#id like to take some notes to help me remember what i thought of certain books while reading | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nordschleifes · 6 months ago

Text

the prophecy

➝ jenson didn't want money, just someone who wanted his company. is that too much to ask for?

➝ word count: 4k

➝ warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, and a particular bad time for jenson

➝ author's note: well, the last two weeks have been horrible, i completely doubted my ability as a writer and my health decided to abandon me in every way. i still don't feel very good and i really think i should give up everything, but ally won't let me, so here we have another one-shot that i had shelved out of frustration with myself. enjoy!

Driving down that street was bittersweet.

The night was beautiful. The sky was spectacularly clear and the silver light of the moon illuminated the gentle waves of the Mediterranean. The pleasant breeze disguised the heat that had been on the French Riviera all day.

However, you weren't looking at the goosebumps in your arms or the stars twinkling in the sky. Your eyes were fixed on the large butter-colored house that stood discreetly among the shady trees just to his left.

As you stopped the MINI you had rented at Nice airport, you allowed yourself to roll down the window and contemplate those familiar walls.

It felt like an eternity since you had last been there, walking up the stone steps, the gray mixed with red. You closed your eyes, trying not to pay attention to your stomach, which churned at the memory. However, it was something you couldn't help.

After all, that had been your last sight of John Button.

You clearly remembered the day you had met him. Wearing a white shirt and with red cheeks from the heat in Melbourne, he approached you and your boss, Richard, with a wide smile. After some typically English jokes about the intense sun, he invited the two of you to join him at the table where he was sitting with his daughter-in-law, Jessica, and son, Jenson.

It was with that moment in mind that you noticed something strange in the house.

With the swaying of the tree branches that covered the facade, you could see that the front of the residence was illuminated, as if there was a light on. In addition to being sure that no one was in the house, you were almost certain that you hadn't left any lights on the last time you were there.

“Someone broke in”, you thought, rummaging through your bag for your house keys.

After typing a message to Jenson, stating that you had seen something strange at John's house and that you would check out what was going on, you made your way to the main gate, finding it ajar.

— My God — you murmured, as you followed the path in silence. With wide eyes, you were trying to make out the sharp sound that mixed with the rustling of leaves and the waves of the sea when a particular loud noise made you jump.

Taking your phone from your pocket, you rolled your eyes when you read the name on the caller ID. “Bad timing”, you thought, as you dragged your finger across the screen and brought the device to your ear.

— Now I can't, Jenson, I'm here at John's house…

However, instead of a humorous comment or an ironic question, you heard a loud sob.

— Y/N — Jenson murmured, taking a sniff.

— Are you crying?

— I'm here, Y/N.

— Here? Jenson, where are you?

— Here — he stammered, before crying again, this time louder.

So loud that you realized what he was talking about.

Walking a few more meters, you saw the staircase that led to the front door of the house, as well as a man sitting on the steps, accompanied by a half-empty bottle of whiskey and his face wet with tears, leaning against the wall next to him.

— Jenson! — you exclaimed, hanging up your phone and running towards him. Climbing the steps two at a time, you approached the driver practically out of breath, your heart almost coming out of your mouth — Jenson, are you okay? What happened? What are you doing here?

He looked at you with a blank stare.

— Y/N…

— Jenson, tell me, what are you doing here?

— I want my father — the driver replied softly, the words dragging on his tongue. Holding his face, you noticed more tears falling from his eyes — Where is my father?

— Jense — you murmured, before pulling him towards you for a hug. With his head buried in the crook of your neck, he cried loudly, his gasps making his entire body shake and your eyes filling with tears. You allowed them to fall from your eyes as you blinked a little harder, tightening your arms around him.

— He wasn't supposed to come alone — he stammered against his shoulder, before looking up and sniffling — He couldn't, he shouldn't…

— I know, Jense, I know — you replied, running your hand over his face to dry the tears.

— He died alone, Y/N — Jenson murmured — He died without anyone by his side. My father died alone, without anyone…

You pressed your lips together, feeling more tears streaming down your face. It was ironic and particularly sad, considering how loved John was by everyone around him. Dying like that, in the open and completely alone, was something you didn't wish on anyone.

— I don't want to be alone — he continued, rubbing his nose — I don't want to be alone, I don't, I don't…

— You won't be alone — you said, trying to calm him down, as the driver reached for the bottle of whiskey, taking a large gulp before you could protest or stop him.

— I will, Y/N — he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand — I will, I know I will...

— No, you won't — you said, as Jenson brought the bottle to your mouth, only for you to abruptly remove it from his hand — And you're going to stop with that whiskey now.

He tried to retrieve the bottle, but you tipped it over the steps, spilling the rest of the contents onto the stone.

— No — the driver protested, as the amber liquid ran down the steps.

— Yes — you returned — You can't keep drinking, Jense.

— I can…

— No, you can't and you won't — you said, your tone somewhat harsh, almost like a mother scolding a naughty child — I'm not going to watch you drink yourself into an alcoholic coma with my arms crossed. Now get up.

He looked at you with an expression that mixed confusion and sadness.

— Y/N — he stammered.

— Come on, Jense — you said, giving your hand to help him get up.

The task of taking the driver into the house was not simple. Far beyond the darkness of the rooms, courtesy of the curtains that covered the large windows that faced the sea, Jenson seemed determined not to cooperate with your efforts to take him to the main suite to take a shower.

After some struggle to drag him up the marble stairs to the second floor and tripping over a painting that was leaning against the wall as he slurred about how much his father liked that place, you managed to make it to the spacious bathroom. of the room that had once been John's. Asking Jenson to lean on the white stone sink, you allowed yourself a few seconds to breathe before continuing on your mission to save the driver from the worst hangover of his life.

— You can take off your clothes — you said, seriously.

— For what? — he asked, frowning.

— So you can take a shower. You reek of sweat and cheap whiskey.

Your observation made him take a step forward, losing his balance and placing both hands on your shoulders.

— It’s not cheap whiskey, it’s a very good brand…

— Which you probably bought for five euros in some dodgy liquor store in Monaco, right? — you asked, as you took your hands to the white shirt he was wearing and started to undo the buttons, revealing his chest.

— But it was a good whiskey, you could have tried it — Jenson murmured — But you threw it all away...

— It was either throw it away or let you keep drinking it until dawn.

— That was my plan.

Your hands stopped at the last button of his shirt, your lips pursed as you lifted your face to look at the driver. The seconds of silence that stretched inside the bathroom made your heart sink. After swallowing hard, you asked him to take off his shirt, which he did without saying a word.

Next, you moved on to his belt, unbuckling it and undoing the button on his pants.

— What are you doing?

— Taking off your pants.

— For what? — Jenson asked in a naive tone.

— So you can get in the shower — you replied, bending down slightly to slide his jeans down his legs, leaving him in just his underwear — Come in.

— And the underwear?

You felt your face heat up.

— I definitely don't need to see your dick today, Jenson. Now go to the shower.

Balancing himself with his hand on your shoulder, he carefully entered the bathtub, sitting on the edge. Watching you turn on the shower, he hissed as he felt the cold water splash onto his legs. However, that didn't stop you from placing your hand on the driver's tattooed shoulder to encourage him to get wet.

— No, Y/N — he grumbled — It's too cold.

— The cold water will help you…

— I don't want help.

— Come on, please — you said, bringing your face closer to his — You'll feel better after the shower...

Turning his head to you, his gaze seemed empty.

— I'm not going to get better, Y/N — he said in a low voice — This is me now, this depressed and pathetic thing that no one wants around...

Something about those words made you adjust your posture, irritation rising up your neck in a hot wave.

— Get in the shower, Button — you said, harshly, pushing his shoulder.

Silently, he stood up and placed himself under the cold spray, letting out a loud grunt. After searching the cupboards and only finding some soap forgotten in the corner, you returned to the shower to clean Jenson's skin and hair. “It’s going to look terrible without conditioner”, you thought to yourself, as your fingers rubbed his scalp. After rinsing off the soap that was on his skin and hair, you turned off the shower and wrapped him in a towel.

— Can you dry yourself? — you asked, earning a positive nod from him — Okay, then I'll make the bed.

Leaving the driver to dry off, you went to the bedroom, testing the lamps that flanked the bed, which looked somewhat imperious with its canopy, and condemning yourself for having forgotten that there was no power in the house. The furniture was old style, however, contrary to what you would expect in a lived-in place, the cupboards, shelves and desk were empty. You knew that this was the result of a day's work by Jenson and his sisters with the intention of keeping their father's memories.

Removing the sheet, you felt relief fill your chest when you discovered that there were still pillows and a blanket on the bed. You had just thrown the dusty fabric in one of the corners of the room when Jenson appeared in the bathroom door, completely naked. Staggering, he dropped face down on the bed without any ceremony.

— Jense, I was finishing…

— No need — he murmured, his face against the pillow.

Pursing your lips, you dropped the blanket onto the mattress, making a conscious effort not to look at his butt.

— Okay, so — you stuttered, while the pilot fidgeted, turning his head towards you — I'm going to see if there's another blanket for me to take to the couch downstairs...

— Why?

— Because I'm not going to leave you alone here.

— So stay.

You gave a small smile.

— I'll stay, Jense, but downstairs.

— Stay here — he stammered, stretching a hand across the bed.

— Here?

A positive grunt was the only response you got, heavy breathing indicating he had fallen asleep. Facing his calm expression, you didn't have the courage to deny his request, especially at that moment. Settling down on the mattress, you felt Jenson shift next to you, grunting in reaction to your movement. Then, he placed an arm over your stomach, as if he was trying to hug you or just make sure you stayed there.

And you stayed.

The sun was rising over the horizon and entering the room through the window without any ceremony when you woke up. A little confused, you rubbed your eyes, focusing again on the ceiling, realizing that the checkered pattern was from the fabric covering the canopy and not an eccentric painting choice by John. The memory of the man made you look to the side, finding Jenson still lying down, sleeping soundly, a string of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

The scene made you give a restrained smile. The habit of drooling was something you had already used to upset Jenson, who claimed that it was a lie and that he had never drooled in his life. However, his denial didn't make you stop your jokes.

Rubbing your eyes, you stood up carefully, making your way to the stairs slowly, evaluating the way the sun entered the rooms and illuminated the spaces.

“No wonder John loved this place”, you thought to yourself, as you passed through the dining room towards the kitchen.

As you expected, there was nothing in the cupboards or refrigerator, something that seemed obvious considering the house had been empty for six months. However, at the same time as you could feel your stomach growl, you didn't feel comfortable with the idea of leaving Jenson there, especially after what he had said to you during the cold bath you had given him.

Jenson had mentioned that he was afraid of being alone and that he didn't want that for his own life. However, inside the bathroom, the driver said that no one wanted him around because he was sad, going so far as to say that he was pathetic for that. As you approached one of the windows, you pursed your lips tightly as you remembered the way he had said those words, as well as the pain that permeated them.

At that moment, you didn't know what to say to him, limiting yourself to putting him under the cold spray of the shower. However, the answer didn't come with a night's sleep, much less with a walk around the house or long minutes of contemplation of the Mediterranean that stretched blue and infinite between the trees. You knew it shouldn't be so difficult, that you could limit yourself to a few words of comfort and a hug, but it didn't seem like much.

— Good morning — you heard someone say behind you. When you turned around, you found Jenson standing in the middle of the room, his hair completely messed up as he rubbed his eyes.

— Good morning, Jense. Did you remember that underwear exists? — you gave a little smile. Looking down, the driver assessed his own underwear for a few seconds before looking back at you.

— I thought I should redeem myself after what happened yesterday. In fact, I apologize for — he hesitated for a few seconds — Everything.

— I appreciate your intention, but you don't need to apologize for yesterday.

— But I…

— It's alright. These are things that friends do.

A smile appeared on Jenson's face, but something told you he wasn't entirely sincere.

— Have you done this for other friends of yours?

— To some. You're not the only one I know who likes to drink, Jense.

— Lucky them to have you — he said, running a hand through his hair — And me too.

— Yeah, lucky you too.

The silence lasted for a few seconds until Jenson let out a sigh.

— Is there anything to eat in this house?

— I didn't find anything.

— I think Natasha cleaned the kitchen that day — he murmured, placing his hands on his hips — Do you want to go for coffee?

— In your house?

— Yeah, I guess — Jenson replied, with a little smile — I'm going to get dressed and we go, okay?

— Okay — you said, crossing your arms as he turned around and headed for the stairs.

You headed to Monaco in your rented MINI, navigating the tight, winding streets at a leisurely pace. This was clearly not something Jenson was used to, considering he was shaking his leg non-stop. However, you preferred to remain silent, trying not to get lost in the tiny entrances spread across the city.

You finally spoke up as you parked in front of the building, a white structure neatly placed against the hill that squeezed the city against the sea.

— We’re here — you smiled.

— Yes, we're here — Jenson murmured, without much excitement.

— Let's go up?

He hesitated for a few seconds.

— I don't know if it's a good idea.

You raised an eyebrow.

— Jense, you live there.

— But I don't know if I can...

— Why couldn't you go up to your apartment?

Passing a hand over his face, he merely muttered a swear word before exiting the car with heavy steps. You followed him in silence, particularly confused. Greeting the doorman, you walked down the hall to the elevator, which opened its doors promptly. Inside the metal cubicle, you could see the tension in the way Jenson clenched his jaw.

Tension that dissipated when he opened the apartment door and found that the place was empty.

— Thank God — he murmured, running his fingers through his hair.

— For what? — you questioned him.

— What?

— Thank God for what, Jense? — you repeated, seriously — What happened? Does it have something to do with what happened yesterday?

— Y/N…

— I know this is a complicated time, but I need you to trust me. You know I'm here to help you, it's always been like this, Jense.

— I know…

— So tell me. Tell me what happened and I will help you.

Jenson walked to the sofa, laying down between the pillows with oriental prints.

— It's complicated, Y/N...

— How complicated?

— Complicated in the sense that you can't fix it — Jenson replied, looking impatient — In fact, I don't even think I can do that...

— Tell me, for fuck’s sake! — you shouted, irritated by that damn suspense he was making.

— Jessica broke up with me! — he returned in a scream that seemed to carry all his anger and sadness — And before you ask, it wasn't friendly or anything like that.

You stared at Jenson for long seconds, carefully thinking about your next words. Something told you to try to talk to him to better understand the situation, perhaps even to orchestrate a reconciliation, however, you remembered something he had said the night before.

— Was she the one who said you were pathetic? That no one wants you around?

The question hit him in a sensitive spot, his blue eyes filling with tears. Upon seeing that reaction from the driver, you didn't hesitate to put yourself in the space between his legs and hug him tightly, his head against your stomach. Jessica had said that to him and, in a way, it filled you with anger.

Jenson wasn't pathetic, much less someone nobody wanted around. In fact, there were days that you just wanted him to be close to you, making you smile with his good-natured comments about trivial things. In your view, Jenson was like the sun, brightening even the grayest of British days. And he didn't deserve to be erased, especially by someone who didn't appreciate him the same way you did.

— You know it's a lie, Jense...

— But I can't stop crying — he murmured against her body — I don't feel like I used to, I just feel...

— Sad?

— I miss him — Jenson replied, looking up at you — I miss him all the time...

— This is normal…

— Not for Jessica. She doesn't want a guy like that, who keeps crying all the time, sad, missing his own father. She wants the happy guy that likes to party, have fun and stuff...

— But I don't want to — you murmured.

Suddenly, he raised his head, looking startled by his response.

— No?

— I want Jenson. And know that, whoever truly loves you, will always be by your side, no matter if you're happy or sad — you said, running a hand through his hair.

The driver gave you a small smile before hugging you again, his head against your belly. The scene could even seem romantic, considering the stunning view from the apartment and his almost intimate touch on your waist. However, any suggestion went out the window when you heard an uninteresting sound.

