talk, so let me talk,” he said, shooting a glare at him before looking away. “I watched people—friends get killed or worse simply for…for being who they are. So I buried that. And then I met Fabían, and he-“

His voice sounded tight, then cracked, and Dominic witnessed Desmin cry for the first time since he’d first met him. There was something that clicked, that finally convinced him to talk. And he didn’t want to ruin that. 

He took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. “My point is—“ he sniffed, trying to get his breathing under control again— “centuries of being told there’s something wrong with you doesn’t go away with twenty or so years where it’s acceptable. I’ve spent my entire life believing there was something wrong because I never had an interest in romance, then I realized it was just romance with women.”

Dom stared at him for a long time. So many things made sense, yet he opened up so many more questions. All this was about the fact he was gay? Seriously? But he wasn’t wrong—despite the clave, mundane society was pretty accepting (or at least tolerant) through most of his life. But then why didn’t that matter when they were sleeping together, and it just mattered when they’d been on a date?

On top of that, who was Fabían? Eleanor or Magnus had never mentioned that name, let alone tell any stories. 

“You can ask,” he mumbled, looking almost as if he was a kicked puppy. “Whatever you want. You know the worst of it.”

He tried to find his words, especially gentle ones, considering how broken he looked at the moment. “I don’t…well, I have one. For now.”

Desmin gestured for him to continue, so he did. 

“Do you care about me? Can you see your future with me, even if it’s a close one?”

He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. Dom smiled. 

“Then let me show you that nothing’s wrong with you.”

Desmin looked at him with wide eyes, but this time didn’t pull away when he reached for his hands. He took his hands slowly in case he wanted to pull away but smiled when he didn’t. 

“I like you, Des. I have for a while. I’m glad I met you every day, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” 

He slowly nodded and squeezed his hands. “I can…I can try. I’ll do my best. But I trust you more than…well, more than I thought I’d ever trust anyone besides Eleanor.”

“Perfect,” he said with a small laugh in his voice, bringing his hand up to his lips and kissing his knuckles. “I trust you too, y’know? Just in case you didn’t know.”

For the first time that day, Desmin smiled. No longer angry, no longer tense—he smiled, content with their conversation and feeling much better. It was small, but he knew it was progress. 

“I gathered, Dominic.”

“Good.”

-

@kade-is-gay thank you for the help w him n for creating dom i love him.

[flooffybits]

Sing Me Something

Idol: Lee Siyeon (Dreamcatcher)

Everyone knew that the members liked to learn how to play instruments. So imagine their surprise when one of them receives a present that Siyeon is more than happy to have around.

A/n: yes i am aware that this is not angst

☕buy me a coffee☕

People knew how much you loved to learn new things, more so when you showed them a completely new talent during one of your appearances in Fact In Star. They all knew you could speak two languages due to you being a foreigner, but imagine their surprise when you had spoken in a very different language they hadn’t known you already knew.

Yoohyeon explained at some point how you had picked up after her, learning a new language due to your desire to further interact with your international fans. So now, as you faced the camera and spoke with said fans, they wondered what you were still doing at the company at such a late hour, knowing full well that you should be tired due to the fact that your comeback was slowly approaching.

“Why am I not home?” You read outloud, eyes wide before you cocked your head to the side and then pointed to the instrument leaning against the wall behind you. “Everyone, there’s no guitar at the dorm, and I haven’t exactly decided on buying one yet.” You answer with a small sigh and lean against your seat.

Someone commented about Yoohyeon having one and you shake your head. “Yoohyeonnie is sleeping early now because we’re all getting ready. But I also don’t want to use hers because I’m scared that I might break it.” You say while pretending to cry.

It truly was lonely when none of your members were around to accompany you.

You read as the comments kept going up, smiling to a few. "I've been trying to learn for a while now. I've always been so interested ever since I was a kid." You grin before picking up the instrument and then pluck at the strings, the sound filling your ears when you try to play a few chords.

Looking back up, you find various requests and suggestions of songs to sing. "I'm not that good at it yet." You laugh bashfully but try to think of a song easy enough to play, using the suggestions of your fans as well. You try recalling a few chords and check the comments to see if you were doing alright.

When you finally settle for a song, you let your muscles relax before beginning to play the intro to Blackpink's Stay after seeing a few fans commenting on it and they all seemed to be enjoying it even when you keep your focus on your fingers on the fretboard. Though you do look back during the chorus, pretending to sing it for those who were watching.

At some point, you forget one of the chords and look up for help, laughing as you did. “Like this?” You ask when you place your forefinger on one of the strings, nose crinkling when you don’t follow right away. But with the help of your fans, you were able to get back on track.

You end it a little earlier than the people would hope, laughing before you checked your phone to see a text from one of your members. "Siyeon unnie just messaged me." You inform them while picking your phone up to check on the contents of her message. “Was she watching the live?” You wonder out loud.

y/n come hooome TT as much as i love hearing you sing, its late and i want to cuddle you

You giggle at the cute little message before sending her a reply about how you were busy talking with InSomnia. In response, your phone started to ring a few seconds after, making you laugh some more as you answered the older woman's call, putting it on speaker for people to hear.

"Unnie, what's wrong?" You ask before her whining reaches your ears. "I said come home." The already present smile on your face only grows as you gently set the guitar down. "But I told you that I'm talking to Somnia. I’m also practicing." You retorted playfully and fans are cooing as the two of you continue to converse.

"Everyone!" She calls out this time, knowing full well that you've put her on speaker after she had called and with the way you spoke. "Please say goodnight to our Y/n. She has to come back home and tend to her favorite unnie."

The comment has you giggling and you bring the phone closer to your lips just so you're sure she can hear you. "Dong unnie hasn't texted me though.” You tease before she’s making a sound. “Yah! Since when did you replace me?” She demanded and you had to stop yourself from laughing too much. “I didn’t replace you, Dong unnie and Jiu unnie are my favorite.”

“Ah, is that so?” She asks and you’re suddenly wary of the change in her tone. “Just wait until Sua unnie hears this.” There it was. You felt your throat dry up and you looked as though you had gone pale at the mention of the dancer, knowing full well that she will not stop bugging you for not choosing her.

And it looked like your fans had the same thought.

“Okay, maybe Sua unnie is my favorite, too.”

“Yah!” The vocalist protested and you just smiled before shaking your head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come home in a while and take care of you, unnie.” You finally relent after the continuous whining noises she’s given, chuckling as you can basically hear the pout in her voice. “Tell me I’m your favorite.” Her voice was so small and you didn’t have the heart to keep teasing her anymore.

“Siyeon unnie is my favorite. Don’t worry.” You assure her before she finally perks up. “You heard that, right everyone? Y/n is mine!” She boasts and you finally put her off speaker before pressing the device to your ear. “I’ll see you in a while, unnie.”

“Be quick.” She replies and you finally say goodbye before looking back to the live, grinning as you addressed your viewers. “Well, you heard unnie. I have to get home soon.” You explain to them, opting to read a bit more of the comments instead of leaving right away.

But you did find comments telling you that it was fine to leave and that you should tend to Siyeon. Even your ship name had been mentioned a lot after the little interaction.

“Unnie is really cute, right?” You laughed before standing so you could put the guitar back from where you first got it. “But, she’s right. It is pretty late and we still have practice tomorrow.” You pout, zipping the bag up and then safely putting it away before returning to the camera, only to see a few more of Siyeon’s messages.

You said you were coming home now :((( youre still doing the live

ynnnnn

why are you making me wait

“Siyeon unnie just texted again, everyone.” You say amusedly. “It looks like she is watching. Unnie, hold on, I’m just fixing up and saying goodnight to InSomnia.” You explain as you tie your hair up so it wasn’t falling on your face. “I’ll talk to you all next time, hopefully I can play the guitar well for you all by then.”

You smile at the encouraging words sent your way before deciding to finally end the live. “See you soon, goodnight. I love you!” Waving goodbye, you finally turn it off before gathering your things and finally leave the company, sending Siyeon a quick text that you were on your way home.

..

Siyeon waited for you as you finished getting your makeup done. She was happily admiring your outfit for this fanmeet, seeing how you seemed comfortable in it and that it wasn’t too much for you while keeping the theme of everyone wearing black. In fact, it looked like something you would wear during a casual hangout, yet it still looked stylish.

“Please make our Y/n extra pretty.” She had requested in a cute tone, making your stylist chuckle and you to smile. “Y/n is pretty already, so there’s not much for me to do.” She had replied as she made sure your hair was in place, clipping two parts at the back before leaving the rest of your hair down in waves of ash brown, and Siyeon all but bounced in her place when she saw that you were finally finished after your stylist applied a bit of hairspray.

Making sure that there was nothing else missed, your stylist nodded approvingly before gently nudging you towards the waiting woman. “Don’t mess her hair up, please.” Siyeon salutes playfully before encasing you in her arms, lightly pecking your cheek just so her lipstick doesn’t leave a mark.

“Our Y/n is so pretty. I could kiss you.” You crinkle your nose at her claim before poking her side. “Unnie just said not to mess my hair up.” You remind and she pouts. “Come on, just one kiss. It’s not even going to bother your hair.” She reasons, but your stylist pipes up behind you. “Don’t ruin her makeup either.”

You laugh at the face Siyeon makes, Minji doing the same when she catches what’s going on. “You’re both so cute! But unnie is right, Siyeon-ah. We’re starting in a while and you don’t want Y/n late because she has to redo her hair and makeup.” The leader warns and Siyeon lets out an exaggerated sigh before resting her head on your shoulder instead. “Fine.”

Siyeon’s pout would grow whenever your attention would flit away from her and to either Handong or Minji, recalling your past live where you had told her that the pair were your favorites, though you’ve already stated that you were only joking around. When Bora was there, however, the dancer made it her goal to wreak havoc when her sight zeroed in on you after Siyeon told her she wasn’t your favorite.

You remember running away from her the morning after, only for it to be in vain because she had you trapped in the practice room and the only way you could avoid her was when you used your members to shield yourself, yet the only ones who helped you out were your leader and Handong, fueling the little jealousy that Siyeon already felt after your admission.

Since then, Bora decided to bring it up whenever she could, though you know that she just wants your attention just as much as Siyeon does.

“Y/n, come here!” Siyeon groaned as Bora called you once more, tightening her arms around your waist as you looked over. “Why?” She asked for you, the pout already set on her face as Bora grabbed your hand. “She’s sitting next to me.” She stated with a smirk and you grimaced before trying to spot your manager.

“Don’t even try it. Let’s go!” Bora tugged at your arms and you reluctantly left Siyeon’s arms, despite her protest. “Why can’t she sit next to me?” The brunette whined and Gahyeon looked at Siyeon. “You spend the most time with Y/n unnie. We’re her members, too!” Handong chuckled at their squabbling. “I think Y/n spends a lot of time with all of us.”

“That’s because you’re also hogging her when Siyeon unnie isn’t around.” Yoohyeon pointed out with Bora nodding in agreement. “She comes to you often, especially when she wants to study Chinese.” Yubin added as she fixed her skirt and then dusted herself off. “Basically the unnies have taken Y/n away.” Minji chuckled amusedly when she reached to pinch your cheeks.

Siyeon huffed at that, crossing her arms as she watched Bora cuddling you already. “But Y/n is mine!” She complained and Yoohyeon leaned against her shoulder. “Y/n unnie is going to get tired with all of us if we don’t stop arguing and go. Our manager is also going to get angry, too.” She laughed when you all saw your managers waving you over.

“Come on, kids! Time to meet InSomnias!”

While you’ve done this numerous times, it never failed to bring a smile to all of your faces. As soon as the screaming of fans met your ears, you had all forgotten about the little argument you all had in the dressing room and greeted your fans with vigorous energy.

If you could, you might have already hopped out of your seat to hug them.

As everyone was happily interacting with the people that sat in front of them, thanking them for coming and accepting gifts, Siyeon smiled when she greeted one of your fansites. “You’re the person who always makes cute edits for Y/n.” She beamed and the fansite smiled shyly while nodding their head.

“There aren’t that many people who make them for Y/n unnie, so I try my best.” Siyeon’s smile widened at that before nodding her head while she signed the fan’s album, leaving a quick thank you message. “Y/n really appreciates it, so I hope you keep up the good work.” She encourages and the fansite nods happily. “Of course!”

When your fansite reaches you, Bora is telling her to make sure that your best edits are the ones with her in them, earning a laugh from you as you greet them. “Don’t mind unnie. She’s still upset with me.” You tell her, and your fansite giggles while nodding her head. “I figured as much since your live before the comeback.” She answers and you grin before opening their album to sign your name on it.

“How is your guitar practice going, unnie?” She had asked and you look up with a smile and she mimics it when she sees how your eyes sparkle at the mention of your little hobby. “I’m getting better! Of course, you all helped me last time. I should hire you guys.” You joked and she giggled with you before nodding her head. “Then that means I can give this to you.”

You were a little confused by what she meant, but when she moved to remove the strap of the guitar bag from her shoulder, your eyes widened when she brought it forward. “You said you don’t have a guitar yet, so I got you one! It’s a little similar to the one I have at home, but I had this one customized with your animal and favorite color.”

“You didn’t have to. This must have cost a lot!” You say worriedly, but she shook her head in reply. “It’s not much, please don’t worry. I also got this for you so you don’t have to be at the company so late.” She explained while lowering the case a bit. “Also this way, you can practice while you’re in the dorm and you don’t have to borrow Yoohyeon’s guitar.”

You were a bit overwhelmed with such a heartfelt gift and you quickly stood to bow at her, surprising your members who sat on either side of you, and fans who caught the interaction. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take care of it.” You told her when you sat back down as she blushed and waved her hands.

When it was time for her to move over to Yubin, you bid her goodbye with the biggest smile on your face before you asked your managers to handle the item with care as they came to put it in your box of gifts.

Once that was done and you were able to talk with all of your fans, the tables and chairs were cleared and all eight of you gathered on the stage to take pictures while also answering some questions, along with conversing with them in general.

Seeing how happy you were at the moment, your members watched you with fond smiles as you kept waving to everyone, posing for the camera like the rest of them were. They could also see how you were excited to see your new guitar, seeing as you haven’t really checked the inside of the bag to see the actual present.

“Unnie, do you want to open it?” Yoohyeon’s voice had caught your attention and you see Yubin already walking over to your box of things to carefully retrieve the guitar with the help of your managers. “Is that okay?” You ask confusedly when you walked closer, though it was clear that you were more than happy to see it.

Bora grinned before nodding her head. “Go ahead. I think everyone wants to see it, too.” She tells you before Yubin handed it over and you gently put it down, crouching as you unzipped the bag. Siyeon had come up next to you and crouched beside you, making sure that you were covered up.

She observes you when you take a look at the instrument and she aww’s at the expression on your face when you finally see what it looked like. The body was in your favorite color and a copy of your signature was on the upper part of it along with little doodles of your assigned animal. When you turn it to check the back, both you and Siyeon are pleasantly surprised to see words carved on the neck of the guitar.

We dream of you the way you dream of us

You let your fingers lightly trace each word, your smile not once faltering and Siyeon had to stop herself from tearing up as she stared at the message before you looked up, searching for the fansite who had given you the guitar before finally meeting her eyes.

Shooting her a smile, you borrowed Gahyeon’s microphone before speaking. “I love you, thank you.” Though you didn’t say much, everyone could feel the various emotions and feelings it held underneath, and there really was no need to further ask you about it as you stood to try it, Siyeon helping you with the strap - one that also had a few more characters you adored.

“Is everyone up for one more song?” You ask and your members had no complaints along with your managers since there was still a bit of time before you had to perform What.

“What are you singing for us, Y/n?” Handong asked as you tuned the guitar while Siyeon rested her head on Gahyeon’s shoulder as they watched you.

There was really only one song you could think of at that moment, so you didn’t waste time playing the chords to Full Moon, it being one of the first few songs you really wanted to know how to play.

The girls didn’t seem to catch on to it right away, but once you started singing, fans started cheering while your members beamed and sang along with you.

The moments when you and I were together

It is like I’m a star in the sky

It was easy for all seven of them to adjust to the slower tempo of the song since you often practiced with them around, and the girls would admit that they had heard you singing it at a slower pace.

When the fanmeet ends and you were all back at the dorm, Siyeon came bounding into your room, grinning when she saw you already on the Vapp and conversing with fans dispute having seen them earlier. She listened as you happily spoke about the event and how you wish you could have an event with InSomnia from all around the world in just one place together, and her heart melted just a little at how fondly you spoke about your fans.

“Unnie, I didn’t notice you coming in.” You were surprised when you finally noticed her in the room and she laughed lightly before shaking her head, keeping herself out of frame since she had already changed into her sleep wear and she didn’t feel like stealing your attention away from everyone so much.

“I just wanted to check in on you. How’s your guitar?” She asked, eyeing it as it rested beside your and Yubin’s desk. “I could hear you earlier, before I went to wash up.” She stated as she sat on your bed and then peeked at the camera, poking her head in just so it only showed her eyes and forehead. “Hello everyone. I can’t show my face right now, but please enjoy our Y/n.”

You giggle before looking back at the guitar then shift your gaze back to the older woman. “I really appreciate them a lot.” You say softly and Siyeon smiles as she reaches to run her fingers gently through your hair. “I’m sure they know that.” She nods to your phone that has various comments coming in, agreeing with her statement and you nod your head in reply, smiling and radiating pure happiness.

As you continued with your conversation, Siyeon decided to just lay down to listen to you, humming as you told her what fans were saying and just enjoying as she listened to you speak. She had always found your voice soothing to listen to and it was also endearing how much you showered your fans with affection, so it made her feel at ease.

When she turned her head, the vocalist suddenly noticed your guitar again before the words fell from her mouth when you paused to read the comments. “Sing me something, Y/n.” She shifted so that she was laying on her side and you hummed in response before looking at her.

“Sing me something. I like listening to you.” She said quietly and you smile before nodding your head. “I’m going to get my guitar so I can sing for you guys, okay?” You announce before quickly leaving the bed to fetch the instrument.

You’re quick to settle back though before looking at the other with a thoughtful look on your face, making her giggle as she lightly pinched your leg. “What?” She asked and you laughed in reply. “I was thinking of what to sing for you.” You reply, opting to come up with a song by yourself despite fans sending in requests.

It doesn’t take long though before Siyeon sees you setting the guitar on your lap and then start playing, singing right along. Though she doesn’t understand everything that you're saying since it was an english song, she did smile when she was able to catch parts of it.

They say that love is forever

Your forever is all that I need

Please stay as long as you need

Though your eyes often check if you were playing the right chords, you make sure to look at Siyeon as you sing, smiling at her as she does the same, listening to your gentle voice as you both seemingly forget that you had an audience.

When you finish, Siyeon is close to falling asleep and you can’t help but coo before placing your guitar away before leaning down to gently caress her cheek. “Unnie, you should go back to your room. You’re falling asleep.” You say with a giggle but she makes a small whining sound as she nuzzles against your hand.

“But your bed is comfy.” She murmurs, fighting back a yawn as you shake your head. “Please?” You try again and she huffs with a pout before weakly tugging at your wrist, an indication for you to come closer.

Your upper body is off camera when you do as she asks, leaving fans to only see you from the torso down, and her arms loop around your neck before she presses a light kiss against your lips.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” You ask quietly and she presses her head against your neck before nodding. “You have to let go first so I can say goodnight to everyone.” You giggle, recalling the live that you had forgotten due to your tired girlfriend.

There are questions coming in when you look back and you merely smile before glancing back as Siyeon’s eyes close. “It looks like it’s time for us to go to sleep. Unnie is literally falling asleep on my bed and she won’t go to her room unless I tuck her in.” You joke lightly while reaching for her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

“We’ll see you again. For now, have sweet dreams and I’ll see you then, okay?” There’s a meaningful smile on your face before you finally turn the app off and turn to your sleepy girlfriend.

Seeing how tuckered out she was, you didn’t have the heart to force her to get up, so instead, you adjust your positions before laying her head on one of your pillows before laying next to her. The action causes her to stir, and she’s a bit confused when she realizes that she’s still in your bed, but you’re already pulling her closer before she can question you.

“Goodnight. I love you.” You whispered, drawing a small yet sleepy smile to her face as she draped an arm across your abdomen. She didn’t have to tell you she loved you back.

You knew more than enough.

[thewhitejournal]

Just One More Night

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Series

hello everyone! welcome to a new series im starting, this one was actually requested by @art-and-thoughts so shoutout to them. i’ll put their request below so you can read what it’s about, and i hope you all enjoy! :)

plot: Shortly after getting divorced, Hotch needs some sort of distraction from his work and personal life, he ends up meeting a younger girl and they start a casual relationship. He doesn’t want to know much about her than what’s necessary, so they just meet for ~sexy times~ and it works good for both of them for a while. The reader is graduating in communities and criminology; JJ finds out she’s going to have a baby, so she decides to call someone from outside to “coach” and replace her. That’s how the reader ends up at the BAU.

content warnings: smut, cursing, a bit commanding here and there, fingering, oral (male receiving)

-

Finals kicked your ass, that was a fact. You stepped out of the study hall and your tennis shoe met snow, covering the steps to the doors. You kicked yourself internally for not checking the weather, shivers already taking over your body. Snow went flying from the ground as you rushed to your car, a sheet of it falling off the roof when you slammed the door. The cold didn’t necessarily bother you, but not dressing appropriately for it did. Your car sputtered to life when you turned the key in the ignition. While you tried warming yourself up and while you waited for the defrost to kick in, you checked your phone.

The cold metal of the thing wasn’t exactly comforting, but your notifications were coming in at record speed. The group chat you and your roommate and the friends you’d met since last year made together kept bombarding you with who’s typing and who’s already said something. A little part of you dreaded opening it, knowing you were probably fully behind on whatever was happening.

They loved you, that’s for sure. But they always teased you for being ‘addicted to school’, and that you needed help for your addiction. You couldn’t help you were devoted to your future, the career at the FBI looking closer every day. It’s always been your goal. More specifically, you wanted to be a profiler. Ever since you started researching career paths and colleges in your senior year of high school, it stuck with you. You wanted it, and when you found something you wanted, you weren’t giving up until you had it. Hell, you’d just got done reviewing the subjects for next semester.

A sigh escaped your lips as you opened the chat. The rundown of it was that they wanted to get together for drinks to celebrate the end of the semester. You weren’t much of a party person, but you knew it wasn’t an option for you since they said they would be meeting there in half an hour. All you wanted to do was go back to the dorm and pass out, but you figured, why the hell not? You knew you deserved a break; one night couldn’t hurt.

After making the short drive to the dorms about half a mile away, you turned the car off and hurried inside. You came in with a bluster of cold air, kicking off your wet shoes next to the door. Your roommate was getting ready in the bathroom; her favorite ‘hype’ music was playing and you could smell the hairspray from the front door.

You didn’t have time to shower, and you figured it was fine since you had one this morning. So you fixed yourself up, doing a little more makeup and slipping into the outfit your friend picked out for you. You stepped into the bathroom next to her to fix your hair.

“(Y/N), going out without bitching? Are you feeling alright?” She teasingly put the back of her hand to your forehead as if to feel for a fever. You rolled your eyes, smacking her hand away. Both of you shared a laugh. Within minutes, you two were ready to go. You piled into your car, which was still a little warm, and started driving to the bar they picked out.

Once you were inside, you saw your other friends waiting for you, drinks already on their table. They waved you over as if you couldn’t see them; they were already tipsy. A smile grew on your lips as you and your friend walked over to them, happy to see your friends happy.

“To this shitty semester finally being over!” Your roommate toasted, a shot already in her hand. She was holding one out to you, and you took it, clinking your glass with the other girls before downing it. After sitting and talking and laughing and drinking for a while, you started surveying the bar and its patrons. Your curious gaze fell on a table of men, one of them significantly older than the rest. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him. His hands that donned a huge ring with an insignia that you couldn’t make out were gesturing in the air like he was telling a story.

The man standing next to him looked to be about your age, maybe older. He was a skinny little thing, listening intently to the older man’s story with a smile on his face. He looked like he was drinking some kind of sparkling water. The other guy was buff, wearing a tight, grey t-shirt. Dark brows on his forehead danced with emotion as the story went on. His smile was huge; he had some beautiful teeth for a guy. A beer dangled casually in his hand.

The fourth man was unlike the rest of them in his own way. He was wearing a brown pullover and dark jeans, his short black hair gelled and styled. His fingers twirled a whiskey glass on the table, and it was about empty. You noticed a tan line on his ring finger, but no ring. This was intriguing. A Rolex shined on his right wrist. He had a small smile on his face, adding to the story here and there and laughing. You couldn’t hear it, but you were sure it sounded lovely. His brown eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“(Y/N), what the hell are you staring- oh, I see. The skinny one?” Your roommate Rachel asked you, her gaze fixed on the men now, too. She looked at him like she was a lion and he was a gazelle, and it was dinner time. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, Rach. Don’t worry about it.” She gave you a knowing look like you weren’t getting away with it that easy. Her body turned towards you, and she leaned on the table. Her brows furrowed.

“Which one, then? Cause brown jacket’s been making eyes on you since you walked in.” She stated. You turned to face her, your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, can you keep your fucking voice down?”, you hissed under your breath. You tried looking over at them inconspicuously, to see if they’d heard, but you couldn’t tell. You felt the blush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. A sly smile made its way to her face. She giggled.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” She prodded your arm, laughing. You tried to play it cool, trying to make her calm down, but it wasn’t working. She burst into laughter, nearly doubling over so hard she about fell into the floor. God, she was drunk. You glanced over at the table, and you swore you saw him looking over, but only for a second.

Butterflies started roaring inside of you, in your stomach and even wandering lower. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. The liquid courage started flowing through your veins, your heart pumping in your chest. You might’ve gone over and said, or ever did, something if you were a hundred percent sure he was interested. But you weren’t. Rachel eventually recovered from her laughing fit, leaning on you like you were the only thing holding her up. You steadied her as best as you could.

“Rachel, you should drink some water. You’re wasted.” You rubbed her arm, a concerned look on your face. She stared at you for a second, copying the look on your face.

“Fine,” she slurred, “You need the courage more than me anyway.” Your brows furrowed, giving her an inquisitive look. She giggled, covering her mouth when she let a snort out. “Because...look behind you…”, she whisper-said, falling on your other friend to her left. You felt your heart speed up in your chest, your body turning on your heel.

The man was sauntering over to you, his friends cheering him on behind him. He was laughing and shaking his head. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as he got closer. Fuck, he was tall. That smile on his lips made you blush, and the look in his eyes said more than words ever could.

When he finally reached you, he slipped an arm around your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. He smelled like pine and leather, and you felt your body tense up. There’s no way this was happening. The hottest guy in the bar, picking you out of the crowd? This never happened.

“Wanna get out of here?” He smelled like alcohol, but you were sure you did too. It took everything in you not to moan at the mere rasp of his voice. You hummed in an affirming tone as a response. This wasn’t like you, but you didn’t care. He was hot and the looks he gave you alone were enough to get you soaking wet. He took your hand eagerly, pulling you out the door and towards a black SUV. The plates on the front looked like government plates, but surely not. The car wasn’t your focus at the moment, anyway.

He shoved you against the passenger door, somehow rough and gentle at the same time, his arms on either side of your waist. It took the breath out of you, but you were breathless already so it was hard to tell just how much of an effect it had on you. His dark eyes looked like those of a hungry predator, tracing all over your face and body. He licked his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Do you wanna do this?”, he asked you in a low and sultry voice. You put your hands on the sides of his face, nodding. You leaned forward and closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your body to his, along with your lips. His hand pulled your waist to his body, the other hand getting lost in your hair. He moaned against your lips, and you felt yourself twitch in your underwear. God, he was so fucking hot.

“Good, get in.”, he commanded. You’d never been talked to like that. Your pussy twitched again, and you had to hold back a whimper. He opened the back door for you, and you crawled inside. The backseat was spacious, which was quite useful for what was about to happen. He settled himself in the seat and shut the door behind him, locking the car and pulling you into his lap, his back against the door.

He smashed his soft, pink lips onto yours, his tongue twirling with yours. His lips left yours and he started trailing rough kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You craned your neck back to give him more room, a little moan slipping from your lips. “Oh, you like that, baby?”, he asked you against your skin, his fingers slowly pulling down the straps of your dress onto your shoulders.

“Wait…”, you breathed out, and he pulled away. He asked if he’d done something wrong, an apologetic look in his eyes. He’s hot and respectful? Fuck. “No, I… I just want to know your name.” He chuckled deeply.

“Aaron. What’s yours, honey?” God, that voice was the death of you. You were surprised he couldn’t feel how wet you were through his jeans.

“(Y/N).” A smile grew on your lips, as did on his.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”, he whispered, leaning into you again and kissing you. You slid your heels off and heard them clatter on the floor, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. Your legs fell over his waist, straddling him. He hummed contently against you, his huge hands resting on your waist.

Instinctively, you moved your hips against his jeans, a moan slipping through your lips. His hands fell to your thighs, hastily moving them under your dress to play with the hem of your panties. You whimpered, and he pulled away, looking you in the eyes.

“You want these off, (Y/N)?”, he purred in your ear.

“Fuck, yes, Aaron, please…” You were a mess, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him so bad, and you didn’t even know him. His fingers tugged at them, pulling them down your thigh and shoving them in his pocket, a sly smile on his face.

“Come here, baby.” You obliged, sliding your hands under his shirt as you kissed him roughly. He bit your lip, a yelp coming from you and a deep chuckle from him. The two of you parted for only a second so that his jacket and shirt could come off. You admired his skin in the faint light from a nearby streetlight. Something that stood out to you was all the scars on his stomach. You leaned down and kissed every single one of them, undoing his belt in the process. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans. He moaned, his head hitting the window. “Fuck, you’re so hot…” His voice sounded so attractive when he was hot and bothered.

His hands pulled you suddenly back into his lap, hands resting on your bare ass. “Your turn first.” His thumb had no problem finding your pulsing clit, and he started rubbing circles just the way you liked. You gasped, moaning and burying your face in his neck. He moaned too, pushing a finger inside you and pumping back and forth. “You’re so wet for me, (Y/N).” You couldn’t speak; the power he held over you was insane. He kissed your neck so roughly you knew it would leave bruises that you’d have to cover up. Good thing it was scarf season.

He added another finger, and you started riding him; you were a moaning and sloppy mess. You put your hands on his strong shoulders to steady yourself, and he moved his fingers faster. The knot in your stomach tightened, and you could hardly breathe. Your eyes rolled back into your head and all you could feel was his hot chest against you and his long fingers inside you as you rode out your orgasm on them. He pulled them out, and you instantly missed the feeling. You whined at the empty feeling.

“You want to clean them off or should I?” You could barely focus on his words, your pussy still pulsing.

“I want you to taste me.”, you breathed out. Without hesitation, he licked his fingers clean, amber eyes rolling into his skull and a guttural moan coming from deep inside him. You got turned on again just from that vision itself. He pulled your dress off of you and threw it on top of your panties on the floor. He hungrily stared at your chest, sucking on your nipple and playing with the other. Your hips bucked against the leather of the seat, a groan slipping from the both of you.

“Lie down.” You did as you were told, lying down on your back. He unzipped his jeans and kicked them off, but not before pulling a condom out of the back pocket. His dick was pushing against the thin fabric of his boxers. Fuck, he’s huge. Of course, he is. Going against orders, you sat up and looked up at him, taking him into your mouth. He groaned, pulling your hair back away from your face. “(Y/N), holy shit…” He thrust into your mouth, but you didn’t mind it. Your hands stroked his dick for what your mouth couldn’t take.