— I think you're hungry — Jenson murmured, looking up at you. The comment made you laugh.

— I came here because someone promised me breakfast — you replied.

— Well, if you insist — he said, letting go of you and getting up from the sofa.

The meal preparation was simple, with some scrambled eggs, toast and a cup of coffee each, courtesy of Jenson's inability to make anything more elaborate. Sitting at the kitchen counter, you were eating practically in silence when the driver broke the silence.

— Thank you for finding me yesterday.

— Oh, there’s no need to — you replied, taking another sip of your coffee.

— I need to, Y/N. I don't even remember how I ended up there without using a car, especially with that horrible whiskey.

— Yesterday you said it was great — you laughed.

— So you could see that I wasn't doing well — he replied, bursting into laughter along with you.

When the laughter stopped, you looked at each other for a few seconds.

— Any problem?

— None, I just remembered something my father said — Jenson replied.

— About what?

— About Jessica.

You rolled your eyes, picking up your coffee cup.

— Are you going to talk about her again, Jense? — you questioned, punctuating the sentence with a sip.

— No, it's just — he said quickly, hesitating a few seconds before continuing — He had told me once that she wasn't the right woman for me.

— When?

Jenson poked the scrambled eggs with his fork, somewhat disinterested.

— I think it was after I went to McLaren. It was a conversation we had after an argument I had with her. And he said that Jessica wasn't the woman for me and that there was no point in insisting on that relationship.

— No?

— “It’s a waste of time to continue with this girl, she doesn’t care about you”, he told me — he continued — But I didn’t listen. I thought it was nonsense of him, but he kept talking...

— Talking?

— That the perfect woman was right under my nose and that I was ignoring her.

You raised an eyebrow.

— And you were?

— I like to think not, but — Jenson hesitated, looking at you — I think he was right. Again.

You just smiled.

— John always had a good eye for these things. Especially when it came to you.

It was the driver's turn to smile, without saying a word. And in a way, it didn't need to. John knew his son like no one else, and if he said something was better for Jenson's life or career, he was almost always right. “Maybe that’s why he misses John so much”, you thought, turning your attention back to your plate.

After finishing your meal, you helped Jenson with organizing the kitchen, before checking the time and realizing that you were quite late.

— I need to go — you murmured, heading towards the door.

— Do you have any engagements?

— I have to pack my bags at the hotel.

— I thought you had them at the car — the driver said, with a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

— No, they're in Nice. I had gone to visit a friend here when I stopped by John's house and, well, everything happened — you explained — But now I can't stay, my flight leaves in the early afternoon.

— Where are you going?

— London.

Jenson pouted.

— What a shame, I thought youI would take the opportunity to make a stopover in Ibiza.

— No, I need a guide to the best parties and he's not available at the moment — you returned, in the acid tone that you knew disarmed him every time. And just as you expected, he laughed.

— In fact. So, I guess I'll see you later.

— Yes, you have to be in Woking in a week.

— Thank you for reminding me — he said, approaching you for a goodbye hug — Have a good trip.

— Thanks.

You were arranging your bag on your shoulder when Jenson said your name.

— Yeah? — you said, looking back.

— My father was talking about you.

A hot wave rose to your cheeks, your hand tightening on the door handle. Your heart was pounding inside your chest, almost as if it had suddenly come back to life.

— I imagined — you managed to say, before leaving the apartment.

#jenson button #jb #formula one x you #formula 1 x you #f1 x you #formula one oneshot #jenson button fanfic #jenson button one shot #jenson button x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #jenson button x reader #nordswrites

131 notes · View notes

goosewriting · 1 month ago

Text

Class is now in session

summary: reader is in university and starts taking a liking to a certain redhead.

relationship: college AU biker!Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: cameo fest, mentions of alcohol, cal punches a guy, idiots in love 😩💞, gets a lil spicy at the end 🫣 this might border on crack tbh

word count: 11k because i am deranged

A/N: this started out as an innocent college AU with jock!Cal, but my insta feed brought me back to the depths of biker guys x booktok girlies so this idea cemented itself into my brain and i just ran with it. this is 100% self-indulgent, packed with every trope i could think of, and got completely out of hand. i am not sorry. bon appetit :)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/N2: please excuse the pacing at the start, it's a bit of a mess. but i promise it gets better! also i use college and university interchangeably here because i’ve personally only been to uni, so sorry if it's confusing ;;-;;

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

As you’re leaving your first class at the new college, you think back to orientation week where you met Sabine. She’s the only one you know here now, other than Ahsoka, a friend from your home town who’s come to this university too for her masters. You have no idea how, but Ahsoka somehow managed to have you move in after her roomate left, so that you now share the flat, which you’re super happy about. At least one thing (or person) less to worry about.

In the class that just finished, you sat with Sabine, and she introduced you to Ezra, her friend from high school. So that’s now two people you at least know by name here.

You hurry to get to your next class which is basically across campus in one of the bigger auditoriums, and it’s the biggest class by far. Sabine and Ezra don’t attend this one, so you don’t know anyone here. You look around as you cross into the room, observing how the students swarm in in waves, quickly taking their seats. Walking down to the middle row, you quickly scan the group, thinking who seems approachable to eventually start chatting.

The class goes by rather quickly, being the first one and all, it was more about formalities than actual content. Someone had arrived just on time as the professor also walked in, a redhead that caught your eye, but the moment the class was over, he left quickly. In fact everyone leaves quickly, and you can’t help but be dragged along by the mass of people and you find yourself in the hallway, which just as quickly as it filled, is empty once more.

For lunch you meet with Sabine and Ezra, and you all get to know each other a little better. At first you thought they might be dating, judging by how close they seem, but they never mention it during your meal. If Sabine is willing to have boy talk with you, you make a mental note to ask her about it at some point.

In the afternoon, you start your job at the library. A tall and elegant woman, Shaak Ti, shows you the ropes, and soon you’re left to your own devices at the desk, doing some smaller tasks to get you started. Not soon after, Ahsoka comes by for a quick visit to say hi.

Your shift is almost over when someone comes up to the check-out desk where you sit. You hear them approaching, and as you lift your eyes from your work, you recognise it’s the redhead from today’s class. Putting on your best customer support smile and voice, you ask how you can help, and he says that the self check-out machine isn't working.

How strange, you think, remembering how Shaak Ti showed you earlier how it works, and it did so just fine. But it’s quicker to just ring up his book now, and you could check the machine later. So you take the two books from him as well as his student ID and scan everything, doing your thing. You see his name on the ID: Cal Kestis. So that's what he's called. Maybe if you meet in class again, you could say hi. It would be super awkward if he didn't recognise you, though.

Shaking away your thoughts for the moment, you repeat to him what Shaak Ti told you earlier about the borrowing of materials, the e-mail notice and that he can check the return date on his university account. Taking his books and card, Cal thanks you with a smile and leaves. Standing up from the desk after a moment, you go to the self check-out machine to see what’s wrong with it, trying to remember if Shaak Ti gave you the number for the technician. You try out the process several times with a random book and your ID and it works perfectly. Strange, you think again.

By the time you get back to your dorm, which is a short bus ride away from campus, it’s already evening. You enter your room, grimacing a bit at how empty and lifeless it still looks. But you know you’ll be quick to decorate it and fill the space with your things to make it feel a bit more like home, albeit a temporary one.

Arriving at uni the next day, you get off the bus and walk towards the building. A motor bike passes you and parks in the designated area, your eyes unintentionally following the person, and you check them out a bit. The whole outfit, leather jacket and all, do look good, and you stare for perhaps a second too long. When the person takes off the helmet, you realise it’s the redhead from yesterday. He catches you looking at him and gives you an acknowledging nod and smile. Your head immediately turns the other way, cheeks burning at getting caught, and you walk away hastily, knowing this interaction will haunt you for the rest of the day since you could have just smiled or waved back instead of being so obvious.

Back in the big class, he spots you again and gives a short wave and an unsure smile. This time you make sure to smile and wave back at him.

After lunch with Sabine, you’re at your locker, picking up some things, talking to her and Ezra who joined you as well. They both suddenly look over your shoulder behind you, and you turn around only to be faced with him.

“Seems like I keep seeing you everywhere,” Cal says, leaning sideways onto the lockers. “I think it’s time we finally get properly introduced, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that he exchanges a look with Ezra, which you can’t really decipher, as you don’t know either of them well enough.

“I’m Cal,” he introduces himself. “But I think you already knew that.”

You tell him your name, and as Ezra joins the conversation, it turns out they’re actually friends.

“So how do you know him?” Sabine asks, her eyes going from Cal to you.

“ We share a class, and he came by the library yesterday,” you explain, taking a look at the time. “Which I actually should be heading to now. My shift starts soon.”

Sabine gives you a strange knowing look too, to which you don’t know how to respond. But before you can ask what’s up, she says that Ezra and her have another class, so they leave.

Cal walks you to the library, claiming he has to go to practice and it’s on the way (its not). It’s a short walk but you’re racking your brain for something to fill up the silence. Unable to come up with anything better, you tell him that if he wants to check out another book, you can show him how to use the self check-out machine.

“You said it was broken,” you say, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “But I checked and it worked just fine.”

“I know,” he responds after a second, and you turn to him with a ‘Huh?’. Smiling, he adds, “See you around.”

And with that he leaves you by the library entrance, even more question marks circling in your mind. To your surprise and further confusion, you find that he didn’t leave you with just questions, but also a bit of a racing heart.

Finally the weekend rolls around, and Ahsoka is out with her best friend Rex and his buddies, so you invite Sabine over for a movie marathon and lots of snacks. Since it’s just the first week of class, you don’t have that many assignments yet, which you want to take advantage of while you can.

As you’re both cosied up on the couch, you ask her about Ezra and if there’s anything between the two, and her face makes you laugh out loud. She says he’s more like a brother to her, since they’ve known each other for so long. But then she asks if there’s anyone you’re interested in.

You find yourself stumbling over your own words and end up somehow confessing to both her and your surprise, that you may have a teeny tiny crush on Cal. Sabine’s almost too excited about it and says you should tell Ezra so they can set you up on a date or something. But you make her promise she won’t tell either of them, to which she ends up agreeing. You don’t need the drama or the distraction; you just want to focus on classwork after all and survive one semester at a time.

On Monday you have the big class again, and you stay after it’s done to ask Professor Kenobi something. Everyone is leaving the room, and he’s packing away his things as you approach his desk, starting to formulate your inquiries, but you see his eyes going past you for a moment, then looking at you again with a soft smile.

“Why don’t you send your questions to my e-mail,” he offers. “Isn’t it your lunch break now? Wouldn’t want to hold you off, especially when there seems to be someone waiting for you.”

You blink a couple of times, then turn to look to the entrance door where, sure enough, Cal is waiting for you, leaning back onto the wall. He gives a short wave, which you quickly reciprocate, and you excuse yourself from the professor with heat prickling at your cheeks, telling him that you will do just that.

As you reach the door, Cal pushes himself off the wall to walk beside you. Before you can ask him what he’s up to and why he waited for you, he talks first.

“Are you eating at the cafeteria today? Wanna grab lunch together?”

You consider his offer for a moment, but then give him a short shrug.

“I’m not really super hungry and the menu today didn't have anything that I particularly crave, so I think I’ll just get something from the vending machine.”

“You sure? You shoudln’t skip meals, you know.”

“It’s fine, really,” you chuckle. “I’ll just get early dinner and I promise to eat something substantial.” “Yeah, you better,” he jokes, lightly pushing you with his shoulder.

Turning your face away to hide how flustered you’re getting at not just his playfulness but the fact that he waited for you, you reprimand yourself for a moment for getting your hopes up. Wanting to grab lunch with a classmate is normal! This is normal! Stop being weird, you tell yourself.

Just as you want to face Cal again to change the subject, you hear some voices from the hallway around the corner where the vending machines are. You think you recognise them, and you don’t know what on Earth compels you to, but you walk the few steps to take a peek. At the end of the hall, you see Professor Kenobi with a man. He’s tan, has broad shoulders and is very handsome.

“Hello, my love,” Kenobi says in a low voice barely audible to you, and quickly leans in to kiss the stranger.

Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth before any sound of surprise can come out, and you quickly spin around, directly into Cal’s chest with an oomph.

“Wha–” Cal holds onto your shoulders to keep you from falling with how quickly you tried to recoil. “Whoa there, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I feel like I just saw something I wasn’t supposed to,” you admit, hiding your face in your hands for a moment, then looking at him with big eyes.

This intrigues him, and Cal steps past you to take a look.

“There’s no one there…?”

You look around the corner again as well, and the hallway is indeed empty.

“Prof Kenobi was just there a second ago, with someone else. Kissing,” you add the last part under your breath.

“Oh?” Cal raises a brow, sounding strangely interested. “Well, let’s go see where they went.”

You shoot him an alarmed look.

“What? Why?”

But he’s already walking, looking over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow with a playful smile. So you follow suit. You’ve never been to this part of the building, and compared to the bustle back where there were constant streams of people walking to and out of the cafeteria, here it’s surprisingly quiet.

“I wonder where they even went,” Cal thinks aloud and stops where the hallway ends in a dead end. There’s several doors to the left, offices from the psychology faculty judging by the signs next to the doorframe. On the right there’s the big door leading to the staircase. There’s a paper sign stuck to it with tape that catches your attention, so you step closer to read it.

“Seems like the floors below are currently closed off because of repairs,” you paraphrase the warning sign. “So they must have gone up.”

You turn to look at him, and see realisation wash over his face, which quickly changes into a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, is that where we are.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him in suspicion.

“I heard that there was an off-limits floor in this wing. It’s been like that for years actually, not because they’re reparing something but because strange things happen there.”

You scoff, giving him an incredulous look.

“Didn’t take you for the superstitious type,” you deadpan.

“I’m not.” He looks at the sign and back at you. “But c’mon, aren’t you a little curious? They say it’s haunted, but if you go there and come back out, then you’ll have good luck in… passing your exams.”

“...Did you just make that up?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest defensively and raising a brow at him.

“...No?” Cal retorts, and it’s anything but convincing. Taking a step closer to you, he adds, “Come on, don’t you feel the call of adventure?”

“The only call you’ll feel is your emtpy stomach when you’re training,” you say, taking one last glance at the big door, then looking at Cal. “Shouldn’t you be having lunch right now?”

“I can eat later,” he shrugs.

“I thought skipping meals was a no-no.”

“I can make an exception today. For both of us.”

Before you even have a chance to stop him, he pushes open the door to the staircase, and you see there’s a chain blocking the way to the stairs leading down, but he steps over it, looking back and offering his hand to you.

You look up, listening for anyone who might be coming downstairs, but it’s still silent. Almost eerily so. You look at Cal’s face for a moment, and sigh in defeat, taking his expecting hand. He grins in victory.

“You’re being a horrible influence, you know that?” you say with a playful smile.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little bad every now and then,” he points out with a wink, and you roll your eyes at him to hide the beat your heart just skipped.

You both walk down the stairs, taking out your phones to use as a flashlight since it’s so dark. Cal pushes open the big door to the main hallway, and you’re hit with the typical smell of a basement; it’s humid and a little musky, but not necessarily unpleasant. You take a look around, and it’s a mirror of the floor above. The doors to the offices are open though, one is even missing the door completely, and Cal walks in without hesitation, so you follow him.

You’re not normally one to get scared about things like these, especially knowing that the haunted story has probably started as a rumour that got way out of hand throughout the years. This section probably just got closed off because of a water leak or something.

“One of the guys on the team told me that there used to be meetings of a secret cult down here.”

“Okay, now you’re just messing with me,” you laugh, and you point your light to him to see him. He blocks the light from his eyes with his hand but you can see the goofy smile on his face.

“I can’t believe I followed you down here,” you say, taking a step towards him, but something behind him catches your attention. You direct your light to the wall, and he turns around to do the same. There’s a pinboard full of old notes and photographs. Looking at the small table underneath it, you can see a lot of the things that once hung on the wall have since fallen down, decaying. Inspecting the remaining notes on the pinboard though, you notice that there are many that seem newer, the papers are clearer, crisp, untouched by the humidity down here. Many of them are simply just letters and numbers, like… initials and dates? You’re about to take a closer look at what’s written on them when a reflection from the table catches your eye.

Directing your light down onto the table, you move away some scattered papers to reveal the object that was partially hidden beneath: a locket in the shape of a heart. You stretch out your hand to pick it up but Cal stops you.

“Maybe- maybe don’t touch that.”

“Why not?” you ask without looking up. You can faintly make out the engraved letters “P&A” on the metallic surface.

“It could have lead. Or something.”

“That’s… a good point, actually,” you agree, and you retrieve your hand, your nose crinkling slightly in disgust at what could be lying around. “It’s the first time you’ve made sense since we got here. Who knows what else is here. Actually, we should leave–” You turn to where Cal was standing earlier, a couple of steps away, but you find him standing right in front of you now, caging you in between himself and the table behind you. He’s still holding his phone with the light aiming up, so his face is contoured in sharp white, highlighting the scars across his face. You had noticed them before, and thought they added character to his face. But now, with his eyes gazing into yours like that, momentarily flickering down to your lips and back up, you feel the urge to reach out and trace over them.

The air has completely shifted between you two, and your heartbeat quickens at the realisation. His free hand has somehow found its way around your wrist, and he’s leaning in closer ever so slowly.

You open your mouth to say something but you’re cut short by a sudden thud. You both flinch in surprise, aiming your lights to where the sound came from. You see a book, now on the floor, that hadn’t been there before, and a small cloud of dust settling around it. Aiming the light a little to the side and up, you can clearly see the spot where it fell out of the shelf, as there’s no dust on the wooden surface.

“We should– I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” you say after clearing your throat.

“Right.”

You quickly step around Cal and head for the staircase, swiftly walking up the steps and, after momentarily listening for any bypassers, climb over the chain. Cal follows closely, and you both pocket away your phones. You’re reaching out your hand to open the heavy door that leads back into the building, when he quickly grabs your wrist, holding your shoulder with his other hand to pull you away from the thin vertical window next to the door.

“Wait, there’s someone out there.”

“So what, we could have come from upstairs,” you say, trying to ignore the way your skin tingles where he’s holding you again.

He peeks through the glass, his eyes going wide for a moment, then stepping away again, a silly smile playing on his lips.

“It’s Kenobi. And he's not alone.”

You dare take a peek through the glass, and catch a quick look at Kenobi and the man from earlier, both coming out of one of the offices with slightly dishevelled hair.

“If he sees us, we’re so dead,” you say under your breath and lean back away, out of view. On one hand, you’d definitely be in trouble because from the short time you’ve known him, Professor Kenobi seems like the type of person to be really good at reading others, so he’d definitely know you two were up to no good if he confronted you two, especially you; you’re not a good liar. But also he saw Cal waiting for you after class, so surely he’d think something was going on between you two. Then again, would that bother you? Is there something going on between you and Cal? Do you want there to be something? You’re not entirely ready yet to answer that for yourself, especially not right now after what happened earlier, whatever that was. He was totally going to kiss you, right? In a basement of all places?

“The coast is clear,” Cal finally says, and your reeling mind can come to a halt again. He looks down at where his hand is still holding onto you, and quickly lets go, taking a step back, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. Uh, after you.”

He holds the door open for you, and you walk through, dusting off your clothes of anything that may trace you back to the forbidden underground. Cal makes his way to the office he saw Kenobi come out of and inspects the sign, chuckling to himself.

“Ah, look at that,” he says, and you approach, seeing the name on the sign: ‘Cody Kenobi’. So the man earlier was his husband.

“Get it prof, I guess,” you mutter more to yourself than to him, but Cal snorts at your comment.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he says, and you two make your way back to where you initially came from.

Since Cal still has to get food, you part ways and he heads to the cafeteria. And just like that, you’re back at the vending machine, yet again plagued by the decision of what to get, as well as a million questions racing through your mind.

When your shift at the library ends that day, it’s already the late afternoon. It was pretty slow today again, you mainly just spent your time cataloging some new books and putting back returned ones to their respective spots.

As you’re approaching the bus stop, you can see the bus already there, so you fall into a light jog to catch up on time. Except that everyone is standing outside instead of being inside the bus. The driver is standing on the sidewalk as well, talking on the phone in an irritated tone.

“What happened?” you ask one of the people sitting on the bench.

“The bus broke down,” she explains with a tired sigh, pointing to where the engine door has been lifted, and you can see some faint smoke coming out of the vents. “The driver said we have to wait for the next bus.”

You don’t need to look at the timetable to know that at this time of day, the busses get more and more infrequent. You might as well walk home. It won’t necessarily be quicker than waiting for the next one, but you don’t want to just sit still for the next half hour.

After saying your thanks to the person, you keep walking down the sidewalk to start your trek home. Luckily, there’s a pedestrian path away from the street that is actually quite picturesque to walk, partially going through the woods too, so at least you’ll have a nice view as you ruminate over the day’s events.

To get to the path leading into the forest, you take a shortcut through the parking lot, which to your surprise is not as empty as you would have imagined at this time. You’re not really planning on running into anyone, already lost in thought, so it takes you very much by suprise when you hear your name called out. You turn around to see Cal standing by his bike, waving to you. You wave back with a smile, which is quick to disappear though as you remember your interaction earlier. You just want to get home to crawl into your bed and wallow in self-pity for a bit, but the redhead calls you to him.

“I saw the bus broke down,” he says as you get closer, zipping up his leather jacket and tucking his helmet under his arm. “Need a ride home?”

No, you think, being near you is short circuiting my brain and I need to sort that out.

“I’ve never been on a bike before, though,” comes out of your mouth instead.

“Well, lucky for you I’d be the one driving,” he says with a smile. “As a backpack you just have to lean into the curves, but there’s not much more than that.”

“Backpack?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s what we call the person sitting behind the driver.” You spot the faintest of blushes creeping onto his face, adorning his freckles. “So, what do you say?”

His face, full of expectation, leaning into childish glee almost, is impossible to resist. Heaving a sigh, you laugh a bit to yourself, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“You know what. Why not. We already went to a haunted room today, might as well get ��riding on a motorbike’ off my bucket list today, too.”

“Great!” Cal’s face lights up at your positive response, and he seems to notice it and clears his throat to take his excitement down a notch. He moves to the side a bit so you can take a better look at the bike, telling you its name is BD-1, and doing the whole introduction thing where he points to you, then to the bike and back, saying your name, BD, BD, your name. You have to bite back a smile at how endearing you find that. After what happened today, it’s nice to see that he also has this cute side to him. Playing along, you greet the bike with a ‘Hi BD!’ and pat the handlebar as if it was a dog. Cal chuckles, and produces a second helmet seemingly out of thin air, presenting it to you.

“Wha– Where did you–”

“A biker never reveals his secrets,” he says with a wink, and puts on his own helmet. Your grips tightens lightly on the one you’re now holding as you avert your gaze from his visor. This guy will absolutely be the end of you.

Cal helps you put on the helmet, adjusting the buckle strap underneath your chin and making sure it’s comfortable but not too loose. Turning to the bike, he folds down some pegs on either side of the back wheel, indicating that that’s where you’re going to put your feet, then he gets on first.

“Once you’re on, you can either hold onto me or place your hands here–,” he shows you, patting the round, elevated part of the bike in front of him. “– on the tank.”

Then he instructs you to hop on by placing one foot first to lift yourself off the ground and swing your other leg over. Holding onto his shoulders for balance, you do just that, tightening the straps on your own backpack (pun unintended) so it doesn’t move around once you’ll be on the move. You scoot in your seat a couple of times until you feel your balance settle.

“You good?” he asks, and you realise you’ll surely have a hard time hearing him once you’re driving, over the sound of the engine and the wind.

“Yup!” you reply, taking a shuddering breath that seems to resonate within your helmet, as you snake your arms around his waist, interlocking your fingers.

You feel his torso tense up ever so slightly at the touch, and he kicks up the stand.

“If I pat your leg it means to hold on tighter, okay?”

“Got it,” you confirm, and he tests it out by patting the outside of your knee twice, and you lean even more into him, if that’s possible, tightening your grip. You just hear him chuckle, then start the engine.

He makes a round or two on the parking lot so you can get used to the feeling, and once you feel more comfortable, he heads out onto the street.

As you’ve already mentioned at some point that you live at the dorms, he knows where to take you. You can tell he’s riding extra carefully, not zooming through in-between cars and making sure that the stops and starts at the traffic lights are smooth.

Because of the noise and the helmets, having a conversation is unfortunately impossible, so you just enjoy the sensations. The whistle of the wind rushing by you, the humming of the engine, which you can feel in your whole body, both through the bike itself and Cal. The way he taps your leg when you loosen your grip without noticing. At least it was on accident the first time. After some minutes you tried it again, slowly letting go, and his gloved hand was on your leg again, lingering this time until you held on properly. Then he placed his hand over both of yours, giving a light squeeze. Ah, did he catch on?

Alas, the ride is already over by the time you feel like you really mastered being a proper backpack, and the bike slows down as Cal drives into the street of your apartment complex.

Once he fully stops and kicks down the stand, he gives your arms a pat, indiciating for you to hop off. Misjudging the height and being slightly sore from the unfamiliar seating position, you don’t properly step onto the ground, your knee giving in and the rest of your body threatening to follow. But Cal is quick to catch you and bring you back to your feet without even having gotten off completely himself.

“You alright?” he asks, sliding off the seat completely, then taking off his helmet and running his hand through his hair. His red fiery hair, now messed up from the helmet… You really want to run your own fingers through it.

At your lack of response, he leans a bit closer into your visor, repeating the question. You snap out of your trance with a sheepish laugh, trying and failing to undo the buckle on the helmet strap. Cal takes off his gloves and skillfully opens it, helping you remove the thing. You don’t even want to know what your hair looks like right now, so you try your best to smooth it out blindly.

“I’m good, yes. Guess getting on is easier than getting off the bike.”

“It gets easier with practice,” he responds. “That is, if you ever want to ride again. You can. I mean with me. If you’d like.”

He looks around, the driveway is luckily empty, so no one can see him embarrass himself by stumbling over his own words. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you; he’s too cute.

“I’d love to, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course. You did good today.”

You look in the direction of your dorm, then down at the helmet you’re still holding.

“Guess you need this back, then.”

“I don’t have any way to carry it right now, so why don’t you hold onto that for now,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck as he leans back a bit to half sit on the side of the bike. “Besides, the bus might break down again. Why don’t I give you a ride to class tomorrow morning, too?”

By now your heartrate is absolutely out of control. How does he look so effortlessly cool? And he’s inviting you to ride again? Maybe more than once?

You involuntarily hug the helmet to your chest, hoping the sound of your erratic hearbeat doesn’t echo through it and make it loud enough for Cal to hear. Taking out his phone, he suggests exchanging numbers so you can text him when to pick you up and he can tell you when he’s on his way. Taking it from his hands, you type in your number and call, hearing your own ringtone coming from your pocket, and give it back. You don’t see what he types in as your contact name as he’s quick about it, putting the device away again.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you say, swaying back and forth lightly on the ball of your feet. “Thank you for taking me home. It was fun.”

“My pleasure,” he says with a genuine smile. “And don’t forget your substantial dinner.”

With that, he puts on his helmet. As he gets onto the bike and kicks back the stand, you consider running up to him one last time to place a kiss on his helmet, but you find yourself paralysed by… what exactly, you don’t know.

“Drive safe!” you call out to him instead with a wave, as he drives onto the street. He gives you a two finger salute, tires screeching on the pavement as he takes off. Yeah, he was definitely being considerate of you when you were on the bike.

You feel like you’re floating on a cloud and being pulled down by a gravity tenfold as strong, all at the same time. You’re clearly into him. It seems he’s interested as well. What’s holding you back? These and many other questions roam your brain as you try to fall asleep that night.

The next morning, as promised, Cal is waiting for you. This time he brings a proper biker jacket as well, which is padded in the important places. Where he got it from and how he knows your size, you don’t even bother asking, knowing he wouldn’t tell.

Despite the buses working just fine, form that day on it becomes somewhat of a routine. Whenever your schedules will allow it, he’ll take you to class and back home. You offer paying for gas since going by your place is out of his way, even though he insists it isn’t. He never takes you up on your offer.

Weeks go by in the blink of an eye, both of you getting more comfortable around each other, engaging in friendly banter bordering in flirtations, but never really crossing the line or making an actual move. Before you know it, exams are just around the corner, so the library is busy. Still, you manage to study in the slower hours. But you keep catching yourself looking at the entrance, waiting for a certain someone to walk in.

After exams are over, Sabine and Ezra organise a well deserved party at her place. Her family is away for the weekend, but they were okay with a party as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. Ahsoka also invites a handful of her friends so there’s a decent amount of people of different ages. You have friendly chats with many of them, who also give you good tips on studying, the best places to get coffee near uni, or tell you funny stories about the teachers.

The party is where you meet Anakin and Padme, Ahsoka’s best friends aside from Rex, who are more or less the power couple at the university. They’ve been together since the first year and everyone knows about them. Even you have heard a lot about them; there are some wild rumours around. But you’re seeing them for the first time now, and you can’t shake the feeling that they look familiar.

As you, Sabine, Ahsoka and the two are standing in the kitchen, sipping on your drinks, the conversation somehow flows into urban legend territory. That’s where Padme tells you and Sabine about the lovebird legend, saying that there is an off-limits room in the uni building where it is said that a couple died tragically as the ceiling came down on them.

“Despite the tragedy, the legends still make people go down there to leave their pictures and love notes,” Padme explains.

“Alleged tragedy,” Anakin interjects with a playful roll of his eyes. “If something had actually happened down there, they would close it off properly.” He turns to you as he sees your blank expression, which he interprets as being scared, and gives you a reassuring pat on the back. “Nothing happened down there, trust me.”

Except that your face went blank not out of fear, but because you finally connected the dots.

“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Padme reminisces, linking her arm onto Anakin’s, who looks down at her with an adoring smile. “Even we went down to leave our own note, remember? And it seems it worked.”

“How could I forget,” Anakin laughs. “Initials, picture, locket; we did the whole package.”

The locket you saw that day in the basement comes to your mind. The engraved initials: P & A.

Padme and Anakin.

And now you can also vaguely recognise their younger selves in one of the pictures you see on the wall.

Snapping back into reality, you look at Anakin.

“Is this… common knowledge?” you ask, fidgeting with the drink in your hands. “Does everyone know that’s what it is? Or are there some people who think it’s haunted?”

“Not really?” Anakin shrugs. “I don’t know of anyone who’s ever thought it was actually haunted. Again, the accident is just a rumour to make it more tragic.”

“Yeah, everyone who hears about the story knows people go there hoping to ensure a good love life,” Padme confirms.

“Huh, is that so…” you trail off, heat quickly rising to your face, visible to everyone no doubt, but you can’t be bothered to hide it right now. So Cal knew? He must have known, right?

Sabine elbows you into the side, almost making you spill your drink.

“What’s got you so flustered suddenly?” She narrows her eyes at you, full of mischief. “Don’t tell me, you want to go leave a note for you and you know who?”

That seems to get you out of your trance, and your head snaps back up, frantically looking around to make sure Cal isn’t anywhere near you two. But he’s actually nowhere to be seen, probably outside with his team buddies who are hogging the grill.