You pulled away, knowing he was ready. His light brown eyes from inside the bar were now pitch black, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his forehead. You put your hand behind his head and pressed your lips into his, and he moaned against you. You could feel his dick pressing onto the inside of your thigh, and your hips naturally started riding it. He wasn’t inside you yet, just slipping against you. Your nails dug into his back, the feeling too much to take. His hands held your waist so tight you think he might leave bruises, but that didn’t matter.

Hurriedly, he pulled the condom on his dick and made sure you were ready and willing before he started fucking you. Slowly at first, he thrust what felt like halfway inside you. He filled you up so nicely, like the two of you were made for each other. “Fuck, Aaron, just like that…”, you breathed out into his ear, moaning and rocking on top of him. He helped you stay steady as you took all of his dick, and he started speeding up. You held onto him like he was your last breath, and his wandering hand found your clit again, rubbing those familiar circles on it. He started sucking on your neck again, and you could feel him twitching inside you. You came not a second later.

You rode it out, seeing stars. He was breathing heavily, kissing your lips as softly as he did before you started. You kissed him back with what little energy you had left. “That was…”, he whispered, looking into your eyes. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”, he finished his thought.

“Wanna do this again sometime?”, you asked him shyly. He smirked at you. “Sorry, that was-“

“I do, (Y/N). Get dressed, I’ll drive you home.” You smiled at him, and he returned one. You didn’t worry about your phone or purse; one of your friends would grab them. He was dressed quickly and got out of the backseat, closing the door behind him and walking around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. You pulled your dress back on, along with your shoes.

The lack of Aaron’s body heat made you realize how cold it was this late into the night. You crossed your arms over your body, trying to make yourself as warm as possible. He motioned for you to get in the front seat, so you did, getting out of the car. The parking lot was almost empty, and it was snowing. You opened the passenger door, climbing in.

“Are you cold?”, he asked. He was warming the car up, turning dials and making sure it was getting defrosted. Not that it needed to do much work with all the heat you two made. You looked over at him; the caring look returned in his eyes. He looked handsome in the dim light of the center console. You nodded, and he pulled his jacket off and handed it to you. You gladly took it, his smell wafting around you when you slid it on. You told him where your dorms were, and he didn’t seem to mind that you were still in university.

The two of you drove in comfortable silence, the white flakes whizzing past the windows as he drove. Thoughts flooded your head about what had just happened, and how you felt about him. You couldn’t fall for him, but you had a feeling you could at some point if you weren’t careful. Unbeknownst to you, Aaron was having the same thoughts.

He parked outside your building, and he gave you his number and you gave him yours. You started taking the jacket off, and he stopped you. “Keep it. It’s cold out there.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him, and he pressed one last kiss to your lips before you got out of the car. He made sure you got inside the building before driving off. You watched the black SUV pull off in the white flurries outside. The plates caught your eye again; those were US government plates, for sure.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

[enthusiasticharry]

The Secrets You Keep

summary: you're a stripper, and you meet Harry off shift. what happens when he finds out?

request: hiiii would you be able to do something like stripper y/n? not where they meet at the club or anything but something natural like at a cafe or something but she keeps it from him bc she thinks he’ll leave her? then he has a guys night at the strip club and sees her perform? but he loves it and she’s a bit embarrassed? idk but that kinda vibe if ur up for it! X

word count: 8.3k words of fluff, smut and angst if you squint (and i really mean squint) also not proofread, sorry! 

masterlist    |    asks

It never occurred to you that once you left full time education you’d end up becoming a stripper. It wasn’t the occupation you had envisioned for yourself, but it was the one that paid the best money and even though it shouldn’t be — money was the thing that you needed the most. You lived in a small, one bedroom flat that you shared with your Grandma who had no income and little pension meaning that you was the only source of income for the two of you. Obviously it was hard upon you, but your Grandma had done so much for you when you were younger that you wanted to help her as much as you possibly could. Granted, finding a job as an eighteen year old that was enough to help pay the bills and for the treatment your Grandmother needed wasn’t the easiest, and that was how you stumbled across the club and the jobs there. Your Grandma didn’t know how you received your income, and you planned to keep it that way for as long as you physically could. 

“Have you got any private dances today?” Jocelyn, also known as Sapphire amongst the people in the club, asked as she started fixing her makeup in the mirror next to yours. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed, spraying a small amount of hairspray upon your curls, “I haven’t spoken to Elliot yet.” 

“Apparently some big shot businessmen are coming in tomorrow.” Ruby adds from the other side of you, applying a lipstick that matched her name to her lips. 

“Ugh.” Sapphire groaned, “That means old men with small dicks wanking to us instead of being with their probably very lovely, loving wives at home.” 

“They lust after the taboo.” You add, applying a small amount of lipgloss to your lips, “They want what they can’t have, and brag when they get it.” 

“They have money though.” Ruby shrugged, “Haven’t had many tips this week. I’d probably do anything for a couple hundred quid tomorrow.” 

“Not anything Ruby.” You turn to look at her, shaking your head at the younger girl, “Stand your ground. Don’t let them take advantage of you.” 

“I won’t.” She smiled, “I learnt from the best.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

As a fresh eighteen year old, just as Ruby was now, you could’ve only hoped for someone to help you and guide you through the trails and tribulations you endured at the club. That’s why you sort of took the younger girl under your wing and helped her as much as possible. 

It wasn’t a lot. Granted, with what they did the majority of it was on their own upon the stage or in a private dance but you wanted to make sure she had small tips to help her handle herself in any situation that could occur and that she someone to talk to if she ever needed it. 

“Are you working tomorrow, Emerald?” Emerald was your stage name. 

“No.” You sigh happily, “It’s my day off.” 

“Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.” Ruby smiled. 

You certainly did. 

The next morning, after helping your Grandma get ready and to the hospital, you make your way towards the small café you usually went to during your Grandmother’s chemo sessions. They usually lasted around three hours, and whilst you offered to stay with her, she usually forced you to leave and spend some time on your own, claiming she didn’t want you to see her at her worst.

The spring days had just started to warm up, so you dressed yourself in a summer dress you had picked up for cheap at a charity shop. You carried your tote bag with your book in over your shoulder as you pushed past the people on the street.

It wasn’t usually this busy, and looking around you saw no free tables but a few free chairs dotted around. Your favourite table, tucked away in the far right corner by the window had been taken by a man sat reading, just as you would’ve been. You toy back and forth with the idea of going to sit over there as you walk over to the counter. 

You order your usual, a peach iced tea, and wait for the kind barista to make it. Your free days, usually, landed sporadically. They normally occurred when your grandmother either had chemo or a hospital appointment and that’s only because she can sometimes be really ill after them and needed you to look after her. Even though Elliot was not a good person by any means, he understood your situation and did help as little as he could. 

“Excuse me.” The man looked up from this book at you, “Is this seat taken?” 

“Uh. . .” 

“It’s fine if it’s not!” Your quick to add, “There’s just no other seats.” 

“No.” Your smile falters, “No! I mean that the seats not taken. It’s yours.” 

“Thank you.” You drop your tote bag down on the floor, holding your hand out to the man, “I’m YN.” 

“Harry.” He shakes your outstretched hand. 

There was something oddly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. He dressed quite casually, a punny t-shirt that said something about health on it and you didn’t want to seem too weird and bend down to look at what he had on his bottom half but you suspected it was something just as interesting. 

You take your book out of your bag and place it on the table in front of you, flicking through the pages until you found the page you had left off at. 

As a child you loved to read. Your grandmother always read you a bedtime story before bed and it lead to English being your best subject at school. Whether it be the creative writing aspect, or the analytic — you were just good at it. It was your highest grade at GCSE, an A, and your highest grade at A Level, a B.

You didn’t exchange any more words with Harry the entire time you were there. Periodically you looked up at him, and somewhere deep down you hoped that he did the same for you but you couldn’t be too sure. The book that he was reading seemed interesting enough, something about watermelon, you had noticed. You had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t about watermelon but you could never be too sure you supposed. 

A whine almost escaped your lips when you realised that you had to go pick up your Grandmother and your book had just gotten interesting. That was the problem when you read, you could sit and do it for hours and not even look up. It was something so interesting to you that you could immerse yourself in a world different to the one you lived in and slip out of reality for however long and return back to normal as though nothing had happened. 

“Thank you for letting me sit here.” You smile as you pack your bag up, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

You left feeling sort of fuzzy inside. You hadn’t spoken to the man at all really, but he was kind and certainly handsome with his tousled brown hair and gentle smile. That was probably going to be the last time that you saw him, and you probably should’ve asked for his number at least but you didn’t and that was why you walked away with him laying heavy upon your mind.

The next day, you wanted nothing more than to leave in the middle of your shift and curl up on the sofa. Instead, you were stood in a private room in the back of the club swirling your hips for a man sat upon a chair in the middle. 

“You’re fucking fit.” He moans, and you almost throw up in your mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

You move yourself so you’re hovered over his lap, twisting your hips to beat of the sultry song spilling out of the speakers. If you didn’t need the money, or have a bills to pay you certainly wouldn’t be doing this. 

“Fucking sort.” That’s when his hand drops down upon your behind, squeezing the flesh harshly. 

You stand up, flipping around so that you’re looking at him, “Hands off.” 

“Babe.” He throws his head back, “C’mon I’ve paid bags for this dance.” 

“And you pay for a dance, and the rules state no touching.” 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, babe.” 

“Better not.” 

It does, and that’s when you get up and leave. He still has to pay, which is a plus but it just isn’t the best feeling. The job you do isn’t one that people necessarily respect you for, but there are rules in place to help with that. You and the other dancers within the club were human beings and deserved the rights that any other person has. 

“You okay?” Ruby presses her hand to your shoulder as you powder your under-eyes, “I heard he was touching.” 

“Yeah.” You smile at her through the mirror, “Started behind and they he just full on groped me.” 

“Men are pigs.” 

“I second that statement.” You laugh, “But you know what they’ll say.” 

“That we teased and antagonised them to do it.”

Throwing her a deadpan look, you nod. It was something that you had dealt with for the past six years of your life and even though you did hate it and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up every time it happened — you had gotten used to it. 

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?” 

“I did thank you.” You smile, “Read a bit. Spent some time with my Grandma.” 

“Sounds lovely.” Her face then twists into one that you can’t quite pinpoint, “You didn’t miss much here.” 

“The businessmen not up too much?” 

“No they paid well.” She nodded, “We just had to watch them wank their micropenises at us.” 

You curl your nose up at the thought, “That sounds pleasant.” 

“Totally.” She snorts. 

“Emerald. Ruby.” Elliot sticks his head into the room, “Get your asses back out there.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes and you laugh. Your job certainly wasn’t your favourite but some of the people around you made it more pleasant.

Two weeks later you find yourself sat in the corner of the café down the road from the hospital, your book open in front of you and a peppermint tea sat upon the table in a pot. Your Grandmother’s second round of chemo was slowly coming to the end of its stint and even though you wanted nothing more than for her to be back to the epitome of health, you would miss spending time at this small café. 

“Hi.” You lift your head up to see Harry stood there, slightly breathless, “Is this seat taken?” 

“It’s yours.” You smile, watching him drop his book on the table.

This time you could see his entire outfit. A white t-shirt with some writing on that you missed, a floral shirt over the top paired with red corduroy flares. You were right the last time that you met him —he did have an amazing sense of style. You, however, bought whatever was the cheapest or on sale that seemed acceptable to wear in public. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’ve been okay.” You smile, “You?” 

“Good, thanks.” He scratches the base of his neck, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Oh.” You have to stop yourself from smiling too much, “I only come when my Grandma has an appointment and they’re usually two weeks apart.” 

“Ah.” He nods before his face curls, “I’m sorry if that seemed creepy.” 

“It didn’t.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt within your stomach, “I just thought I wouldn’t see you again.” 

“Couldn’t let that happen.” Heat rises up your neck as he beams.

“No complaints about that from me.” 

“That’s good.” He rests his hand upon his chest, letting out a deep breath, “Thought I was punching a little over my weight.” 

“You’re not.” You cheeks hurt from smiling, “It’s cute.” 

He looks down at his book. He seemed so shy, as though he had a confidence to talk to people but once they complimented him or something to do with him it completely changed. It was intriguing. He was already nicer to you than most people you’ve met of the opposite sex in your life and you’re let to learn anything about him apart from the fact that he reads Bukowski and likes black coffee — it certainly wasn’t much to go on. 

“How long do we have until you have to go back to your Grandma?” 

“Not long.” You sigh sadly, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I understand, it’s okay.” He flashes you a small smile, “Can I walk you back to the hospital?” 

You ponder his offer for a second, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You walk back to the hospital brushing arms with one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you couldn’t be happier. 

“Has your Grandma been having treatment for long?” 

“It’s her second round.” You explained, “They originally removed the tumour and it went away but it came back. They caught it quickly and she’s back in bay 11 for three hours every two weeks.” 

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, “That must’ve been tough.” 

You shrug, “She’s a fighter, I know she is.” 

“I don’t doubt she is.” He smiles, “She’s got an amazing granddaughter to stay alive for.” 

The walk to the hospital isn’t long enough in your opinion. You speak about a few things, and you learn he does music and that’s when you put two and two together and realise that he’s actually Harry Styles from One Direction. Harry wished he could’ve recorded your reaction when you realised. 

Harry had never met someone like you, and he had met a lot of people in his life. You were sweet, and kind and so gentle but also confident and held yourself in such a strong way that he couldn’t help but want to know you, the real you. 

“This is it.” You stop in front of the entrance closest to the chemo ward, “Thank you for walking me.” 

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but can I get your number?” 

“Uh. . . yeah.” 

“Great.” He beams, “At least now I won’t have to hope you show up at the café.” 

You swear you felt your heart burst. 

During your shift a couple of weeks later, you don’t notice your phone light up a message. You actually don’t notice at all until you arrived home that night. You had already checked on your Grandma, who was sound asleep in bed, and that’s when you allowed yourself to drop down upon the sofa with a sigh. 

Seeing an unknown number pop up on your screen at first had confused you, but once you had looked further into it, your palms started sweating. 

Hi YN. It’s Harry. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. I hope you and your Grandma are well. 

Your heart starts to beat faster. The message you had awaited for weeks was here and you had no idea how to act, never mind what too reply back with. The only thing that spiralled around within your mind was that he had been thinking about you. 

In your head, you imagined him pacing around in his large house trying to figure out what to send you, just like they do in the movies. You at least hoped that was what he had been doing over the past couple of weeks. 

Hi Harry! It’s lovely to hear from you, sorry it’s late. I’m okay, Grandma’s getting there. How are you? 

You throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, trying not to giggle like you did as a schoolgirl whenever you were messaging boys. You nearly cried whenever you phone ran out of credit and you’d end up having to run to the store to get a top up in the morning with your spending money and explaining to them what had happened. You were thankful that your upgrade didn’t need that. 

I’m okay. Glad to hear about your Grandma. I know this is probably really weird and totally out of the blue, but are you free this weekend? I’m leaving next week for a little while and I really want to see you before I do. 

In your head, you ignore the end of the message about him leaving and focus on the fact that he wants to see you. Harry Styles wants to see you. You hoped it was a date, everything pointed it to be a date but you didn’t want get too ahead of yourself. 

You haven’t had a boyfriend since your first year of Sixth Form, and the first date you were going on since then was going to be with Harry Styles of all people. 

If you pull some strings, work an extra long shift on Saturday and please some of Elliot’s special clients — you may be able to get Friday night off. It was a maybe, but over the next two days you could make it a yes. You hoped that you could make it a yes. 

You’ve never, in your six years of working at the club, missed any of your shifts for anything other than your Grandma suddenly falling ill, and those were on rare occasions. You certainly deserved this day off.

I’ll have to check with my boss but I think I could do Friday night? If that’s not a problem for you. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from internally freaking out. 

Sounds perfect. How about I pick you up at 8? 

You wince. It wasn’t as though your were embarrassed of where you lived because you weren’t. You’ve worked hard to be able to pay for the flat and everything in it but there was something about showing it to someone who you’ve only just met and had no intention of explaining your situation to wasn’t on the top of your priority list. 

Is there any chance I could meet you somewhere? 

Of course. Where do you fancy eating? Italian? Thai? 

Italian sounds good. 

Great. I’ll send you details over. 

Thank you :) 

See you then, YN. Sweet dreams. 

Night, Harry. 

You slept well that night. 

“I just don’t think I can spare you Friday.” Elliot sighs, “I’m sorry YN.” 

You have to stop yourself from wanting to cry. You don’t use up all your holiday days, and you work way more than you should or that you’re paid for but you don’t complain and you just get on with it. The one time you ask for a shift off, his stubborn ass says that he cant do it. 

“Please, Elliot.” You sign, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I just need this day off.” 

“And I need my best girl on the floor. Need the best of the best.” 

“There are plenty of other better girls than me working here.” 

He shakes his head, “You’re the favourite, YN. Need you to be there.” 

“Elliot.” You sigh, leaning forward in the uncomfortable seat you were sat in, “I’ve worked for you for six years and I’ve never asked for a day off like this before.” 

“Yeah but—”

“—and! I’ve never asked for a day off apart from going to the hospital and you know that.” 

“I couldn’t exactly say no to you—”

“I’ve worked every shift you’ve ever asked me to, covered for people when you need it.” 

“Stop it!” He holds his hand up to silence you, “Just shut up for a second.” 

You clamp your lips shut. If you didn’t need to stay on his good side to get Friday off you probably would’ve said something about how rude he was being. He’d always been rude, but he paid you and the rest of the girls so you all chose to ignore it. 

He ponders, and you know the cogs are turning within his brain as he scrolls through his laptop, typing a few things. He takes his glasses off his face and drops them dramatically down on the table in front of him. 

“Ruby will cover your shift.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you!” 

“Don’t be thanking me too quickly.” He points his finger, “I need a favour from you.” 

“Anything. Well not anything.” 

“In a few weeks times there’s a big birthday party coming in.” He explains, “I need you to be the star of the show, do private dances and all the good things like that.” 

“Just that?” You ask, knowing that it could be a trap knowing Elliot’s track record. 

He nods, “Just that.” 

You look at him sceptically, “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” He holds his hands up, “A few big names are coming, that’s all. A list celebs that have asked to use the back exit.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Let me know the date and I’ll do it.” 

You stand up, happy that you’ve managed to get your shift tomorrow off and that you can go on the date you have been excited for since you met Harry and was introduced to the world with him in it. 

“Have fun at your thing Friday.” 

“Thank you. . .?” 

You don’t think you like Elliot being nice to you. 

Friday night rolled around quickly and you were thankful for that. After helping your Grandma with her own dinner and into bed, you start getting ready. You curl your hair, brushing it out until its in what looks like effortless waves but are actually quite hard waves to achieve. You do natural makeup, something completely different to makeup you usually wear in one of your shifts. You try to keep all of your features soft, different to how you usually look on a day to day basis. You dress in a long white polka-dotted maxi skirt, paired with a thin long-sleeved jumper that would keep you warm due to the ever changing British weather. 

You had done a little bit of research on the restaurant Harry had sent you the address for and learnt that it wasn’t the most expensive restaurant ever, but one that was way out of your price range. It meant that you had to dip into the fund that you keep for occasions where you need a little extra money or you will use in the future when you eventually move out and busy your own place. 

The tube was crammed, seeing as though it was a Friday night and the majority of people were either coming home from work and stating to go out for end of the week drinks. You knew that the club would start to become heaving as the night grew and a part of you was thankful that you didn’t have to work today, and you were given a small break from the hell that is working at a strip club. 

The restaurant, when you arrived, definitely looked fancier than it had online. The bar stood against the corner wall, the right hand side of the restaurant had booths covering the walls whilst stand alone tables scattered around the rest of the room.

You were surprised when you saw Harry, already sat at the booth in the far right corner. He lifted his hand up in an awkward sort of wave and you couldn’t help but beam at him. He had a shirt, an expensive looking white shirt with a yellow and blue jumper over the top. You hand felt so excited to see someone since when your Grandma went into hospital for her tumour being removed and you couldn’t see her for a few days. 

“YN.” He sighs, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You smile, slipping into the booth across from him. 

“Was starting to think you wasn’t going to show up.” 

“I’m sorry.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I underestimated how bust the tube was going to be.” 

You can tell he wants to pry but instead he says, “It’s okay.” 

His nails were painted yellow, a few of them painted lilac as well. There was something so simple about his nails that you just loved, and if it wasn’t weird you probably would’ve stared at them for way too long for it to be acceptable. You knew he had tattoos, and you could see the cross on his hand and the the anchor peaking out from underneath his shirt and you wanted to see more. 

“I like your nails.” You smile, running your own fingers over your own nails underneath the table. 

“Thanks.” A blush creeps up his neck, “I did them last night. Sort of calmed me down, I was quite nervous.” 

“Nervous for what?” 

“This.” He nods, “I haven’t been as nervous for a date in a long time.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” 

In your twenty four years of living, you’ve never had someone say that they were nervous to see you. You’ve been nervous to see and do many things in your life and you hoped that somewhere along the line it would’ve been the same for somebody else and yourself but you had the slight suspicion that wasn’t the case. Hearing those words out loud, coming from someone who you’d never expect it too was special, and you were going to keep that for as long as you physically could. 

“I did.” He looks down at the table briefly, “I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you before.” 

“You don’t really know me.” 

“I’d like to get to know you.” 

That’s what you do. For the rest of the date you don’t stop talking. Even though you’re starving and could eat your fist, it takes you the longest you’ve ever taken to eat your food because of how much you spend it talking. 

You’re just about to dig in to your desert when your body physically halts, “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?” 

“I, uh, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t what to! I know I can be pretty invasive sometimes.” 

“No, it’s fine!” You take a sip of your drink to swallow down the dryness within your throat, “I don’t live in the nicest building, or in the nicest area and I guess I was embarrassed.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“But I was.” You drop your eyes to the plate in front of you, “I know I shouldn’t have been and that it was stupid but I just didn’t want you judge me before you truly knew me because of where I live.” 

“I hope you know now that I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“I do.” 

You let Harry drive you home. Even though you would never admit it to his face just yet, you really liked him. He was kind, sweet and funny and everything you could ever want in your person. You haven’t said this in a long time but you love the person you are around him and you wouldn’t change it for the world if you didn’t have to. 

He stops in the car park outside the building of flats you live in and you can tell he’s thinking deeply about something but you try to not concentrate on that too much. 

“I would invite you up.” You laugh, “But I don’t think the sofa in the middle of my Grandma’s flat whilst she snores in the next room is the most romantic.” 

He scrunches up his nose, “I can’t say that it is.” 

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head to look at your hands that are tested on your knees, “I really wish I could offer you something. Anything.”

“It’s okay, YN.” He uses his finger to move your head up so that you’re looking at him, “I don’t expect anything from you. I hope you know that.” 

“I know.” 

He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the finger that was rested upon your chin move upwards so that its upon your cheek. You flicker your eyes closed and just mask in the feeling of his touch against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You eyes open as you nod your head, letting out a shaky breath at the sheer surprise you feel at his words.

“Want your words, darling.” 

“Please kiss me.”  

You close your eyes again and you feel his lips touch yours. It's light at first, but you can’t contain yourself and you end up pushing closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his lips upon yours. Your fingertips grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer without hurting himself too much on the centre console. Even though you both don’t want to, you pull away as you start to loose breath. 

“You okay?” Your chest heaves up and down as he speaks. 

“Never been better.” You sigh, resting your forehead against his. 

“Good.” 

You kiss again, this time its more passionate and you can’t help but let out a small whine as he pulls away. The smug look on his face after hearing that sound was enough to send your stomach doing flips. 

You really didn’t want to do this, but you had too: “I have to go.” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, “I understand.” 

“Okay.” You reach for the door handle. 

“I have to go away for a bit.” He sighs, “I’m writing some music over in America but when I get back, do you want to maybe go on another date?” 

“I’d love to.” 

He presses one last kiss to your lips and you leave the car, muttering a small, “Bye.” 

You feel giddy. As though you’re sixteen again and just come back from your first date with your first boyfriend. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and in all honesty, you had no idea how to handle those feelings. You certainly wouldn’t admit that you screamed quietly into your pillow in excitement that night. 

You couldn’t wait for him to return home. 

Two weeks. Harry was away for two weeks and even though you had only kissed him once, twice if you actually count how many kisses there were, you missed him more than words could explain. You weren’t one to usually message first, so you did end up waiting until Harry had a spare moment to message you which wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked but you couldn’t complain. 

You almost felt as though you had been drip fed this new life with Harry in, only to have it taken away quicker than you could blink. It wasn’t forever, and that was probably the thing keeping you sane. This had all happened in such a short amount of time but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The only thing that limited how far you could take this was your job. 

Harry had obviously been curious and during a text conversation in the first week of his week being away — he asked what you did. After having a small freak out you decided to say that you worked in a bar. It was a small, white lie and you hated yourself for it but telling him that you were a stripper just didn’t feel like the best thing to do at that time. 

You just weren’t ready to tell him, and that was totally okay. 

Speaking of your work, tonight was the night of the big party that Elliot made sure you could come to. The club had held celebrity parties before, so you weren’t entirely nervous but every time someone mentioned it you could feel your heart speeding up slightly. 

“Emerald.” You turn to look at Elliot who’s trudging towards you, a bag in hand, “Here’s your new outfit for tonight.” 

“New? I thought I’d just wear the one for special occasions.” 

“This is a special, special occasion Emerald.” He dropped the bag down in front of you, “Wear this.” 

Taking the material out of the bag, your mouth dropped open at the sight of the emerald green lingerie in your hands. It was delicate lace that you feared you’d rip if you weren’t too careful. Putting it on, your breasts slightly spilled over the lace, and whilst your front was covered, the thong back of the lingerie left your ass on full display. It was beautiful, you couldn’t dismiss that but you just hadn’t ever worn something so skimpy before. You pulled your black silk robe over your shoulders, fastened your black heels onto your feet and made your way towards the side of the stage. 

The skimpiness of the new lingerie did send more butterflies to the pit of your stomach than you were originally hoping for but it was only another hurdle for you to get over which you knew you’d be able to do. 

You heard the music start to play, you slipped your hand through the gap in the curtain and opened it, revealing yourself to the room. 

Here goes nothing, you mumble to yourself. 

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sight of you on the stage. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, a strip club, but it was a friend of a friends birthday and he had kindly been invited and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He wasn’t in the band anymore, and certainly didn’t have to hide that he went to places like this anymore, even though they weren’t his favourite. 

He couldn’t bare his eyes off of you. The way your body moved to the rhythm of the song, your darkly manicured nails pushed the robe of your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie you were wearing. Harry would be lying if he said that his cock didn’t start to stir at the sight. 

You. The girl who he thought spent her days reading, and looking after Grandma had a secret persona that he only wanted to explore more. 

“My word.” One of the men in the group spoke, loudly so that everyone could hear him, “She’s fit as fuck.” 

“To get my hands on her.” 

Harry clenches his jaw, and his fist that rested on the arm of his chair. If he wasn’t in a very public place where people could record him, he’d give that man a piece of his mind. He probably would but he’d do it when nobody was around so the man could truly understand what he was saying to him. 

“Do you think I could get a dance with her?” The birthday boy asked. 

“It’s your birthday.” The dickhead with no morals spoke, “She might give you something special as a present.” 

“The rules say no touching.” The words slip out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop them, “So I highly doubt that.” 

“I’m sure you’d be saying something different if you were in his position, Styles.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the stage, watching as you seductively bent down to pick up some of the tips that had been thrown on the bottom of the stage. The song was slowly finishing and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment bubbling within him.

Harry watched your lean legs as you strutted towards the side of the stage, flicking the long wig on your head over your shoulder, seductively running your tongue over your bottom lip as you pulled the material of the lingerie down from your breasts. 

Harry bit his lip, his leg bounced, he ran his hand up and down his thigh. He tried to do everything in his power to distract himself from the rousing within his trousers but he just couldn’t do it. The flimsy material dropped to the floor, your red painted lips curled up into a smirk and you made your way behind the curtain, not showing any of your truly bare skin. 

If you hadn’t been imprinted on his brain before, you certainly were now.

You could hear the grunts and groans of happiness, and a few cheers whilst on stage but the lights were so bright that you couldn’t see anything past the first row or so. The tips you had received were good, and you were pleased about that. 

You received your robe and bra back from the stage and pulled them back onto your body. Your solo dance was always a hit for Elliot, and you supposed that was why he’s kept you on for so long and if you were honest, they were the easiest to do. Private dances always made you too uncomfortable, and in the six years you’ve worked there there had only been a handful of people that made you feel comfortable when it came to private dances. 

“Emerald.” Elliot walks in smiling and you assume everything is swell on the floor, “They fucking love you.” 

You nod your head, muttering a small and awkward, “Thank you.” 

He hums, “You’ve been requested for a private dance, and he’s promised to pay you accordingly.” 

“Really?” 

Another hum, “Room Two. I think he’s already there.” 

“Thanks.” 

He leaves the room, a bounce in his step. You suppose that this is a good thing and he’ll finally get off your back for the time you took off for the date with Harry. You at least hoped. 

You checked yourself. You made sure your makeup still looked flawless, your breasts sat perfectly within the material and your arse looked good. You brush through the wig once and make your way towards room two, the smaller of the three private dance rooms which helped it be more intimate. 

You smiled at the bouncer at the door, Gerry, a man who looked as though he could kill someone with a single punch but was actually a massive teddy bear. He was good at his job of keeping everyone safe and making sure that the bad eggs that came in left just as quickly. 

Watching the door slowly open, Harry felt his heart stop. He had been pacing up and down the room ever since he had walked in, and only just stopped when he heard the creek of the door. He couldn’t believe that you were in front of him, and you certainly couldn’t believe that he was in front of you either. 

“YN. . .” He sounded breathless. 

“Harry?” He could see your chest rising and falling at a quick pace, “What? How? I thought you were in America.” 

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I got back last night.” 

“Why are you here?” He can hear the lump in your throat as you speak, your eyes glossing over. 

“A Birthday party.” 

“Yours?” 

“No!” He’s quick to interrupt, “A friend of a friend. It’s not mine. Mine’s in February, and I certainly don’t think I’ll be having my party here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here! It’s lovely! You’re lovely! I’m rambling.” 

He was so gosh darn cute and if you weren’t in the middle of a break down, you probably would’ve laughed or at least reacted to his little word vomit. It was probably the quickest you’d ever heard him talk, not that it was hard. 

After a few minutes of contemplating what to say, you sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

His voice is soft, his features falling, “What are you sorry for?” 

“Lying to you.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to suppress the tears, “I didn’t want to.” 

“Hey, hey.” He walks over to you, placing his finger underneath your chin just like he had done in the car weeks ago, “No need to get upset, I’m not.” 

“You should be.” You bottom lip quivers, “I lied to you and I had no intention to retract that just yet.” 

“YN.” He rests his palms on your cheeks, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want to know why.”

“I was scared.” You admit, trying to do anything but look up at him, “I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d change your mind.” 

“Change my mind about what?” 

“Wanting too, you know. . .?” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t. There’s no reason for me to.” 

“I’m a stripper Harry, it gives you full reason to not want to be associated with me.” You lift your hand to wipe your under-eye. 

“I’m not judging you, YN, I said I wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.” 

“YN.” His voice is stern, more so than it had been, “I don’t care that you’re a stripper.” 

“You don’t.” 

“No.” He smiles, “I don’t.” 

“Fuck.” You let out a breath of relief, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, “If you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to.” 

You had never met someone like him, and no matter how many times he surprised you that was just fact. Granted, you hadn’t had time to date anyone with looking after your Grandma but another reason you didn’t was because of what they would think of you. 

You knew that not everyone would be was understanding and lovely as Harry had been, and that was just because of the lovely person he was inside and out. That was the reason you didn’t tell him, because even though you had an inclination that he was accepting but you didn’t know whether that was just a façade or he was like that in real life. You loved that he was like that in real life. 