“Do you still need to leave a note when you’ve already been there with the person in question?” you ask at no one in particular, and Ahsoka exchanges a knowing look with Anakin and Padme.

“You what?!” Sabine whisper-screams. “How? When?”

“Uuh, a couple of weeks ago,” you say, suddenly remembering the other thing you saw that day. “Also, did you know Kenobi is married? And that his husband is part of the psychology department? They totally made out in the husband’s office.”

Sabine’s face morphs into several different things consecutively, first confusion at why you’re bringing that up now, then questioning why you even know that, then wondering if she even wants to know.

“You know,” Padme interjects. “Obi-Wan and Cody Kenobi were actually one of the first ever couples to leave their note in the basement. If they’re still together, then it really must work, huh.” She leans in ever so slightly, lowering her voice as she asks you, “Why, is there anyone you’re interested in? Someone who wouldn’t happen to be here right now?”

You pull a bit of a grimace and look to Ahsoka, who had followed the whole thing with amusement but without intervening. Seeing your pleading look, she nods, indicating that Padme is trustworthy with these kind of things.

“Yes, actually,” you reply in a small voice. “To both.”

Padme clasps her hands together in delight, asking if you’ll show her the person in question. Anakin just laughs, saying he’ll go find something to eat, and Ahsoka joins him. So it’s just you, Padme and Sabine left. You walk around for a while until you find your favourite redhead leaning on the open doorframe that leads to the yard, talking to one of his teammates. They’re all wearing their team jackets, and you can’t help your eyes roaming his body for a moment, enjoying the view.

As if he could feel your eyes on him, he suddenly turns his head to you, and you get caught yet again staring. But this time you don’t look away in shame, you stand your ground and give him a smile and a small wave, which he returns, then goes back to his conversation as if nothing happened.

You turn back to the girls, both of them giving you a knowing smile and little giggles.

“Oh, shut up, you.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Sabine says.

“Your face said it all.”

“Yeah, as did yours,” she teases.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You might as well be on actual fire right now, as hot as you feel.

“I’m getting another drink,” you say, pinching Sabine in the cheek and looking to Padme. “Please make sure she doesn’t embarrass me any further.”

Padme laughs but agrees, promising to keep an eye on her.

You walk to the kitchen, where a new group of people has claimed the space to have their conversation. You quickly refill your cup, excusing yourself from them with a polite nod, and leave through the other door, looking for a way outside to get some fresh air. But you find yourself in what seems to be the dining room. This house is so big, I think I might actually get lost here, you think, looking around for another exit.

You turn on your heels when a guy, evidently drunk, approaches you. Givng him a quick once over, you find that you don’t recognise him. While this was a closed invitation party, unfortunately there’s always the few people who think it’s okay to just bring another buddy along who also brings their friend, leading to a handful of people that no one really invited or even knows. This is one of them.

You intend to walk past him, but he takes a side step to block your path. Taking a quick step back to have some distance between you and him, you try the other side, but again he cuts you off.

“Can you let me through?”

“What are you doing here all alone?” His words are slurred, and he suddenly grabs onto your wrist with a strong grip.

“Wha–? Let me go!” The back and forth until you finally manage to get your arm free makes you spill your drink onto the floor.

He seems unfazed by this, grunting in annoyance and trying to grab you again, but you evade his movements this time, taking several steps back.

“I said back off! Leave me alone!”

Now he has you cornered against the wall, and you consider your options. He stretches out his hand again to take ahold of you, but before he reaches you, Cal has appeared through another archway to your right and grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from you. Two of his football buddies follow.

“Which part of ‘back off’ do you not understand?” he growls at the guy, letting him go with a shove. “Get lost.”

“And who do you think you are? You’re interrupting–” the guy starts, grabbing Cal by the shoulder and turning him around, but before he can even finish his sentence, Cal clocks him in the jaw, and the guy falls to the ground ungracefully, landing in your puddle from earlier with a grunt. The two other guys that arrived with Cal grab him, one arm each, and carry him away, probably outside to kick him out.

Cal turns to you, shaking the hand he hit the other guy with.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he approaches you, wanting to hold your arms, but his hands only hover over you as he looks you over for any injuries.

“I’m– I’m okay. Thank you,” you croak out, blinking repeatedly to process what just happened. Cal gingerly holds your wrist up, inspecting it. You can already see some dark marks forming where the guy before had grabbed you. Cal’s thumb strokes over the inside of your wrist soothingly, his eyes finding yours, and you’re unable to look away. He’s about to say something when voices call out to you. He turns around to see Sabine, Ahsoka and Ezra approaching.

“Are you okay? What happened?” she asks, seeing the puddle on the ground just in time and walking around it.

“Some guy was really drunk, he grabbed my arm and–”

“And I punched him,” Cal finishes.

Sabine raises a brow at that, giving you a look.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Ezra apologises. “I told everyone to not just show up with random people. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Ezra, it’s okay. Really guys, I’m fine.” You swallow down whatever is trying to bubble up, be it a nervous breakdown after a scary situation or just the fact that Cal saved your bacon. Shoving it all into the back of your brain to deal with later, you smile at your friends. “The jerk is dealt with, it’s all good, really. Now let’s go back to enjoying the party. I heard you have a karaoke machine?”

“Yeah,” Sabine says and gives you a questioning look. ‘You sure you're okay?’ At the insistence in your own eyes, she nods. “Okay then, let’s go sing our lungs out. C’mon, guys.”

Ezra apologises again before following Sabine. Ahsoka asks you if you’re sure you’re good, you insist that yes everything is fine, so she leaves as well.

You look to Cal with a grateful smile, about to head out as well, but he stops you.

“Uhm, actually, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, again scratching his neck in that adorably shy manner, and your breath might or might not have hitched there. “Next week we have a big game against another school team. Do you want to come? And possibly cheer for us?”

“I was wondering if I could ever go to one of your games,” you reply sincerely, smiling up at him. “I’ll cheer for you.”

“For my team or for me specifically?” he remarks with an inquisitive grin, but to your relief, the music from the living room hits your ears before you can even come up with a smooth reply.

“Oh, that’s my jam, c’mon!” You hook your arm around Cal’s and drag him to where everyone’s waiting, both of you laughing.

— — — — —

The match is intense. You don’t really know all the rules, but you can feel the tension in the air.

You cheer for Cal from where you sit on the bleachers with Sabine, Ezra and everyone else, all of you shouting and cheering. You haven’t even entirely recovered from the karaoke session, so this surely isn’t helping your vocal chords, but you don’t care.

Every now and then he looks up from where he is on the field, searching for you in the crowd. He pats the outside of his knee twice when he does, and every time you can feel the rush of heat and giddiness crashing over you. It’s the same gesture he does when you’re on his bike. It’s like a secret signal between the two of you. You don’t care about biting back the giant smile on your face or trying to hide how flustered you look every time he spots you among the audience, and Sabine catches on.

The timer on the giant screen counts down the last seconds of the match, both teams are tied. Cal goes into the offensive, and they make one heck of a play, scoring the last point just before the timer buzzes. Everyone in the audience stands up cheering, clapping, whistling. You as well.

As the announcer wraps up the game and the players leave for the changing rooms, Sabine and you head down to the entrance. Many are already leaving, since the match is over, but friends and family of the players are waiting for them to come out to celebrate.

Sabine and Ezra exchange curious looks with each other, and Sabine elbows you into the side.

“So?” Ezra asks.

“So what? “ you retort.

“Are you gonna make a move?” Sabine chimes in.

“On Cal?”

“Who else!"

“I don’t know…” you respond, unsure. “I don’t want to read too much into it–”

“Ohmygod,” Ezra groans as he shakes you by the shoulders. “You’re both so smitten with each other, it’s starting to be unbearable to watch.

You laugh nervously. Does he really think that?

“Guys! Here they come,” Sabine interrupts you two as she spots the winning team.

Ezra lets go of you after one last shake, and you all turn to face the players, now showered and changed back into their normal clothes.

Cal’s eyes roam the space until they find yours, and you think you might go blind by his smile. He’s positively glowing. You’re just expecting to maybe hug him, congratulate him on the win, and then you’ll all go get food together as you’ve planned.

Instead, Cal doesn’t slow down as he approaches you, throwing his arms around your torso and lifting you into the air, spinning you around a couple of times. You hold on to him with a squeak of surprise, and he laughs so heartily, you’re actually glad he’s holding you in the air, because your legs surely would have given out.

Once gently placed back onto the ground, you just kind of look at each other, until Ezra loudly clears his throat, and Cal quickly lets go of you. After you guys say your congratulations to Cal and the rest of his team, you head out to the restaurant. It’s nearby so you decide to walk, the weather is nice even though it's the evening.

The rest of the night, you and Cal seem to tiptoe around each other, like there’s suddenly an invisible line that has been drawn, and you’re both waiting for the other to cross over first. You exchange smiles, glances, accidental touches followed by apologies.

Once the food is gone and the adrenaline starts depleting, it’s time to head home. Cal offers to walk you home, since you’re still relatively close to the dorms. Anakin drove to the game, so he takes the rest back with him in his car.

After you say your goodbyes to the group, not without getting some definitely non-inconspicuous looks from your two besties, it dawns on you that once you’re home, Cal will be stranded there. You bring it up to him, and for a minute you actually consider offering for him to stay the night, but you’re actually not mentally or emotionally prepared for that. So you’re glad when he says he doesn’t mind, he’ll just get a cab or something when he's there, since he got a ride with his coach to the game today and didn’t ride his bike.

You’re walking down the street in comfortable silence, surrounded by the darkness that's already taken over the sky. You look up expecting to see stars, but you’re disappointed to see clouds. In fact, dark, low hanging clouds, threatening to spill over any moment.

“Huh, when did it get this stormy,” you wonder aloud, and as if on cue, a gust of wind picks up, sending some leaves and debris flying over the street.

“I’m pretty sure there was no rain announced today–”

The moment Cal says that, it comes pouring down all at once.

“What the–! Argh!” you groan in frustration at the sudden downpour, but Cal just laughs, taking your hand as he pulls you away.

“Come on!”

You let yourself be led to take shelter under an awning. You look down at yourself, already soaked even though you were exposed for mere seconds. The sound of rain hitting the ground drowns everything else. You look out with a pout, knowing you’ll have to wait out the weather to get anywhere.

Suddenly you feel a weight on your shoulders. You look to the side to see Cal placing his varsity jacket on you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t welcoming the warmth. Given that today was supposed to be a clear night, you didn’t really have that many layers, so you gladly slide your arms into the sleeves, hugging yourself.

Instead of letting go completely of the jacket though, Cal keeps readjusting the collar, tugging on one side so that you turn until you’re fully facing him. A droplet of water falls from his hair onto his cheek. You uncross your arms, slowly bringing your hands up to his forearms, shyly holding onto them.

“Can i kiss you?” he asks without looking away. And you couldn’t have even if you wanted to, it’s like his ocean eyes held yours in a tight embrace, unable to move. You don’t answer immediately, despite every fiber in your body screaming yes!

“I’m scared,” you finally say in a small voice, almost getting drowned out by the raging rain. Cal’s head backtracks a bit in surprise.

“What of?”

“It’s silly,” you pout again, this time looking away, but his hand finds your cheek, bringing your gaze back to him.

“You can tell me,” he assures you. You let out a sharp breath of frustration at yourself.

“I’ve just… never felt like this before,” you admit. “I'm scared of how much of an effect you have over me, I suppose, and as such making a fool of myself. I want you to like me, so badly.”

Cal tilts his head slightly to the side, offering a warm reassuring smile.

“I can assure you, I feel the same way about you.”

“I don't believe you,” you retort with a scoff. “You always look so collected and confident and just generally cool.”

“On the outside, maybe. But trust me, I'm freaking out on the inside. Check for yourself.”

He takes your hand and places it on his chest, leaving his hand on yours. His heart is beating at a quick pace. The moment you look up again and meet his eyes, the pace picks up. In the faint light you can see a blush spreading on his face, heart pounding against his ribcage, with yours to match.

“Same here,” you say.

“I know,” he replies with a bit of mischief, his other hand on your cheek moving down a bit to your neck, where you now know he can feel your pulse.

You know he’s still waiting for your answer, but you decide to tease him. Just a bit. Besides, this question has been burning on your tongue for what feels like an eternity now.

“When we went down to the basement, you knew it wasn’t haunted, right?” you ask, and he has to adjust to the sudden change of topic, looking surprised at first, then laughing heartily. You continue, “You knew it was a thing that couples do?”

“Ah, you got me,” he replies with a light shrug.

“Did you plan the whole thing out from the start?”

“Actually, no.” He looks away for a moment with a faint smile, thinking back to that day, then meets your eyes again. “I did want to go there with you but didn’t know how to ask. Then I saw you at the vending machine, and the whole thing with Kenobi happened, and it was just too good of an opportunity to pass.”

“I can’t believe I got played like that,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know, had you told me back then that you liked me, I would have gone willingly to the basement to leave a note.”

“Guess I was scared, too.”

“That’s fair,” you say, your hands coming up to his face to hold it properly now. You smooth your thumb over his cheekbone, and he leans into your touch. “Well, now that that’s sorted out: yes, yes you can.”

Cal leans in, catching your lips in his, and he holds you so tenderly, you might as well melt down and get swept away by the rain. Your whole body burns, and you grab a fistful of his shirt in an attempt to pull him closer. His hands travel down your arms to snake around your waist between his jacket and your damp shirt, holding you up as you involuntarily put more of your weight on him, the legs under you threatening to give in completely.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back only enough to pepper your whole face in little kisses, making you giggle.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he remarks, trailing kisses down your jaw, then coming back up to place one last kiss on your lips, which you chase after as he pulls back again, and he chuckles.

“We should get going,” he says, taking your hands in his. “The rain stopped, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“Right,” you mumble, still trying to come down from the high of that kiss.

You start walking down the street hand in hand, and you swing them back and forth between the two of you. You’re almost at your place when he gets a call. Taking his phone out, he picks up and puts it on speaker; it’s Anakin. He asks if Cal needs a ride because of the sudden rain.

“You’re asking now?” Cal laughs. “Well, you sure took your time.”

“I assumed you were… occupied.”

Your face burns up yet again, tips of your ears on fire, as Cal shoots you a funny look.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he says into the phone.

“Oh my god–!” you squeak, hiding your face in your hands as you hear Padme’s cheering in the background. “But yes, please come pick him up. Or he might get sick. We’re both soaking wet.”

Cal holds back a laugh, and you grab onto his wrist to bring the phone closer to you.

“From the rain! Soaked from the rain!” you say firmly into the phone. “Geez...!”

After some more snickers, Anakin and Cal coordinate where he should pick him up. It’s just a street over from your dorm, so you have to part ways there.

“Let’s go somewhere this weekend,” Cal suggests as you’re hugging him goodbye.

“Like where?”

“I’ll show you one of my favourite spots. How about that? Bring your helmet.”

“Ooh, roadtrip with BD. I’m in,” you agree.

Cal leans in to leave a lingering kiss on your cheek, but before he can pull back completely, you sneak in a peck on the corner of his mouth. Even in the darknes, the streelight the only source of illumination, you can see the furious blush on his face. If it were up to you, you’d kiss him until the sun comes back up, but the both of you really need to take a warm shower and get to bed.

“It’s a date then,” Cal says with a wink and takes a couple of steps back, waving at you, then turning fully to walk towards the pick-up spot.

“Yeah, a date…” you whisper to yourself dreamily.

— — — — —

True to his word, Cal takes you to his favourite place. You packed some food and drinks for the road, then headed out. By now you’re far more comfortable on the bike, so you can actually enjoy the view as well. The farther away you get from the city, the more you’re surrounded by forests, farms and you even cross a lake. Starting to gain elevation as he drives up the meandering narrow street, you arrive at a vantage point of sorts. There’s a small parking lot by the road, with a public restroom and some picnic tables. You two get off the bike, walking to the fence which feels to be right at the edge of the cliff, showing a fantastic view into a giant valley.