“Can I be honest?” You nod, “I enjoyed it.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips, “You did?” 

He hums, beaming a smile at you. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “I’d still love to get that private dance.”

You roll your eyes and thwack his shoulder playfully, “If you must.” 

“I’ll wait for you.” He nods, “Until your shift is over, if you want.” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

You hadn’t even made it completely into Harry’s house before his lips were on yours. He pushed you up against his front door before he’d even shut it properly, his lips falling upon yours with a hunger you hadn’t felt since you last kissed him. 

Maybe it was his hands rested upon the small of your back, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” He smirks against your lips. 

“Not the priority.” You reply, not bringing your lips away from his. 

“Noted.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Upstairs?” 

“Upstairs.” 

You follow him up the stairs, your hand rested firmly in his. You’re too distracted by the man in front of you to take any notice of the house or where you were going. 

Harry had kept true to his word and waited for you. You secretly wished that you could have recorded the group’s reaction as you walked towards him, a small smile on your face. After bidding them goodbye, the two of you jumped in a taxi that Harry had ordered and made your way to his house, or what you expected to be his house and you weren’t disappointed. 

The second you step into the plushly decorated room, you’re kissing again. His hands slide down to rest upon curve of your ass, his ring-clad fingers immediately squeezing the flesh. You groan lightly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip through her parted lips. You grip his bicep as he leads your backwards into the room, your calves hitting the bed as he does so. 

Your lips part, you fall back onto the bed. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your fingertips reaching to pull the shirt he was wearing over his head. You almost swoon there and then at the sight of the tattoos littering his skin. You lean forward and place a kiss on his lower stomach, just before his happy trail that slips into the band of his trousers. 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. 

“What are you planning?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “What do you want me to be planning?” 

He groans, “Anything at this point.”

You reach forward, taking the button of his trousers in your fingers. You look up, “Is this okay?” 

“More than okay, baby.” 

You unbutton his trousers, wrapping your finger in the waistband and pulling them down. You can already see the tent in his boxers. You wondered how long he had been like this, you wondered if it had been since your dances. 

You blush slightly as you hook your fingers now into the waistband of his boxers, looking up at him. You can’t handle the look on his face, the slight blush but the boyish grin mixed with his curls that had fallen forward upon his forehead. You pull the fabric down, exposing his hard cock. You watch as it hits his stomach briefly, the tip swollen. You lift your hand up, wrapping it around him before giving him a few pumps. His stomach quivers as you do so, a groan escaping him as you wrap your lips around his tip. His eyes flutter closed as you start to bob your head, his fingers reaching forward to grab your hair into a ponytail. 

“Fuck baby.” His hips involuntarily buck forward. You sink further down, going as far as you could. 

Harry couldn’t believe how good he felt. It had been a while since he had been with someone, and it was worth the wait. You pulled away too soon in his opinion, but the sight of you, all teary eyed and sloppy sent his mind spiralling. 

“God.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting you up so he could move you further up the bed, “You’re fucking killing me here.” 

“Good.” You giggle. 

He’s quick to remove your shirt, allowing you to pull your jeans down at the same time. He didn’t expect you to still be in the lingerie from earlier, and if it was physically possible, he swore his cock hardened even more. 

“Fuck me.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers fumble with the latch of your bra. You bite your bottom lip as he wraps his around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He uses his hand to knead the other one. You can’t help but grind your hips forwards, a feeling bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Harry.” You moan, withering under his touch. 

He kisses down from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck until he’s littering them all the way to the band of your underwear. 

“Is this okay?” 

“More than okay.” You whine as he lets out a breath upon the thin material. 

He pulls your underwear down, teasing you by placing kisses across your thighs and pubic bone. He’s so close, yet so far from the place that you need him the most. He licks a stripe across your centre, until he wraps his lips around your clit. You can’t help the moans that escape your parted lips as he nibbles and flicks your sensitive nub, her thighs starting to shake as he coaxes her closer and closer to her orgasm. 

“Don’t stop.” You thread your fingers through his hair, “God! Harry.” 

He pulls away, and you let out a shaky breath as he does so. 

“No fair.” You whine. 

“Life isn’t.” 

“Just shut up and get a condom.” He does as you request, placing a small peck to your lips as he reached over to grab a condom from the drawer beside the bed. 

You watch as he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling the rubber down his length. He presses another kiss to your lips, catching her eyesight once more.

“Are you sure?” 

“More than okay.” 

He hovers over you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds to coax a moan out of your lips. He groans into your shoulder as he pushes in, biting down briefly to suppress the sound. 

“Don’t.” You moan, scratching your nails down his back as he starts to thrust in and out of you, “Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck.” You squeeze him slightly, “Do that again.” 

He speeds up, catching your lips as your hips meeting quicker, the only sound in the room being your skin slapping each others. You slip one of your hands between the two of you, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit. 

“Where have you been all my life?” You can’t help the pleasurable giggle that escapes your lips. 

“Feel so good, H.” 

After a few more thrusts, a couple more circles of her clit and she’s comes around his cock, squeezing him tightly as she did so. 

“Fuck, shit, oh god.” 

He continues to thrust in and out of you, coaxing you through your orgasm and towards his. He seems to go deeper and deeper until he’s spilling inside the condom, his moans louder than any you had heard before. 

“God.” He collapses on top of you, taking a few seconds to collect himself and let you collect yourself, “Haven’t felt like that in a long time.” 

“Glad I could be of some assistance.” You push the hair that had matted to your face off. 

“You should keep secrets from me more often.’ 

“I’m never doing that again.” 

“Good.” He pecks your lips. 

[bruhlsbees]

Blurb idea! Okay so I wear alot of goth and punk clothing and I just love the idea of opposites attract pairings so like maybe a goth/punk/alternative reader with Alex? Like they meet at the bar on open mic night while she's preforming and he's like whoa she's so cool! But so out of my league💀 and he thinks he'll never get a chance and all of a sudden the reader comes up and is like hey you're cute wanna hang? And he is baffled lol

opposites attract || alex kerner x fem!alternative!reader

gif credit to @/lovecafes

summary: while singing at an open mic night in the bar, you catch the attention of someone least expected

pairing: alex kerner x fem!alternative!reader

word count: 2,313

warnings: drinking (alex and reader), alex being incredibly awkward, reader loving it and teasing him

a/n: hope you like this one!!! i thought this was an incredibly sweet idea - i imagine reader is singing something from the cranberries, like zombie or linger - this is also set a couple years after the events of goodbye, lenin! - i'd say in mid 90s

The last act had just left the stage when the host jumped on the stage, grinning out at the audience who continued to hoot and holler. It was open mic night down at the local bar, The Sour Apple, and for a last minute event, a lot of people turned out. The Sour Apple wasn’t your usual hangout. Typically you were in the basement smoking pot with the rest of your friends, or performing in backyards with your band - but you wanted a new change of scenery that night, and you thought - hell, an open mic might be fun.

You had invited a few of your friends and bandmates, hoping that maybe you’d be able to perform some of your new songs to test the crowd and see if they were feeling it or not. Only a couple of your friends showed, but the whole band came out and you were pleased. It took quite a bit of convincing, especially for your drummer, Reed, to tag along since apparently he had a bad history with The Sour Apple.

Not only that, but you all stook out like a sore thumb. Leather, studded belts, platform boots, multicolored teased hair, heavy makeup - you weren’t fazed by the stares you received when you walked in, all typical reactions when you went into a new place. Maybe that’s why you stuck to the typical spots, to avoid the judgement. It wasn’t like you cared, but it did get tiring after so long - feeling the stares on the back of your head while you just tried to enjoy life.

“Okay everyone, last call for anyone who wants to get up and participate in open mic!” The bar fell silent into hushed whispers, looking around to see if anyone else wanted to get up on stage. “Any takers? Come on now, don’t be shy!”

Turning towards the rest of your bandmates that were seated along the bar, you grinned their way before the bassist, Lee, shot up - beer spilling from the cup as you gained the host’s attention.

“Right here! We’ll come up!” He exclaimed, stepping off the barstool he was propped on and onto the main bar floor, turning and holding up his hand towards the bartender, “Five shots of jäger my good man!”

While the bartender poured out five shots, the rest of the band groaned, wishing that Lee hadn’t been the one to pick the shot. He was the only one to like the taste of the thick licorice. You only wished it was something more easy, like fireball or hell - Jack Daniel’s would suffice. But you braved the shot, clinking glasses with the rest of them before dumping your head back and letting the warm shot run down your throat.

You held in your gag as you sat the glass down, being pulled now by the guitarist, Winny, through the crowd and up onto the stage. As the singer, you took center stage, the spotlight blinding you as you held your hand up to block the light while you adjusted the mic stand, the rest of your band getting set up behind you.

“Hey everyone! We’re the Toxic Cats and we’ll be singing-” You stopped short, what were you going to sing? Turning around, you glanced towards Lee who shrugged before the other side at Winny who came up to the mic.

“You all know the Cranberries! How about their new song that just came out! You all liked that?” When the crowd erupted in cheers, you smiled weakly, looking at Winny who winked your way, “Looks like we got our song. Go kill 'em, Tiger.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“You gonna sing tonight, Alex?” Denis teased from his spot at the bar, downing the rest of his pint while he glanced over at Alex who was facing the stage, shaking his head. “I heard you got a real pretty voice.”

“Well whoever told you that is lying. Don’t think anyone wants to hear me sing. Sound like a rat stuck in a trap.” He explained, lifting his own pint up to take a drink from. He sighed and leaned back against the bar, blinking slowly as he watched the last act get off the stage before the host jumped on. Shaking his head, Alex exhaled slowly, turning back to face the bar.

As he turned, he caught the laughs that came from the other end of the bar. The group of alternative folks catching his attention. He didn’t mean to stare, but they were just so...different. They weren’t the typical crowd that hung around The Sour Apple, and it surely didn’t go unnoticed.

“Weird folk they are,” Turning, Alex furrowed his eyebrows at Denis who was drinking a new pint now, glancing at Alex, “They’re in a band...not a big fan of their music, but they’re pretty popular I’d say. I’ve seen a couple of their shows. Always doing something with fire or chanting in another language. Gives me the heeby jeebies.”

“I think you’re drunk, Denis.” Alex noted, rolling his eyes as Denis waved him off, insisting that he wasn’t while sloppily sipping from his pint. His attention fell back towards the end of the bar, towards the band as they now took shots before heading up onto the stage.

Through the crowd, Alex only noticed the red hair on you. It reminded him of a Coca Cola can - maybe that wasn’t the best comparison, but it’s what he thought! His posture returned to his original spot, leaning against the bar while facing the stage where you now stood center stage at. While your teased dyed red hair stood out the most, he also noticed your outfit, which surprisingly impressed him.

Starting at your feet, he noticed the high platform boots - you were probably taller than him in them. Alex also noticed the ripped tights, wondering if they came that way or if you did that yourself, under the black skirt that was tattered. You were wearing a band tee of some sorts, not recognizing the band. He had seen alternative girls before, but never once did he look at them the way he looked at you. You were pretty and Alex was awed by your mystery.

When you finally began to sing though, the familiar tune of the Cranberries, Zombie, harmonizing through the bar, his lips turned into a smile, straightening up to really be intune with the song. He had heard it a thousand times, but your cover, hearing it from you - it was more haunting and beautiful than anytime he heard it on the radio.

Alex felt hypnotized to your voice, leaning forward with his mouth gaped open as he listened, gaze remained fixed on you as you swayed on the mic or leaned against one of the other band members. He hadn’t even realized it was over until Denis shoved him, his attention snapping towards him.

“Jesus man, you’re drooling!”

His cheeks went hot, face red as Alex reached his hand up to his mouth, wiping away the drool with the back of his hand before turning back towards the bar, doing his best to ignore Denis who was laughing and in a drunk fit.

“Oh man, you got the hots for her don’t you? The singer! Man, I don’t think I would have ever taken you as the type,” Denis watched as the band made their way back towards their spot at the bar, high-fiving those in the crowd as they passed by them. When you were settled back in your seat, Denis stood up and grabbed the back of Alex’s jacket, pulling him up and with him towards the end of the bar, “Come on, go introduce yourself!”

Before Alex could protest, Denis shoved him towards you, stumbling forward and knocking into you. You turned around, ready to yell at whoever had knocked into you and made you spill your beer before your gaze softened, seeing Alex cowering.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, it’s fine...relax,” You let out a weak laugh and turned towards him, placing your now empty pint on the counter, “I’m a little disappointed though, someone just bought me that. I didn’t even get the chance to drink it.”

Alex smiled back at you, staring at you for a little too long before he knocked himself out of his trance, turning towards the bartender and holding up his hand.

“Two pints please!”

It didn’t take long for the bartender to fill up two new pints for the both of you. Scooting them forward while Alex picked up his, you picking up your own. You clinked your glass against his before taking a drink, setting your glass back down with a sigh.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” You introduced yourself and leaned forward, your right index finger swirling around the rim of the glass, “I’d like to thank the cutie who bought me my drink.” You sent a wink his way and grinned, seeing him look down briefly as his cheeks went pink.

“Alex, I’m Alex!” He introduced, sitting down finally on the barstool beside you. When you called him a cutie, his chest tightened, feeling flustered as he tried to think of what to say next.

“My favorite color is red!” He blurted, “How do you get your hair so big?”

Alex cringed at his question, closing his eyes and mentally slapping himself in the face. He was sure at that point he had lost all chance of impressing you, and he hadn’t even been talking with you for more than two minutes. But when you laughed and didn’t throw your drink in his face, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Lots of hairspray and teasing. Unfortunately I’m not the most eco-friendly with this hairstyle. Mother Earth is probably taking her revenge with all my split ends.” He let out a laugh at your joke, glancing at the guitarist of the band who turned in her stool, leaning forward.

“Or maybe it’s because you’ve just fried your hair. I’m telling you, you should just let it go natural.” You waved off Winny and nudged her back, your attention keeping fixed on Alex.

“So, Alex, did you just want to come over and ask me about my hair?” You took another drink from your pint, your gaze fixed on him as you watched him get flustered again, trying to think of the words to say. “You know, guys like you don’t usually go for girls like me. Did your buddy set you up for this?”

It had happened plenty of times. Pretty boys always got a kick out of embarrassing the alternative girl. You wouldn’t be hurt if this was what was going on, but you would be pissed to have your time be wasted. To your surprise though, Alex seemed to be different.

“No! I mean, well he pushed me over here, but not like that,” He rushed, leaning forward slightly in his stool, as if ready to catch you if you tried to turn away. “Your singing, I’ve never heard you guys before. You sound great! God, part of me was thinking that you sounded better than the Cranberries-”

“Better than the Cranberries? Now you’re just pulling my tail,” It was your turn to blush, cheeks red as you waved him off while he continued to praise you, his hand falling to your knee. You looked down briefly at his hand, smiling before back up at him, “Well, maybe you should come see one of our shows? I’ll get you a front row seat on the best couch in the basement.”

The best couch in the basement. Why did he have a feeling that this wasn’t something he had experienced before. He watched as you pulled a napkin from the bar, digging into your coat pocket before pulling out a pen, scribbing your number down before handing it over to him.

“Here’s the house number. If you call just ask for me, I’m usually around.” You looked up at him and smiled, opening your mouth to say another thing before hearing your bandmates call you for you behind, insisting that it was time to go. Frowning, you grabbed your coat and stood up, towering over him in your platform boots.

Your gaze kept on Alex who stared at the napkin, his smile stained on his face as he ran his thumb across the number. He looked cute, innocent, pure. All things you weren’t used to. When you heard Reed calling for you name, you nodded and waved them off before resting your free hand on Alex’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

But before he could answer, you were already turned and heading out of the bar, catching up to the rest of your bandmates who were climbing into the taxi to head back home. Standing up, Alex held the napkin in his hand, staring at the dark doorway that led outside of the bar. Of course he was happy, but damn - did you have to leave so quick?

Turning, Alex tucked the napkin neatly into his own jacket, making sure it was secured before making his way back to Denis, sitting back in his original spot. When Alex settled back in, he turned and looked at Denis who was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Without saying a word, Denis motioned towards his own cheek, signaling for Alex to check his face. He reached his hand up and swiped at his cheek, noticing that your black lipstick had made it’s way onto his skin. He smiled to himself, feeling giddy inside before cleaning the rest off.

“So I take it went well?” Denis asked, leaning closer towards Alex. Smiling, Alex nodded and took a final sip from his pint.

“It went great, now come on, let’s get you home.”

[amerrierworld]

Makeover

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

request: Would you do dom!daphne and sub!reader from oceans 8? Thanks!!!

Summary: You’re Daphne’s date to your first red carpet premiere, and you’re a little nervous, so Daph finds a way to settle your nerves.

Characters: Daphne Kluger x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,724

Warnings: s m u t, dom!daphne (but soft n caring), sub!reader :)

“Isn’t it a little.. I don't know, too much?” you instinctively winced as a pencil liner came close to your eye, and the makeup artist sighed.

“Honey, you’re going to be Daphne Kluger’s date on the red carpet for the first time. Nothing can be too much.”

“Frankly, I think people will be disappointed if it isn’t too much,” your hairstylist grinned at you in the mirror. 

They prepped you, pampered you, and dressed you until you felt and looked like a fairy princess. Your eyes were outlined in heavy eyeshadow and liner, making your gaze piercing and entrancing. And the deep red shade of your dress made you feel and look incredible and powerful.

Daphne had gone full-out for you, with the best stylists and designers and champagne to make you feel like a luxurious queen in your hotel room opposite hers.

Standing in the mirror, you practiced some poses. Flexed your legs, arched your back, pointed your hip. Smile; with teeth, no teeth. Then no smile; serious but sultry. Flick your hair, look around, glance at Daphne who would be beside you, wrap an arm around her waist. Smile, change pose, smile again. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Despite the great look and how beautiful you felt, you still were a little nervous. And who wouldn’t be? Daphne had become a trend-setting icon over the last little while, directing and acting while looking glamorous as always. And you  were seemingly a nobody compared to that. 

But Daphne wanted you at this premiere, wanted to show you off and make it finally known that she was taken, and that thought made you smile.

A text popped up on your phone from Daphne, saying,

when ur done get over here xx

With your slippers on your feet and high heels in hand you padded across the hallway to her suit, knocking softly on the door.

You expected a massive party of stylists, make up people and her whole team to be there, but instead you saw Daphne sitting at her vanity alone, putting her hair up and out of her face. She was in one of those thick, white, luxurious bathrobes that seemed like she was wrapped in a cloud.

You were going to comment on how  beautiful  she looked when she saw you in the mirror and spun around in her chair, exclaiming in a loud, dramatic gasp,

“Y/N!” 

You blushed and smiled back at her, setting your heels on the ground. She clasped a hand over her mouth as she looked you up and down, amazed at how stunning you looked.

“Why are you so surprised?” you giggled, doing a spin for her, “you picked this out for me after all.”

“Well yes, because I have incredible taste,” Daphne rose from her chair and came over to you. “But to see you in this.. Oh my god.”

Her hands rested on your waist, eyes glittering at you, “you look incredible.”

“So do you,” you mumbled, letting yourself be drawn in for kiss.

“Oh, hush,” she scoffed. “I do not. I don’t even have primer on my face yet.”

“No I like this,” you protested, “you look refreshed.”

She smiled, revealing pearly whites, and you gave her another kiss.

“I have half an hour before my team is going to come barging in through the door,” she said softly. “So we can be alone for a bit. How are you feeling?”

You shrugged, “pretty good, I guess. No amount of makeup or designer dresses could ease the nerves going on inside me right now, though.”

“Well, if you really are nervous you’re very good at not showing it,” Daphne commented as she lead you to sit down on the edge of her massive bed. “That’s an excellent acting trait, you know. I’m surprised a modelling agency hasn’t scooped you up and taken you away from me yet.”

You snorted, “I don’t think that life would be for me.”

Your leg was bouncing, unbeknownst to you, as you looked around the room. You’d snuck in at night before to sleep with Daphne in her bed after all her interviews and calls were finished, but never took in its glory in the sun. 

As you marvelled at the suite around you, Daphne pulled your legs over your lap, massaging her fingers into the tense muscles, making you groan in surprise.

“You just have to relax, hm?” she said sweetly, though her voice was dripping with something suggestive. You nodded, eyes closing as she edged up over your knees to your thighs.

“You have to be absolutely still, okay? You don’t want to ruin your makeup, right?” Daphne smiled. You suddenly realized at how much of a disadvantage you were, fully dressed and ready for the show, whereas Daph had only her bathrobe on and a completely natural face. You had to worry about your goddamn lipstick not getting everywhere.

Daphne pushed your dress up towards your waist, revealing thin, seamless panties. She grinned, seeing how wet you were getting.

“Best get these off before they’re ruined,” she tugged them down your legs, and then pushed your torso back to lay flat on the bed.

“Daph-,” you stammered, “they’re g-gonna come soon.”

“No, baby, the only one coming soon is you,” she said, breathing hotly over your lower stomach. “I don’t want you all tense and worried on the rd carpet. What kind of girlfriend would I be to let you suffer like that?”

Suffer... you thought, no the real suffering is waiting for her to be done teasing. 

“I have your favourite toy here, if you want,” Daphne smirked, “may help speed things up.”

She pulled out a deep blue vibrator, one you two had used countless times. She turned it on and the hum of the toy seemed to be the loudest thing in the whole room, and you squirmed against her. 

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, your legs falling open almost instantly. Daphne laughed, her face lighting up.

“You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Getting all dolled up and then getting fucked by me right here?” she crawled over you, moving in between your knees. One flick  of the  robe and it came off, revealing her gorgeous and nude body to you. You couldn’t help but reach up and grasp her breasts with a pathetic whine.

“Oh, no, no,” she tutted, tugging your hands away no matter how good it felt. “Down, girl.”

Your arms fell limp by your sides and you laid there, panting.

The vibrator was humming and buzzing, and Daphne took her sweet sweet time to trail it along the inside of your thighs, the vibrations leaving you trembling.

“Pretty baby,” she cooed, watching you arch up, bite your lip, toss your head.

“Please?” you asked, then after a beat, “please, Miss Kluger.”

That darkened her gaze instantly. You knew how much she loved to hear you address her like that. Only when you said it did she feel as great of a person as the media claimed her to be.

“That’s it baby,” she said, breathy and hoarse. The vibrator was circling your cunt now, barely coming in contact with you clit and making you plead for more.

She greedily took in the sounds you were making, the way your face contorted in pleasure as she edged closer and closer to your clit. But she knew she couldn’t wait too long, or there’d be people at her door, and your makeup and hair would be ruined from the sweat that was already forming from how worried up you were.

So she bent down, and without another word, pushed her tongue inside you and pressed the vibrator to your clit.

You nearly threw her off the bed, your body tensed so hard. 

“Keep your head still, sweetheart, or your hair will be ruined,” she ordered briefly, before getting back to her work. You could barely contain yourself, every inch of you was buzzing like the vibrator, feeling the intensity build and build as she pressed it hard against you. 

Her tongue fucked you diligently, drinking in the taste and smell of you, wanting to bring you to the edge as quickly as possible. 

You grabbed her hair just as you came, and just as a choked cry was about to escape you, a hand knocked on the door.

“Ready when you are, Miss Kluger,” her stylist said from the other side. 

You clamped your hand over your mouth, thrashing and bucking against Daphne’s mouth, keeping your voice down despite how much you wanted to scream as you rode out your orgasm.

Daphne pulled away for a second to say, sweetly, “Awesome! Just give me a minute.”

Your body trembled as she yanked the vibrator away, hastily standing up and grabbing the bathrobe on the floor. You couldn’t move for a second, before she came to hover over you, pulling at your hand, and the reality suddenly hit you.

You grabbed your underwear, whimpering as the soft fabric pressed against your sensitive clit. Daphnee opened the window, turning on the air to get rid of the smell of your sex. She sprayed some air freshener and help you to look more presentable than you did a minute ago.

Your hair was barely out of place, thanks to top-notch hairspray, and with a quick pat-down of powder, your face looked perfect as well.

Just before Daphne opened the door, she stole a glance at you and sucked the vibrator between her lips, making you gasp and steady yourself with the back of her vanity chair.

“Come in! So sorry about that, Y/N had some trouble with her dress, I had to fix the zipper and couldn’t let you walk in on that,” Daphne lied, greeting her makeup team as they came in the room.

They seem oblivious, and you figured you really were good at hiding what you were feeling because no suspicious glances were given.

You sat perched on the bed where Daphne just had you begging as she got pampered and dressed, laughing and chatting with everyone in the room. They opened a bottle of champagne as a toast to the premiere and she glanced over at you over the top of her glass. She winked, licked her top lip, now lined with deep mauve lipstick, and you nearly came again on the spot. 

A/N: Anne Hathaway is wonderful, and Daphne is a fun character to write for. Thanks to the anon for this request!! I had fun writing it, I hope you hav fun reading it ;)

[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters – Jin

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Angel) Wordcount: 9.1k Genre: smut, unadulterated smut, slightest fluff, established relationship, idol!au Rating: 18+

Hello wildflowers! Welcome to Jin’s Steamy Waters scenario (and coincidentally his birthday fic too). Let me explain you the plot, real quick: the fic is set right after the MAMA ceremony, and because of the several award ceremonies and a busy schedule, Jin and his gf unfortunately couldn’t celebrate his birthday in time. However, Jin decides to take the matter in his own hands, offering Angel a  nice bath, which quite expectedly turns into very hot business. 

And now on to TRIGGER WARNINGS: this is an established relationship and yes, the character have unprotected sex; no, this does not mean that you should forego condoms or dental dams. There is some swearing. Other than that, well, big dick, jackhammer!Jin is back (couldn’t really do any different. We know he’s blessed like that); breast worship, slight marking, nipple suction cups, clitoral suction cup, oral sex (both male and female receiving), cum shot (face and chest), cum eating and more generically cum play; masturbation (both male and female); barely dommy Seokjin; slight degradation (he calls her naughty and dirty a couple times, but he’s more patronising than insulting); gagging (he puts his fingers in her mouth to keep her quiet); overstimulation; very briefly, playfully mentions erectile dysfunction (Jin jokes about it). Angel has medium-big, quite sensitive breasts. Jin and Angel briefly discuss a past scene where a pinwheel and a riding crop were involved, and where Angel used her safeword (no angst).

In case you need it, well here is my masterlist

(I’ll be editing this again sometime soon, here it’s ass o’clock in the morning and atm I can barely think straight -- well, I never really think straight, I’m bi af.)

Enjoy 💜✨

–——————————————

Jin came through the door with the tip of his nose red, rubbing his hands together. 

“Darling.” You called from the kitchen. It was almost one am and you had just finished watching the MAMA ceremony, waiting for him to get home. As you waited, you got two cups of tea ready, especially after he told you he had been cold all night long. 

When he appeared, he was the personification of an icicle, shaking all over. “Hi.” He greeted. 

“Hello, baby. Would you like some tea?” You asked, standing in front of him.

He nodded. You hugged him tight. “Oh, you’re frozen, baby.” You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Congratulations on your… how many prizes?” Your frowned in confusion.

“They’re… eight? Nine? I lost count.” He shrugged and dipped down his head, kissing you again, rubbing his frozen nose against yours. “And I’m happy about those, but...” He placed his hands on your waist, letting them slide down to your hips and ass. “I have other stuff on my mind.”

“Like?” You said, smiling and running your palms up his chest, gripping his shoulders. 

“Like the fact that we didn’t celebrate my birthday because they kept me busy.” He murmured, kneading your ass through the fine fleece of your pyjamas. 

“You want to celebrate?” You said, combing his hair back, grimacing as your fingers got caught on several strata of hairspray. “Maybe after you shower?” You suggested. 

“Maybe you could keep me warm in the bathtub.” He looked down and licked his lips, raising his eyebrows as he looked into your eyes. 

You raised your eyebrows in reply, a bit surprised by his proposition. “You’ve eaten already?” You asked. 

“Mhmh.” He confirmed as he kept his hands on your waist, backwalking towards the bathroom with small steps. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a smirk. 

“Claiming my birthday present?” He suggested, taking bigger steps now that he was in the short corridor leading to the master bedroom and that you looked more complacent. 

You chuckled. “You really want to take a bath at one am?”

“I just want quality time with you.” He said. “And I need to get washed.”

“Okay.” You nodded as he finally entered the bathroom. 

He grinned, immediately walking to the tub and blocking the drain before he opened the tap, placing the settings on hot water. He poured some soap in, his sweet jasmine scent wafting through the room. The air in the bathroom was toasty, and he placed his hands near the heater, letting them warm up before he undid the buttons of his shirt. 

He only had a white tank top on underneath, which made you realize how cold he must have been. The garment emphasised his thin waist and wide shoulders so beautifully that you walked closer, backhugging him. “Did you have a woolen jacket on or was it light fabric?” You asked, rubbing your hands down his arms. 

“I had the jacket on stage, I had my coat in the backstage.” He reassured you.

Your hands met his belt, so familiar with it that it was almost too easy to undo. 

“Are you helping me get undressed?” He asked with a playful tone. 

“Maybe.” You replied with a cheshire grin that he spotted through the mirror. 

“Why aren’t you undressing yourself?” He asked, curious. 

You shrugged. “I prefer when you undress me.” 

He turned around in your arms, cupping your cheeks, his eyes glimmering with dark intensity. He looked so unbelievably beautiful as he licked his lips. “You want me to undress you?” He asked, his voice calm and serious and warm. 

“Yes, Jinnie.” You whispered, placing his hands on the waistband of your sweats. 

“Here.” He said, as he bent down, dragging the garment with him, helping your feet out of the legs of your pyjamas while he stayed crouched at your feet. Standing up, he noticed the lack of underwear. “No panties?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and smirking slowly. 

“They were making me uncomfortable.” You explained, raising your arms as he took off your camisole. 

“And what about the bra?” He asked, immediately cupping your breasts and diving his face in between them, pressing heavy kisses on your breastbone. 

“I never wear it at home and you know it.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes you do.” He said. 

“Never with my pyjamas.” You objected. 

He shrugged and kissed both your nipples gingerly. “My turn?” He said, raising his arms. 

You slipped your hand under his tank top, dragging it up with your nails, his hands landing on your ass. 

“You’re on fire tonight, Jinnie.” You teased. He had become more passionate with time, warming up to you and your kinkier needs, discovering domination and all the connected disciplines. He had learned a lot — most importantly that having sex with you was just as good and perfect as making love to you — which had come as a revelation to him and a blessing to you. 

Still, sometimes you wished you hadn't set the beast inside him free, since he could be the most demanding, exhausting lover you could ever imagine. 

He caught your wrists, stopping your hands from tugging down his slacks and underwear together. “You don't want it?” He asked, suddenly serious. 

You thought about it. You were tired and your eyes felt droopy after six hours in front of the television. “I'm just surprised. I didn't know you had been craving it like this.” You explained. “I would have helped you out if I had known.”

He pushed your wrists down, dragging his trousers too in the process. “I wanted to take our time. Make it something big, festive.” He said just as you kneeled to take his pants off, his half hard cock springing free. 

“If you want, we can put a ribbon on your dick and there you go, 'big and festive'.” You joked, already trying to get your mouth on his length. 

He chuckled and your heart filled with happiness as his joy manifested. You love making him laugh. 

“I have an idea.” He announced suddenly with a serious face as he took a step back, stopping your naughty endeavour. 

“Your ideas scare me. And no, we're not doing the pinwheel thing again. I still have to emotionally recover from that.” You said.  

His mind went back to that evening. It had been almost ten days. “You looked so pretty, though.”

“I just need a bit before we go there again.” You explained.

“This conversation is not over, let me just go grab a thing,” He said, wrapping a towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom. In the meantime you closed the tap, getting ready to dip your toes in. 