Your date takes its course; you eat, you chat, you even remembered to pack some cards so you play a couple of rounds on the table.

When it’s time to head back, you’re packing your things, both of you standing by the bike.

“So, how’d you like it?” he asks.

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, letting your eyes roam over the landscape once more. You arrived here in the early afternoon, and now the sun is just about to set.

“Anything else you’d like to do before we head back?”

You think it over. You already ate, took some pictures, enjoyed the view. There’s really not much else to do here. But then a thought occurs to you.

“I, uhm…” For some reason you get shy with your request. “Is there any way we can sit on the bike facing each other? Not to drive, just to chill here a little longer. I’d like to see the full sunset.”

His brows rise in surprise, the slight blush on his cheeks not escaping you, and you wonder what it was about what you’re asking that caused it.

“Sure. Here–”

He grabs you from underneath your arms, picking you up as you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you like you weigh nothing, and swings one of his legs over the bike to take a seat like he normally would, placing you onto the tank. You unwrap your legs so that they’re hanging over his things, and that’s when you realise you just asked for you to straddle him. Not that you’re opposed to the result.

You try finding your seat on the round tank, but you slip down further into his lap, now fully sitting on him.

“Whoah, sorry,” you try to scoot back up but you’re essentially stuck. “Is this okay? Should I move back?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, looking to the side for a moment as he holds you by your waist, trying to hold you still, and he clears his throat nervously. “This is every biker’s dream, believe me. Are you comfortable?”

You hum in positive response, trying to accommodate to the position in his lap by squirming a little, and his grip on you tightens again. You hear him take a sharp breath though his teeth.

“Ah, sorry…” you say as you realise what you’re doing. You place your hands on his chest, trying to hold still. For a moment you just sit there, looking at each other in silence, both of you starting to relax into each others’ holds.

Then a gust of wind picks up, ruffling up his hair. Golden hour hits him just right, the fiery red strands on his head shine gold and copper in the sunlight, his hundreds of freckles seem to glisten on his skin, begging for you to trace over them with your fingers, his ocean eyes now have a hint of green and specks of gold in them, darting up and down as he studies your face as well. Your heart all but bursts at the sight.

“What?” he asks after a while, chuckling.

“You're breathtaking,” you blurt out in full honesty, holding his face, wondering how it was possible for such a beautiful human being to exist? And he chose to be with you?

Your answer definitely takes him off-guard, as his face blushes violently, from his neck to the tip of his ears. He can’t hold your gaze, looking to the side. It takes a couple of attempts to form a proper sentence.

“You can’t say that with such a straight face, damn,” he laughs nervously. He leans his forehead on your shoulder in an attempt to hide his burning cheeks, but you cup his face and bring him back up to look at you.

“Besides,” he adds after a moment, “You only say that because you haven’t seen yourself. If you think that of me, then you’re nothing short of ethereal.”

So much for watching the sunset. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and his words pierce your very heart, but in a good way. Not really knowing what to reply to that, you kiss him instead, burying your fingers in his hair.

Cal reciprocates just as intensely, and you can’t help but arch your back into him, thus rolling your hips into his, to which he groans. Your brain is instantly turned to mush, your body now in charge. He tilts his head to the side, his tongue tracing over your lips, and you gasp as you grant him access. Right now, Cal tastes like honey and cool mornings and the pine trees surrounding you. Your senses are on overload, your skin burns as Cal’s hands slip underneath your shirt, slowly travelling up your back, pressing you into him even more.

Finally breaking for air, Cal kisses your jaw, your neck, biting where your pulse is, and if you could still hear yourself, you’d probably be embarrassed about the noises you’re making.

Then he pulls back rather suddenly, you notice his jaw is tense but you notice his dishevelled hair more, as well as his puffy lips, and the dazed look in his eyes which you’re surely sporting yourself too. You’re both panting, trying to calm your breathing. His hands slide back down and out of your shirt, staying on your thighs instead.

“Maybe,” Cal says between breaths, “Maybe we should take this somewhere… else.”

You run your hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out.

“I think Ahsoka is out for the rest of the night,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He raises a brow at you. You give him an innocent smile.

“Let’s head back then,” he says, picking you up again like before, this time to get you off the bike.

You finish packing up everything, hop on and start your way back to the dorms. All the while, his hand is either on yours or on your leg, lovingly stroking the side of your thigh.

His biker gear really does suit him and you like how he looks in it, but for once, you can’t wait for him to take it off.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane , @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis, @reckoning-star, @wyvernthekriger

#goose feathers #college!au #college!au cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi survivor x reader #star wars x reader #also hey i changed the format a lil bit. what do you think? c:

35 notes · View notes

1tsjusty0u · 8 months ago

Text

god after this im so tempted to make a totk fic where link is in like. a Termina Hell. because it Looks like his hyrule but its not- things thatre supposed to be there (the icy texture is gone around the hebra divine beast hole, the divine beasts and shrines and the shrine of resurrection ((that would mess him up So bad)) animals and fruits like durians and rhinos) arent and things that werent there (mabe lake(?), the bottomless pond which was the bottomless swamp but geographical features changed which ive noted in an unposted theory of sorts, ocotorock lake, lily pads???, caves that have clearly been part of the world before but are never in botw and if they were opened up by ganon then why are there ruins in there like how did they close up) are there. his house isnt his house anymore. npcs arent who they used to be At All??? its like the sheikah never existed?? and nobody mentions it (not even Robbie which, he made tech for you!!!! wheres cherry???????) and like. sure mipha is mentioned and she has a court (though her statue has been replaced in central zoras domain and like. look how the zoras viewed her after death is complicated and matyring her while also literally forgetting who she actually was but instead focusing on her image and what she represented wasnt the greatest thing. theres probably a better representation of her than that statue. but them replacing it??? and moving it so far away???????????? like. i was so mad before because i thought they just got rid of mipha entirely. like if the statue was replaced with something Other than link and sidon or just. something related to mipha!!! then it wouldnt have been that bad. ok sorry. but anyways and shes mentioned in sidons holdup (not wanting others to die, which is fair), but otherwise thats it. truthfully it isnt that bad (its still Bad dont get me wrong. but at least shes mentioned </3) however paired with the other champions treatment (little to no mention) and also there being no evidence of the shekiah tech and the divine beasts (except for a reference to vah medoh), its just. its almost like they werent important when they Were. i know moving on is like. important. however that doesnt just mean you forget someone entirely. both in like repeating history terms but also in grieving and how instead of grief growing smaller the world grows bigger in that one diagram. theres still offerings to the dead and such across cultures its. ofuejdjndndndnd biting the bars of my cage. sorry anyways!!

its just. it would be so jarring. termina clearly isnt hyrule and link knows it. id argue it actually helps link to a certain degree, maybe helping others helps him help himself + skull kid and tatl and tael and him understanding each other snd that jazz. but if this (totk) was termina it would only ruin link as a person/his mental state. from the above and also just. no one mentioning anything. not zelda knowing ganon and ganon not mentioning being like. half sealed. its like a divine prank on him (hey tp). how long would it take him to realize that this Isnt his hyrule- that that zelda isnt the one he knows, nor the champions and him seemingly (besides sidon) being the only to remember them, or that the people he met back in his hyrule arent the same ones here, or that even the divine beasts, things he probably didnt like before, he now misses because theyre just gone. funhouse mirror world. how does he get out, or is he just going insane? maybe if he could just find them- find the beasts, the shrines (theres depths holes where some used to be- they have to be out there. they have to be. please), find whatever evidence left by the champions, the sheikah, just maybe they can remember! or maybe hes trapped here, eternally tortured because of something he doesnt even know about. maybe he did this to himself. please let him out

#totk critical #i would have to come up with how he got there + if his zelda is actually there too #and also how hed get out and also a happy ending. im not letting him have a sad one here #but yeah. later date thing #oh my god this is sort of long. oops

8 notes · View notes

pulaasul · 1 year ago

Text

Geats Headcanons.

I figured tumblr bloggers such as @acequinz and @narashikari are always requested by people, me especially, to give us their headcanons for Kamen Rider Geats characters.

I thought, I should balance that out by giving out my own headcanons for the Geats characters.

Ukiyo Ace:

The golden coin he always finds in each of his lives acts as his personal ID core and makes him remember his past lives.

He has acquired a lot of skills in his various lives by way of a DGP wish or working hard to learn that certain skillset.

He learned draw and paint by being in the same vicinity as Michelangelo.

He learned to appreciate art in all its forms by being around Shakespeare.

We can also blame his association with Shakespeare to the fact that he knows how to fool someone like Keiwa into giving him the Boost Buckle the first time and how he tricked Keiwa into doing something to get the Ninja Buckle.

His past lives lived a pretty long life, often times going into the hundreds its how he came to be associated with both Shakespeare and Michelangelo.

He has perfect pitch, in which he can determine what note a certain sound makes and if a certain song is off by a note or two.

He has acquired it because of his Rider powers, his awareness of space made him literally aware of everything around him, including sound.

His Rider form’s perfect pitch bled into his civilian form and thus, singer Ukiyo Ace is born.

Ace’s first television role was in a BL as the guy who was literally and figuratively dumped by his on screen boyfriend in front of the trash can.

Suffice to say, he stole the scene and he’s become the star he is today.

Although he was already dubbed Star of the Stars of the Stars by the public even before that because of his ad works.

His first major role was in a drama where his character was killed by his on screen mother because he was an “Impossible Existence”.

Due to the nature of the DGP, he;s always took on modeling gigs and guest appearances and not a major role.

He got this title with his wish, he’s confident he gets to keep it forever. Afterall his previous lives wishes, he got to keep them, this was no different.

It’s not like he needs to work.

Ever since meeting Neon, he’s made guest appearances in her channel, boosting his and Neon’s popularity.

His company was not a fan of his random appearances but they can’t say he’s breached contract because he’s always appeared on Neon’s videos randomly.

Whenever he eats with anyone like Neon, Keiwa (with or without his sister), and/or Michinaga, he always foots the bill. Neon wouldn’t know how to refuse, Keiwa’s torn between paying for the meals instead or letting Ace pay for it knowing he couldn’t afford what Ace has ordered, Michinaga just clicks his tongue and lets Ace does it anyway.

He’s tried to let his contacts scout both Michinaga and Keiwa but to no avail. He knows they have potential in the entertainment industry, but they’re just afraid of risking it with the two of them.

But due to the beef he and Michinaga shared in the building a home reality show on camera, Michinaga’s gained some fans and he’s still smug about it.

Ace can dance but he needs coaching. It will take him at least a year’s worth of coaching before he can even dance on camera.

Sakurai Keiwa:

Believe it or not, Keiwa entered the hate the world phase.

He had dyed his hair white, hung out with people with questionable attitudes.

He blamed the world for his parents’ death.

It did not help that the hefty sum they inherited from their parents were being spent frugally by his sister.

It also didn’t help that the people who took them in, his mother’s brother, resented both him and his sister because they were added expenses.

They didn’t show it but it was there.

It came to a point where they had to sell a lot of their parents’ belongings and their belongings, including the game console the both of them wanted to buy and got in the same year their parents died.

So yeah he blamed the world for his family woes.

That all changed when his sister fell ill from doing too much.

He was third year in middle school when it happened. While Sara was on the verge of graduating High School (she was second year but details) and they were poised to move out of their uncles home three months after she graduates.

They weren’t kicked out, both she and Keiwa thinks its for the best for both parties.

He was busy ignoring his sister’s rants at her part time jobs when she suddenly collapsed, thankfully she wasn't holding a knife then.

Sara was diagnosed with over-fatigue, and since then Keiwa’s turned over a new leaf, even taking an idealistic approach to life.

One downside being, his idealistic approach was his default answer whenever he was questioned. The reason being if he does stray for that line of thinking, he’d lose the only family he had left. Sara collapsing in front of him traumatized him.

and yes he’s not naive, like a lot of people seem to think he is.

After it was ruled that Sara had better rest from everything, Keiwa took the reigns and hasn’t let go of it since.

He gathered up some courage and asked his uncle’s wife to teach him how to cook., which he was surprisingly good at.

The family has been eating Keiwa’s cooking until they moved out of the house.

He actually expected to take a beating after he blew off his group of misfits for suddenly trying to fit in to the mold, he was rather surprised when they offered him smiles and the best of luck for his new road in life.

He started getting good grades in all of his subjects, he even went as far as trying to learn English on his own, to increase his prospects success may vary, but he’s better than most.

In solidarity with his newfound road in life, Keiwa’s old group recommended him to join a dance group, where he had thrived.

Nowadays, Keiwa barely manages to visit the dance group and dance with them because of his job interviews. He does visit as often as he can.

But with the added responsibility of being a Kamen Rider, he rarely visits the group, he does reassure them he’s fine.

They panicked when Sara asked them where he was, so did Keiwa’s old group (their memory of panicking over Keiwa was erased from their memory once Keiwa’s was wished back to life.)

Keiwa barely has any knowledge about weapons but as soon as he became Kamen Rider Tycoon, he began to search for weapons and tried to learn how to use them online, its why he was good with a crossbow in his second game.

Official papers say Keiwa’s green band gives him an immense amount of luck, which may be true but one of Keiwa’s greatest strengths is adaptability, he can adapt to any given situation and make things work in his favor, barring sabotage and sneak attacks.

Despite the very modest, very modest, life style they live (apparently Sara sleeps on the couch while Keiwa has a bed, as per the recent episode) they still have a lot of money in the bank and they just spend it frugally and are saving it for emergencies.

Keiwa has made appearances in Neon’s streams, but his back is always on the camera so people often speculate who the tall guy was. It even got to a point where people compared his height to Ace’s height because they thought the mysterious guy was just Ace in disguise and this was also the birthplace of platform heels Ace was born.

Keiwa has been with Neon and Ace a lot that people got a little curious about him, to their respective fanbases, Keiwa’s the mysterious guy that both Ace and Neon knows.

Kurama Neon:

Her streams aren’t limited to her escaping her family home. There are times when she streams while she’s on a trip with her mother.

She also streams whenever she feels like dancing.

As the heiress, she’s lived the loneliest life, even before the reveal of the nature of her existence.

After the incident, she wasn’t allowed to go into schools, until her first year of high school

After meeting Ace for real, the both of them danced for a video, Ace was lucky that Neon wasn’t live streaming.

If its “fight-dancing” Ace can dance very well. He can time his “attacks” to the rhythm of the music, so that’s what she and Ace does in her videos.

Neon is good at baseball, at the very least, she’s a good batter.. She snuck to a batting arena a few times where she was able to hit a lot of the baseballs coming right at her.

She has embraced the cat aesthetic when she was in high school and has been her brand since she started her life as an online personality.

She’s not as bad as the others who always add “nya” in their sentences, which a lot of people found annoying, but she does it with her actions. She once retaliated at Ace in a video imitating a cat scratching an offender, which her audience found cute, (especially Sara)

Michinaga Azuma:

He and Toru were more than brothers.

The both of them just had this mutual understanding about each other.

He was really devastated when Toru died.

He had vowed revenge on every Rider because a Rider killed his best friend.

His angry personality has landed him and Toru in various troubles.

After living life as an orphan, he learned to stand up for himself and become the top dog in no time.

Michinaga has joined the DGP for a total of eight times, ever since Toru’s death, not counting the JGP and DR.

Sumida Kanato:

After retiring from the DGP, he has gained friends. He has learned not to push people away.

Which led him to living a peaceful life, not wishing for the world’s destruction.

Koganeya Morio:

After retiring from the DGP, he has surrendered himself to police custody.