“Don't go in just yet.” He said, entering the room just in time. He placed two small objects on the bathroom counter. “Come here, please.” He said. “I think this could work, but I'm not sure.”

You took a few steps, your frame standing naked in front of him. God, he wanted you in so many ways. Your grace and finesse and selfish sexuality, all enslaved to his pleasure. He wanted that. He wanted to use you for his pleasure and drive you completely insane as he did so. He wanted you to live your pleasure through his. He wanted your soul, your body, your big eyes staring at him, and your cunt dripping all over him. 

Later, he told himself. 

He turned and picked up the tiny accessories from the bathroom sink. “These cannot go underwater, Angel. If they do, they might lose the vacuum effect and release your pretty buds.” He bent down to your left nipple, cupping the underside of your breast to bring it closer to your mouth. He suckled on it a little, his hand cupping your mound, teasing a wetness that he seemed to evoke simply with his attention towards you. Parting from your breast with a loud sucking noise, he used both his hands to fix the small nipple pump around your small protuberance, keeping the cylinder firm as he twisted a small screw on top of the cylinder which regulated the amount of pressure inside the cup. 

He repeated the same procedure on the other nipple, after he laved it with wide, lush licks. “It would have been lovely to put one on your clit, but I'm not sure it could hold.” He kissed your sternum. “Plus, I shouldn't spoil your pretty cunt from the very start.” He bent to your ear. “You've got to earn yourself heaven, Angel.” He smiled innocently and winked before standing up straight. 

You frowned and took a step back before noticing the way the towel was still draped around his hips and sat a bit awkwardly around his growing cock. 

Smirking, you tugged at it, leaving him naked. He lifted an eyebrow before sporting a lop-sided grin. “Don’t make me put you on your knees, Angel.”

“What if I wanted you to do just that?” You asked, stepping closer, dragging your nails down his thigh. 

“In the tub. Now.” He ordered. 

“You won’t even let me kiss it?” You asked, batting your lashes at him. 

“Later. Maybe.” He said, looking at your breasts and licking his lips. “Get in the tub, Angel.” He repeated, more gently. You hugged him and you were suddenly reminded of the small suction cups as they collided with Jin’s chest. 

Holding your waist, he started taking small steps to his destination, leading you as you walked backwards. “I want to relax with you first. Talk about some stuff.” He stated softly. 

You simply nodded, just a small part of you growing alarmed at his statement regarding “talking about stuff”. You trusted him and your relationship was solid. There was nothing to be worried about. 

He stopped you just shy of the tub, entering and holding your hand as he helped you in, sitting down first and making you settle between his legs. His hands immediately moved under your breasts, supporting them to avoid the cups getting underwater. “There we go, my love.” He murmured gently. “So what happened with the pinwheel? Would you like to talk about it? Did I cross a line?” He asked. 

Truth is, Seokjin has learned a lot. From being a novice, he had become an upper-intermediate in terms of domination and punishments. If you asked him, he would say that half of his improvements were because of the excellent communication that the two of you had built. Moments like this, where you simply connected and recollected events together weren’t rare at all. He would ask you for suggestions and improvements, he would question you about what had gone wrong and what you would like to explore further. 

“I think that at a certain moment you snapped? And the riding crop was… too much. I was so focused on the tiny feel of the pinwheel that the crop was all too sudden and...I couldn’t stand it.”

His body was finally warm at your back. He slowly let go of your chest, making sure that the cups wouldn’t submerge as he stretched to dry his hands with a towel, only to fix your hair on top of your head, trying to make sure that they didn't get wet. “You used your safeword a couple times but you didn’t stop. Why?” He asked. 

“I used our yellow. To slow down.” You recalled. 

He hummed in confirmation. 

“I liked your attitude. I wanted you to keep going, even though the scene was a bit harsh.” You explained. 

“Was I too harsh?” He asked delicately, his hands going back to your breasts, massaging the heavy underside. The dry pull at your nipples made you clench the inner walls of your entrance, and you could almost sense the wetness already forming inside, 

“A few times. When you hit the spot where the pinwheel had just been. Especially on my breasts. And crotch.” You explained trying to keep your composure but failing, throwing your head against his shoulder and huffing out his name. 

His hands were teasing in that skilled, knowledgeable way he knew, like you were his harp and he was playing you with the most delicate stimulation. With his thumbs he was drawing lines that moved from the perimeter of each breast to its nipple, like rays of an inverted sun, going from the outskirts to the centre. Your skin grew more and more sensitive, with blood blooming to the surface, summoned both by the suction on your nipple and by his delicate touches. The arousal, only adding onto the vicious circle, made your heartbeat faster, fatefully increasing the amount of fresh blood running under the skin skimmed by his fingers, in an endless game of chase where all you did was run in circles around pleasure, without ever a true chance of reaching it. 

“Are they getting sensitive, my love?” He asked, his hands continuing with their pattern even as your hands dove underwater to grip his knees. Anything that could anchor you down and keep you from moving like a flame to his wind. 

“What are your intentions? Do you want to play?” You asked. You knew he was tiptoeing around that fine line that divided your Jinnie, bright and playful and loving, to the dark and demanding master that he could become when in his worst behaviour. 

“I wanted to see if we can just… blur the line a little.” He asked, slightly doubtful. “I know that so far we have always discussed most things together and that has kept us this close.” He said, right when his hands went back to simply cupping your curves. 

He nuzzled his nose into the hair of your nape. You shivered slightly, just as his cock fluttered, trapped between his abdomen and your backside as he spooned you. “Tonight I thought we could keep all the rough stuff on the side and just… Have fun? Like, doing what we do but without me overpowering you and using you and all of that. I just want it to be light. And fun. Light like when we make love and fun like when we play.” Jin asked, frowning as he realised just how strange and confused hus request was. 

“You want the sex without the domination.” You rephrased before he nodded simply. “That is fine to me.” You agreed. 

“I mean, I might still take control. I have the strange feeling I will. Like I will completely ignore this conversation and turn Godzilla on you.”

You shrugged. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy him doing that. Actually, it’s what he did best. Not that the rest wasn’t nice. Quite the opposite. But if his vanilla was ten out of ten, his… So to say… Beast mode… Well, that was an eleven. 

“Jinnie, baby. It’s your birthday, love.” You said. “Well, not really your birthday birthday, but it’s you that we’re celebrating. You know I support you whatever you do. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.” You stated coolly.

“But you promise you won’t say yes when you want to say no only because it’s my birthday?” He asked, and you could almost hear the small pout in his voice, 

“No birthday privilege can push me through my hard limits, Jinnie.” You reassured him. 

“Cool.” He stated. 

“Cool.” You echoed. 

“Will you wash my hair, please?” He asked, kissing your temple. 

You smiled, falling in love all over again, head to toe, in that precise second. You turned your head, looking at him from over your shoulder. “Of course.” You turned around fully, facing him, kneeling between his legs as he moved closer to the middle of the tub. His hands immediately moved to your waist, touching it as if he was moulding the thin neck of a vase. 

“You’re very handsy tonight.” You noticed as you drew the small shower head close to his head, placing your hand at his hairline to make sure that he wouldn’t get water in his eyes. 

“I…” He began, however he found himself speechless. He didn’t really have any reasons other than wanting you. He didn’t quite understand how it was that this craving of his had appeared so sudden and intense. He didn’t know what made it so different from the other times. He was just… So needy. It felt right. So right, to cross some boundaries tonight, to go the extra mile — miles, even — to please you. He just needed to see you come apart in his arms. Maybe he needed a confirmation? Yes, he needed to know that he was going in the right direction. But he also just wanted to have fun. To feel young. To feel that teenage frenzy that had never possessed him. 

Because he felt envious. Sometimes. Of the way the others seemed to live sex as this possessing and at the same time liberating experience that seemed to just cleanse them from all the frustration of rehearsals and performances and shows and everything. Of the way Hoseok waltzed in all fresh and loose-limbed, five minutes late on Saturday morning. Of the dizzy smile Taehyung had that morning when Lace slept at their place. Of the way Yoongi randomly disappeared every now and then, only to come back with bruises on his neck and this lazy and sated look on his face. And of the way Namjoon was always so energised and productive till the late hours after Vixen left his studio in bright red stilettos and a fancy — and suspicious — raincoat. 

They were the ones who could barely hide it. Jimin and Guk normally were more discreet. Except the little one had unnerving ego boosts every time he came back from weekends with Candy. And Jimin’s brattier side seemed always asleep once Princess had had her sweet way with him. 

He wanted to be relaxed and careless and arrogant, just like that. 

He kept thinking, where was the trick? What was it that made it that good? Was he doing something wrong?

Curious about his long long silence, you reckoned he was worrying over something. “What is it?”

He hesitated a couple seconds before his eyebrows knitted together in a focused expression. “What do you think it is that makes sex good?” He asked. “Perfect, even.”

You smiled and frowned, confused. “Why are you asking?”

“You know that relaxed, easy feel you have afterwards, when you’re just… Like, feeling hazy and all of that.”

You giggled and poured some shampoo on your palm, foaming it up before beginning to massage it into his scalp. “I guess it’s hormones.” You said, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I’ve never felt that relaxed.” He said. “Of course I like what we do, and it’s not that what we’ve had so far isn’t good, but when the guys get laid it shows. Like, really really shows.”

Your eyebrows shot up, as you sat straighter, using your fingertips to scratch the crown of his head. He moaned, “right there”, and whined as you kept rubbing the spot with a knowing smirk. As his eyes opened slightly, he found your tits right in front of his face, at which he placed his forehead on your sternum dragging his face side to side, nuzzling into your breasts. 

You laughed. “But it does show, when you get laid.” You moved your hand behind his ears, still checking for any leftovers of hairspray or hair gel. 

“Really? How?”

“It’s subtle. You don’t boast about this stuff. But it shows.” You said, rubbing his scalp, just shy of his forehead, where most of the hairstyling had happened. You knew that having his hair lifted up like that over his face, showing the neat, broad expanse of his brow must have meant lots of hairspray and hair gel. “You walk straighter. Like you’re the king of the world. It’s like… In your spine. You scream ‘daddy material’ with your whole posture. You get even sexier than normal. You don’t notice it maybe, but you laugh more easily and you let yourself rest a little. That’s how it looks.”

Rinsing his hair, you let the water push it back, out of his forehead, which you admired for only a second before focusing on getting all the suds away from his hair. Once happy with the results, you closed the tap to the shower head, placing the tool back on its prop. You admired the smooth extent of clear skin under your eyes, his brow glimmering with water droplets. Bending down, you placed small kisses on it, making sure that not an inch went unkissed or unloved. “But maybe I should show you how it feels to really let go, to get that loose.” 

He kissed your mole, right under your breast and slowly worked his way up, towards your caged nipple. “How does that work?”

You caught his head in your arms, cradling it. “Let me take care of that.” You suggested delicately, just as he teased the suction cup with his nose. The movement caused a shift in the flesh, a fresh wave of arousal washing over you. His wide, brown eyes stared into you, obviously knowing what that reaction must have meant. His hands tentatively caressed the back of your thighs, from your knees to the curve of your ass, slithering between your legs and pushing you forward, making you straddle his lap. This time he ran the tip of his thumb around the base of the cup, making your eyes roll back.

“What about you? Who’ll take care of you?” He asked, lightly patting the underside of your breasts before moving to firmer, slapping motions. 

You lost your mind. 

You let your hips fall, meeting the flesh of his cock and grinding against it. Penetration was a foolish thought at the current situation, but grinding? Yes, please.

Plus, the moment you heard Jin’s groan when you pressed him to your belly, you knew tonight was the night you would finally drive him over the edge. You knew that when he ventured into scenes with you, in the end he was relaxed, but he was still struggling with that sense of guilt that after a few months had significantly reduced, but was still there, on a smaller extent. And when he made love to you, he never really went to the end of it, refusing to let himself loose to make sure that you were completely taken care of. 

But tonight it was you taking care of him. And you would not let him go until you had sucked him dry. Rubbing yourself against him, you let your hand into his hair and direct his mouth to your other breast, where he pressed his tongue against your curves, shifting the weight of them around. It was such a strange feeling to feel the very base of your boobs so affected by a simple, superficial teasing. It was like the motionless emptiness inside the vacuumed cup only found its true value when the flesh underneath it was moved, like the sudden rush of blood caused by movement was what kept the fire burning. 

“I wanna taste you.” You murmured, your lips hovering over his. 

“You wanna kiss me or…?” He asked, looking at you with hooded eyes. He looked beautiful and lustful. 

You realised only in that moment that you hadn’t really kissed him, if not for small pecks and gentle brushing of lips. That you had been naked, fairly horny, in a bathtub for the last thirty minutes, and you hadn’t even kissed. 

Cupping his cheeks, you dove for his lips, both your and his mouth hanging open waiting for your tongues to meet and intertwine. You pressed even harder into him, moaning as your tongue entered his mouth, giving a little flick with the tip to his lower lip before conquering the whole cavity of his cheeks and palate with wide, slow sweeps. 

He reckoned none of his exes had ever kissed him like this. Like he was one of their possessions. Like he belonged to you and you were simply claiming your right to his mouth and every other part of his body. 

You were the best kisser, especially with the way your hands moved on his face and hair and shoulders, kneading into the tense skin until he was like putty in your hands, until he was feeling nothing but the way you moved on his lap, your hips gyrating on him. “I want out.” He said, slightly drawing back from the kiss. “Let’s get out of the tub.” 

You cupped his jaw and with your thumb, you played with his lower lip. How round and firm it felt, so plump and full. Ignoring him, you simply bent down and bit on it with small nibbles, using only your front teeth to test the density and texture of the flesh. 

It was just inhumanely thick. You reluctantly parted from his mouth, looking him in the eye, only to move your gaze downward, to inspect how reddened and abused his lower lip looked after your rough treatment. 

His hands slid on your wet skin, the water barely resisting his movements as he moved his hands from your waist to the small of your back, finally resting on your ass, gripping it aggressively. In reply, you bent to his neck, closing your lips around the indentation of his collarbone, feeling it with your teeth. 

The breathy moan that resulted made you so proud — and so aroused. 

“Let’s get out. I wanna...” He moaned as you wrapped your hands around his wrists, leading his palms to your breasts, silently telling him to go back to the gentle massage that complements the heaviness of your bosom and the suction on your nipples, now so acute that it almost resembled a pinching sensation. 

You went back to his mouth, still grinding on him, just as he tightened the suction cups even harder on your left nipple, his large palm and fingers holding your flesh as he kept the cup firm with his thumb and forefinger, the other hand spinning the small screw increasing the pressure. “Too tight?” He asked on your lips. 

You simply shook your head no, diving back to his lips. 

He did the same on your other nipple, your lips parting in a shameless mewl as your clit rubbed with one perfect stroke against his shaft, running through the whole length of it. “Jin.”

“For the love of god, Angel. Please, let’s get out of here.” He spoke with a voice so gruff he had to clear up his throat before he could speak smoothly. “I can’t get inside you like this.”

You kept moving against him, hoping for some relief. “Please.”

He shook his head. “If you let go of me we can get out and do this properly. I can’t do what I want in here.”

“And what is it that you want?” You teased, your hands sliding down his chest and dipping underwater to toy with his hard sex. 

“Let me go and I’ll show you.”

Pouting, a bit reluctant, you removed yourself from his lap, looking at him as he stood up in front of you. The position was interesting: you kneeling in the tub while he stood in front of you. 

Your mind screamed blowjob and you had no reasonable counterarguments to that, still he stopped you with a hand to your cheek. 

“Not here, love. Too risky.” He said, referring to the chances of slipping. He stepped out of the tub, his feet landing on the soft towel he had laid on the ground as he stretched to grab another towel to dry himself up. 

Yes, you did stare at his ass as he did so, looking at the taut muscle of his glute and letting your eyes slide further down, to the straight column of his thigh. 

As he stood up straight, he quickly dried himself wrapping the towel high on his waist, to try and hide his raging hard on, just a little. The lights of the bathroom were just a bit too bright and he felt a bit wary, even though he understood you had seen him naked and turned on so many times. 

Noticing his discomfort you sauntered out of the tub, walking to the mirror and switching on the small light, shortly before heading to the door and switching off the light on the ceiling. 

The atmosphere was suddenly completely different. It felt quiet and intimate. Right, even. 

“Better?” You asked Jin, walking towards him. 

He nodded with a grateful expression. “Yeah. Thank you.” He hugged you to him, frowning a bit at the sensation of the cups against his chest. “Do they hurt? Want me to take them off?” He asked, untucking the towel and looping it around the two of you, dragging you impossibly closer. 

“No, I think I can handle it.” You replied. You weren’t new to nipple play. Jin simply loves playing with your tits and he had all kinds of vicious devices to do so, the suction cups being arguably his favourite. You knew that this was just the beginning: cups and clamps and tweezers were only a way of sensitising. This was a mere appetizer to the whole meal that was about to come. Once your breasts felt heavy, sensitive and delicate, he would feast on them, licking them, biting them and using his tongue to tease them as he sucked your pert nipples into his mouth with slow and strong drags. He would knead them, his big hands covering them entirely and squeezing them with attentive rolls of his fingers. 

But for now he was simply staring at you, his eyelids low. He looked relaxed. 

Your hands wrapped around his torso, slowly working their way down his back. “May I start with my gift?” You blinked at him seducingly as you tried to kneel, your hands reaching the upper curve of his behind.

“Wait. Your knees.” He said, blushing before helping you up, gently inviting you to join him on the small, plush rug in front of the sinks. “Here. It should feel better.”

You looked at him with glimmering eyes. “You just worried about my knees?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Isn’t that a given?” He asked, hesitant. “We can do it on the floor if you prefer.” He suggested, dubious. 

You shook your head, smiling. “I just want to blow you ten times harder.”

He smirked, leaning against the counter and giggling as he observed you licking your lips and slowly lowering yourself on the carpet. Dragging your nails against his abdomen you checked on him quickly. “Is it too cold in here for you?”

Temperature always made him sensitive. “No, it’s nice.” He said, his hands combing your hair back as you kissed his thighs. 

“Good.” You replied, your hand flying to his thick erection, swallowing his tip straight away. 

“Warn me Angel, would you, goodness — Fuck!” He swore as you started bobbing your head straight away. You knew there was no way you could swallow him, so you simply focused on sucking him hard enough and using your hand to compensate for what your mouth couldn’t do. 

Using your drool on him as lubricant, you dragged your palm around the base, wrapping your fingers around him, your thumb and middle fingers barely meeting, and tugging at him energetically, making the muscles of your hands twitch around him, trying to mimick the contractions of your cunt on him, going hard and fast straight away, your goal making him cum as many times as possible. 

“Angel, love. Slow down, you’re gonna — Ah!” His sentence was interrupted by your hand coming to his balls, gently massaging them in an attempt to make him completely forget about words and anything that wasn’t your mouth on him. 

You dared look up, his throat taut and his head thrown back in pleasure, his hips thrusting into you, his hands toying with your hair lovingly. “So good.” He said as you sank down some more on him, two thirds of him into your mouth. You lasted a couple more seconds before coming up for air. 

“Is it relaxing enough?” You asked, extending the strokes of your hand to the tip, working your right thumb over the frenulum and the slit, rubbing it carefully while your left hand took care of the shaft. 

He simply moaned in response, thrusting into your fist, patting your hair, trying to keep himself from leading your mouth back on him.  

You smiled, “Has your birthday gift been satisfactory so far?” You asked with a grin. 

“Absolutely.” He replied with his breathing ragged, his voice hoarse, his vowels dragged a bit long as he spoke slowly, carefully, struggling to put the syllables together. 

“We’re all about customer satisfaction.” You replied, smiling innocently as he looked down at you. You licked your lips and kept the eye contact as you brought his tip to your mouth, smearing a small pearl of precum on the seam of your lips, before letting your tongue dart out and lick the salty liquid smeared on your lower lip. And next you licked him, noticing how his eyes blew wide with marvel and curiosity, only to flutter close with arousal and pleasure. 

With renewed excitement you sank on him as far as it would go, knowing that even though you were paying attention he was too thick for your teeth not to get in the way with a gentle scratch. Still, you sucked him hard, until he reached the back of your mouth, almost choking on him when you went a bit too fast. Your eyes watered but you went on enthusiastically, helping yourself with your hand. 

It was almost too easy. A small squeeze of his balls, matched with a tight downward thrust and his fingers curled into your hair, while the other hand flew away, gripping the sink hard to keep himself from pushing too deep into your mouth. With small, shallow thrusts — completely opposed to the sheer force and pressure he was exercising on his fists —, he fucked your mouth as gently as he could, in true gentleman fashion. No matter how crude and animalistic the action was, he managed to be so gentle throughout all of it, looking so beautiful as he slowly came undone, his legs giving out partly as you detached your mouth from him, only when he had spilt all he had. His knees gradually bent as he slid down against the counter and sank to the floor, on his knees, right in front of you. 

His mouth joined yours absentmindedly for a couple kisses, tender and light. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking at your reddened eyes and flushed cheeks. He ran his thumbs down the wet tracks of your tears. “That was… excellent.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I need you to lay down, Angel.”

You looked at him, blinking blankly. “Here?” You asked. 

He bent to kiss your neck, suckling at it a little. “Wanna move to bed?”

You shook your head. “I was just surprised.” Following his previous command, you sat on your hip and laid down, your back resting on the plush, cream rug, your legs bent and your knees placed together while the soles of your feet were still planted on the ground. 

Crawling, he moved to your feet, holding your calves and making you part your legs. 

Your eyes inspected his torso as he crawled on top of you. He bent down and kissed your forehead. “Is it cold?” He asked. 

You shook your head. 

Nice, he thought, sitting on his heels before his hands moved to your chest. “Let’s take these off, yeah?” He murmured gently as he unscrewed the system tightening the cup to your nipple before stretching to place it on top of the sink. He moved to the other breast, removing it faster this time, as if he were impatient. “Now let’s reward my little Angel.” He smiled at you kindly and that was the moment you knew you were done for. He was going to use you. He had that intense expression that always formed on his face when he played with you, using you for his pleasure. Scooting away from your inner thighs, he made space for his torso, looking at you as he licked a thick, slow stripe up against your slit, reaching your clit, sucking your arousal off your folds and into his mouth, savouring it with small, quiet clicks of his tongue against his palate. “I’m going to place it here.” He said, drawing a circle around your clit. 

You nodded like a madwoman, lifting yourself onto your elbows to look at him as he parted your labia, drawing a loose spiral around your clit before placing the cup there, giving just a couple spins on the screw, leaving the pressure fairly mild, but still securing a solid grip. 

The sensation was strange, like having your clit tugged but without being touched. Your hips shifted slightly as you got used to the feeling. “How is it?” He asked, attentive. 

“Strange. New. Overall good.” You replied, offering him feedback. 

“Good. Now, let me use these.” He murmured before placing his forearms beside each of your sides, leaning down to finally kiss your right nipple, then your left one, gingerly. 

“Baby,” you moaned slowly, as he shifted his weight again, trying to find a comfortable position to free his hands and place them on you. Balancing his weight on his thighs, he finally managed to place his palms on the flushed skin of your chest, kneading the full curves of it, while his fingers tweaked the two peaks. “Seokjin.”

“Yes, my Angel?” He replied, softer now that you’d spoken his full name. 

“It feels so good.” You murmured quietly, eyes closing as your inner muscles contracted, your clit responding to the suction and to the tightening of your inner walls. 

“Keep touching them for me, will you, love?” He asked, at which you frowned, confused, almost ready to ask why when you noticed his hands moving to the suction cup, adding a couple spins before he placed his hands on his length. 

“Is it okay?” He asked, giving a tentative pump. 

Once more you tried lifting yourself up to look at him, your brow furrowing when you didn’t feel him entering you. He looked so beautiful, with his dark, thick eyebrows knitted together, quivering whenever a wave of pleasure rolled down his spine, making his hips undulate forward seducingly. 

While your left forearm kept your torso up, your right hand was free to roam over your chest, massaging your right breast with slow tugs drawing all the blood to the peak, for which Jin bent down, his mouth eager to complete your hand’s ministration. 

“I’m close again.” He said, with a half delighted, half desperate snicker. His mouth parted wider, his lips settling around your puffy areola, where the cup had left a slight indentation. Freeing your left arm from below you, you tried down as gently as you could. 

“Cum on me.” You said, throwing your head back, showing him the fine column of your neck. 

He kept rubbing his lips against your sensitive skin as he spoke. “We just washed, you sure?” 

“We’ll need to rinse once we’re done with this just the same.” You replied, your hand dipping into his damp hair, pushing his mouth against your boob.

“I love you.” He mouthed before sucking your neglected nipple shortly but intensely. He struggled a bit as he straddled your waist. “I wanna...” He began, before you placed your hands on his hips, pushing him down, making him rest his ass on your stomach, his weight held up mostly by his thighs in an attempt not to squish you. Immediately you took his erection between your breasts, using the slight sheen of wetness left from the bath to help him slide. You knew you had little time before it dried up and everything got uncomfortable. Pressing your boobs together, you matched the long, powerful strokes of his hips, just as his moans started getting higher and higher in pitch, shorter and more desperate, the air in his lungs suddenly feeling not enough. His breath was so shallow when he thrusted out of the small cage of your breasts, his hand moving so, so fast before his left palm landed beside of your head, on the floor, holding him up as he came all over your breasts, whining weakly as he spilled messily, his release reaching your chin and cheek with the first spurt while the others landed more controlledly on your chest and stomach, his hand still milking his cock weakly before he stopped. 

His eyes opened just in time to see you collect his cum from your cheek with your fingertip, his ears feeling very hot as you brought the liquid to your lips, cleaning your digit. Next, you lolled your tongue out, trying to reach for the rest of it on your chin and at the corner of your mouth. 

Carefully, he tried to stand up, helping himself with the counter nearby. Once he was on his feet, as steady as he could be, he wet a corner of the towel under the tap, sitting at your side to clean you up. 

“I’ll be very forward now, Angel.” He said, cleaning your cheek and your chin before moving down between your breasts, dabbing the towel against the stain before swiping away what was left. “I really wanna pound into you on this tiny rug in our lovely bathroom, but if you prefer, we can move to the bedroom anytime you want.” He explained. 

You looked at him like you weren’t even sure it was your Seokjin kneeling at your side, your eyes wide as saucers. “Excuse me. You’re the same boy who thought that birthday sex was rose petals, champagne, silk sheets, dimmed lights and background music?”

It was his turn to stare at you with wide eyes. “Did you want that?” 

He had fucked up. He was already thinking what to do to fix the situation, trying to imagine what he could do to offer you the whole—

“For the love of god, no. Rail me on the bathroom rug. Please.” You begged, wide eyed and needy, especially when — squeezing your thighs together — you were reminded of the accessory between your legs. 

He laughed vivaciously before throwing the towel away, grabbing your knees and making you part them. 

“You wanna be railed on the bathroom rug?” He asked, teasing you. 

“Yes, sir.” You replied, playful, but also taunting his dormant dominant side. 

“How naughty.” He said, splaying his hand on your crotch, his palm snug against your hole while his fingers parted around your clit, the cup sitting between his middle and ring finger. As he settled, kneeling between your bent legs, he applied some pressure, arousing you just like that. “Is that your idea of birthday sex? Getting railed?” He said. 

He loved the word. Because it was literally that. Raw and crude and fast. And it drives you insane, which, subsequently, drives him insane. 

“I forgot it’s your idea of any kind of sex.” His hand started sliding a few millimetres back and forth, mimicking the sensation of skin brushing against skin like when he moved into you, his pelvis stimulating the outer parts of your sex while his cock plunged deep into you, giving you something thick and long to squeeze with your inner muscles. 

“Because you’re dirty like that, uh?” He asked, using his left hand to titillate the cup, the sudden movement causing your clit to shift and your kegels to twitch a few times. 

“I’m your dirty angel.” You said, wetness pouring out of your cunt and meeting his palm, suddenly slipping against you. 

“You are.” He murmured appreciatively. “Let’s see how long it takes for my Angel to get ready for me.” He said, placing his left forefinger on top of the screw of the suction cup and pushing it around, leading your clit in small circular movements, while his right fingers and palm retracted and, in one fine sleight of hand, his index and middle finger slipped inside you. 

“Jin!” You screeched, the invasion too sudden and thorough. 

“Don’t worry, my darling angel. I’m just warming you up.” He said with dark eyes, lifting an eyebrow before scissoring his fingers inside. 

“So good.” You babbled, your eyes crossing and rolling shut, enjoying the tugging, sucking feeling on your clit, mixed with the slight circular tugs, and then the filling, pumping and spreading sensation of his fingers moving inside. “It’s too good.”

“I know, Angel.” He pressed a kiss to your knee. “It’s too good for little demons like you.” He tugged at the cup a couple times, until it miserably unlocked and fell off. 

“No.” You cried out weakly. 

“Oh, you prefer the cup to my mouth?” He asked, stopping his transition as he was trying to bring his head close to your lap. 

“No. I want your mouth. Please. Use your mouth.” You begged, just as he grinned and bent down, catching your clit with his lips and licking it heavily. The wet feel of his tongue after the dry, vacuum feeling of the toy was exquisite. 

“Just another finger, darling.” He said, extracting his digits and rubbing his ring finger up and down your slit, coating it in wetness before he pushed three together and placed them on your entrance, sliding them in slowly. 

A slow, quiet cry accompanied his movement, from the moment he slipped the tip in to the moment his knuckles met your flesh. “There you go, Angel. Better get used to it, I’ll give you a couple minutes.” He warned you, before he began tentatively massaging your inner walls with his fingertips, with tiny pumping motions, while at the same time kissing the apex of your labia. 

“In, please, now Jin.” You begged. 

“You sure?” He asked, parting from your clit hesitantly. 

You nodded energetically. “Please.” You repeated, parting your legs further. 

Following your lead, he moved his forearm beside your head to prop himself up, his hand pulling out and landing on his erection. He hoped he would last just one more round. Doing multiples like this was not his thing anymore. He snickered. 

“What is it?” You asked, looking up at him with a confused glance. 

“Just considering that I’m not a teenager anymore. Three rounds is… wow. Long time no see.” He murmured, blushing a little, but still opening up about his fleeting thoughts. 

You laughed underneath him. “Indeed.” You said. You considered things a little. “You need more time, love? It’s absolutely okay, you know? It’s late, you’re tired, it’s been a long day.” You said, trying to show him you understood him and there was nothing wrong. 

“Don’t worry love,” He said, kissing your neck as he dragged his tip against your slit. “I’m not that old yet.” He said, smirking as he sank in with one slow, thorough stroke. 

“Oh my god, Jin, yes.” You moaned as he bottomed out. His hand parted from his sex and reached your mouth, his wet fingers sliding past your lips and laying flat on your tongue. “To help you keep quiet.” He said, before he pulled out and slammed violently into you. 

Your muffled cry echoed in the room as he stilled for a second, drawing out slowly before thrusting back in forcefully. 

“Like this?” He asked, breath strained as he held himself up. “Wanna be railed like this?”

You shook your head no teasingly, at which he he removed the fingers in your mouth, letting you speak. “Faster, harder.”

He stared into your eyes as he was buried deep inside you. “Then you better keep quiet Angel, because I need both arms for leverage.”

You nodded. 

“Legs around my waist, or bend them to your chest and spread them. You choose.” He suggested, settling in his position. 

You crossed your ankles behind his back without second thought. 

“You good like that, darling?” He asked, using his hand to cup your cheek, at which you nodded, observing his face, the way his hair had almost completely dried by now, how flushed he looked, how his eyelids looked heavy and his eyes lust fuelled and intense. You had no other adjective to describe them but ‘intense’. 

“Yes, Jin.” You replied, anchoring your hands on his shoulders. 