And while he’s still skeevy, he doesn’t con his way into and out of situations.

Ganaha Sae:

Aside from Nadge-Sparrow, he’s the only other Rider that can match Ace in athleticism, she might even surpass him. Ace just has an advantage over her just by being aware of his surrounding space,

Sae is the only other Rider that has utilized a lot of the buckles to their potential without being harmonized with them.

One of Sae’s fears was to see her siblings fight in the DGP alongside her.

Ace has offered to sponsor her athletics career one time, but she almost decked him in the face after she joined the DGP for the second time.

After Michinaga, Sae has joined in the DGP the most times, by five.

well that’s all I have for now, it was fun racking my brains for these headcanons.

#kamen rider geats #ukiyo ace #sakurai keiwa #kurama neon #michinaga azuma #sakurai sara #just tagging the main 4 + sara #headcanon

7 notes · View notes

that-was-anticlimactic · 3 years ago

Text

reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

135 notes · View notes

drakenology · 4 years ago

Text

My Other Half. - Bokuto Kōtarō

warnings: smut, soft, passionate love making, fluff, angst?, best friends to lovers, maaaybe overstim?, praise, fem!reader, cunnilingus (a fancy word for pussy eating). just bokuto going all out to make you feel good.

Summary: Two childhood friends reunite after years of being separated to find old memories and new feelings of love.

Author’s Note: this is my first ever like fluffy piece. all my other work I feel has just been raunchy and I wanted to show yall my soft side. enjoy! <3

Bokuto Kotoro. A name you knew well. A name you knew since you were both kids playing in dirt together, running around and screaming without a care in the world. Two peas in a pod; like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell. It was a sad day when he moved away. Your only friend packed up and left for Tokyo, tears in his eyes as he sat in the backseat of his parents’ car. He waved goodbye through the glass window as the car drove away, a trail of his tears seeming to follow the car as it went. That was the last time you saw him.

When you turned twenty one, your birthday present was a small house in Japan. Some place rural and quiet to do your writing, a small creek flowing in your back yard. You packed up and left home, kissing your mother and father goodbye as you walked out the door. Maybe you’ll run into Bokuto? Hell, he probably won’t even recognize you. It’s been years after all.

You still hoped some how some way fate would bring you together again. You missed him like crazy. His laugh, his stupid jokes. That sparkle in his eyes when he saw you at school. The bear hugs he used to give when you scraped your knee playing with him at the park. It was crazy to assume he’d be waiting for you in Tokyo as if you were the only girl he’d ever meet or care to talk to.

He’s grown now, just about a year older than you. He could have a significant other by now. Your heart ached at the thought. Even though it was selfish to call dibs on a childhood crush who hasn’t seen you in over 10 years, you still hoped; prayed that he was waiting for you or at least remembered you.

When you arrive in your new home and settle in you decide to take the town. Surely you can make some friends, maybe even meet a guy while you’re out? You don’t bother to get all gussied up, walking outside your front door and walking to the nearest bar you can drink your inhibitions away in. The bar you found was small and smelled a bit like sweaty athletes and sake.

The atmosphere was lively despite the off putting smell, everyone was laughing and chatting aloud. The sounds of glasses clinking in celebration and jovial cheering filled the space. You smile softly at the sight of everyone having a great time and find a spot in a nice booth by the window.

The guys behind you must be where the sweaty smell was coming from, their clammering laughter pounding at your head. You try ignoring it until you hear a different yet familiar voice; boisterous and proud like a boy you once knew.

“Yo, Akaashi! Pass the ketchup man, I’m hungry!” He whined childishly, same as always. You turn around swiftly to see if the face matched the voice. Surely enough there he was sitting there, tall as a tree even when sitting in his seat.

God he got so handsome, his face definitely grew into his looks. Bokuto wasn’t a little boy anymore for sure. You stammer, looking between Bokuto and his messy haired friend sitting next to him and a few others. You go to say something only for your own anxiety to stop you, your heart fluttering in your chest in a new way you haven’t felt before.

Finally Bokuto’s eyes meet yours and you both sit there for a while just staring, as if each of you couldn’t believe you were seeing each other again after all this time in forever. Bokuto’s face crept into a smile; a familiar smile that melted your heart.

“Y/n-chan? Tell me you’re joking! I can’t believe it’s you!” Bokuto shouts over everyone’s conversation, leaping from his seat and running towards your booth. You’re still stuck there turned around looking like an owl gawking at the table behind you to realize what’s going on.

Bokuto practically lifts you from your seat and wraps you in one of his famous bear hugs, the ones that made you cry into his chest. As tradition called, you start sobbing into his shirt. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him in tight almost to tell him not to let you go ever again.

“Hey hey hey.. why are you crying? Shit you’re gonna make me cry. Stop it.” Bokuto says into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your back with his big hand.

“I-I’m sorry I just.. it’s been so long.” You admit, sniffling as he pulled away to wipe your face. You can’t help but get emotional at the sight of him.

“Geez, Y/N if you missed me just say that.” Bokuto teased, erupting into furious laughter at your flustered face.

“Oh shut up Bokuto!” You squeak, punching him in his side like the old days. Your usual banter made you two look at each other and laugh as if you two were the only ones in the bar, his friends staring at the the two of you as if you were insane.

“Uh Bokuto.. who is this woman?” The messy haired friend asked, looking about the most confused out of everyone.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry guys. This is Y/N Y/L/N. Other than Akaashi, she’s one my closest friends. Our moms were close so we were raised kinda like siblings.” Bokuto explained, nudging you to say hello.

You wave and introduce yourself, the everyone ooing and ahhing at you. Not to toot your horn but you were gorgeous. Even Bokuto couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He was thinking of how well you grew up, so stunning and so you. Bokuto remembers the little scar you had just above your eyebrow from tripping over and rock and smiles when he sees it, almost wanting to reach out and poke it like when he did when he was 10. He wonders if you remember that day.

You were playing pretend by the trees in the park, you were good and he was evil. You were chasing him and you tripped and fell, causing the evil doer act to shed away to make sure you were alright. You both made up a crazy story about your scar to your mother; which she never believed. Good times.

The rest of the night was spent catching up and talking like he wasn’t even with others originally. Everyone else eventually had gone home, Akaashi the last to go. He waved goodbye to you and Bokuto and drove home, you and Bokuto still sitting at the bar basking in each other’s company.

“Wow! So your parents got you a place here so you can work? Nice. And you live nearby too. So I can come and visit you and- sorry I’m rambling.” Bokuto says sheepishly, running his hands along the nape of his neck. You giggle, taking a sip of your drink.

“No no, you’re fine Bokuto. Of course you can visit. My house is your house.” You smile, Bokuto’s cheeks heating up as he blushed. You check the time and notice it was far too late and stand from your seat.

“It’s late, Kō, we should call it a night.” You say, grabbing your things. Bokuto smiles and stands up with a stretch of his limbs; relishing in his old nickname.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

You two talk and talk all the way home, years of catching up to do feeling long over due. When you get to your home you almost feel sad that you’re about to depart from each other. It felt like you weren’t going to see him again. Bokuto pulls you into a hug, spinning you around a little. He laughs when you squeal and yell at him to put you down.

“Hey. I’ll come by tomorrow night so we can watch movies.” He declares, standing you on your feet.

“Hah. How do you know I won’t have plans, hm?” You teased, poking Bokuto’s forehead. It was a lot easier when you were younger since he was shorter than you back then. Boy sprouted like a palm tree.

“You just moved here. Besides. You know I’m your favorite.” Bokuto smirks, taking your hand and spinning you. You giggle and punch his shoulder lightly.

“As if, Kō. See ya tomorrow.”

A month goes by swiftly. Bokuto had been over to your house more often than you thought he’d be. You loved the time you spent together just goofing off and being big kids.

Your schedules worked perfectly together, his volleyball is usually done by the evening and your work is over just after him. Bokuto would pick you up from work with fast food waiting in the car for you both to eat together. Today was no different, the smell of fries greeting your hungry nose as you climb inside his car.

“Yo! How was your day, nerd?” Bokuto asks, fisting his fries into his mouth as you dig for yours.

“It was okay. I’m starving though.” You say, stuffing your face with your food.

You both sit in the car and eat for a while, Bokuto’s phone breaking your shared silence. You look down at where it rested in the cup holder and read the caller id. It was a girl. Bokuto answers the phone, sounding as if he didn’t want her to call him right at this moment.

“I’ll call you back. Bye.” He said, hanging up his phone and sitting it back in the cup holder. You couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, your heart sinking as your head makes up several sceanarios about who she was, what she meant to him.

You eat in silence, answering Bokuto’s yammering with no ambition. Bokuto’s so dumb he doesn’t even notice the difference in attitude as the call wasn’t as scandalous as you seemed. It was just some girl who was trying to get with Akaashi but was too afraid to say anything herself so she had asked Bokuto to set them up.

“My place or yours today?” He asked, sing songy and happy.

“Mine.” You say monotonously. Bokuto looks over at you and sees you’re not even facing him, your face stuck to the window as he drove off.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I smell?” Bokuto said, playfully smelling his armpits. You shake your head and insist it’s nothing and that you’ll get over it. But it wasn’t nothing, and you were pretty certain you weren’t going to get over it. Was that his girlfriend? Some random hook up looking for another round? It made you sick to your stomach thinking about it. You got out of the car when Bokuto parked, walking to your front door to unlock it as Bokuto followed behind you.

“I pick the movie out this time. I’ll be damned if you pick another chick flick out.” Bokuto says plopping on your couch and turning on the tv, making himself at home.

You sigh and walk into your room to change into something more comfortable, rolling your eyes as you hear Kōtarō yell about the movie starting. You walk out in shorts and a tank top since it was pretty hot inside and sit next to him, folding your arms.

Bokuto’s eating his snacks and talking through the whole movie since he’s seen it before. He always picks a movie he’s seen before so he can tell you the whole plot, forgetting that you could just watch the movie for that. You half laugh and sigh at all his mannerisms, your guard completely blocking him out from getting any closer to you.

“Is something wrong, Y/N? Seriously you’re being a little stand offish.” Bokuto says, a serious tone taking place. You scoffed, rolling your eyes to hide that you’re obviously upset by something.

“Nothing.” You snide.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. Somethin’s wrong. Don’t make me start guessing.” Bokuto says. You sigh.

“It’s so stupid.” You admit.

“How you feel isn’t stupid. Tell me what’s up.” He persisted, pausing the movie.

“I just- well.. I-How do I say this? I’m.. jealous?” You finally admit. Bokuto raises an eyebrow.

“Jealous? About what?”

“Well. I saw a girl call you and I-I just assumed it was your girlfriend so..”

“Wait what? I don’t have a girlfriend. And besides why would you care?” Bokuto further questions, his face nearing yours with a perplexed look on his face. You flush, turning your face away from his.

“I-I don’t know I just-“

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you Y/N?” Bokuto smirks, turning your head to face him with your chin. You blink up at him, embarrassed and flustered.

“I-um-I...” You stutter. You loved the idiot sitting next to you with all your heart. But to say it was a different story.

“Because I love you too. So say it back.” Bokuto declares. You freeze for a moment, almost unsure you heard what you just heard.

“R-Really?”

“I love you, Y/N. The moment I saw you again felt like...fate. It was like everything made sense again. I never realized how much tou meant to me until I left that day. You’re my other half.” He says to you so sweetly, his words stirring up emotions inside you that were aching to be let out. Your eyes sting as you choke back tears, clutching onto Bokuto’s hands.

“Kōtarō... I-I love you too. All those years felt so empty without you. And God I just wanted to kiss you that day at the bar and I-“

Bokuto stops you midsentence to pull his face into yours and kiss you hard, your heads bumping into each other a bit from the sudden movement. Passion flowed through the kiss, your mouths exploring each others for the very first time. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go to straddle him.

Bokuto welcomes you onto his lap with ready hands, palms feeling every curve and divot of your body. Your need for each other grew with each kiss, mindlessly grinding against each other to feel closer. Every touch of his big hands made you feel alive, setting your body on fire. Bokuto starts to whine softly, his pants growing a tad bit tight at all the raw kissing. He pulled away, lips swollen and breathing uneven.

“I want you so badly. Can I-“ Bokuto goes to ask for consent, his nervousness making him struggle to find the words he’s looking for.

You shut him up with another kiss, already knowing what he wants to say as he lifts you up and carries you away. Starting in the kitchen he sits you on the counter as he takes off your top, your bare breasts popping out when the garment flies over your head and onto the floor. He’s never seen such gorgeous breasts before, he swore. Seeing you this way only made him long for you more, standing there dumb founded at the sight of your chest.

“W-Wow.” Bokuto gasps, taking both your breasts into his hands and oogling at them with love in his eyes. “So perfect.”

He takes one into his warm mouth, your body arching at the feeling and letting out a small whine. Music to his ears.

“Kō..” you sigh, closing your eyes as he suckled on your nipples.

His tongue slid over each hardened bud and looked up at you, studying your body language to learn it well. Without a word he slides off your shorts and pick you up again, hoisting you away to your bedroom after asking where it is.

Frantic kisses and breathless moans trail down the hall with a reach of the doorknob. You’re laid carefully onto the bed, Bokuto crawling on top of you without daring to pull his lips from yours just yet.

He could kiss you for hours. He could die right now and be completely content all because of this moment. Bokuto takes his hands and slides them down to the waist band of your panties, tugging them down to reveal your dripping core.

Bokuto teased his fingers along your slick folds, savoring the feeling of your wetness on his skin.

You let out the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard, urging him to draw more music from your lips. He crawls downwards towards your pussy, laying on his stomach and pulling your hips forward.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of his tongue parting your folds, mewling as you arch your back. His tongue worked its magic on you, sliding up to your clit to pay special attention to it. Breathless calls of his name fill the air, your hands grabbing fist fulls of the sheets as he fucked you with his tongue.

Your eyes roll back with every swipe of his tongue, relishing in the toe curling pleasure he gave you. That familiar knot started forming in the pit of your stomach, your moans increasing in volume as you near your orgasm. Bokuto must have sensed this and wrapped his plush lips around your throbbing clit, prodding his fingers at your weeping hole to fill you.

“Kō! I-I’m gonna cum!” You whine, your hands finding home in his hair and tugging lightly. Bokuto responded with a groan against your clit and a hook in his fingers, causing you to boil over without hesitation. Your thighs shake around his head, one hand covering your mouth to spare your neighbors the noise. Bokuto comes back up to kiss you, your slick coating his lips and chin. You taste your sweetness and kiss him with tongue, both of you sighing into each other.

“Wanna... be inside you.” Bokuto says breathlessly into the kiss, his dick aching to be let out of his pants.

You pull away and unbutton his jeans, Bokuto kicking them off onto the floor and pulling down his boxers. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of his dick, its sheer size enough to make you salivate. The way it swung a little when he took off his boxers, the prominent veins running along the shaft, its head blushing and leaking with precum. Bokuto had a gorgeous dick. You almost wanted to put it in your mouth but the heat of the moment called for a different hole to be filled.

Bokuto prods himself at your entrance and slowly slides inside you, inhaling sharply at the contact. You gasp at the dull stretch, feeling so full as you mewl uncontrollably. His hips roll slowly, thrusting deep inside your gummy walls as he rested his forehead onto yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, nails digging into the skin of his back as he picked up the pace.

“You feel so good, baby.” He spoke, kissing you gently to soothe you. You can feel him so deeply it almost brought a tear to your eye, his plunging movements sending your mind into a stupor.

He mummbled sweet praise against your neck, kissing the soft skin as he took you. A part of him wanted to go harder; really ruin that sweet face of yours and turn you into a lewd mess, but you mean more than that to him. This moment is nothing but pure love between two people who have known each other all their lives. You shriek as his hips start slamming into yours, back arching off the bed as your nipples pebbled against his chest.