“Nice.” He said before giving a small stroke, drawing out only partly and then sinking in again. 

You bit your lip and gave a small grunt. 

“Love you, Angel.” He murmured, running his thumb against your cheekbone. 

And like that, he gave up on his human side and set the beast free. His pace was wild, the crude sound of thighs meeting thighs, his crotch slapping against your lap and belly, your breasts bouncing wildly at each of his attacks. 

It all unravelled quickly. The sense of fullness inside you and, at the same time, his cock stretching your walls repeatedly and furiously, punching your cervix, and rubbing against your g-spot so deliriously: it was all too much. 

“Cumming. Jin, love, I’m— Please.” And with a broken plea you let yourself come undone for him. 

And he resisted. 

It was tough, but the two previous highs had somehow dulled the edge and he managed to outlive the tight squeezing of your inner muscles. 

You were still fucked out when he decided to keep going, enjoying the tightness of your cunt after the orgasm, his hand connecting with the back of your knee, holding it up by his side as he pinned you down, studying your blissful expression before attacking his lips to your left nipple, sucking it. “Touch yourself.” He growled as he felt his end nearing. 

“Too much.” You whimpered, screeching. 

“Touch yourself.” He growled again, not allowing any opposition. 

And like that you obeyed, crying out as your abused, sensitive clit was met by your digit, rubbing it weakly. 

“Close. Make yourself cum, Angel.” He ordered gruffly, his voice hoarse and cavernous, oh so serious in his commandeering tone. 

“Trying.” You replied, huffing out a stressed breath.

“Faster.” He said, hiking your leg higher up, bending it all the way to your shoulder. 

You complied. 

His teeth sank at the crook of your neck. “More.” He said, his hips moving in a harsh staccato, taking a small pause between one plunge and the next. 

“Not cumming without you. Quick, Angel.” He growled. 

He shifted his weight on his other arm, freeing his left and using it to help your other knee up to your shoulder. 

His cock felt enormous inside you now that the bent legs made him meet the last few untouched spots inside your cunt. “Fuck, fuck Jin, quick.” You cried out, completely shocked by how deep you could feel it. He arched off of you, pressing even harder against your cervix. 

He felt the shift immediately. The wetness left from your previous high and the tightness due to the new position made him shut his eyes tight. 

“Jin, please. Hard and fast. please.” You cried out, desperate. 

And he delivered. 

You lasted maybe a minute before your eyes rolled shut, head thrown back, all your erogenous zones on fire. Your hand shot away from your clit, your breathing stopping out of the blue, your ears suddenly unsensitive to any stimulus, the twitching of your thighs and the trembling of your calves turning into an earthquake before stopping entirely. You froze. 

And then Jin’s hand moved between your legs, rubbing your clit a few more times as he delivered the last few strokes, hard and punishing. 

Crying out, you threw your hands against him, trying to remove him from your clit, but he fought harder, determined on seeing you toss and thrash below him. 

Which you did. 

The overstimulation was cruel and drew tears to your eyes, your mouth moving, forming words that your ears couldn’t fully comprehend as your legs shook violently again, your hands gripping his shoulders, sinking your nails in, before slapping at them. 

You were just a body spasming against his. Nothing more. 

You had no control over yourself. 

And Jin hadn’t either. 

You collapsed on the rug, trying to open your eyes in vain. 

Jin’s body fell on top of yours, pulling out of you delicately. The moment he didn’t hear your protest, he worried. “You okay, my love?” He asked. “Too far?”

He only heard your small grunt. 

That made him proud. Fucking you into complete exhaustion was yet a feat he had to accomplish. He could tick a new box on his list. Still, he had to check on you. “I need to hear your voice, my darling Angel.” He said urgently and sweetly. 

“Jinnie?” You called weakly. 

“Yes, love.” He replied, caressing your cheek. 

“What…?” You asked.

“I think your nerves went in a bit of an overload.” He suggested, giggling. “You looked like you were feeling very, very good.”

“I was.” You moaned, wrapping yourself around him. 

“Is it a good idea to get a quick shower before we go to bed?” He asked. “Are you feeling strong enough for that?” He asked you, kissing your mouth. 

“I might need to move very slowly and be assisted through it.” You said before chuckling.

“Was it a nice birthday railing?” He asked, rolling on his side and sitting up. He was happy the bathroom had floor heating. 

“Very nice.” You replied, sitting up yourself. Looking down you bit your lip. “We’ll have to wash the rug.”

He shrugged. “Later. Now let me take care of my little freak.” 

And just like that, you were in the shower, washing it all off before he carried you to bed. 

He wasn’t sure what made it work, but he did feel relaxed. Accomplished even. He had had beautiful, kinky, rough sex with his girlfriend, with no sense of guilt, no pent up anger, no hard feelings. He felt like he wasn’t really sleeping with you in your room. He felt like you and him were floating on cloud nine, bathing in warmth and moonlight. 

It felt like poetry. 

He kissed your temple and settled you in front of him, spooning you. “Goodnight, my Angel.” He mouthed against your neck. 

You snuggled into his embrace. “Happy late birthday, baby. Goodnight.”

[1a-imagines]

Hi!!! I absolutely adore your writing and I was wondering if I could request some headcanons for Kirishima, Bakugo, and Todoroki with how they would react to their s/o who likes to play with their hair. Thank you so much, I hope you have a wonderful day!

A/n: thank you so much honey! I hope you enjoy this was such a cute idea!

Kirishima:

His hair takes like 5 minutes to do every morning

So if you mess his hair up right after he just fixed it up you'll get some whines of protest.

But if you wait till after classes, towards the end of the day he will happily sit still and let you do as you please!

He's a bit self conscious because he knows his hair is pretty rough with all the gel and hairspray in it.

He can't imagine it's the pleasant soft feeling you must've been after.

As long as you reassure him you love his hair with a forehead kiss he'll relax again.

It'll become a routine for you to play  with his hair before bed and he absolutely loves it.

If one night you forget to play with his hair he's going to have to devise a plan to get your hands in his hair.

"Hey babe? Think you can brush the gel out of my hair for me?"

He's never fully relaxed until you're petting his hair down before bed.

If you start trying to style it then he won't complain just so long as you give him a manly hairstyle!

He will even insist on playing with your hair too!

He's actually really good at styling hair.

Whenever you leave his room your hair always looks flawless and you don't know how he does it.

You're going to have to pester him to style your hair more often.

Of course he'll say yes so long as you play with his hair in return.

Bakugo:

"Get your hands away from my head dumbass!"

He acts like it's a complete nuisance.

If you try to play with it when others are around he will grab your wrist and send you a warning glare.

If you're alone and you keep insisting he'll eventually give in with an annoyed sigh.

He'll grumble for a while but it wont take that long for him to be putty in your hands.

Damn- it felt really fucking good to have your fingers thread through his hair.

As long as you don't give him some sort of stupid hairstyle or start puttung bows in his hair, then he wont stop you.

He will never outwardly ask for you to play with his hair because he still acts like it annoys him.

So he'll give you subtle hints whenever you two are cuddling instead.

"What? You're not going to play with my hair this time? Tsk…."

He brings up the topic so often that you can't help but catch onto what he's doing.

Soon you'll figure out that it's actually the best method of calming him down.

He just can't help but relax when you're playing with his hair.

When you catch his eyes slipping close and tease him about how relaxed he is he's going to get very defensive.

"I was not falling asleep! It didn't feel that nice!"

He was totally falling asleep in your hands.

Todoroki:

The first time you did it he was a bit tense.

No one had ever really played with his hair before and he wasn't sure how to react.

The way you softly ran your hands in his hair soothed him greatly.

Once he relaxes he realises how addicting it is.

He absolutely loves it.

You can guarantee that every single time your fingers are playing through his locks, he's going to fall asleep.

Once he's more comfortable with the relationship he's going to start outwardly asking you to play with his hair. Which may make you question why he likes it so much.

"I sleep easier when you do it.. it feels nice."

If he wakes up from a nightmare or is finding it hard to fall asleep to begin with all you have to do is run your hands through his hair and he will be out like a light.

You'll know when he's after some head pats because whenever you two are sitting together  his head will suddenly attach itself to your shoulder.

It's like his silent way of begging for you to play with his hair, by putting it in your face.

He doesn't care if you wanna try to braid it or put bows in it. as long as no one else sees of course.

You can do as you please, mess it up, pat it down, give him pigtails.

Just as long as he can feel your fingers softly trailing through his locks he'll be happy.

[angryinternetduck]

When All Feels Lost Chapter Three: We'll Be Alright Nerves, fancy boas, a phoenix rising from the ashes. A princess is left on a cliffhanger, Harry's a dramatic Renoir painting, and you dive in headfirst. It won't be an easy ride, but you'll be alright. Warnings: Explicit language and more of the heavy topics from last chapter. about 8,000 words << prev chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | ask ~*~ “You look nervous,” Harry murmurs into your ear as he appears next to you. His hand hovers at your waist, charm turned up high as he gives smiles and waves to the people walking into the theater.

You shrug, keeping your own smile on your face as you say, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“You’re gonna be great,” Harry tells you anyway.

“Sure hope so.”

Around you, the theater looks nothing less than glorious. All the lights are on, a warm golden against the deep burgundy of the walls and carpet. Diamonds glitter, shoes shine, dress hems flirt with the floor.

There’s a low hum of chatter from the masses of people filtering through the lobby and making their way to their seats. Lights in the chandelier hanging miles above you twinkle and clink as they shift in the soft breeze floating through the open doors.

Despite what you told Harry, he’s right; you’re nervous as hell.

Which makes sense. It’s opening night. Of course you’re nervous.

Your first scene is a few scenes into the second act, meaning you have plenty of time to help Harry greet everyone up front before heading backstage to get ready. It’s quite different than all of your previous opening night experiences, but it’s no less nerve-wracking. In fact, it’s significantly more nerve-wracking because of how much is riding on its failure.

A small man wearing a beret and large glasses catches your attention, and you nudge Harry so he sees him too. Harry nods, confirming your suspicions: that’s the critic from The New Yorker.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Laughing slightly, you walk over to the critic and start to fiddle with your purse. He looks up, thick eyebrows furrowing at the sight of you. “Hello,” he says curtly, and you smile at him. “Hi,” you reply. “You’re here for Fatigue?”

“Yes.”

“A critic?” you go on.

“Yes.”

You clear your throat, slipping your hand into your purse. Lowering the small bag to waist height and glancing around to ensure no one’s looking your way, you murmur, “I’m a co-producer of this fantastic play...” You shift your fingers to show him a few hundred dollar bills. “And I’m sure your review will be nothing less than spectacular, correct?”

The critic scoffs, eyes widening, and he whips off his glasses in rage. “You dare attempt bribe me?” he hisses. “You think I, a critic of high moral and dignity, can be swayed by a few measly dollar bills?”

You struggle to hide your grin.

“I can assure you, madam,” the critic continues, “this review will be short and honest.”

“Oh, no,” you say.

The critic scowls at you, barks a crisp, “Goodbye,” and storms out of the theater.

Turning around, you meet Harry’s gaze and snap your fingers in a sarcastic oh, drats sort of fashion. Harry grins, and this time you don’t hide your own smile as you mirror his expression and walk back to him.

“Too easy,” you tell him.

Harry smiles. “And now we wait for, uh - Joe,” he says, reading an email on his phone.

“Joe,” you echo.

“Dziemianowicz.”

You blink. "What’d you just call me?”

Harry snickers and tilts his phone so you can see the name on the screen. Sure enough, it says Joe Dziemianowicz. “‘The esteemed critic from the New York Times,’” you read. “I’m sure he’ll love this.”

Harry shakes his head. “I certainly hope he doesn’t.”

“Right,” you say. “How do you know he won’t react like, uh - like The New Yorker guy?”

“Because I’m such a charmer,” Harry replies with a sweet smile.

You raise a brow. “And I’m not?”

“You are,” Harry says, shrugging. “When you want to be.”

“You flatter me,” you deadpan.

Harry grins. “I do try my hardest.” He points out a guy with a notebook under his arm, then tells you, “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah? Make sure D’Angelo’s not fainted yet.” He walks off, and you watch him for a second.

The plan is to get as many awful reviews as possible. Most of them should just come naturally - no one could watch the play and give it any positive comments at all - but you’re guaranteeing two of them to be absolutely horrific with bribes.

The critic you just attempted to bribe from The New Yorker should give some sort of irate nonsense about the dishonorable intentions of the producers of the surely terrible Fatigue. As for the fellow Harry’s heading for, his review will be more detailed in its critique. Harry’s goal is to actually bribe this Joe Dziemianowicz successfully - but for a bad review.

As Harry begins his explanation to Mr. Dziemianowicz, you slip through the crowds until you reach backstage, where D’Angelo is, in fact, on the brink of losing consciousness. He’s taking small sips of water from a glass in which you can see small pink feathers floating. They’re probably from the large pink boa he’s wearing over his suit, which is a slightly jarring green color covered in tiny pink butterflies.

“Angel,” you greet him, giving him a hug.

“Oh, Magenta,” D’Angelo replies woefully. “It’s a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.”

You sigh. “It hasn’t even started.”

“Oh, but when it does, it shall go down in flames.”

“And from the ashes shall rise a phoenix.”

D’Angelo gives you a faint smile. “I do adore you, darling.”

“And I you,” you say with a grin. “Come on, Angel, we have a play to put on.” You gently lead him through the dressing tables, where everyone’s getting ready. Someone glues orange lashes on while another person zips their dress; an actor expertly quiffs his hair in the corner with a loud can of hairspray.

“Your optimism… is inspiring,” D’Angelo murmurs, absentmindedly fixing someone’s collar as he passes. “That’s the goal,” you tell him, taking his glass of water from him when he holds it out to free both his hands. He takes a makeup brush and palette out of a girl’s hand and begins to brush some product on her face. She looks slightly startled, but doesn’t say anything.

“Where’s your Harry?” he asks as he works. “Charming the audience, I presume?”

You start to reply, stop, and then decide on, “Um… probably.”

“He certainly has a way about him, doesn’t he,” D’Angelo muses.

You clear your throat and look down, smiling involuntarily. “Yeah.”

D’Angelo sighs. “You must remember to keep your head up.”

Impulsively, you snap your chin up straight, then realize he’s talking to the girl whose makeup he’s doing. “And keep your voice up as well,” D’Angelo continues. “Project, my dear. You have a very pretty voice.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Also,” D’Angelo adds, handing her makeup products back, “your blouse is inside out.”

Flushing through her makeup, the girl looks down at her blouse, which is, in fact, inside out. The tag waves at you from her neckline. She looks a bit horrified, and she hurries away to correct it as D’Angelo ambles on.

“Have you talked it out yet?” he asks. “With Harry?”

You frown. “Huh?”

“Oh, you know,” D’Angelo hums, giving you a lazy smile. “The ‘what are we’ talk.”

You’re too surprised to even reply, but D’Angelo takes your surprise for denial. “Oh, don’t play coy, Magenta. To steal the wise words of Miss Swift” - he clears his throat - “you could see it with the lights out.”

“Sometimes,” you tell him, “you’re just a bit too dramatic.”

He catches your eye. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You hold his gaze. “You are.”

“Your acting talent is astounding,” D’Angelo murmurs, looking away.

“I think I preferred your hopeless talk of your failing play.”

His brows jump. “My failing play,” he echoes incredulously.

“Our failing play,” you amend.

“Go find Harry, darling,” D’Angelo tells you with a smile, “and stop bothering me.”

You grin. “If you insist. Break a leg, Angel.”

“I’ll break yours if you keep talking,” he says. “Run along, now.”

***

The theater, sweeping out below you in a magnificent blend of golds and reds, is truly breathtaking. You’re in the balcony seats reserved for you and Harry now, watching the chatter and buzz of the people below.

You nudge him and echo his words from earlier. “You look nervous.”

“I am,” he mutters.

“Don’t be.”

He laughs wryly, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. “Gee, that fixes everything.” You sigh and sit back in the chair, looking down at the stage. “It’ll work. There’s no way it won’t.”

“I know,” Harry says softly, looking up.

There’s a beat of silence. You’re not sure what to say. Then the lights begin to dim, and Harry leans back again. In the darkness, you feel his hand find yours. He squeezes your hand, then lets go.

The conversation fades, and Charlie Manswell, playing Leopold Gray the retired FBI agent, walks out onto stage. He looks even more nervous than Harry does; you can see his hands shaking from all the way up here.

The play drags on. Neither you nor Harry says a word at all. Tension settles, heavy and dense, thickening in the air between you and Harry. An hour in, a group of people walk out. Low murmurs sound throughout the theater, and then it goes quiet once more.

You and Harry exchange a glance.

A few minutes before intermission, you go down to start getting ready for your part. Backstage, D’Angelo has calmed down significantly. He looks to be in a bit of a daze, holding his half-empty glass of water in both hands.

“Ah, Magenta,” he greets you when you say hi. “Just in time. Your costume’s over with Madeline… Stay away from the makeup, darling, Madeline will do it for you.” A smile teases the corners of his lips. “No more catastrophes, thank you…”

“I’ll try my best,” you reply, walking over to get changed. Your nerves intensify as you get dressed and made up. A swarm of butterflies turns your stomach over, adrenaline spikes through your veins, sweat gathers in your palms.

Standing in the wings just out of sight, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. The lights dim, the curtain lifts, and you open your eyes. Your gaze darts over the crowd, struggling to see anything through the bright lights.

It takes a second to process, but a grin’s breaking out across your face almost before you can fully form the thought: the theater’s practically empty. People must have walked out during the intermission, you realize with a quiet, giddy laugh.

Charlie, standing on stage, must have noticed too; his voice wavers just slightly through his first few lines. You feel a twinge of sympathy for him. Despite everything, you do feel terribly for all the actors who really are taking this seriously. They’ll still get their cut, though, if not a great review in the newspapers.

When you see your cue, you walk out and begin to act.

Ridiculously, it feels good to be on stage again. Even if it’s doomed to fail, if it’s a joke, if your already nonexistent reputation will almost certainly take a nosedive after this play even if it’s the best performance of your life.

The second half of the play goes much faster than the first. You’re taking bows before you realize, and you smile happily not because of rambunctious applause, but because of the few scattered claps you receive from the nearly empty audience.

Harry’s giving you a standing ovation from his box.

Backstage is quiet after the curtain falls. D’Angelo, surprisingly, is the most cheerful, popping around and giving everyone enthusiastic feedback. He’s exchanged his glass of water for a flute of champagne, which he sips at elegantly in between words.

“Wonderful job, darling, positively splendid,” he says to you, patting your cheek. To Harry, he adds, “And wonderful play, Mr. Styles. The reviews shall be the first of their kind.” A grin begins to spread across your face, and D’Angelo winks at you before whisking off to console someone crying by the mirrors.

“The first of their kind,” Harry echoes under his breath.

You laugh and reply, “He got that right.”

“Let’s get food,” Harry suggests. “I’m starved.”

Nodding, you tell him, “I’ll meet you at the diner,” and grab your stuff to change out of your costume. He walks off, saying goodbyes as he leaves. After changing into something more comfortable, you do the same, hugging D’Angelo goodbye and talking with a few people on your way out.

A Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the jukebox when you walk into the diner. Harry’s chewing french fries, staring out the window. He looks pensive, and you tell him that as you slide into the booth.

“I am,” he admits quietly. Then he tacks on, “Worried” like it hurts to say. “I’m worried.”

You bite your lip, watching him for a second. His eyes are downcast. “Your ringer’s on, right?” you ask, nodding at his cell phone. Harry nods, picking it up. “She’ll call,” he murmurs, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself.

“She will,” you assure him. It’s the company manager you’re talking about, who will hopefully decide that between the attendance - or lack thereof - and horrific reviews, she can’t keep your play open any longer.

“Ninety percent of the theater walked out,” you go on. “There’s no way they won’t close us.” Harry shrugs, leaning back and clearing his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah.” He nods, an air of finality around him as if he’s done talking about it.

Tapping your fingers against the table, you hesitate for a second before speaking again. “Not to… pry or anything, but what happened with you and her?” you ask. “Gwen? The company manager?”

Harry’s brows jump. “What makes you ask that?”

A tad embarrassed, you shake your head. “Oh, it’s… nothing. Just with… Aurora… and what you said about, uh - Tanner Smith liking your old… girlfriend… presumably…” You laugh, a bit awkwardly. “But you don’t have to answer that. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry says. He shrugs, looking at his glass of water. “Yeah, we had a thing. It was a while ago. We, erm… We were pretty close.” A small smile curves his lips as he traces shapes in the condensation on the glass, and your gaze shifts to the window.

“We worked on a project, a big play we wrote together… Smith helped with that. She’s gorgeous, Gwen…” He pauses again. You regret asking. Finally, he clears his throat and goes on, “Er, but yeah, he took a liking to her. That’s really the only reason he still invests in anything, I think. He keeps hoping she’ll come back.”

He looks up, giving a wry laugh. “She won’t. Aurora scared her off. I brought her to the hospital and she kind of… It was too much. She was a little bit… she wasn’t very…” He clears his throat. “Nice with her. With - er, with Aurora…” His smile fades into something a little bit more genuine, and he meets your eye. “Not nearly as nice as you are with her.”

You frown.

Another bit of a pause, and he looks back at his glass. “But, erm… yeah, Gwen wasn’t a huge fan of the whole… taking-care-of-a-sick-child-in-the-hospital thing. She said all this stuff about commitment and not even wanting -” His jaw clenches, and he makes faint air quotes with his fingers as he mutters, “‘Normal kids’, much less a kid that…” He fades off. “I dunno. Wasn’t great. So.” He looks up and shrugs. “That’s that.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “I’m - I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be,” Harry sighs. “It’s over now.” He gives you a half-smile, popping a fry into his mouth. “I’ve gone and ruined the mood, haven’t I?” You shake your head and reply, “I asked.” You half-smile back at him. “If anything, it’s my fault.”

“If you insist,” Harry says. “Come on, tell me something good.”

You raise a brow. “Like what?”

He smiles big, nudging your foot gently under the table. “We’re going to Rio.”

You smile big too, because he’s not even kidding. You booked the tickets with him a few days ago. The plan is to get out of the country for a while until everything settles down. You’ll avoid a few calls, lay low, then come back to thousands of dollars and all your problems solved.

“I can’t wait to go to the beach,” you murmur, leaning back against the booth.

Harry hums in agreement. “You’ll love the view,” he says.

“You’ve been?” you ask.

Harry shakes his head, a stupid smile on his face. “Nah. But the view of me in my little yellow swim shorts can make up for any underwhelming scenery.” You scoff a laugh and echo, “Little yellow swim shorts?”

“They’re fantastic, darling,” Harry assures you with a big grin. “We’ll have to go shopping so we can match.” You nod, giggling despite yourself. “Forget the beach, I can’t wait for that.” Harry nods sagely. “It’ll be great.”

You crack jokes with him about his swim attire the whole way home.

The phone doesn’t ring once.

***

The second night is not nearly as exciting as the first. The lobby is empty. A few people filter in, but there were significantly more tickets bought than the number of attendees. As far as you know, there aren’t any more ticket sales, either.

You’re somehow even more uneasy than you were last night. Harry is, too. Nobody says anything. It’s just a bunch of nervous looks and heavy silence. Backstage is quiet, too. D’Angelo is the only one saying anything at all. His voice is lower, though, and even his orange boa seems to be a bit lifeless.

The play seems to take hours. People walk out. It’s getting a bit depressing - you realize that’s your goal, for the theater to be totally empty, but it’s really quite difficult to act to a nonexistent audience.

Backstage is quiet after the play, too. You get changed and walk out to meet Harry, brows jumping when you see him talking to a woman you don’t recognize. She’s tall and thin and blonde, sunglasses perched on top of her head. Her clothing is casual, just a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Hello,” you say hesitantly as you walk up to them.

“Hey, there,” the woman greets you. Bright blue eyes meet yours, and she smiles as she sticks her hand out for you to shake. Her nails are painted a light pink. You match her smile and shake her hand, introducing yourself.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Gwen.”

Ah, you think. You steal a glance at Harry, who looks a bit tense.

You clear your throat. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yeah,” she replies, laughing a little. “I, uh… Yeah. Well, uh, I was just starting to talk to H about Fatigue. And, um… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure you’ll be happy to hear our decision…” You look at Harry again, and he doesn’t meet your eye.

“That doesn’t sound good,” you say, because Harry stays quiet.

“Well, I think you’ve seen the reception,” Gwen says. “And there hasn’t been a single ticket sale since before it opened last night.” She sighs, a sympathetic look on her face as her gaze bounces between you and Harry. “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to keep it open any longer.”

“We understand,” Harry says, finally speaking up. His hand slides into yours, surprising you, and you watch Gwen’s eyes flick down to catch the action. “We’ll go tell everyone,” Harry goes on. “It was nice seeing you, Gwen.”

He leads you away, and you nod goodbye at Gwen a tad awkwardly over your shoulder.

“You okay?” you ask quietly once she’s out of earshot.

You see his jaw flex, but he doesn’t answer for a moment. He pulls his hand away from yours and runs it through his hair, and then, barely loud enough for you to hear, he says, “That was my sweatshirt.”

“Oh,” you say, wincing.

“I can’t believe her,” he mutters. “Christ.”

You pause a second, unsure what to say, then decide, “I’m surprised she didn’t just call.”

Harry just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just… We’ll have to tell them. They should hear it from us.” You nod and murmur, “D’Angelo will be devastated.” Harry sighs, pushing open the door. “I’m sure he saw it coming.”

Everyone looks up when the two of you walk in.

As soon as D’Angelo sees your expressions, he finishes the last of his champagne in one gulp. He sighs, holding your gaze, and then speaks to Harry. “How’s your lovely Gwen doing, then?” he asks breezily, his easy tone a sharp contrast to his strained body language.

“I’m not sure,” Harry says quietly. “We didn’t talk much.”

D’Angelo hums lowly. “It’s not good news, I presume?”

“No,” you say. “No, it’s… it’s not.”

“Finished, are we?” D’Angelo asks.

Both you and Harry hesitate.

And then Harry answers, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you add weakly.

D’Angelo raises his empty champagne flute. “It was a valiant effort.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then everyone looks away and begins packing up their things. Low chatter breaks out, and D’Angelo slowly drifts over to the half-empty bottle of champagne in the corner. He inspects the label, swirls it around, and then takes a drink directly from the bottle.

Harry clears his throat next to you. “I was planning to go to the hospital,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, that’s a - that’s a good idea,” you reply with a nod.

You lock eyes, just for a moment, and then Harry turns away.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” he says, and walks off.

You say your goodbyes and follow Harry out.

***

“You’re… leaving?” Aurora gasps, eyes wide and beginning to glisten.

Harry squeezes her hand and tells her, “Just for a while.”

“A while?” she echoes, a tear rolling down her cheek. “But - but -”

“We’ll be back before you know it, princess,” you murmur from behind Harry.

Harry nods. “You’ll blink and we’ll be back.”

Aurora hiccups a sob, chin wobbling as her gaze darts between you and Harry. “But we’re almost done with - with Trumpet,” she whispers. “You can’t leave me on a - a hill - a hang - a rock -” She breaks off with another sob, pulling away from Harry to wipe at her nose with her little hand.

Your heart cracks in two. “A cliffhanger,” you whisper.

“You can’t leave me!” Aurora cries.

“We’re not, baby,” Harry insists, voice cracking. “I promise, we’ll be back.”

Aurora sniffles, crossing her arms over her chest and stubbornly looking at the other end of the room, away from either of you. “Just go,” she whimpers. Harry reaches out, and she jerks away, closing her eyes as tears fall faster.

“We’ll be back,” Harry promises again, voice barely audible.

“Go away!” Aurora sobs, and she burrows under the blankets.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, looking hopeless, and you place your hands on his shoulders. “Come on,” you say softly. “She’ll come around. We’ll call her. FaceTime.” Harry closes his eyes, just for a second, and then stands up.

“We’ll… we’ll be right back,” he murmurs.

No response.

“I love you, okay?” he tries. “And I promise… I promise we’ll be… right back…”

Still nothing.

Harry wipes his face and clears his throat. “Bye, Aurora,” he whispers.

Aurora just sniffles again, pulling the blanket further over her head.

Gently, you take Harry’s hand and guide him out.

“It’ll all be worth it,” you tell him, squeezing his hand.

Harry nods and squeezes your hand back, silent.

***

Everything’s packed.

The money has been transferred to several offshore accounts, safe to stay unnoticed until everything’s settled down and you and Harry can start slowly shifting it back into your own accounts.

The plane ride is a bit tense. Harry brought a deck of cards, of course, and you trade magic tricks and play games of Go Fish and Gin Rummy. He chews gum and you giggle watching him attempt to blow bubbles.

It’s hot in Rio. Harry holds your hand as you navigate the airport and the buses to your hotel. It’s a relief to finally arrive, to collapse onto the big fluffy bed and sprawl out in the glorious air conditioning.

The first night, the two of you order room service and eat dinner while watching TV.

And the phone. You watch the phone, too.

Every so often, your gazes will both drift to the phone at the same time, and you’ll catch his eye and give a half-smile. You’re waiting for a call from an investor, of course, demanding where their money is and why the hell they haven’t been able to reach you.

In reality, there’s no way they’ll think of you. The play has probably already been forgotten. Individually, each person gave such a small amount that they probably forgot about it days after they signed the papers. To think that they’d not only remember your play but that they’d be angry that you lost their money is ridiculous.

There’s no way.

It’s silly to think about, really, and whenever you find yourself worrying, you take a breath and think about how mind-boggling your situation is. You’re in a hotel room in Rio de Janeiro that’s almost as big as your entire apartment.

The hotel room you’re in is large. It’s a suite. The bathroom’s ginormous, the closet’s practically just as big, and the desk is a rich, dark oak color fit with huge drawers and a bright lamp. There are two small couches situated in front of the windows, right in front of the door to the little balcony just outside.

Huge windows look out over the glittering city, and far in the distance, you can see the Christ the Redeemer statue. Twinkling lights wink at you, brightly colored in the pitch-black night. Trees sway in the light breeze, and the softest sound of music can be heard even as far from the city as you are.

In a suite as big as this, there are two beds. Harry falls asleep in the same bed you do anyway, on the opposite side. You don’t think about it until the next morning when you realize both of you somehow gravitated to the middle, and you’re curled into his side with your head on his chest.

The sound of birds wakes you up. You’re struck with the oddest of feelings; everything is just so surreal you’re not even sure where to begin. It’s so much more pleasant than it should be to just lay there, reveling in how content you are nestled up to this guy you used to despise with all your being.

Then, suddenly, your heart begins to ache, because you realize you haven’t gotten around to letting him know just how much your feelings towards him have changed. Nothing’s happened since that kiss, and it hurts.

It hurts just to think about it, and being right next to him like this isn’t helping. You roll out of bed, wash your face with cold water, push all of those thoughts out of your mind. It’s not worth the stress.

Harry stirs as you brew a cup of coffee, sitting up and running a hand through his hair with his eyes still half shut. “Smells good,” he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. “Coffee,” you tell him, lifting your now full cup. “Want some?”

He nods, stretching up towards the ceiling before flopping back down. “Mhmm.”

You start another cup, then turn around and lean on the dresser, watching him while you take a hesitant sip of your scalding coffee. You can see his chest rising and falling gently, and his swallows peek out of his white t-shirt. He’s on his back, head to the side, morning sunlight reflecting through the trees by the window and splashing over his face like he’s in some dramatic Renoir painting.

The coffee maker sputters to a stop. You blink, feeling like an absolute creep for just staring at him like this, and hurriedly turn around to grab the cup. Harry sits up as you walk over, and after handing him his cup, you sit on the edge of the bed, crossing your legs and cradling your warm coffee in both hands.

He takes a sip, and his eyes flutter shut blissfully. “Bloody hell,” he sighs.

“Jesus,” you laugh. “It’s not that good.”

He pouts at you. “It’s fucking incredible.”

“Guess it’s those Brazilian nuts.”

Harry grins. “Damn right,” he says.

He holds your gaze for just a second, smile still in his eyes, and you have to look away.

Standing up, you clear your throat and turn to look out the window. “We should… go somewhere, or… something,” you say. There’s a beat of silence, and then he laughs, just a little, and you’re looking over at him again before you can stop yourself.

“What?” you ask, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling, either.

He giggles at you. “I - we’re in Rio, and you think we wouldn’t go somewhere?”

You scoff, shaking your head as your face heats a bit. “Hey, I don’t know!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he tells you, still smiling, and he stands up and runs his hands through his hair as he stretches again. “We can take a walk,” he suggests. “Get to know the place.” You nod, looking down into your coffee.

“Sounds good,” you say.

***

“It’ll have six bedrooms.”

Harry grins. “Eight bathrooms.”

“Twelve kitchens.”

“Fifteen pools.”

“Twenty - uh… Twenty… fireplaces…?”

Harry laughs, shaking his head, and takes your hand, swinging it up and down. You’re walking along a beach, sand slipping under your flip-flops and sinking under your feet. You’ve just finished breakfast, and you feel perfectly content.

“I’ve always wanted to build my own house,” Harry says.

“Missed opportunity in construction?”

Harry frowns and amends, “Er - well, more design my own house.”

You nudge his hip, smiling. “Think you’d look good in one of those orange hard hats.”

“Thought you’d prefer something else that’s hard…”

You scoff a laugh. “Wow. Coming on strong for ten in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Harry laughs. “Too much?”

“Maybe just wait a few more hours. Let me get something better than coffee in me.”

“Asking me to get you drunk?”

You just shrug, grinning at him.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Harry says.

There’s a beat of silence, and you watch your hand, intertwined with Harry’s, still swaying back and forth. The waves gently crash against the shore, birds chirping away in the distance.

After a second, you clear your throat. “So,” you say, “you kissed me.”

Harry gazes off at the water. “Did I?”

You stop walking. You open your mouth to reply, then close it again.

He looks at you, and there’s a smirk on his lips. “Don’t remember that,” he says.

You’re not sure how to respond. Hurt rushes through you, then anger, confusion, and -

“I think I’ll have to do it again,” he goes on. “See if it rings any bells.”

Relief floods your body. You smile, just slightly. “Right,” you breathe. “Guess you will.”

He kisses you, softly, hand cupping your cheek gently. He touches you gingerly, like you’ll break, like you’ll pull away, like he’s a little scared. So you’re the one to lean into him, you’re the one to slide a hand onto the nape of his neck and pull him closer, grinning against his lips and giggling when he smiles too.

“You’re a bastard for that,” you tell him when you pull away, a bit breathlessly.

“For what?” he asks innocently.

You roll your eyes. “Pretending you didn’t remember.”

“Sorry,” he says, kissing you once more.

He takes your hand, starting to walk again, letting silence linger for just a second. He’s looking at the sand, smile fading away. He looks like he’s in deep thought, and you squeeze his hand. “You okay?”

He looks up at you and smiles just a bit. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I’m just thinking… You know, erm… I don’t want to pressure you,” he tells you, his voice lowering as he stops again to face you fully. “I, er… I know the original plan was to - you know, go our separate ways after… after all this. And it’s… It’s a lot, I know -” He laughs softly. “Christ, I’m a lot, just with Aurora, and the theater, and…” He fades off, running a hand over his face. “Er… But yeah. I just… I wanna let you know that I’m not… pressuring you to stay, or anything… We can stick to the - the plan.”

“No,” you say immediately, and then feel a bit self-conscious. “I mean… I don’t want to. I really…” You give him a smile. “I really like you. And Aurora. And it’s a lot, yeah, but… I don’t care. I don’t mind. I love all of it. I -” You falter, then, “I mean - I like - I -”

He raises a brow at you.

So you bite your lip, then dive in headfirst. “I love you,” you say.

“Love you too,” he replies with a big smile, and he kisses you.

***

It’s hours later, now, and you’ve wandered into some restaurant by the beach.

The bar is loud, crowded, and thrumming with music in Portuguese. Somebody’s singing from a big stage in the back. Your hand is firmly in Harry’s, walking next to him through the mass of moving bodies. A warm breeze heavy with ocean air flows through huge open windows, colorful lights shining in the dark.

When you finally make it to the counter, Harry gestures vaguely at something on the wall to the bartender, and you point at the drink of the person next to you. You glance at each other, shrug, and watch as the bartender mixes and shakes up a bunch of mysterious liquids.

Your final result is bright blue, like the one the girl next to you just finished. Harry’s is pink and green. With laughs neither of you can hear over the noise, you clink your glasses against each other and take sips.

Harry’s nose wrinkles. “Sour,” you see him say.

Yours is extremely sweet, and you make an eh motion with your hand and hold it out to him. He takes it and gives you his, and you try his as he tries yours. Your nose must wrinkle like his did, because he grins and hands yours back.

You shake your head, though, and look around for someone who has a drink you’d actually like to have. When you spot someone downing a shot glass full of what looks like water but clearly isn’t, you point that out to the bartender along with two fingers.

A few shots later, you’re buzzing, dancing with Harry amid the mass of people on the dance floor. The music’s so loud, electrifying the air around you. It seems like you’re being shifted towards the front of the room, and before you know it, you appear to be on the raised platform all the way at the front.

Bright lights hit your face, making you giggle and squint. People start clapping, Harry spins you around, and everyone cheers. There’s a screen directly in front of you. You walk up to it, practically dragging Harry with you, and realize it’s a song bank - and there are microphones on the table next to it.

“Karaoke!” you shout at Harry.

He grins and starts flicking through the song choices. When you see one you like, you reach out and tap the screen, pointing at it. Harry laughs and nods excitedly, clicking it. Immediately, the music changes.

On cue, you and Harry come in.

“Yoooo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want -”

It’s not in Portuguese, but nobody seems to mind, and they give you rambunctious applause regardless. You and Harry can barely get the words out for how much you’re laughing and giggling at each other’s dance moves and crazy singing. He spins you around again, you spin him, both of you trip on the mic wires at least three times. As the song ends, he dips you, kisses your nose, and then stands up so both of you can take big bows.

You’re breathless by that point, and you stumble off the stage with Harry as someone else takes the mic. On some unsaid agreement, you both keep going out of the restaurant and back onto the beach towards your hotel.

With your fingers tangled in his and chests heaving, you walk all the way back to the hotel. It’s pretty close, and when you arrive, the two of you lean against the door and grin at each other, hearts still racing.

Harry kisses you, then, hand sliding against your cheek and lips smiling against yours. The wood of the door is cool against your back, and it’s not because of the hot Brazilian air that you’re warming up again.

He pulls his shoulder off the door, almost pinning you against it as your smiles fade and your kisses become more desperate. You want more, more, more; want him closer, closer - even closer - and with fumbling fingers you shed the clothes that separate you as you lurch towards the bed.

It’s warm, in Brazil, so warm, and you’ve never felt a greater thrill.

***

The next morning, after grins and kisses and coffee, the phone rings.

Harry glances at you, then picks it up.

“Hello?” he says. Then, “Yes, this is he.”

He’s quiet for a while. He fiddles with his lip.

“I know,” he says. “Right. Right, I know. Don’t worry… Yes, expect a call soon. Won’t be from me, no, but… No… Yes, of course, I… Fantastic. Great talking with you. Expect that call! Bye, bye now.”

He hangs up.

“Investor?” you ask.

He nods.

You open your mouth to say something, then stop.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you, starting to smile. “They’ll never remember. One call, that’s all. That wasn’t even the guy himself - it was his assistant. We’ll be buried under hundreds of other things to do. I’ve had to remind people, you know, even on plays that do well. They always forget.”

You’re not quite persuaded, but he comes over and squeezes your shoulder and says, “It’ll be alright” so convincingly that you can’t help but believe him. You nod, taking his hand, and let him lead you out to the balcony, where fruit and warm bread are waiting for you.

Over the next few weeks, only a couple of calls come in. Harry handles them, uses that same calming tone, and says basically the same thing each time: expect a phone call, sorry for the delay, don’t worry about it.

You sit back and distract your racing heart with the beautiful sights, sounds, and food.

***

Harry makes some killer pancakes. After living with him for months and months, you’ve had more than your fair share of his fluffy, buttery pancakes. And while you’d be the first to crown him the best pancake maker in New York, his pancake breakfasts have absolutely nothing on the Brazilian breakfasts you’ve had since you’ve gotten to Rio de Janeiro.

Nevertheless, it’s a few weeks later, and you’ve awoken to the scent of bacon.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, following your nose to the small kitchenette in the hotel suite. “Pancakes!” Harry exclaims, flipping around to brandish his teeny frying pan at you.

“Oh, Harry,” you sigh, taking a tiny pancake from the pile anyway.

Harry turns back around to busy himself with his task. “Listen,” he begins seriously. “I’m aware of how good the food here is. We’re had right scrumptious meals here -” You giggle through a bite of pancake and interrupt, “You’re right scrumptious.”

“Shush,” Harry says, but you can see him dimpling from behind him. “What I mean to say is that I was bored, so don’t blame me for the American food.” You frown at his back. “Bored?” you echo.

You’ve hardly been sitting around doing nothing, you think at first, but then as you think about it more, you… kind of have. The two of you were on a good run the first few days, going out every day and finding a new sight to see. Three weeks in, though, it’s a lot more tempting to just stay in bed all day and lounge around in the sunshine.

“Yeah,” Harry replies now as he turns to face you. “I’m getting antsy.”

“Find an anteater.”

He pouts.

You smile apologetically at him and hold up a little pancake. “Delicious.”

“Thanks,” he says.

You bite your lip, leaning back in your chair as your brain slowly wakes up. “How about… a picnic?” you suggest. “We could go down to the beach again and bring a basket - make it all aesthetic and pretty!”

Harry points his spatula at you. “That’s the spirit!”

“You can pack the basket,” you say.

He frowns. “Maybe try a different spirit.”

“How about - I don’t pack it, and you pack it!”

“That’s… the same spirit.”

“I’ve never believed in ghosts anyway,” you tell him, and you stand up, sliding your plate into the sink. “Have fun!” you say, patting him on the chest as you pass him “And pack some fruits, Styles. Let’s stay healthy.”

“Let’s,” Harry echoes, grumbling, “as in let us. Let us pack the basket.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” you call.

He is, really, he is a gentleman, because he packs it despite your later offers to help and then presents you with a ginormous sun hat when you appear fully changed. You put it on, and when its brim droops over your forehead, you say, “Hey, it flops, just like all of your plays!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry scoffs, but he’s laughing so he can’t be too insulted.

It’s gorgeous by the water, unsurprisingly, and you feed each other strawberries and sip sparkling water while you chatter away about nothing. You drift closer and closer until you’ve forgotten all about the view of the sunset for strawberry sweet kisses, and you both decide to call it a day and head back for the hotel.

You see him fiddling with his phone as you step out of the bathroom, changed after your shower, and your smile dims a little as you realize what he’s thinking. “We should try again,” you tell him, and he looks up, looking conflicted.

You’re talking about Aurora, about calling her, because she hasn’t picked up the last twenty times you’ve tried. Harry’s talked to her nurses, who say she’s doing relatively well health-wise but not great with everything else. She misses them, the nurses say, but she’s still angry.

“Come on,” you say, plopping down next to him on the bed and gently sliding his phone out of his hands. You move slowly, giving him the opportunity to stop you, and then hand it to him before pressing the call button.

He gives you a smile. “Hundredth time’s the charm.”

And lo and behold - he’s right.

“You gotta come back,” Aurora says as soon as she picks up. “I had a dream about the little swan last night, Harry, you gotta come back! I need to know what happens!” Harry breathes an incredulous laugh and clears his throat.

“I - er, yeah, Ror, of course,” he says. “Soon.”

You pop into the camera view for a second, wiggling your fingers, and Aurora gives a shy smile. “Hi,” she says, sounding a little guilty. “Sorry for not… picking up.” Harry glances at you, and you reply, “Don’t worry about it, princess.”

“We’re still sorry,” Harry adds.

Aurora pouts, looking down, and mumbles, “Should be.”

“Just a few more weeks, Ror,” Harry tells her, his voice weak.

She huffs a little bit and then glances up again. She moves around a little bit, peering into the camera like she’s trying to look behind you. “Where are you guys, anyway?” Harry smiles and exclaims, “Brazil!”

Aurora still looks confused. “Well, where’s that?”

“Remember when we went to Disney World for your birthday?” Harry asks, and when Aurora nods, he goes on, “Right, well, it’s like if you went there, then kept going for a few hours until you heard Portuguese.”

Aurora blinks, then chirps, “Okay!”

“How’re you, princess?” Harry asks. “Any drama we should be aware of?”

“Oh, so much,” Aurora gushes. She starts her story, and as the air warms with her voice, Harry’s hand slides into yours and you begin to relax. Through the end of the phone call, you and Harry can barely keep the smiles off your face.

***

You stay in Brazil for a long time. After it’s been two weeks without a single call from any of the investors, you decide to pack it up. Back home, it’s totally quiet, like nothing ever happened. It’s still scary, though, and the plane ride back is mostly quiet. You’re cautious driving through town, peeking into the theater, greeting people as you walk into Harry’s apartment.

It only takes a look to agree on where to go first after dropping everything off in the apartment, and you’re at the hospital in no time with a huge bag of souvenirs. You’re both greeted with huge smiles and hugs all the way to Aurora’s room.

Aurora’s asleep when you walk in, and Harry gives you a bit of a nervous look before approaching and kneeling down beside her to gently place a kiss on her forehead. She wakes up slowly, blinking blearily before processing Harry in front of her and gasping and throwing her arms around his neck.

“Harry!” she squeals, hugging him tightly. With wide eyes, she looks up, then exclaims your name and you walk over to give her a hug of your own. “You’re back!” she says happily, glancing between the two of you excitedly.

“We sure are,” you tell her.

Harry nods. “We missed you, princess.”

“Missed you too,” Aurora replies.

You clear your throat and bring the small present from behind your back. “We have something for you,” you tell her, handing the little white bag to you. Aurora laughs delightedly, clapping her hands and crinkling the tissue paper inside before pulling out the gift.

“Oh…” she breathes. “Pascal!”

It’s not exactly Pascal, Rapunzel’s pet in Tangled, but it’s a little stuffed toy of a chameleon you found with Harry in some gift shop in Brazil and you figured Aurora would like him. “Told you I’d bring you a Pascal one of these days,” you say with a wink.

“I, of course,” Harry begins with a dramatic sigh, “am completely against this gift.”

Aurora breaks out in giggles.

“... So I had to get you something else,” Harry finishes. He hands her his own gift, a sparkly pink bag with two things inside. Aurora is enthralled with the delicate tiara, and Harry makes a whole production of crowning her princess of all of New York.

The second gift is a small snow globe, but glitter rains down on a beautiful beach scene rather than snow when Aurora flips it upside down, eyes wide with wonder. “I love it,” she says, voice a little quiet in awe.

“We won’t have to leave again,” Harry promises softly.

Aurora looks up, lowering the globe to her lap. “Please don’t,” she says.

Harry smiles a little, then squeezes her hand and stands up, sliding The Trumpet of the Swan off its spot on the table. “Hope you didn’t read any without us,” he sighs, settling down in his spot on the sofa.

Happily, you curl up next to him, just as pleased as Aurora to be continuing the story.

***

Back at the apartment the next day to finalize some paperwork, your phone begins to ring. It’s an unknown number. Glancing at Harry nervously, you pick it up and wander over to the window as the voice on the other end begins to talk.

Your heart drops as you realize what’s happening. It’s someone from another company, asking you to audition for a play they’re starting to work on. Apparently, someone had seen your performance in Fatigue and thought you were wonderful. They couldn’t believe you were working with such a shit producer, they said, and would you like to join their company?

“Yes!” you say immediately, a little too excitedly. “I mean - yes. Please. Thank you.”

They give you the details, and with a still racing heart, you turn around and see Harry, working on some papers at his desk, looking very confused. Your eyes widen. “Oh my God,” you say, realizing what you’d just done.

“You alright, love?” he asks, sounding a bit amused.

You clear your throat. “Um, I just agreed to audition for another play?”

His brows jump, and he comes around his desk to wrap you in a hug. “Bloody hell!” he laughs. “Congratulations! That’s great - did they say when auditions are? Is it close by? What theater?”

You sputter a laugh, surprised at his reaction, and start, “Well, I… I mean… Are you okay with this? Did you want me to stick with you?” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You’re too good for me. My producing days are over.”

“Really?” you ask, startled.

He leans against the desk, shrugging slightly. “Well… yeah. I mean, my record hardly suggests greatness, you know? I’ll find something else.” He grins, wiggling his brows, and adds, “Maybe I’ll go into writing. I certainly know what to avoid.”

“That would be great!” you exclaim. “Harry Styles, writer-producer extraordinaire!”

“Damn right,” Harry tells you, and he kisses you. You lean into him, hand sliding into his hair, and he whispers, “This desk hasn’t been broken in yet.” You snicker, about to reply, when your hand grazes a stack of papers and you sigh, pulling away. Harry whines, puckering his lips and smooching at you.

“We have paperwork to do,” you tell him.

He pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“After,” you say, giving him one last kiss.

“Maybe we can multitask,” Harry muses, turning around anyway and starting to shuffle some papers. “It takes you about a million years to finish a document when I’m not distracting you,” you reply, stealing a pen from his cup.

“Reckon I just need practice,” he says as you collapse on the sofa. You sigh, smiling despite yourself as you click your pen, shuffle some papers, and get to work. “Sure, Styles,” you say.

***

Two nights later, you’re sitting on the floor in the hallway of the hospital.

Beside you, the vending machine hums lowly. It harmonizes with the fluorescent lights buzzing on the ceiling, which are so bright they make your head hurt even when you close your eyes. Every few minutes, the lights flicker just slightly. Just enough for you to notice.

Harry dusts his hands off, reaching up to toss his candy wrapper into the trashcan. Like yours, his legs are stretched out in front of him. His hands are folded in his lap, head rested against the wall behind him.

He nudges your toe with his foot, shifting to look at you. He looks tired. When you meet his eyes, he starts to smile, lips curving slowly until he’s full on grinning, dimpling at you and laughing just a little.

“What?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from laughing just a little too.

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

You hold up the wrapper from the candy bar you just ate, peering at it, and tell him, “I wonder if it’s possible to get a sugar rush at one in the morning.” Harry takes it from you and pushes it into the trashcan.

“If you eat the entire vending machine,” he says, “probably.”

“I’m tired,” you whisper.

“What happened to the sugar rush?”

You take his hand, a bit delirious, and flip it palm up in your lap. “You’re gonna have a long life,” you say softly, tracing a random line on his skin. You start at his wrist, and follow a few lines up to one of his rings. “And be very stylish,” you continue, spinning a ring around.

“Why, thank you,” Harry says.

You smile at him. “You’re welcome.”

Harry touches the bottom of your chin with his finger, gently pushing up, and press his lips to yours. You relax at his touch, eyelids fluttering shut as his hand slides to hold your cheek, supporting you, grounding you, giving you butterflies.

Aurora’s sleeping in her room. Harry finished reading The Trumpet of the Swan just before she fell asleep. Earlier, while she went through tests and played, you and Harry filled out the proper forms for the procedure she’d need in a few months. It won’t be an easy ride, but she’ll be alright. And sitting on the floor, head rested on Harry’s shoulder and hand entwined with his, you get the feeling you just might be alright, too.

~*~ and there she is!!! all done!!! i'm gonna admit this chapter took SO LONG - i'm pretty sure i finished the first two chapters in like less than a month and this one took me. five months. BUT i got it done and i hit my word goal and i'm super proud of myself! honestly i'm just glad i got it out lmao. but i do hope someone out there enjoyed it, and if u did, a reblog and some feedback would be absolutely splendid <3

thank you for reading!!!!

masterlist | ask

[cheekysos]

The Maori Protector | Calum Hood | Bodyguard!AU x Plus Size Reader

Author’s Note:  Please be kind this is the first time I’ve written in like two years. Also I’m not writing this series to exclude any body type, shape, or size because everyone’s bodies should be accepted and celebrated. So I am very sorry if this in any way excludes anyone, that is not my intention. If there’s anything you’d like to read please leave a request in my asks and I will try my best to do it justice. Depending on the response I plan to make multiple parts of this.

Summary: Y/N is a famous plus sized actress and Calum is her bodyguard.

Warnings: Swearing, breaking and entering, and some light sexual comments

  From a young age you were always bigger, bigger than the girls your age and most of the time even the boys. It made your childhood rather difficult and usually pretty emotional. In spite all of those hardships the only thing that brought you solace was acting. It gave you courage and confidence, even if it was only temporary. Which brings you to now, you had stuck with acting, getting a few parts here and there, usually the stereotypical funny fat friend but then you got your big break.

  You couldn’t believe that you were finally cast as the lead; a part that had nothing to do with your size and given the timing of the world it just worked out and people loved it. Your schedule was filling up and you were more popular than ever. But with all that good brings a lot of bad as well, which is why your manager had insisted on hiring you a personal body guard and wasn't taking no for an answer.

“I don’t know Carl, I still don’t see why I need a body guard.” You poked, aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Jane continued to curl your hair. You were about to make your first late night television appearance and were trying to keep your mind on something other than your nerves.

“We’ve been over this. People are starting to show up to places you’ll be at and paparazzi these days have no boundaries. It’s for your own good.” He sighed, the two of you have had this conversation multiple times already. “I interviewed like 20 dudes for this, I promise he’s the best of the best. Just please play nice.” He teased before walking out the door. It’s not like you were a mean person or anything just guarded more than anything and rightfully so. You can’t look like you do and work in show business without having some trust issues.

   Jane finished up your hair with some hairspray, “you’re all set. Go get changed you’re on in ten love.”                                           

   “Thanks. Looks great, like always!” You beamed looking at yourself in mirror before walking into the green room bathroom. You squeezed yourself into your beige spanx tucking and adjusting your lumps and bumps. The dress you and your stylist decided on was a deep red ruched midi length dress with off the shoulder 3/4 length sleeves. It hugged your body in all the right ways and still managed to leave something to the imagination. You paired the dress with black strapped heels and a small gold necklace. You stepped out of the bathroom, your back zipper still open, “Jane can you zip me up?”

As you lifted your gaze your eyes landed a large figure standing between Jane and Carl. His tall frame and broad shoulders were covered in a crisp black suit. You were way too caught up in how incredibly good looking he was to remember the fact that your backside was still exposed. You probably wouldn’t have noticed Jane zipping you up if it wasn’t for her cold hands.                                         

“Y/N, this is Calum Hood. He’s your new head of security,” Carl said. You could feel your cheeks flush as you made eye contact with him. His massive hand reached out to shake yours, you obliged taking note of the ink adorning his hand. Your mind started to wander, thinking of other parts of his body that might be cover in tattoos.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/L/N,” his accent catching you off guard yet again.          

 “Please just Y/N,” you said softly. He nodded in acknowledgment.                          “We can go over specifics later,” Carl interrupted. “Y/N it’s time to go.” He ushered you past Calum.

   Despite your best efforts to focus on the interview you couldn’t help but think about the gorgeous brooding man waiting backstage to protect you.

   It had been over a month since Calum started working for you and let’s just say it’s been a challenge. Every day you spent with him made it harder and harder to stay professional, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but Calum was most of all a professional. He kept your conversations always about you and work. You tried so hard to get something from him; a lingering glance, a morsel of personal information, even a smile but have yet to be successful. Which is why you were trying so hard to stay professional, he clearly wasn’t interested and you respected that and a small part of you wasn’t surprised. Just because you were a successful actress doesn’t mean weren’t insecure and today was just one of those days.                                                  

    If your mind was going to choose a day to be in a funk at least it chose one where you can stay at home cuddled on the couch with a glass of wine and a pint of ice cream while watching an unhealthy amount of rom-coms. You got up from the couch to fill your glass when you heard something like pounding. You weren’t exactly a paranoid person but living alone in a fairly decent sized home and the three glasses of wine didn’t exactly help.  You paused your movie, listening just to be sure. You heard the pounding again this time louder, making you jump. Your fuzzy sock clad feet slid across the hardwood floor and grabbed your phone . The pounding started again, this time by the windows in your dinning room. You scurried into the bathroom and locked the door. You weren’t even really thinking when your fingers started to scroll through your phone book and landed on Calum’s name.             

   Four rings and he answered. “Hello?” His voice was soft and made you forget about your current situation for just a second.

  “Y/N? Is everything okay?” He questioned.    

  “Y-ya-yes it’s me.” you stuttered. “I - uh didn’t know who to call. I’m home alone and someone’s pounding....I don’t know if it’s a joke or if....”           

“Where are you?” He cut you off. His voice was different now stern and concerned.                  

 “In the bathroom. I locked the door.” your hands started to shaking.                         “Good. Stay there until I get there.” You heard his car start. “Did you call the police?”

    How could you not have thought of that first, he’s going to think you’re crazy, you thought to yourself. “No I...I wasn’t sure who to call”

 “It’s fine I’ll call them right no...” he was still talking when this time you cut him off.

  “Please don’t hang up.” Tears started pooling in the corners of your eyes. Your brother always teased you for being so over dramatic.

  “Okay... then I need you to text Carl tell him what’s going on and that I’m on my way to you and you need him to call the police. Can you do that for me.” His voice was steady and calming. You did as you were told almost immediately. Calum kept quiet on the other end until you told him the message was sent.

“Good. I’m almost there, few more minutes. I’ll probably make it there before the police. When I get there I’m going to...”

CRASH. They shattered a window.

You couldn’t help letting a scream escape before you covered your mouth, tears flowing down your checks now.

“Y/N! What happened?!” He yelled.

“They broke a window I think.” You quietly sobbed. Your hand covering your mouth and phone as an attempt to be as quiet as possible.

“Fuck!” You heard the sound of what you assumed to be Calum beeping the horn. “It’s okay turn the light off in the bathroom and stay quiet. I promise I’m almost there.”

 The rest happened so quickly. Before you knew it Calum was at your house smashing the remaining bits of glass and jumping through the window. He ran towards the bathroom calling out your name. You unlocked the bathroom door and wrapped yourself around his toned torso, silently sobbing into his chest. 

  He held you until the police arrived. He led you to the front door, his massive hand laid across the small of your back. He unlocked the front door and conversed with two officers while an EMT took you aside to check on you. You were fine of course just shaken up, they wrapped a blanket around you and gave you a glass of water to calm down. Another officer took your statement but you didn’t have much to tell.

You sat on your couch watching Calum intently. You couldn’t hear anything they were saying but that didn’t stop you from watching his plump pink lips move. You just realized Calum was in street clothes - black athletic joggers, a plain white tee, and Nike’s. Fuck he’s so hot and shit his hand was bleeding. You also noticed you were right...he did have more tattoos and they were glorious. By this time the Police officers picked up something put it in an evidence bag and handed it to Calum. His face dropped as he looked at it. What was it? Was he sad or angry? Calum and the officer approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N I’m Officer Callaghan. It looks like the only person to enter your home was Mr. Hood. Someone did however throw this through your window. He held out the object. It was a brick with ‘kill urself fat cow’ written on it in chalk. You didn’t everything you could to fight back the tears.

“It was most likely stupid kids, just a prank.” The officer explained.

“That’s not a prank that’s a threat.” Calum snapped. It was anger. He was definitely angry and honestly it was kind of a good look on him.

“Of course.” Officer Callaghan responded. “While Mr. hood gets his hand looked at I’ll have someone board up your window so you’re homes secure until you can get someone to come fix it. Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?” Callaghan asked.

Maybe Jane? Carl was out of town and you really didn’t want to bother any of your friends. Maybe just a hotel.

“My hand is fine and I’ll take her wherever she wants to go,” Calum spoke.

You didn’t mean to zone out again but you did. Thank god Calum was there and dealt with everything for you. Your mind kept wandering back to the brick. Could someone really hate you that much just because you looked the way you did?

“I spoke with Carl, the window is boarded up and everyone’s gone. Just tell me what you need.” Calum sat next to you in the couch. His cut hand rested on his lap, covered in a paper towel.

“You really should have let someone look at that.” You said faintly.

“I’ve survived much worse.” He joked.

And that’s when you finally saw it. A quick subtle smile and shit he only got more attractive. You ignored the blood rushing to your cheeks, shrugging off the blanket wrapped around your shoulders before you stood up.

“Come with me.” You led Calum into the bathroom, just now realizing how ridiculous you probably looked - fuzzy socks, a massive hoodie, cotton shorts and hair messily twisted into a bun on the top of your head. At least you shaved your legs.

You got the first aid kit out of the cabinet, Calum leaned against the sink and offered you his hand. You carefully removed the paper towel to find multiple cuts in between his knuckles, his beautiful brown skin stained with dry blood.

“You really should have had this looked at by professionals. I think you might need stitches,” you meticulously started to disinfect the area, completely aware of Calum’s big brown eyes watching you.

“I-uh I’m really sorry this happened to you tonight and what they said I.... It’s not..” he sighed. “They’re cowards, scum honestly.” He winced slightly when you started cleaning the largest cut.

“People are entitles to their opinions. And like you said earlier I’ve survived much worse.” You joked, hoping Calum couldn’t pick up on hurt in your voice. But he did.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it but don’t try to justify their behavior or anyone else who’s mistreated you.” His voice was steady and calming again.

Dammit. Why was he like this, so perfect. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay professional. Your body and heart ached for him. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn’t know so you changed the subject.

“Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.” You finished applying antibiotic ointment on his wounds before covering them with gauze and securing it with an ace bandage.

“It’s my job to keep you safe,” he cleared his throat. “Thanks for cleaning me up.”

So professional. Why couldn’t he just accept payment in the form of sexual favors.

You offered a half smile and nodded in acknowledgement as you cleaned up.

“Where do you want me to take you?” He questioned.

“I don’t know I’ll probably just stay here, like the police said it was just a prank.” You shrugged and turned on your heel to walk out of the bathroom.

Calum’s hand reached out for yours, turning you back to him. “You’re not staying here. It’s not safe and this wasn’t a prank, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Your headstrong gene wanted to argue with him but his eyes looked worried and his voice was so sincere. Not to mention the fact that your hand was still intertwined with him and you were practically putty right now. His hand was soft, with the exception of a few callouses on his fingers.  

  “Ok..I can go to...a uh hotel,” you didn’t want to go to a hotel and you most certainly didn’t want to be alone but you lied.

Calum’s hand slipped away from yours, “if that’s where you’ll feel safe.” He replied.

“I won’t feel safe there. But the only place I think I’ll feel safe right now is with you.” Who knows what possessed you to blurt out the truth all of a sudden but you instantly regretted it. “I know you’ve already done way too much and I’ll make sure Carl compensates you for all your trouble but if you’ll just indulge me a little longer...You could stay in my guest room or I’ll pay for a room for you.” You tried to navigate yourself through this shit storm you’ve created so you could still stay with Calum but also be professional.

“Don’t be ridiculous, spending time with you is compensation enough.” He reassured. “And it’s no Ritz Carlton or anything but you’re more than welcome to stay at my place.”

Screw being professional.

[allsassnoclass]

“Every day you wake up and make it my problem” Luke to Ashton

alrighty a theatre au for the only person in the theatre department who can handle me <3

Opening night brings a palpable excitement in the air, a nervous energy that can only naturally be produced at this point in the production process.  The scenes have been blocked, the lines memorized, the sets built, the costumes sewn, and every piece of design meticulously brought together to create something ready for sharing.  As Luke hangs up the laundered costume pieces and ensures that the dressing rooms are prepared for the night, he can already feel the excitement amongst the crew milling about.  It will only be compounded once the actors arrive for the night.