“I-I love you, Bokuto.” You whine. Your eyes flash white, your vision becoming foggy as the mind boggling pleasure ripples through your body. You chant his name like a mantra, Bokuto mumbling how much he loves you as his hips do more of the talking. You feel him throb inside you, it becoming obvious he’s holding back so you can cum first. He’s rubbing circles into your clit as he pins your legs above your head. It all became so much so fast, your mewls spewing from your lips no longer caring who hears what.

“Let go for me, baby. C’mon..” He hums, nibbling on your neck. You scream, your tight cunny clenching down on his length as you cum for a second time that night. Bokuto rides out your orgasm, watching your body shake and shiver at the feeling of him sliding in and out of your weeping hole.

Bokuto doesn’t have time to think of where to cum, your walks sucking him in so well he loses all sense of control. He cums hot inside you, your pussy milking him for everything he had as he pants into your neck. You both stay in position for a while, looking at each other with love sick eyes. Bokuto rests himself on top of you, still nuzzled inside you as his cum leaks onto the sheets. You’re both out of breath, sitting in the high you both came to as you rub lazy circles into his back.

Nothing but pure love circulated the air as you rest together in bed, naked and vulnerable. You don’t say anything but soft I love yous to each other, gentle kisses on each others lips as you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu headcanons #queue made me do it 🥴

368 notes · View notes

autobotmedic · 2 years ago

Note

∾.❖.∾

|| Notification: Recorded Transmission || From: Optimus Prime || Origin: Cybertron || Referenced outgoing message ID: 672963439313944576

[ Ratchet, ] the recording begins, Optimus’s voice holding a tone soft enough to make the name itself sound like an endearment. [ I hope this message finds you and our human companions well. I have received the one you sent me. Thank for taking out the time; it has been... wonderful to hear your voice again. I also look forward to the future when our resources will allow us to see one another more often. ]

There’s a brief pause and a subtle skip in the background noise as Optimus pauses recording, needing a moment to compose himself and rein back... certain feelings. When he continues, he sounds calmer, having recalibrated his focus towards a more dutiful topic.

[ I trust in your judgement with regards to the negotiations that have taken place. Please do inform me if any matters arrive which require my advice or direct assistance, and I will do all I can to give you my support. ]

Ratchet is one of very few Autobots he trusts so far as to act in his stead, and that trust includes confidence in him knowing when to put discussions on hold and contact Optimus if conflict arises. They both recognize that diplomacy is not Ratchet’s strongest suite.

Optimus has listened to Ratchet’s message enough times to remember each topic and what he’d said on them in turn, but he still pauses his own recording again to replay it, just to hear it in his voice again. It feels more like a conversation this way than if he simply goes by his internal notes—and he’d been truthful when he’d said he had missed hearing him. He smiles to himself once again at the mental image of Ratchet struggling to restrain himself while being forced to learn incorrect scientific theories.

[ I have no doubts in your abilities as a scientist or as a medical student. Perhaps after you have rightfully earned your qualifications by human standards, you might find an opportunity to share your ‘corrections’. ] Ratchet knows him well enough that he would no doubt recognize the amusement in his voice, but it is nonetheless a legitimate—if only momentarily thought out—suggestion.

[ I am also very interested in observing any progress you have made on the holomatter avatars when I see you next. They will certainly be an invaluable asset to us in communicating with humans and in interacting with their world in areas where our size may otherwise prove destructive. Perhaps one day we may employ them in viewing some of the planet’s more life-rich natural areas up close. ]

[ With regard to the topic of natural life, Cybertron has been showing considerable new growth. I have observed a number of familiar species, both young specimens and older ones that lay dormant from lack of fuel for all this time. Even more interestingly, there are multiple variations I do not recognize; I would like to show these to you when you next visit. ]

[ The mecha here are also doing well. Bulkhead is leading rebuilding efforts under the supervision of Ultra Magnus and myself, while the others take turns in scouting for new energon deposits. Knock Out is on probation, and has been acclimating with few issues. I think he is as pleased as we are that the war is over. ]

After a few moments' pause, he adds in a softer tone, [ We will finally have a place for our species to thrive again. It has been so long. This time I will allow for no oppression; all must have the opportunity to find their own happiness. It is a second chance at the world we always meant to help create, when you opened your clinic and I sought ways to to support changed, before Megatron betrayed our cause. I was naïve then, but all of us have learned much, even as the war has damaged us. I believe we can do better. ]

There is another silence before the recording is cut again, and Optimus's voice continues.

[ I am impressed to hear about Rafael. His talents are an anomaly that have only seemed to grow more unexplainable the more I have learned of the human species, but I believe they should be supported all the same. More importantly, it is wonderful that you have each found a friend in the other. I am proud of you both. ]

[ I will indeed inform Bulkhead of your suggestion. I believe a visit would benefit him as well; I have overheard him worrying for her. He cares for her very much. ]

[ ... I have a spare room where you may stay when you visit, if you wish. Though of course you are as welcome to share my berth here as during our travels. The greater resources here have allowed for ample space. I am sure it will also please you to hear that I have been considerably more well-rested and fed since my return here despite the many tasks required for rebuilding. I sincerely hope that you have been caring for yourself as well. It will be wonderful to see you feeling better. ]

[ Goodbye, my dear old friend, and may we see each other before the moons cross. ]

|| End Transmission ||

Following his return from a beach experience that he had allowed three youngsters to talk him into supervising, and after a longer-than average time spent cleaning up (the feeling of sand under plating annoyed him immensely), the discovery of the received transmission was a welcomed surprise. He was more than ready to simply sit for a while, and now, he could rest while listening to an awaited reply from Optimus.

Hearing his name spoken so gently as the first he had heard of his friend’s voice since he had actually last seen him, caused his spark to flare in its chamber. Ratchet knew he had missed him, and although creating a transmission package to send a personal update had helped, it was not the same as sharing a conversation. Audio was still not equivalent to face-to-face interaction, but it was significantly better than nothing at all, in addition to the fact that Optimus simply had an incredibly pleasant voice.

He was also glad to hear the sentiment of missing their interactions was mutual. And that Optimus trusted he would seek his assistance in human relations if necessary. Ratchet was not surprised, in either case, but nonetheless validated.

He could hear the smile, the subtle amusement, as Optimus mentioned Ratchet’s official Earth courses. He wished he could have seen it in his silver features and soft optics, as well. It was so good to witness him experience lighter sentiments. He hoped Optimus would continue to find reasons to smile more often than he had for eons.

When his friend’s words shifted to Cybertron, finding new and old species returning, he equally wished to view them. Especially as a form of shared outing. His jaw rested on his palm as he continued to listen, noting the shared statuses of their companions.

As Optimus went on to share his hope for their world, he believed the same, and he hoped they were both right. Despite his presence on Earth for now, Ratchet did not have any long-term plans (by their species’ standards) of remaining. At times, while alone, he questioned if he should have stayed, but his reasons always felt important enough. He wanted to learn in depth of humans’ biology and health for the future, as there would undoubtedly remain a tie between their worlds, and he wanted to look after the three children. He was not a replacement for their guardians, but having someone remain at all, helped ease the adjustment to their absence. And he knew that the others, Bumblebee, Arcee, Bulkhead, would worry a little less about them too, with the knowledge that they were not without any form of guidance and protection.

Despite his certainty of his reasons, however, he continued to miss Optimus daily. And he had intentions for the future, when he did live on Cybertron again. He wanted medical care to be provided fairly, as it always should have been, and he wanted hospitals to be less cold places to those who had to stay in them, medic and patient alike. But, there was plenty of time for that, now that they had a living planet again.

Due to the distraction of his own thoughts, he paused the recording, backed it up, and resumed listening. Ratchet hummed in agreement over Rafael being an anomaly, though the sound was only heard by himself. He was also satisfied that Bulkhead would be informed of his suggestion.

Ratchet blinked when the topic shifted to a form of invitation to stay with him. It was a kind offer, considering the medic had not be present to claim or establish a living and resting space on Cybertron. But, there was more to it. The specification that Ratchet could still rest with him, despite other space being available, made him grin. He would accept that, without hesitation. He had missed it too greatly to refuse.

He was indeed happy to hear Optimus was taking care of himself. And the comment about his own health reminded him to get up and retrieve a cube for evening refuel, once the transmission ended. Cube in hand, he sat down once again, and listened to the recording from the start for a second time. It was partially to make mental notes for when he replied, and partially to merely hear his dear one’s voice again.

#/responds several months later because that's just our brand/#V: Post Series #[QUESTION] distract me so I stay inside #transmissions #long post #[OPTIMUS | ATLAS-ORDAINED] I want you to know I still love you #[OP/RATCH] every time we touch I feel the static

4 notes · View notes

spices-and-cherries · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t make me wait (James Bond x Reader)

This was a request by the lovely @iamcavainna! I’m so sorry it took so long, but life was being a bit rough. I also wanted to at least try and make this good, so I thought that it would be better if I took some time with it... There is a fluffy ending!

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: drinking wine, a gun, angst, anxiety, mentions of potential accidents that could happen in a snowy mountain

It’s not uncommon for your partner, James Bond, to be traveling abroad for weeks on end. While it can get lonely, he does try to call regularly from whichever hotel he’s staying in. After a while, you became used to it. Why? Late or not, he always kept his promise:

I’ll be back.

The last time he had called, he had said that he wouldn’t be able to contact you for a week at most due to a strenuous business conference at a ski resort in the Alps. Seeing as this was normal routine for him, you thought nothing of it and just reminded him not to accidentally hurt himself (yet again).

But today, you’re worried. In fact, you’ve been worried for five days straight. It’s been over a week - eleven days to be exact - and now you feel as though something is off.

Had he flown off the side of a cliff? Did he get lost? Was he trapped under an avalanche of snow?

James had given you an address to go to in case of emergency, but would this be the right time to use it? How can you be sure that you’re just not being paranoid? And if you did go, what would you say? James has never taken you to his place of work and barely talks about his colleagues, so who would you even be speaking to?

Hundreds of panicked questions circle your mind as you pace around your living space, phone in one hand and address in the other. You had barely slept the night before and hadn’t eaten all day.

You missed James. He’s been gone for almost a month now and no number of phone calls could replace the feeling of his warmth on his side of the bed. His laugh, his miserable cooking, his rough hands... You needed all of that and more back at home next to you. So you had to go.

You check the time. It’s just before four o’clock. If you hurry, you just might catch someone on their way out.

---

Without a second thought, you slip on your coat and hurry to the closest bus stop. The trip there was a bit of a haze, between the times you were navigating and transferring. The haze dissipates pretty quickly as you walk up to what was supposed to be some office building and not a glamourous apartment complex with a Rolls Royce being unloaded in front of the main entrance.

You have to double and triple check the address written down and your GPS on your phone. It seemed to be the right place...

Tentatively, you walk into the lobby, feeling very out of place and small. The floor looks like it all marble and there’s a little fountain in the middle of the space.

Anxious, you manage to sign yourself in at the front desk. There were some complications due to your ID, but after a quick phone call, it was sorted out and you were free to go up. You speed-walk to the elevators, feeling like someone was watching you. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone but the uptight attendant you had just spoken to making another call. The elevator doors open and you walk in.

As you get closer and closer to your destination, you feel more anxious and your palms start to sweat. You furiously try and dry them as the doors open into what looked to be someone’s home.

And that someone was straight in front of you.

“Who are you?” She was an older woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a fitted pantsuit.

“Uh...” You hear the elevator doors close behind you. There’s no escaping now.

“Well? I don’t have all day, you know.”

“My name is (Y/) (L/N)... I think my husband works for you.” One of her eyebrows raised. “Uh, he said that in case of emergency that I come here...” You pull out the piece of paper and she takes it. “I don’t really have anything urgent, but he’s unusually late in checking in and I-”

“Good lord.” She muttered furiously after scanning the note and crushes it.

“Pardon?” You ask, somewhat alarmed by the unexpected response.

“Please, have a seat.” She waves to a chair and you comply.

“Do you know-”

“Your husband? Yes. He’s one of my men.”

“Men?”

“...Well I can see that that fool did follow my order for once, not that it makes much difference...”

“I’m not sure I understand...”

“Normally, you wouldn’t have to.” She sits down across from you. “What is it that Bond told you about his job?”

“...Well, he’s one of those people who are the intermediaries between large company deals...?”

“Close. In reality, he’s the exact opposite.”

“I don’t-”

“Bond is an agent trained in the art of infiltration in order to stop certain kinds of ...businesses from expanding more than they already have. In short, your... husband... is an international spy.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“But that is not the issue here.” She stares at you with eagle eyes. “The issue is this address. Did Bond give it to you?”

“Yes!” You squeak - to say you’re terrified would be an understatement. “He said to come here in case of an emergency while he wasn’t home.”

“And the emergency is?”

“It’s been over a week since he last called. He promised that he would contact me once the week ended. He’s five days late. He’s never late for that long!”

“Right.” She rests her head in the palm of her hand as if she were dealing with some trivial issue. “Has anyone seen this address or followed you here?”

“No one has seen it and I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so or you don’t know?” She snaps, but her face softens after seeing the look on your face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you - do you know where James is?”

"...We know just as much as yourself. It seems the only thing that man is good for is causing me trouble.” She was standing up again and pacing.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I have this awful feeling that something happened!”

“I am afraid not. We are already doing all we can.” She sighs. “...Did he tell you anything last time he contacted you?”

“He said he was going to a ski resort with a client in the Alps...”

“Nothing else?”

“Not that I can remember.” She takes a good look at you, then turns away.

“We were told the same. Any longer and we’ll may have to consider him MIA.”

“MIA?” You feel slightly faint. “Is - is he in danger?”

“If he wasn’t he wouldn’t be doing his job.” You slump back into your seat, unsure of how to take all this information in. Not only has your husband lied to you about his profession, but that profession is putting him in danger!

“Is there anything you can tell me?” You start fiddling with your hands. “I don’t think I caught your name...”

“That would be because I didn’t tell it to you. You may call me M.”

“Right.” You nod awkwardly. “Seeing as all this is top secret and I’m-”

“A civilian.”

“...What’s going to happen to me?”

“That would be for upper management to decide. Though it shouldn’t be anything too harmful. Bond was the one who brought you into this, after all.”

“Will he be fired?” Alarm rushes through you at the thought.

“Oh no,” M looks at you with surprise. “James has done much worse than this. They’ll just give him a light spanking and send him off. He’s too good to be let go of.” She looks at you with a penetrating gaze. “Too damn good.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” You smile awkwardly. “In all honesty, this whole situation is a bit much for me.”

“I can imagine.”

“Does this happen with James often?”

“Missing a check-in or finding out about secret marriages?”

“Missing check-ins?”

“Yes, yes it does. Although it seems as though he contacts you more than us. It’s been two weeks since he last called in. It does seem like he’s taking longer than usual...”

---

Out of supposed security concerns, M told you to stay with her until James comes back. As a compromise, she sent some people to keep surveillance in your neighborhood and on your flat. Of course, this meant a couple of days (or more) living with this mysterious woman. M never talked unless necessary and most certainly did not bring her work home. While she trusts you enough in her home, she cannot afford anything leaking out, no matter how harmless.

That being said, she did try to update you on any word (or lack thereof) from your husband. The more time past, the more anxious you became. You could no longer sleep and M would find you in your room just staring at the ceiling. You had confided in her just once about how much you were missing him when you had one too many glasses of wine. Despite your loneliness, you really did try and keep strong. If the two of you were eating together, you’d ask her questions about your husband’s job. M couldn’t answer more than half of them, but did try to help shed some light on this new side of James.