Luke has his sewing kit, numerous pins, extra hairspray, and a bite light.  There aren't many quick changes in Hamlet, and all of them have been easily doable in dress rehearsals.  He's ready.

When he wanders out to backstage, Calum and Michael seem to be ready, too.  Calum is sitting on the acting block Michael has commandeered as his seat since tech, scrolling through his phone while Michael goes through his pre-show duties on the other side of the stage.

"Ready for tonight?" Luke asks, making Calum jump.

"Yeah.  Is the laundry up?"

"Costumes are all clean and accounted for," Luke says.  "If you want an empty dressing room, now is your time."

He stands and stretches, wandering over to the dressing rooms.  Luke takes his spot and watches Michael  continue to double-check props on the other side of the stage.  Once satisfied, he heads back over, stopping short when he sees Luke.

"You're not my boyfriend," Michael says.

"He went to go get ready before the rush," Luke says.  "Ready for tonight?"

"Very," Michael says.  "No one has broken anything yet, which is a bit worrying, but I'm fucking ready to open."

"No one's broken any props or sets, you mean.  I've had to resew numerous buttons and seams.  Ashton can barely keep his clothes on."

"I bet you like that," Michael says, waggling his eyebrows.  Luke flips him off, too used to Michael's teasing to be truly bothered.  Ever since he first saw their lead actor and tripped over his own feet he hasn't known peace.

In his defense, Ashton is very beautiful.  It is not Luke's fault that he got flustered during their first interaction.  At least he was only writing down measurements instead of having to take them, because being that close to him without time to mentally prepare would have been embarrassing for everyone.  (If he still has to take a few breaths when helping Ashton get on his more intricate costumes, that's his business, especially because being under the stage lights only enhances all of Ashton's best features.)

"Ashton gets to make out with your boyfriend every night.  Stop laughing," he says flatly.

"Yeah, and it's fucking hot," Michael says, nudging Luke out of his seat.

Luke rolls his eyes.  Reducing the relationship between Hamlet and Horatio to a "fucking hot" make out scene is a disservice to all of the painstaking work that Ashton, Calum, and the director have done to seamlessly incorporate it into the story without alienating or reducing Ophelia, but Michael isn't exactly wrong.

Ashton seems like a good kisser.  Luke wants to know what it'd be like to be on the receiving end of that when there's no acting involved.

Luke kills time with Michael until he has to go on headset, signaling that it's late enough that Luke should probably check on the actors.  Gertrude's zipper on her dress keeps getting jammed to the point where Luke is really considering replacing it.  It works most of the time, but Luke is getting sick of having to finagle it.  He helps her get it up and makes a note to replace it before tomorrow, then he heads to men's dress, ready to camp out until someone else needs him

"Luke!" Ashton greets exuberantly as soon as he steps in the door.  He has his makeup on, just simple things to ensure he doesn't get washed out under the stage lights, but he looks stunning.  He isn't even in his main costume yet, an intricate black tunic with gold embroidery meant to blur the line between historical and contemporary like everything else in the show, but Luke wants to swoon.

"Hi."

"Thanks for fixing my buttons," he says.  "Again."

"Try not to rip them off tonight," Luke says.

"I always try," Ashton says.  Somehow, Luke still feels like he's going to be fixing a button.  Ashton doesn't restrain himself onstage.  It makes him captivating to watch, but it also means that unnecessary rips and button tears occur, sometimes in ways that Luke thinks should be impossible.  Being wardrobe head for this production has taught him many new ways to break a costume.

He helps the actors here and there with things like hair or specialty makeup, distracting himself from Ashton changing in the background and passing the time until the actors go to warm ups.  Rosencrantz has managed to misplace his socks because he hadn't zipped his laundry bag when he gave it to be washed and Gildenstern can't find one of her shoes, but otherwise there isn't much for Luke to do with this show.  He wanders out by Michael, knowing by now where he can stand to watch from offstage and when he'll have to move so he's not in the way.

When the lights go down and the warnings about flash photography and food in the theater play over the loudspeaker, Luke's heart starts thumping harder in his chest.  Michael turns on the fog machine for a bit of haze at the beginning, Bernardo and Francisco take their places onstage, and the play begins.

Even after having seen the show during the crew view and hearing it over the monitors backstage every night since, he manages to get lost in the story.  Each performer is on top of things tonight, none more so than Ashton.  From the moment he steps out on stage the charismatic actor is gone, replaced by a moody but no less magnetic Hamlet.  His grief and anger is palpable in his introductory scene, and his relief at seeing Horatio for the first time perfectly sets up their dependency in the rest of the show.  His scene with the ghost is heartbreaking, and Luke finds himself subconsciously biting his lip and leaning forward, wanting nothing more than to erase his pain.  Hamlet is enamored by Ophelia and broken by her betrayal, and every soliloquy is captivating.  No one can command a stage like Ashton Irwin.

Intermission sees Luke attending to his actual job as a dresser, helping with the laces on a few costumes and checking with all the actors to be sure there's no issues.  Ashton grabs his shoulders and blurts an excited sentence about crowd reactions, then immediately goes backstage to get "back into the Hamlet zone."  Calum watches this interaction with raised eyebrows.  When he heads backstage, Luke hopes he's not going to gossip with Michael.

The second half of the show goes just as smoothly as the first.  Michael has him take care of the actress playing Oscric when she feels a little bit faint, but once she gets more water in her she perks back up and Luke can return to watching Ashton's breakdown on stage.  The ending duel scene is more polished and realistic than they've ever done it, but it's Horatio's final moments with Hamlet that leave Luke speechless.  Something about Calum cradling Ashton in his arms while Ashton commands him to stay alive and tell his story has Luke tearing up.

He leaves during curtain call to grab the laundry bag and set himself up outside the dressing rooms, ready to take everything that needs to be washed.  It feels anticlimactic to have the first night of the show done, but Luke typically doesn't feel the same sense of accomplishment as the actors do after each individual performance.  It never truly hits him until strike, when he has to put everything away and reset the theatre and costume space to prepare for the next show.  Luke congratulates every actor that passes and waits for them all to leave so he can go home.  There's no one waiting for him in the audience tonight and he wasn't told about any after-parties, so he's looking forward to getting sleep before returning to the costume shop tomorrow to take care of the notes he has.

"Ashton's the last one in men's dress," Calum says when he hands in his own laundry.  "He asked me to send you in."

Luke had been hoping that Ashton would be able to make it an entire show without a costume mishap.  Apparently that hope had been misguided.

"It's Luke," he announces, knocking on the door.

"Come in!"

Ashton is pulling on a t-shirt, giving Luke an accidental glimpse at the dimples in his lower back.  When he turns around he looks sheepish.

"I lost a button during the duel."

Luke sighs.

"I promise I'm not deliberately being destructive," Ashton says.  "I'm not trying to make more work for you."

"Yet every day you wake up and make it my problem," Luke says.  "Can I see which button?"

Ashton brings him his dueling vest, pointing out where a simple black button had fallen.  Luke will walk by the stage to see if it's still there or Michael found it, but if not then it won't be difficult to replace.

"I'm really sorry," Ashton says, still standing close.  "I swear I won't make you fix my costume tomorrow."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Luke says.  "You have the worst track record with costumes out of everyone I've ever worked with."

"Well, I need some excuse to keep talking to you."

Luke blinks at him.

"That was a joke.  I mean, I do love having a reason to talk to you, but it'd be shitty of me to be deliberately making your job hard."

"Oh," Luke says.  "You don't need a reason to talk to me.  You can just do it."

"There's not a lot of time for it in the middle of a show," Ashton says.  "Unless you'd want to see me outside of work sometime?  Say, for a coffee or dinner?  As a date?"

"Me?" Luke asks.  Ashton makes a show of looking around the empty dressing room.

"I don't see any other tall, attractive blond men named Luke who keep putting my clothing back together."

Luke smiles, not trying to hide his excitement.  He's a shit actor anyway, and Ashton would see right through him.

"I could do that, but only if you stop ruining your costumes every night.  Make it through tomorrow with no mishaps and we'll go on a date."

"You drive a hard bargain, Hemmings, but I'll try my best.  For you, I'd sew everything back together myself if I had to."

"Please don't," Luke says.

"You don't trust me?" Ashton pouts.

"No," Luke laughs.  "You keep destroying your costumes.  I'm not about to trust you to fix them correctly."

Ashton shrugs.  "Yeah, okay.  I'm not a good sewer, anyway."

"That's what you have me for," Luke says.  Ashton smiles, just as dazzling under the dressing room lights as it is onstage.  It takes Luke's breath away, just a little.

The dressing room door opens, bringing Luke back to Earth.  Calum pokes his head in.

"Hey Ash, your siblings want to see you.  Stop flirting with Luke and get out here."  He doesn't wait for a response, thankfully leaving them alone again for another moment.  Ashton ducks his head, scuffing his shoes against the floor.

"I shouldn't keep them waiting," he says.

"It's hard being a star," Luke replies.  It makes Ashton smile again, which is an exhilarating experience in of itself.

"We'll check in about the date tomorrow," Ashton says.  "No more costume mishaps, cross my heart."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Luke teases.  Ashton snorts.

"Have a good night, Luke.  Congrats on the show."

"You too," Luke says.  "You're really amazing up there."

"Thank goodness," Ashton says.  "It'd be a bit late to replace me otherwise."

Luke rolls his eyes with a smile.  "Get out of here, superstar.  Go see your family."

Ashton blows him a kiss and ducks into a bow with a flourish on the way out the door.  Luke stands in the middle of the dressing room, running his finger over the spot on Ashton's vest where the button is missing.  He should probably be annoyed, but he's not.  He's going on a date with Ashton at some point, and that's worth all of the lost buttons and torn costumes in the entire production.

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 2 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Jackie embraces her truth, Crystal and Gigi are deeply in the ‘idiots’ stage of ‘idiots to lovers’, Brooke Lynn and Vanessa take new steps in their relationship, and Priyanka continues her affair with Lemon.

ao3 link

When Lemon entered the dressing room, the other girls looked up, but looked a bit confused. “Jan didn’t come in with you?” Gigi asked.

“Jan didn’t even come home with me last night. She told me and Pri to go on without her. My guess is she pulled a Vanjie and went home with the hot business woman,” Lemon shrugged as she took her seat.

“Hey, don’t drag my name into it,” Vanessa huffed, though she supposed she couldn’t be that mad with that being her claim to fame. She was the first of the girls to date a client, and up until now, she had assumed she would be the only one.

Jan arrived a bit later, only about five minutes late, but took her seat as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Hey y’all, did I miss anything good?”

The girls giggled. “I don’t think anything here is as good as what you been getting,” Vanessa teased. “You have Brooke’s friend speaking French between your legs all night or what?”

A broad grin spread across Jan’s lips. “Oh, that’s only the start,” she replied. “God, you guys, I couldn’t even walk right this morning. She ruined me – I don’t think I can have sex with anyone else after her.”

“You bottoms are so dramatic,” Gigi remarked, looking at Jan through her reflection in the mirror.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a bottom to ruin,” Jan retorted as she took her seat.

“One in particular,” Jaida chimed in.

Gigi rolled her eyes, wondering why she bothered saying anything in the first place. It’s not like Jaida or the other girls were wrong – her crush on Crystal was common knowledge among the dancers. She couldn’t help herself – when she had started working there, Crystal was the first to see through her stoic, standoffish front, something that took the average person weeks. The two of them bonded right away.

But To her dismay, Crystal had a girlfriend when her crush first developed. Though even when that relationship ended, she still did her best to use that as an excuse for not saying anything.

“I don’t see why you can’t talk to her. It’s been two months, it wouldn’t be a rebound,” Lemon offered.

“You’re technically correct,” Gigi conceded, “but it’s complicated, we’ve developed such a friendship in that time…”

“Bitch, that is the oldest excuse in the fucking book,” Vanessa retorted as she coated her brunette locks in a layer of hairspray. “Oh, we can’t date, it’ll ruin our friendship,” she mocked in a ‘white’ voice, “such a cop-out.”

Gigi frowned, strumming her nails against the vanity table. “Doesn’t make it untrue…”

Before Vanessa could reply, Jackie was at the door. She led Crystal, Priyanka, and Kameron in, then took a deep breath. “Ladies, I wanted you all in here because I have something to tell you.”

The girls looked at each other, murmuring with confusion and concern. Was something happening to the club? Were they in trouble? But they quickly quieted down and redirected their attention redirected to Jackie, urging her to continue.

Jackie took a deep breath. “Alright, I suspect this might not be the biggest surprise to you, but this is still difficult for me to say because, you know, it’s something I haven’t really said in my whole thirty-five years.” She pressed her lips into a line and swallowed thickly, doing her best to keep it together. “I’ve always felt a strong kinship with you guys, and deep down, I’ve always known it’s… it’s because I’m gay.”

The girls didn’t give Jackie time to brace herself for their reaction. Within seconds they surrounded her, hugging her tight. Sure, they had suspected it for a long time. Some of them had assumed Jackie was out but simply never mentioned it. But regardless of what they’d previously thought, all that mattered now was giving Jackie their complete, unbridled support.

And Jackie couldn’t do anything but sob. It was a sob of relief, of joy, but also of exhaustion – she had carried that weight on her chest for far too long and her lungs were desperate for the air of freedom. She knew this would only be the first time she came out, and she didn’t know when the next would be, but at least she knew she had a group of girls she could be safe with.

“That’s okay, sweetie. Let it out,” Jan soothed as she rubbed her back. “We’re all so proud of you.”

“The first time is always the hardest,” Jaida agreed. “You don’t gotta go tell everyone, just embracing it for yourself is enough.”

Jackie looked up at Jaida, opening her mouth to speak, only for her throat to run dry. Instead, she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thanks, you guys. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

When the group hug ended, everyone relaxed into their usual spots. “Alright, ladies,” Jackie prompted, “let’s have a great shift.”

As Crystal and Priyanka returned to the bar, they were still processing their bosses’ confession. “I’m fucking proud of Jackie,” Priyanka was saying. “I almost peed myself when I came out to y’all.”

“Weren’t you already sleeping with Lemon when you came out to us?” Crystal asked as she continued getting her station ready.

Despite a tinge of embarrassment, Priyanka laughed. “Only like, three times,” she defended. Even though she hadn’t been out when she started working there, she had quickly found out that Lemon had no idea how not to be out, nor did she know how to be subtle. Priyanka had realized she had to choose between staying closeted at work and pursuing her budding affair, and the choice was obvious to her.

“Three more than some of us,” Crystal murmured under her breath.

Priyanka scoffed. “Bitch, if you’re still carrying a torch for Gigi, why don’t you fucking tell her already? It’s not the world’s biggest secret, you know. We all figured it out,” she said, then paused for a moment, “well, except her.”

“Therein lies the problem,” she lamented. “It’d be easier if I knew that she only saw us as friends, then I could let it go. But there’s always this… underlying sexual tension between us. I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“Underlying sexual tension?” Priyanka’s brows rose. “She’s the only one of the girls that doesn’t put her bra back on when she comes to get a drink from you… well, neither does Vanjie, sometimes, but the bitch is just forgetful.”

Crystal chuckled softly. “Either that or she’s swinging by the security booth. Did you hear her tell Jaida she was gonna broach the ‘open relationship’ subject with Brooke, like, soon?”

“No, but I think it’s a good idea. Nip it in the bud before things get messy, huh?”

“Why, because it’s too late for you?”

Priyanka opened her mouth to speak, then pressed her lips together. “I… yeah, pretty much. I’ve accepted my life’s chaos, though.”

——

When Brooke Lynn wasn’t visiting the club as a client, she was often there as both a supportive girlfriend and pseudo-manager for Vanessa. She held herself in a confident, professional way that allowed her to walk right through the front door and into the back where the dressing room was without anyone looking twice, let alone question it.

Vanessa looked up when Brooke walked in and smiled, ignoring the way her chest tightened. “Hey, boo,” she greeted, getting up to give her a quick hug and kiss. “I’m glad you’re here, I been meaning to talk to you.”

“Oh, good,” Brooke nodded as she sat in one of the empty chairs. “I wanted to talk to you too. Do you want to go first?”

Normally, Vanessa would’ve automatically jumped on the opportunity to go first. But her nerves were still twisting up her insides and she figured she could calm herself down while her girlfriend spoke. “No, it’s fine, go ahead.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and all things considered…” she took a deep breath, “I think it would be a good idea for you to move in with me.”

“Yeah!” Vanessa’s nerves were instantly replaced with excitement – she loved the idea of getting to move in with Brooke, they had gotten so close despite their relatively short relationship. She was there most of the time anyway, and it made her own apartment look like a prison cell in comparison. And it didn’t hurt that she wouldn’t have to deal with rent or a landlord anymore. “I love you, B, I think that’s a great idea.”

Brooke brightened up. “Really? Awesome, we can get started on that whenever, really. Most of your stuff is at my place or here anyway. What did you want to tell me?”

Vanessa deflated a bit, reconsidering the whole idea. Of course she was still attracted to Kameron and didn’t plan on throwing out the ‘open relationship’ idea entirely. The timing, however, felt off. Inappropriate. Cold, even. “You know what? It ain’t nothing important, it can wait.”

“Are you sure? If something’s wrong, you can tell me, I want to know.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Vanessa looked her in the eye so Brooke could tell she was being honest. “It just isn’t worth bringing up right now, I’d rather focus on this moving gig.”

Although Brooke wasn’t entirely convinced, she decided to let it go for the time being. “Alright. I’m gonna go grab a drink and let you finish getting ready,” she got up and kissed her cheek before heading back into the main room.

Vanessa ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled deeply. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. “Well, that got fucked up,” she muttered.

“You good, girl?” Lemon asked as she took her usual seat. “Usually you have a smug grin on when Brooke leaves the dressing room. The open relationship thing didn’t go over well?”

“It didn’t go at all,” she answered. “I was gonna, but then she asked me to move in with her… and I fucking love her, of course I wanna take that next step. But I couldn’t just jump from there to that just ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about getting fucked by Kameron.”

Lemon nodded and listened, fixing her hair and makeup in the mirror as well. “I mean, I can’t exactly be a moral compass here, but I get your concern. You guys haven’t done anything yet, have you?”

“Nothin’, just some flirting and shit. All hands-free. And mouths-free,” she confirmed. “You know I’d never wanna do something to hurt Brooke. Been on the other side of it before, shit sucks.”

“You guys love each other,” Lemon reassured. “I’m sure you’ve built up the trust to have that sort of honest conversation.” Under her breath, she added “must be nice.”

Vanessa didn’t catch it. “Guess you’re right, it’ll work out eventually,” she decided.

“Atta girl,” Lemon patted her shoulder as she got up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got my nightly home wrecking to do.”

Vanessa looked up as Lemon left, only to make eye contact with Brooke, who was standing in the doorway with a glass in each hand. “How long you been standing there?” she asked hesitantly.

Brooke walked in and sat in the same chair she’d been in before, setting one glass on the counter and holding onto the other one. “So… Kameron, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s beautiful and you do have a type.”

She furrowed her brows, unsure of how to process Brooke’s reaction. “You’re not mad? You don’t even look pissed or nothing.”

“Well, no offense babe, but with your line of work, I’ve already wrapped my head around the idea of having to share you. Sure, it’s a little different comparing clients to someone you’re actually interested in, but I can’t fathom it being that bad,” she explained. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll pick up a cute little side piece while you two are going at it.”

Even with the explanation, Vanessa was still perplexed. But she was getting her way, so she supposed she couldn’t really complain. “You still want me to move in though, right?”

“Of course I do,” Brooke answered without hesitation. “This doesn’t change how I feel about you or about us. We’ll try the open thing out, see how we feel, and take it from there.”

Vanessa finally allowed herself to relax. “Alright, yeah, sounds good to me.”

“Good,” Brooke hummed and finished her drink off. “I’ll see you later,” she said, giving Vanessa a kiss before she left again. But this time, instead of going back into the main room, she went out the back door. She fished a cigarette and lighter out of her purse and lit it, then leaned against the wall as she took a drag.

“Thought you were trying to quit,” Gigi remarked. She had been outside for a few minutes, wrapped in a long, black robe with a lit joint held between two fingers.

Brooke exhaled, smoke blowing through her mouth. “Well, I just gave my girlfriend permission to fuck the security guard, so I’m having a cheat day.”

Gigi furrowed her brows as she took another drag. “Kameron? Why’d you do that then?”

“Because I love her and trust her but at the same time, I’d rather know what she’s up to instead of her lusting after another woman behind my back. Also we’re moving in together. It’s been an eventful night. So… open relationship it is.”

“Look at it this way, you’ll probably be fucking more once you live together, maybe it’ll wear her out,” Gigi offered.

Brooke laughed softly. “That isn’t as reassuring as you think it is, Geege.”

“At least you’re getting some.”

“No progress with Crystal, I take it?” Brooke asked, then dropped her spent cigarette on the ground and put it out with her shoe.

Gigi shook her head. “And with this gig plus school, I haven’t had time to find some distraction sex. You know how it is, right? When your brain gets stuck on something and the only way to dislodge it is by railing a pretty girl?”

“Yes, I remember being twenty-two. First time I got my heart broken by a straight girl,” she recalled. She looked at Gigi with a fond smile. She saw a lot of herself in the dancer, felt something of a kindred spirit. “Let me get a hit of that, wanna see why Vanjie loves that shit so much.”

Gigi covered her mouth with her free hand to giggle. “Sure, go nuts,” she said and passed the joint to her. She lingered close to Brooke, watching her curiously.

Brooke took a drag the same way she would off a cigarette. While it felt the same physically, she did prefer the way the weed made her feel. “Hm, yeah, I get it,” she said as she passed it back to Gigi. But as she did, there was a moment where their eyes met, where their shared loneliness, with sex on their minds. They started to lean closer, their lips parting…

“Nope,” they said in unison, pulling back and laughing.

——

Once the club had closed for the night, Lemon was sitting up on the bar while Priyanka was cleaning up. “You coming home with me tonight, Pri?” she asked, batting her lashes and swinging her legs.

“Can’t,” Priyanka sighed. “I promised Mark I’d watch some stupid fucking documentary with him when I got home,” she rolled her eyes.

“Who cares about him?” Lemon whined. “We haven’t had sex in like, almost two whole days. I’m literally dying.”

Priyanka finished her task then came around the bar, trapping Lemon between her arms as she held onto the bar. “You are the neediest bitch I have ever met. You know that, right?” Despite her ‘scolding’, she started kissing Lemon’s neck.

And of course, Lemon was happy with any small victory. “I think you like it, though. I think you get off on being needed, on knowing that I’m thinking of you when I need to be sexy on stage.”

“Do you really?” Priyanka asked. “Do you think about how good I fuck you while your shaking your ass for a crowd?” she asked, moving one of her hands between Lemon’s thighs. “Let it get you all worked up and let them think you’re just really into your job?”

Lemon’s legs instantly spread when Priyanka’s hand slipped between her thighs. Even though she didn’t like feeding Priyanka’s ego, she couldn’t pretend the dirty talk didn’t affect her. “Mm, of course I do, easy when no one makes me come like you do.”

“Good girl,” Priyanka praised, then rewarded her by slipping two fingers inside of Lemon’s panties, then slowly easing them into her pussy one after the other. “Look at you, already wet. You really were just thinking about getting fucked, weren’t you?”

“Fuck…” Lemon breathed out, bucking against Priyanka’s fingers, trying to writhe in time with her thrusts. “I was, couldn’t help it.”

Priyanka smirked, kissing up Lemon’s neck, then along her jaw and the shell of her ear. “My needy little whore,” she cooed as she fucked her harder and faster.

Considering most of their coworkers hadn’t left either, Lemon did make an attempt to stay quiet. She bit down on her lip, just whimpering as she rocked against her fingers.

But Priyanka didn’t make it easy on her. He curled and twisted her fingers, knowing every which way to make Lemon squirm and whine. She kept it up, fucking Lemon through her orgasm and even a bit after that. She then eased her fingers out and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Think you’ll make it through the night now, you insufferable baby?”

Lemon rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll survive,” she giggled as she hopped down from the bar. “I’m gonna go get changed, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She wrapped her arms around Priyanka’s waist, gazing up at her and stealing another kiss before leaving.

“You better wipe that bar down thoroughly,” Crystal remarked when she returned from the kitchen.

Priyanka groaned. “Ah, fuck, forgot you were here.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t wanna interrupt. But seriously, clean that shit up.”

[thepilotanon]

a happily married man.

I wanted to expand a little bit more of Flip being married, and how he would behave as a husband around his wife. Since, in this short, Ron would have already known of Flip’s wife, I thought it would be fun for him to try and get some stories (advice, hint-hint) from our favorite Detective and have a trip down memory lane! I also tried to look up and imagine what a high schooler/young adult Flip Zimmerman would be like, looking up 50s/60s fashion and...I went to town. Please let me know if you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!

warning: old school standards, religious discrimination, my choppy-ass attempt to write german.

Flip caught the phone ringing while buttoning his flannel, picking up the line and cradling it between his cheek and shoulder while fixing his sleeves properly. It was only ten to six in the morning, and he was on his way out the door to head down to the precinct for another regular day at the office - although, he wasn’t expecting any calls to come right before he would head off to work.

“Zimmerman house,” he spoke, still a bit tired, checking his pockets for his keys. “This is Flip speaking.”

“Philip, what have I said about speaking so grouchy on the phone? You’re going to scare anyone away who tries to call you!” This voice, for Flip, was all too familiar. Scrunching his face in displeasure, he silently panicked before standing straight with a quiet sigh. “Is that any way to speak to your mother when she calls her only child?”

“No, Ma, it’s not,” Flip answered accordingly, running his hand down his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to head out the door for work. Why are you callin’ so early in the morning? Figured you would call sometime this weekend, or after dinner.”

“What’s wrong with me calling? I’m trying to get ahold of Alice,” his mother explained plain as day, and Flip raised a curious brow at this new discovery. 

“Why do you want to talk to Alice?” Flip narrowed his eyes, turning to see his lovely wife scuffle out to the kitchen. Seeing her yawning and wrap her robe tighter around herself, Alice blinked sleepily as she came closer to her husband, into his waiting arm. Once she rest her head on his shoulder, Flip held her close and gave her a quick good-morning kiss to the top of her head, making her hum softly.

Flip’s mother huffed, and he could resist the quick, naughty grin to flash on his face when Alice looked up to him with a curious stare. “What does it matter to you, junior? I can’t talk to my daughter in-law every once in a while for simple lady-talk? It’s been a while since that sweetheart and I had time to ourselves. I have so much to talk to her, about that recipe she told me about, and that dress we picked out together the last time we went out to town - you know the one, it’s green with -!”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna hand you to her, alright?” Flip quickly stopped his mother when he stole a look to the clock hanging over the oven. Pulling the phone away from his ear, Flip was quick to wrap his arm around Alice’s waist and practically lifted her up a bit to seal her lips in a deep kiss, making her squeak cutely as he gently demanded her attention.

Alice managed herself to smile into the kiss and held his face with both of her soft hands, kissing him back as he gently settled her back to her feet. Fixing his collar properly, along with the gold chain of his most treasured accessory (not counting his wedding band) of the Star of David, Flip then gave her lips another kiss, then her cheek, and then her forehead before handing her the phone.

“She’s your problem now, baby doll,” Flip teased with a wink as she rolled her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alice laughed softly, and he kissed her head just once more time. She made a face at him, making him pinch her nose before taking off to the door. Waving to him with her fingers, Alice brought the phone to her ear and kept her smile on her face as she spoke with more energy to the older woman waiting on the other line. “Good morning, Mom, it’s Alice. How are you doing this morning? I - yes, I miss you, too.”

Hearing his mother exclaim happily on the other line, Flip knew he was safe to leave his home and make it to work on time, all thanks to his lovely wife’s assistance. He will have to thank her in his special way when he gets home tonight. As much as he loved his mom with all of his heart, he couldn’t risk getting into trouble for being a few minutes late with Chief Bridges again. It happens every time either his mom or dad call or see him and Alice in person; always wanting to spare a few more minutes to be with their beloved son and daughter in-law. As much as Flip has tried for so long to get his father to retire and find more time to tend to some hobbies with his mom, Flip knew he inherited his stubbornness from somewhere.

Not to mention both of his parents just really, really love and adore his little wife and like to hog all her attention from him.

To him, Flip always enjoyed seeing Alice interact with his parents, ever since they were dating in high school. Seeing his dad laugh over a story of Flip falling asleep during history, or even during study hall with Alice trying to tutor him with the response ‘that’s my boy’ echoing throughout the house. Or, how his mother would scold Flip while giving Alice all her attention when she asked for an honest “report” of how his test scores have been, and then praising the young woman for doing extra credit, despite already being the best in class. His parents made Alice feel at home, and it felt important to him to have someone so special in his life (and someone he wanted to marry someday, at the time) to feel accepted by his family...

Rather, in comparison to how Alice’s parents reacted to meeting Flip.

It was when they both graduated high school together, a month after the ceremony, in fact, and it was surprisingly hot that sunny Saturday in the venue center. It was in a different side of town Flip wasn’t completely well-known with, with too many people in fancy outfits and shiny cars. The venue was huge: a properly kept and cleaned venue with patios and gazebos with white-clothed tables and pretty glasses; waiters and staff working around before the final moments before they open up the lines to their financially successful visitors. The sky is blue and really, really hot -!

“Flip?”

Spinning around from behind the neatly-trimmed hedge he was (not hiding) by, he took a deep breath when he saw his sweet, sweet Alice in her pretty baby-blue sundress with her hair done in soft curls with her ribbon tied perfectly. His beautiful baby doll was never too fond of using hairsprays and using a teasing comb to create unwanted knots, unlike the big fashion fads and popular girls back at school try to replicate. Seeing her just as she is, looking up to him with her bright eyes made his heart do funny things in his chest.

God, he was so in love with her.

“Are you alright, hot shot? Everyone is going in and getting ready to be seated,” she informed him, obviously leaving out another addition of the obvious for his own sake.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Flip shrugged, clapping his hand and rubbing his palms together for no reason.

She didn’t believe him, her smile perking more on her lips. “Do you need a smoke? I’m sure I can ask for a lighter -?”

“No!” he yelped, suddenly feeling his ears burn. Approaching her and taking her hands with both of his, kissing her knuckles quickly, he tried to play it off with a shrug. “No, m’not gonna go in with a cigarette dangling from my mouth, no! Why would I need to smoke, anyway?”

“Because you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” Flip broke eye contact with her, knowing he was caught red handed. “I’m not going smoke before going in, okay? I don’t want you feelin’ dizzy when I hold your hand.” 

A soft chuckle slipped from her as she pulled her hands out of his sweaty palms, only to hook her fingers through his belt loops and get on her toes to press a kiss to his freshly shaved jaw. “I know smoking helps you calm down, Flip, and I doubt we’re going to be cuddling during a brunch for me to inhale smoke. Don’t try to act like you’re not nervous about meeting my parents,” she told him sweetly, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “If you want to be a detective, you need to work a little bit more on your acting skills. You’re going to be under a lot of pressure, you know.”

Sighing, Flip dropped his shoulders and rest his hands on her back, hugging her close to him. “Yeah, under lots of pressure…”

“I know, I know.” Patting his chest, Alice propped her chin to look at him with a sort of sad gaze. “Dating for most of high school, and now you’re finally meeting my mom and dad - it’s ridiculous how long we’ve put this off.”

“Well, more like they’ve put this off from us for a long time,” he gruffed under his breath, which caused her to sigh, slow and long. “Hey, I’m sorry, but you and I know it’s been us who put more effort into trying to make it happen for the past few years, baby doll.”

“I’m not arguing, I completely agree. My dad has never really been social for anyone outside of his family or close friends.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

Humming her laugh, Alice got on her toes while tugging on the collar of his shirt for his attention. Flip willingly brought his head back and kissed her lightly, making her not to ruin her soft colored lips. “They will love you, Flip. You’re charming and wonderful, not to mention smart and the man of my dreams,” she listed off with a sweet smile, looking at him with pure joy. Being complimented by someone who had him wrapped around her little finger, he couldn’t hold back his own bashful smile back to her, his cheeks burning. “They will have to love you, anyway. If your folks can love me and want to see us happy, mine should be able to see all the things that’s wonderful about you, too.”

Pressing a soft kiss to her hair, he took a deep breath before nodding. “You know what’s amazing about you? You make everything so much less scary. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You would be hiding by a bush, pacing back and forth until someone starts to think you’re doing something suspicious,” she told him, making him snort again and earn another kiss to her head. “Come on, you know I don’t like having you with an empty stomach. They make really good French toast and ham that I think you’ll like.”

“Doubt anything can ever beat you or my ma’s cooking, but I’ll believe you.”

Flip knew from the first day that his girlfriend, Alice von Schonburg, came from a very upper-class family. Her father owned a private candy company that distributes between the US and Canada, as well as working to have business across the sea. He also co-owned some grocery stores around Colorado, thus making a very profitable income and a well-known aristocratic member to Colorado Spring’s high society. While Flip knew of his girlfriend’s rather expensive lifestyle and upbringing, she was much more soft and kind to anyone she meets and caught hearts of everyone around her.

Her father was not the same.

He was definitely a hard man; steely, bright eyes in the same color as his daughter, but held no friendly sparkle. His stares were more cold and unsettling, even when he was having “friendly” conversation with another group of people. He was taller than his wife, dressed in a finely pressed suit and a tie that matched his daughter’s ribbon and his wife’s sundress (as did other parents with their young adult children), and had a cane to support the left side of his weight. He had graying hairs and a thick mustache that could easily hide any sort of scowl or smile...if he ever did. Even seeing him across the back patio of the venue made Flip feel like he was choking on the collar of the button up dress shirt he borrowed from his father.

Even so, Alice held on to his sweaty hand and guided him through the small crowd of people - most of who also swam in their riches, paying the two no mind.

“Father! Mother!” Alice called out, catching both their attention, as well as the two other adults they were conversing with. Bringing her boyfriend over, Alice gave them all a bright, sunny smile underneath the canopy next to the tables filled with assorted glass drinks. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to interrupt.”

“Alice, looking lovely as ever!” The other man with blond hair and thick glasses offered them both a smile, raising his drinking glass in a greeting to her. “Good to see you, sweetie. I should leave you to your table, hm? Gotta get myself a good spot with Nancy. Good to see you, Al. Elsa, good luck on your next project with Susie.”

“Do not mention any’ting about Nancy’s gloves, Bruce,” the other man, around the same age as Alice’s parents, with a slight accent. “She does not want to think about how her nails habe been ruined from habing to do housevork.”

The man, Bruce, gave off a cheeky smile before taking off. Alice clears her throat once more as she smiled to the remaining three. 

“Mother, Father, I want to introduce you to Philip Zimmerman, my boyfriend,” she introduced proudly, making Flip’s heart sputter from her voice. She looked and sound so happy to finally introduce him to her family. “And, Flip, my mother, Elsa, and my father, Alphonse,” she told him with gentle eyes to him, her hands holding his arm with comfort. “And, this is also Otto - he’s like my uncle. He and Father have known each other since they were very young.”

“It’s absolutely vonderful to finally meet Alice’s dear Süsser,” Otto said with a big grin, reaching a hand out for Flip to shake. The young graduate jumped and was quick to take Otto’s hand, shaking strongly, just like he practiced with his dad for hours last night. It seemed to work, since Otto chuckled when they broke the greeting. “Knew Mäuschen liked de tall ones, too. Very tall.”

“Onkel Otto,” Alice scolded under her breath, her cheeks immediately going bright when the man chuckled again.

Seeing how her parents didn’t verbally respond, Flip swallowed as he nervously smiled and dipped his head in greeting. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said quickly, seeing how her mother, Elsa, gave him a painted smile. When she held out her gloved hand, Flip was extra careful to cradle her fingers within his palm and bow. “Alice always tells me amazing stories about you two, and all you do in Colorado Springs. She was telling me about this charity event you’re planning in the fall.”

“Yes, I’m working with my ladies group to help raise money for a Christmas event for the children’s hospital. We want to make a big dinner and give grand presents, so the parents don’t need to worry as much,” Elsa answered brightly, seeming to like how Flip took note of her hobbies. Flip noticed that she didn’t have such a strong accent like Otto, but there was a little bit of a German touch when it came to her “v”s sounding like “f”s. “It’s lovely to meet you, Philip.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he blurted, unexpectedly. Attempting to fix his little mistake, Flip straightened his spine and held his hand out to Alice’s father, offering him a smile. “And it’s great to finally meet you, sir - Mr. Alphonse, or, uhm…”

Flip watched, in what felt like slow-motion, as Alphonse von Schonburg looked at his offered hand with a sort of disturbed twitch in his bright eye. Then, just like seeing a fly in his line of sight, the older man shifted his weight with his cane and looked elsewhere, seeming to look at his daughter. “Prefer Herr von Schonburg.”

Dropping his hand back down, wiping his sweaty palm on his dress pants, Flip did his best to keep his cool as Alice have his other arm a reassuring squeeze. Stealing a glance, Flip could see how she was trying to tell him with her eyes that this was normal of her dad’s behavior. Elsa didn’t seem to do anything about her husband’s remark, but Otto didn’t hesitate to sent his old friend a short glare before looking to the two young adults with a big smile.

“Shall ve take a seat, und get our trinkts, ja?” Otto suggested, reaching to pat Flip on the back with an encouraging laugh. “Philip, you und Alice both still too young for mimosa or vine, but ve make it dry! Alice, dis boy likes ham?”

“Flip likes ham.” Alice brought back her sparkling smile towards her uncle, letting her boyfriend escort and guide her to where Otto had reserved their seats at a covered table on a wooden patio deck. “I made him the ham sandwiches you liked so much, from the picnic, and there wasn’t any left for him to take home. I was telling him about how they have good ham here, before we came in.”

The table was arranged in the shade and was decorated with white tablecloth; shiny silverware and numerous plates, napkins folded into what Flip thought were boats at each placement of the rectangular-shaped table. It looked like it could have fit an easy amount of almost ten people, but there were exactly five chairs and five arrangements. Flip thought it was very fancy, similar to his family’s Thanksgiving dinners at his grandmother’s house...

“Ah-ha!” Otto gave a loud, belly laugh, seeming to not care when some of the attendees look in their direction. Elsa tittered to herself by Otto’s gesture, allowing her husband to escort her to the other end of the long table. “Though, I must ask, vhere de name...Flip, not Philip?”

Flip first held Alice’s hand in one while the other pulled out a chair in the corner, letting her sit down first and pushing her in. “It’s - uh, it’s a nickname I’ve had since I was little, and it just stuck to everyone I went to school with,” he answered honestly, making sure his girlfriend was comfortable first before going to the seat right next to her - until Otto caught his arm.

“No nonsense, young man, you are a guest und shall sit at the other head of the table. Come here, still next to Mäuschen!” Otto commanded, dragging Flip to sit directly across from Alice’s father, who took his seat and watched with unreadable eyes. “Perfekt! Und I sit here, then ve vill habe better conversation. Tell me more of de nickname.”

Flip felt a little too warm from the seating arrangement and being put on the spotlight, but seeing how Elsa and Otto genuinely seemed to be interested in it, he took a deep breath. Feeling Alice’s Mary Jane press against his large foot, he felt a little bit more confident. “My folks sent me to summer camps, especially when I was in the scouts, and I had a habit of flipping off the docks into the lakes. My cabin buddies started calling me Flip, and then, by dinner, the whole camp was calling me that. A lot of the guys I went to camp with went to our school, so I guess they made sure it’d spread.”

Otto chuckled warmly at the story. “Of course, vhat kind of friends vould they be if they habe not reminded people of your big talent,” he commented, glancing to Elsa and Alphonse with a cheeky smile. “Vonderful to know that camp traditions of nicknames still exist.”

“Well, Philip, perhaps someday we will see your amazing flips into a lake or pool,” Elsa offered before Otto opened a can of worms that wasn’t appropriate quite yet. “So, please, tell us: what are your parents like? Surely, they’re wonderful people, if they allow such a polite boy in scouts and camps.”

“My father is a mechanic. He’s very proud whenever he works with cars or machinery,” Flip said fondly.

“Zimmerman...as in Ackerman and Zimmerman Auto Shop?” Alphonse, surprisingly, spoke up.

Flip was quick to nod. “Yeah, yeah, It’s been a sort of family business with the Ackermans,” he answered eagerly. “My father and a close friend of his started it way before I was born.”

“How wonderful.” Elsa was giving an honest smile, which was surprising to Flip, never thinking such a laboring, dirt job like working under and inside cars would be appealing. Then, he thought, of how it was in the family and it was obvious that there was a profitable income. He didn’t take it to heart. “And, your mother? Does she work, too, or is she a housewife?”

“She’s a nurse at the local hospital. Maybe, if you’re interested, Mrs. von Schonburg, she would like to volunteer for your charity plan? I’m sure her and other nurses would like to help with the children’s hospital…”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! And, please, dear, call me Elsa,” she responded joyously, making Flip smile back to her.

“Ackerman und Zimmerman are strong names,” Alphonse suddenly spoke up, interrupting whatever else his wife was going to say next. Flip saw from the corner of his eye how Alice’s lips fell to a hard line and looked her father’s way. He couldn’t see her expression, but her shoulders were tense. “Common Deutsch names. Say, vhich church do you attend vith your family?”

“Father!” Alice suddenly leaned in, her voice thick and testy. “Das ist -!”

“Schatzchen,” Alphonse grounded back, his eyes piercing at Alice. Flip managed to slip his hand under the tablecloth and tugged on her fingers, letting her hold his hand back with a tight grip. “Do not interrupt, it is unbecoming.”

Alice eventually leaned back, keeping her gaze down and her hold on his hand tightened even more. Flip brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her head, like he always did, but he knew he couldn’t…

“I don’t attend a church with my family,” he answered, strong and brave in his tone. “My family and I attend the big synagogue that’s near the city hall and community college.”

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table, even when the waiter came to deliver glasses of iced water, even though Alice mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. Alphonse stared with a stoic expression at Flip, and Flip himself couldn’t stop from staring back. Yes, he was scared and ready to shit his pants, but he wasn’t going to let go of something - someone he really loved, all because of his family’s belief. Even Alice told him that she wanted him to always take a stand to anyone who would try and see his religion as a negative, when it wasn’t. Alice adored that about Flip and his family, always grateful to be accepted into the Zimmerman household and being taught of their customs and traditions, and it made Flip grateful…

Although, now, Flip was feeling negative with just the look on Alphonse von Schonburg’s face.

“Ein Juden,” he said slowly, making Alice give her father a hard look.

“Yes, sir,” Flip stood straighter, trying to feel tall and confident in himself, “I’m Jewish.”

Flip swore he was watching the man’s nose grow red, but he didn’t say anything more as the trolley of the brunch arrived to their spot, the waiter smiling and unknown to what was going on. He began serving the dishes, and Alphonse simply took his folded napkin and snapped it open a little bit too hard. Elsa was a lot more gentle, but still uncomfortably silent all the while their plates were served first. Flip was grateful that Alice refused to let go of his hand from underneath the table, and was surprised with Otto leaned back, unceremoniously, on his chair.

Smiling.

“I’ve only seen your synagogue from the outside, yet the arrangement of de stained glass is very, very detailed,” Otto said, taking his napkin and ready to tuck it into his shirt. “Be vonderful to see de sun shine inside. Und de gardens outside is alvays lovely to smell on valks in de spring. You go often, Philip?”

“My mother tries to get me to go once a week, although it is a little bit harder now that I’m going to the police academy. She tries to go for every service, or she helps bring them to the hospital, for her patients.”

“How vonderful. My mutter vas de same vith her church,” Otto responded affectionately. “Mittwoch, Samtag und Sonntag, every veek. Soon as I got old enough, I did vhatever I could do to not vear de church pants - terrible stitch dat rode up my -!”

“Otto!” Elsa bursted into a genuine laugh. “Mind your manners, you old hound!”

Otto gave her a cheeky laugh and then reached over to pat Flip on the back, as if they shared a secret joke that no one knew about. Once the plates have been served and the waiter reminded the table to call for anything else, everyone seemed to try and begin eating with ease.

“Thought Juden do not eat pork,” Alphonse blurted out casually, causing both Elsa and Alice to freeze their utensils.

Flip, at this point, didn’t hesitate to use his knife to cut his piece of ham into smaller bits. “Some Jewish people don’t eat pork, and some do, depending who it is. My parents allow us to eat pork, unless it’s for a specific holiday, then we do our best to respect Kashrut.” It wasn’t necessary, but Flip took a generous piece of ham and ate it, swallowing and then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Again, it’s different for everyone within the community. It’s a lot more complexed, but I won’t bore you with them, sir.”

“But you had Alice’s sandwiches before,” Otto questioned. He grinned when Flip nodded with some sort of enthusiasm, despite having his mouth full. “Mäuschen is blessed in the kitchen, I say. Been to New York, Chicago, Italy, France und all, but never had the best ham sandwich until Alice made me hers.”

“Alice makes the best sweets, too,” Flip willingly added in, looking to his girlfriend and squeezing her hand. Seeing her roll her eyes slightly and try to hide her embarrassed smile with her fork, Flip snickered. “Whenever she helped with our school events, all her stuff is always sold out. I think she has Betty Crocker running for her money.”

“And you say you’re in the police academy, Philip?” Elsa asked after sipping from her glass. “What made you want to go for the police force?”

“It sounds childish, but...I wanted to be a superhero, when I was really little. I think I’ve always just wanted to make people feel safe, save the day once in a while… I always looked to cops being the first step to becoming a superhero growing up,” he confessed with a half-smile. “I’ll say it’s a lot of work, but it’s pretty great, especially with the support I have. I know it’s going to be all worth it.”

Looking at Alice, the young couple caught their eyes and smiled warmly to each other. Flip knew he wouldn’t have gotten as far as being accepted into the academy without her help. With studying at the library and checking the public records to learn from solved cases and the manuals he was recommended to look over, Alice always made sure to quiz him, get him coffee and food and encouraging kisses. Flip’s parents were also supporting his career choice, too, but it was really Alice who was making sure that he kept his focus on his studies whenever it was necessary. She always made sure to get him back on track when he would rather throw the towel in. Alice never gave up on him.

Elsa and Otto immediately caught on and seemed to have a positive reaction to it, seeing how honest and appreciative he was for Alice and all the help she’s done for him.

“Das mag ich nicht.” 

Flip watched Alice’s face suddenly transform from happy and in love, to pure sadness, releasing a long sigh as Elsa reacted to Alphonse in shock. She was saying something to Alphonse, Flip had no idea word-for-word, but he was sure she was scolding him for what he said, igniting a quiet argument between husband and wife. Flip doesn’t speak a word of German but, thanks to Alice, he has learned bits and pieces whenever he would ask her. The many times she would mumble something under her breath, usually when she was frustrated with something and didn’t want to openly curse in front of others… But, besides that, Flip had a good idea what Alphonse was responding so negatively about.

Seeing Alice trying not to cry out of frustration towards her father, doing her best not to cause a scene, Flip completely dismissed his own brunch and focused on his girlfriend. Otto also stopped eating and looked to Alice worryingly.

“Flip Zimmerman, come back to Earth, please!”

Coming out of his trip down Memory Lane, Flip looked over to see his partner and friend, Ron Stallworth, giving him a pointed look to the two coffee mugs in each hand. Sighing, Flip kicked off his feet off his desk and thanked Ron for getting him his fourth refill. He tried his best to ignore Ron’s stare at him, watching him take a few big gulps and give his friend the stink-eye, but that only made ‘the rookie’ grin.

“What’s got Flipper’s head rolling today, huh?” Ron asked, all cheeky and teasing as usual when it was a slow day in the office. “Got your head in the clouds, probably thinking about Playmates?”

“Hardly,” Jimmy’s voice cut in from the other side of him, making Flip sigh. “The only lil bunny you’ll ever catch this man thinkin’ is his wife. Did she pack you any lunch today? I’m starving.”

“Nah, I was hoping you’d treat me to lunch down the street from the last time ya ate my food,” Flip snipped back with a friendly smirk, making Jimmy snicker.

“Anyway, as I was sayin’,” Ron broke the incoming banter that usually happened around this time between Flip and Jimmy, “I was trying to ask you how you proposed.”

“What? ‘Proposed’?” Flip’s face twisted in confusion, looking to his friend with narrowed eyes. “What, you planning on proposin’ to Patrice, after all this time?”

“I didn’t - if you were paying attention to what I was saying before, you would know I was askin’ because I was just curious!” Ron was quick to respond, making Flip slowly turn in his chair to face his partner more directly, just seeing him getting flustered. “Y’know, nothing’s going on here, so why not make small talk; always wondered how ya made the move to whisk a nice lady like Alice into marrying you, anyway.”

“I’d say it’s personal business, but -”

“Oh, this big guy did it in the most public place possible. At a big-ass dinner party her ma was hosting at some fancy as hell arts museum,” Jimmy interrupted again. “He gave her ol’ man a heart attack when she said ‘yes’!”

“What, Alice’s daddy don’t like lumberjacks?” Ron earned a playful punch to his arm from his friend, making sure not to spill his own mug of coffee.

Flip shook his head. “No, he didn’t like the fact that his little girl was marrying a Jew.” When Jimmy went quiet and Ron did a double-take, Flip shrugged his shoulders as casual as possible. “Her father was the only one from his immediate family to move from Germany, her mom was born and raised here, but her own parents were from Berlin, if I remember right.”

“So, wait a minute,” Ron stopped him and took a seat on the edge of Flip’s desk. “So, you, a Jewish man, married to Alice, who’s...not Jewish? Assuming she didn’t convert -”

“She didn’t.” Flip shrugged. “Not a big deal. It’s like I’ve said: never been really big into that part of me, being Jewish, and Alice wasn’t big on her family’s beliefs either. That also blew her parents out of the water when she said she wanted to just get a civil marriage, instead of a big church wedding.”

“But, Alice’s ol’ man ain’t a -”

“No. Just doesn’t...like my kind. The way he was brought up, I guess. I never really asked, but Alice doesn’t know much either. Never got to be in the military, or ever into politics, really, just doesn’t like me.”

There was a long period of silence between the three, allowing Flip to finish his mug of coffee before it got too cold for his liking. Not enjoying the tension that was coming from his two buddies, the tall man cleared his throat before grabbing a cigarette from the carton next to his phone. “But, yeah, like Jimmy said - I knew I wasn’t going to get any blessing, so I decided to be a cocky little shit, and propose to her in front of a lot of rich, high-and-mighty people in one of the nicest suit-and-tie junctions in Colorado Springs history.”

“Certainly made history with driving a man to curse and raise Hell at a silent auction, but alright,” Jimmy slipped in, making Flip bark out a laugh and try to force him to fall back by kicking behind Jimmy’s propped legs. “What! You know what you did was your talk of the first week ya came here.”

The rest of the day carried on like usual, Flip filling out boring paperwork and answering calls. It was only a breather for him once he punched out and stepped outside the precinct, catching Ron digging for his keys in his coat pockets. Flip startled him into a quick jump, making Flip snort a laugh.

“Don’t go sneaking on me, you damn Flipper,” Ron groaned before finally finding his keys in his breast pocket. “Did you finish the report to send upstairs yet?”

“Yeah, dropped it off on the front desk.”

“Alright. Cool, that’s good,” Ron mumbled, nodding and fumbling with his keys. Flip watched him with a knowing look, head tilting to the side as he propped his jacket over his shoulder.

“What did you want to ask, Ron…”

“What? What?” Ron stammered before meeting Flip’s stare. “I don’t…”

“Look, if you don’t ask me what you want, it’s going to bug the shit outta you, and I don’t like doing that to my friends. You know, Alice would kill me for not being open with you, when you’re not hurting anyone,” Flip told him, raising a brow. “You wanted to ask me something earlier, I’m giving you the chance now.”

Ron took a deep breath, looking around for a second before summoning the courage for himself. “It’s just - you know, you say Alice’s old man never gave you a blessing, and you didn’t convert to either religion. Well, I mean, when you said that Alice’s father is from Germany, it just -? I’m just… How do you two make it work?

“Anytime I see you and Alice together, you two just make yourself to be the happiest married couple in the whole world. Not saying you’re not, but, when you look at it in that detail,” Ron made a gesture with his hands, his keys jingling in his palm. “You came from very different backgrounds, and I guess just seeing how your lady accepts everyone, with no second thought, despite…”

Flip leaned against the chilly brick, popping a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it before he drove home. “When we were in high school, I never brought up the fact that I was Jewish when we first started dating. It wasn’t until my mom begged me to bring her home to meet the family,” he started out. “Again, my folks didn’t make it a big deal to raise me Jewish, but my mom had our house decorated; we had a mezuzah, family portraits that were taken in tradition ways back, and Star of David. I already knew of Alice’s family. People talked at our school, of who’s parents were who. Alice was that kind of popular, pretty-girl who everyone talked about and knew about.

“I didn’t want her walking into my house and - I don’t know - think how we all thought German people thought of us, or something,” he laughed at the memory, seeing it clearly as if it was yesterday when he and Alice were teenagers again.

Sitting in the library, her trying have him memorize his history notes for the upcoming test he had to retake, and he could only just stare like the lovesick boy he was. He’d tell her that his mother invited her over to join them for dinner on Friday, remembering how she brightened up and tried to contain her excitement of getting to meet his parents. She asked him what she should wear, if she should bring something for his mother to impress her - flowers, a dessert or maybe a box of candy for his mother to bring to the hospital, and another for his father to bring to the shop. Flip could see himself trying to calm her down, holding her hand…

Then, getting unsure of himself.

“Then, knowing her, she could tell that something was wrong. She always does, I don’t know how she does, but she asked me what was running through my mind. I couldn’t hide anything, so I told her.” Flip swallowed, remembering how he felt, that sort of pressure of waiting for a response from her. Alice listened to him when he said ‘I’m actually Jewish’, and blinked, seeming to process it. The next memory made him actually snicker next to Ron, who was listening almost like how Alice always did: intentive, curious and respectful. “Next thing I know, she just smiled and said ‘okay’.” Flip shrugged, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Okay? What did she think of that? Honest opinion, because I’m about ready to either crap my pants or have my head pop off. She told me that all she really cared for was me being comfortable and happy with her. You know what she thought about me being Jewish, when I asked her?”

Ron shook his head and Flip chuckled.

“When I asked her, she told me she thought it was really interesting and wanted to learn about what I knew. She just...wanted me to tell her more about myself, and didn’t judge anything that would have otherwise been weird to anyone else.” Flip shrugged again, his smile never leaving his face. “I asked her if she thought it was weird to date me, after that, and she gave me a look and snapped back with ‘why the hell would I think it’s weird? I think it’s amazing, and I want to know more!’ Something about how she snipped at me and then smiled like an angel got to me.”

“Is that when you figured you were going to marry her?” Ron asked, a knowing smirk on his face when Flip sighed, slow and long. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s when I knew.”

XXX.

It was dark out by the time Flip made it back home, but still earlier than usual for Flip’s rather packed to the last minutes of the days schedules. Seeing the lights on in the living room, even with the drapes closed, it felt welcoming and safe with the warm, yellow glow of the lights and the front yard light guiding him home to where he knew his beautiful, loving wife was waiting for him. Entering through the front door, announcing his arrival, Flip couldn’t help but grow still as an odd aroma overpowered his nose. He stopped immediately after taking off his shoes, taking a deep inhale through her nose and out of his mouth…

It smelled familiar, but not quite what he expected walking into his own house.

“Alice?” he called, hearing a shuffle coming from the kitchen and his wife cursing under her breath. Coming further through the living room to the wall hiding the kitchen and dining room around the corner, Flip caught Alice attempt to pluck something out of one of her little bread pans, only to drop it back with a hiss and suck her thumbs.

“Mmmm!” she whined loudly all while her thumbs in her mouth, then jumping at the sight of Flip at the corner. Popping them out, the pads of her thumbs red in irritation, Alice stared wide-eyed at him. “Flip! What are you doing home so early? You’re suppose to be still at the station!”

“I finished paperwork early, so Chief let us all go,” he explained, looking carefully between her and the little bread pans. They were the ones Alice usually made her chocolate-banana breads or little cakes in, but what they currently had cooling wasn’t anything he has seen her make before. The tops of whatever they looked braided in a way, with chunks of brown pieces of some mix spread on the top. It looked a bit too brown to be a regular cake or bread, making him wonder if Alice accidentally burned it.

Seeing him look at her baking, Alice peeped with a sliver of terror before scurrying to him, trying to push him out. “Don’t look at it! I messed up,” she rushed, unable to make the solid brick that is her husband to even budge. “You were suppose to come home later, after I clean everything up and started dinner to hide the smell -!”

He was careful to grab her wrists and bring her hands up. Holding her thumbs propped out to him, he kissed the irritated skin and then her palms, turning his head left and right each time before standing to look down to her.

“What are you trying to hide, baby doll? It’s not my birthday...is it?” Flip was terrible at remembering his own birthday, since he usually had other things in mind (but always remembered Alice’s birthday, or their wedding anniversary), but he was sure of himself that he still had some odd months until then. “You’re acting like you’re tryin’ to hide a body on me.”

Alice went red in the cheeks out of mere embarrassment, pouting so cutely at him to see her getting more bothered at being caught - with whatever she’s doing. “I was planning on surprising you with it, but now it’s all ruined. How is it that guys always walk in on surprises all the time? You know, your mother told me the story of how you always seem to ‘walk-in’ on her wrapping your birthday and holiday presents? Passover and Hanukkah, you had her routine down and -”

“You’re not answering me, honey.” Flip cupped her cheeks and squished them up, making her look like a chipmunk with too much food in its cheeks. He gave her an encouraging smirk and shook her head gently. “C’mon, what are you trying to do here?”

Alice huffed and puffed a bit, unable to meet his gaze as she caved in. “I’m trying to make your mother’s chocolate babka,” she confessed, and it all came together as he grinned.

“Is that why she called so goddamn early today?”

Nodding, Alice sunk her cheeks into his palms, seeming to try to look down. “I called her last week, asking if she would tell me her recipe, or where I can find a good one in magazines or books, for starting out,” she explained. “She said she’d call me as soon as she found hers, and we spent all morning rewriting it over the phone and double-checking. I honestly thought you would be home later, so I would have time to call her back before dinner to see what I did wrong.”

“Why’re you trying to hide it from me, Alice?”

“You mentioned a couple weeks back how you missed your mom’s chocolate babka, and I figured it was about time I tried to make something special to you, since your parents live a long ways away now,” she admitted, tugging his wrists to let go of her face and sighed. “I didn’t want to push your mother, since it always seemed so special in your family, but she was...really happy I asked. I just feel like I would have let her down by burning them, even with step-by-step instructions.”

Flip just hummed before reaching over to the still-hot pan, tearing off a decent chunk of the top. Before Alice could stop him, he shoved as much of the bread into his mouth; it was a good thing that his hands were callous enough to ignore the burn, and the fact that he always drank his coffee as hot as possible to be used to it in his mouth, and he just threw his head back and began chewing.

“Flip, you ass! Spit that out!” Alice hissed, trying to reach to the piece hanging immaturely out of his mouth, like a mother trying to take a hazard out of a toddler’s mouth...when the toddler happens to be over six feet tall. Flip was behaving like a bird trying to eat a chunk of burger whole. “I don’t want you to eat it when it’s all burned like that!”

Being able to chew and swallow the first bite and then start working on the remaining bit, making crumbs stick to his facial hair and sprinkle into the collar of his flannel. Alice tried to remain grumpy with him, but there was a smile on her face.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” she told him with a muffled laugh in her voice, shoving her face into his shoulder when he playfully patted her ass with his clean hand. She tried to brush the crumbs from his shirt while he finished eating with a grin on his face.

Once swallowing, Flip was quick to cup her face with his clean hand, squish her cheeks to pucker her lips and gave her a deep kiss. His wife made a noise, a cute one that reminded him of whenever he would tease her to get her into the mood, and he smiled against her mouth before breaking the kiss. He snickered at the sight of her trying to wipe the dark crumbs he stuck to her face with her sleeve.

“I don’t know what you were complaining about, babydoll, but this tastes pretty damn good to me,” Flip told her confidently, licking his lips before kissing along her cheek repeatedly. Hugging her in his arms, to prevent her from escaping, he hummed a chuckle when she eventually went limp in his arms.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my husband who ruined the surprise I tried to make,” she sniffed with amusement, causing him to angle her face again to kiss her lips. Sighing against his mouth, she pulled back and he went back to nuzzling her neck with kisses and gentle touches. “I think I’m going to call Ma and ask her to show me how to do it properly. We should really have them visit for a weekend - the weather is suppose to be nice next month, and there’s going to be some community events that they would like -”

“You’re the most amazing woman in the whole damn world,” he said against her skin, squeezing her for a moment. “I love you so damn much.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to butter me up for, but it’s not working. I’m still upset you -”

He hushed her with a deep kiss, making her whine and have it fall into giggles when he didn’t let up. Rocking them both while he just gave her kisses and making her laugh when he used his teeth on the tickle spots on her pulse, making her shiver, Flip took a deep breath and let himself just feel at home. Feeling Alice snuggle her face into his shoulder, he knew he got her right where he wanted her.

“I still want to eat the rest of it,” he told her warmly, nuzzling his large nose into her hair lovingly. “I think it tastes pretty fuckin’ great.”

“It’s burnt, and I bet it doesn’t taste anything like your m -”

“Probably burnt because I have a smokin’ hot wife, and the babka couldn’t handle it.” This made them both laugh at his unusual corniness to the point that Flip snorted, only making Alice laugh harder against him at the whole situation. “I really do like it, Alice. I’m proud of you,” he told her honestly. He knew why she wanted it to be ‘perfect’, and why she was making this a big fuss. He knew his wife, and he watched her stare into his eyes, unshedding tears welling up in hers as she sniffed and smiled.

“Thank you…”

Flip smirked adoringly and wriggled himself against her. “And, I love you very, very much,” he told her, making her smile bashfully.

“I love you, too, hot shot. Very, very much...even though you ruined the surprise.”

“I can be surprised next time,” he promised her with a cheeky grin. “So, can I have another bite, or are we going to have to tango again?”

XXX.

taglist of buds: @ayatimascd @adamsnackdriver @babbushka @formerly-anonhamster @the-wayward-rose @ben-solo (please message if you would be interested in being added to the oneshot tags!)

So, I understand German pretty well, but I can not for the life of me speak/write it properly. I want to refine my speaking ability, even though I don’t use it for anything in my everyday life...I just find it fun. I like learning languages and learning phrases!

I figured, for Flip being a Jewish man and (possibly) marrying someone who would either be a) not Jewish, or, b) from of German ancestry (especially if they were first generation), would kinda show how he personally handles his own identity with his in-laws and how is ‘affects’ his marriage. In my opinion, I think anyone who would be with Flip wouldn’t look at him as any different or anything negative than the man they love him for, but would want to still be respectful in the same while.

I hope you enjoyed and will let me know what you thought! I really do appreciate feedback and knowing what you think. Thank you again for reading!!