She couldn’t go into a lot of details, both due to how classified it all was, but because she thought that James should be the one to explain everything.

On the third day, M had informed you that James had sent a message. It was short and didn’t disclose his whereabouts, but you were so relieved that your knees just about gave out from underneath you.

He was safe.

He was safe and that was all that mattered to you. Several more days would pass before you’d be reunited.

---

It was the dead of night and, like usual, you couldn’t sleep. M wasn’t home - she said that she would be late - so you had eaten by yourself. While her suite is beautiful, you can’t help but wish that you were home in your little flat. You used to be annoyed about how much the building settled or your neighbors snoring during the night. Now, the lack of noise unsettles you. However, every noise you do happen to hear makes the hairs on your arms stick up.

Especially when you hear the elevator open awfully early in the night.

Somehow, you knew that it wasn’t M. Maybe it was because you didn’t hear her toss her handbag on one of the chairs or that her usual heels didn’t sound like they should. Either way, you had to make sure that everything was okay. You quietly get out of the bed and grab an empty wine bottle.

Carefully, you slowly twist the doorknob to ease the door open by just a crack. You can just make out a figure that was much bigger than M shuffling around her desk. Unsure of what to do and not wanting to blow your cover immediately, you stay right where you are. He - for it was most definitely a man - straightened himself out and proceeded to make himself comfortable in one her chairs with his back towards you.

Why would a burglar make himself at home?

As he begins to pour himself a glass, you gently open the door wide enough that you could slip through it. You bless your lucky starts that it doesn’t squeak.

One, two, three, four steps forward when suddenly two unexpected things happen at the same time.

The man had gotten up, spun around and pointed a gun at your head.

The elevator doors open to reveal M.

“Good heavens! What is happening?” You watch M hurry in, throwing her bag on a chair. “Bond! Put the gun down!” Your head snaps back around. The look of surprise and alarm was reflected in your husband’s bright blue eyes. You drop the bottle and it shatters. His gun was swiftly tossed aside.

“James.” You choke back a sob as you run into his arms. He hugs back just as fiercely.

“(Y/N).” He softly tucks your head into his shoulder and seems to relax in your arms.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

“While this is awfully touching, you have a lot of explaining to do, Bond.” James lifts his head when he hears M say his name.

“Ah. Yes. I forgot you were here.” You didn’t need to see M’s face to know the look of annoyance she was most likely sporting.

“Just sit down.” M snaps, but you can tell that it’s half-hearted. James lets go of you, but grabs your hand as he sinks down into the couch. You curl up on his side, his hand still in yours.

You would never know what it was that the two talked about after that because you had fallen asleep as soon as your head settled on his shoulder.

When you woke up, it was bright out and you were on the couch. Your pillow shifts, making you do a double take. Your pillow was in fact an arm. You shift to your other side and find yourself face to face with your husband’s sleeping face. Gently, you caress his face then plant a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s hardly what I would call a good afternoon kiss.” James smirks, suddenly wide awake.

“Afternoon?”

“It’s just after one.” He gently pulls you closer to him. “Now, don’t make me wait more than I already have...”

“That makes two of us, doesn’t it-” You kiss him squarely on the mouth then pull back - much to his obvious displeasure. “-Mr. Secret Agent?”

Needless to say, the two of you would take the time to talk things out and bring everything (that’s not classified information) into the light.

I tried really hard with this one, so I hope you all enjoyed it! I kinda feel like the start and the end were rushed... I plan on doing some Jake Lonergan headcanons this week, so that will be fun. Please feel free to send me ideas or requests! It might take a while for me to finish it, but I’ll try my best!

- Simpy

#james bond x reader #james bond #x reader #daniel craig #007 #M #established couple #married couple #top secret #minor angst #fluff #request #angst to fluff #kisses #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #ian fleming #everyone is welcome

192 notes · View notes

an-exotic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

jungkook; ready to love (you, officially)

❝you asked: “what happens when i want to be more than friends?” / jungkook said, when that day comes, you grab him by the face and kiss the life out of him. that day came. ►2440 words // scenario, continuation of ‘when you’re ready to love’ written for @astaegmatism ♡ well, i read this the other day and ya know, i just felt like writing a sequel to this so here it goes *finger guns* // i actually finished it lol, here it is if anyone wants to read! ;w;

Ever since that day at the rooftop with Jungkook, not a day goes by since that you haven’t thought about that incident. It replays at random moments without you knowing. Well, maybe subconsciously you’re constantly thinking about it but that’s not fair. How are you supposed to control something you’re not meant to?

Maybe you deserve it, you think to yourself. Jungkook has made it clear that he’s interested in you and it’s not like you’re not interested in him. You are! Saying that you’re interested in him would be an understatement and yet... it’s been three months and you haven’t made up your mind.

What confuses you even more?

It’s how Jungkook doesn’t pressure you into anything. Sure, he teases you every now and then but you know he’s not genuinely pressing or rushing you for an answer or a change of heart. He’s... gentle, with the way he handles the conversation when you bring it up (because it gets overwhelming when you think about it at night and Jungkook-)

“...you’ve gone pretty quiet, Y/N,” Jungkook muses over the phone and you now remember that you were on a phone call with the guy. There’s no point hiding it, because Jungkook can tell how you’re feeling (sometimes) just by hearing your breathing pattern. How it starts to tremble with each exhale, unknowingly Jungkook has learnt it meant you were anxious about something.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just... thinking,” Your voice is shaking and you’re certain your hands would be too if you were holding your phone to your ear but luckily, you’re lying on the bed and your phone is on speaker beside your ear. Almost, you feel like it would be nice if he was laying here with you. And just at that thought, it makes you wonder if... if you’re finally ready to be more than just friends with the boy who upon first meeting, squished a portion of cake to your cheeks as a friendly way of trying to call you sweet. (don’t remind Jungkook, he still feels bad at almost traumatizing you when you first met)

“About?”

Here comes one of the many things Jungkook adores about you. Straight to the point, no sugar-coating and no bush in sight to beat around. Well, it’s usually polar opposites. Either you would beat the bush to death and the generations after that, or you go straight to the point and snap the leaf to write your answer directly.

“...you,”

This was the latter.

"What about me?” Jungkook tries to sound collected, but based on how his voice pitches, you can tell he’s getting nervous.

“I... I’m just confused. I know I really like you,”—Jungkook’s heart skip a beat—“but a part of me still feels like I’m not ready and I feel bad because I don’t want you to keep wait-”

"You’re not keeping me waiting, Y/N,” Jungkook cuts you off before you spiral off into a monologue that doesn’t need to happen, which is why he’s cutting you off now. (He usually waits to hear you out but he’s skipping past that because he’s heard this before so he might as well reassure you now)

He hears a gasp because you’re surprised, and he knows you are but you keep silent to hear his train of thought.

“I’m simply in love with you and... I can feel that you feel the same way too. If the day comes when you’re ready to reciprocate that openly, I’m more than willing to be with you. It’s not like things would change between us, we’re just going to get mushier—is mushier a word? Ah, whatever,”

There’s a small pause of silence, it evokes Jungkook to ask: “You there?”

“...how is that not waiting for me, Jeon?”

He chuckles at the confusion in your voice. He has this image of you furrowing your brows and having puffed up cheeks from being confused.

Here you lie in bed, with furrowed brows and puffed cheeks.

“Because I know I’m already in your heart, it’s just going to take some time before you get comfortable with me being there, and hopefully accept that… or not, that’s all up to you,”

“How do you know you’re in my heart?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“N-Nope, ’m good.”

Jungkook didn’t know if he helped you or not that night, but based on how you didn’t say anything to combat that, he finds comfort in knowing at least he’s somewhat right.

You slept with ease that night.

The days after that have been... more confusing than you thought. It confused you so much that the more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off. What the fuck is going on?

Trudging out of bed, you find yourself standing in front of your reflection. Next to it is a photo of you and Jungkook, not even aware that a friend was capturing a moment the two of you shared. The longer you stared at it, the more it reminded you of why you were mad in the first place.

Mad at… yourself!

With a newfound confidence that struck out of nowhere, it was time.

Fucking hell was it time.

You can’t handle it any longer and you’re done trying to make up your mind or settle for an answer that leaves you wavering the next day.

It was time to observe.

To be Detective Conan—alright screw Jungkook’s references.

You spent a week keeping your distance from Jungkook.

Okay, that sounds serious but by keeping your distance, it was rather… taking note of how your mind reacted around him. Of course, it was easier said than done when the boy is constantly trying to be close to you, pick at your brain, “casually” hold your bag for you and running off so you’d chase him up to the rooftop where you’d conveniently waste two hours of staring at the abyss of the world alongside him.

Boy oh boy did you take mental notes, and when you typed them out for yourself to read through at the end of the week, it was clear that—“That piece of shit…”

For two weeks, you had wrote down thoughts you’ve had of him and let’s just say… they accumulated to more than your notepad on your phone could handle because you’re scrolling, and scrolling and scrolling. As you go through them, the recollection flashes in your mind, playing like a projector.

Jeon likes to drink Americano from this café.

He bought the bouquet of flowers for graduation from this florist.

We got caught in the rain and was stuck in that phonebooth for an hour because we’re both too stubborn to get out.

Jeon’s fave café.

Jeon’s fave park to go jogging.

Jeon—

The list continues, listing all the details about him and more details about him that… strangely enough, you’ve never noticed you remembered. And… the more you seem to remember, the more… memories you want to create with him. It hits you why it’s… it’s taken you this long to realise your infatuation with him. Jungkook was that slow burn that made you love him more and more each day without you realizing. How you wanted to see him each day, and when a day goes by without seeing him, it aches for you to be without him.

Jungkook was right when he said he was already in your heart.

You didn’t know when, and you didn’t know how but… he was already there. He made his way through when you didn’t expect him to. He’s been patient and sincere with his presence and… the way he genuinely just wants what’s best for you. He… you… you like him.

You… fell in love with your best friend, too.

Jungkook smiles when he sees your name on his caller ID. He grips onto his phone properly to swipe across the screen, just to say: “What do I owe the pleasure, Y/N?”

“Jeon, wherever you are,” It sounds like you’re breathing really heavily, “Don’t move,”

His brows furrow, “Is everything alright? You good?”

“I’ll come to you!” You exclaim, and he’s laughing. “Do you know where I am?”

He snorts.

“Oh yeah,” Now it sounds like you’ve stopped walking when the soles of your shoes screech on the pavement ever so lightly, “Where are you by the way?”

“Jeon!” Your voice echoes across the field, penetrating straight into his ears as he whips around, only to grin like a fool. His eyes form mini crescents at the sight of you running up to him. He holds his arms out to stable you when you’re within reach. His hands grip onto your sides with a soft easy there tiger and when you’re grounded in front of him, trying to catch your breath, his smile only grows bigger.

“What’s up?”

Your fists clench by your sides, feeling your insides tumble about. Thousands of butterflies are probably somersaulting in there and the whole zoo has come to watch how your nerves jolt about in anticipation to what you’re about to do. You’ve had only this thought in your mind through your whole journey to reach him. Now that you’re finally in front of him, you’re trying to psyche yourself up.

Almost as if you’re trying to be your own hype man to… to…

“Hello? Earth to Miss—”

“I’m going to do something to you, Jeon,” You swallow the lump in your throat, and this is where Jungkook’s smile slowly fades. His face morphs into one of confusion instead.

“G-Good or bad?”

Okay, this is throwing you off a little.

“What’d you mean?”

“Well… what you’re going to do to me, is it good or bad? Do I need to cover up somewhere it really hurts?”

The both of you trail down to… his nether region where his hands slowly move to cover it (because there has been a history of you kicking him with not-so-ladylike strength that one time he took a prank too far and he owns up to say he deserves it—not that he’s done anything this time, he’s just being cautious).

“What? N-No!” You’re frustrated at this point, running your fingers through your hair in annoyance, but you know what? It’s working. Your nerves are worked up enough for you to gather the courage brewing in your guts that you close the distance between the pair of you.

Suddenly, it feels like the world slows down.

Your hands rest upon his shoulders and instinctively, Jungkook’s hands dart out to steady you by your waist, afraid you’d topple over and get hurt. His eyes widen when you lean in to press your lips together. Your name is muttered against your lips, drowned out by the gasp that follows soon after from him.

His hands, clutches onto you tight—as tight as your hands are on his shoulders. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, in unison with yours. Your body tenses when you don’t feel a reaction, and that gets you to peel your eyes open and break away from the kiss. That triggers him to act upon his feelings for once, after holding back for the longest time, this is the one-time Jungkook allows himself to do what he wants.

He snakes his arms around your waist to pull you closer, making your breath hitch. He chases for your lips and he kisses you back. He kisses you with everything he has in fear this could be the first, and last time it would happen. He feels his heart burst into warmth when your hands move to circle around his neck to pull him close, as if the both of you weren’t already. You feel his tongue brush against yours ever-so-delicately and the vibrations of his lips when your fingers rake through his hair.

He intends to continue, but you have yet to say what you’ve been wanting to that you gently nudge him back with a hand on his chest, the other still hooked around his shoulders.

“J-Jeon, I have something to say,” You’re a little breathless, disorganized, but altogether too beautiful for him to handle with your slightly red, plump lips and hazy eyes looking into his own. He chuckles and cups your chin gently, brushing your lower lip with his thumb as his other hand keeps you rooted.

“Yeah?”

“I… I like you,”

Jungkook chuckles, softly, almost whispering as he breathes out: “I like you too,”

He licks his lips and his eyes trail down to yours, before gazing back up to your eyes when he has a feeling there’s more you’re about to say. His thumb gently rubs circles against your hip bone, while his other hand that was previously on your chin, moves to join his other arm around your waist.

“And…” You heave out a deep breath, blinking up to him, “I-I want to be more than just friends,”

Jungkook knows where this is going, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have fun.

“So… best friends?”

Instantly your face turns upside down with frustration and Jungkook quickly pacifies you with a kiss. And a couple more pecks to bring a smile to your face, mirroring his own smile before he tugs you into his arms. His arms band around you so tight, it feels like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. He presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,”

You’re grinning against his chest, arms wrapping around him just as tight.

“So… we’re…”

He strokes your head gently, closing his eyes to savor this moment.

“We’re still best friends,” He says, “Best friends who like each other a lot but this time,” You lean back a little, just to look up to him looking down on you,

“T-This time?” Your voice is soft, so soft that it’s only for his ears only. That alone, makes Jungkook’s heart do a lot of things in a heartbeat.

“This time, from this day onwards, you’re also my girlfriend.”

((“jeon…?”

“hm?” he turns his gaze from the sky the both of you have been laying under, gazing into your eyes as he plays with your hair.

“’m sorry it took me so long,”

he tuts with the shaking of his head, darting over to give you a long kiss to your lips.

“don’t be, don’t ever say that. it’s my fault for falling so quickly for you,” he wiggles his brows and you try to push him away, only for him to reel you in closer.))

#bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #holy shit i actually finished this hahaha #ok #goodbye

154 notes · View notes

wroteasongabouther · 4 years ago

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

a/n: we love a little throwback with this gif, my heart 😭 again, i can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve shown my writing it’s truly the sweetest thing and i’m happy you guys are liking the story so far! this was is the longest part so far with a lot happening, so happy reading! remember to leave some feedback and reblog cause it’s always appreciated.

and as always, thanks to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading ❤️

word count: 19k

warnings: mentions of a partner cheating (f*** mark), minor mention of drugs (aka weed lol), alcohol consumption (tequila anyone?), and serious! sexual! tense!

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Y/N didn’t realize she had left Harry’s apartment the other day with his hoodie on until the next morning when she had woken up to the sweet smell of faint lavender and laundry soap. She didn’t return the hoodie, though. In fact, she shamelessly slept in the hoodie for three more nights; it was just really comfortable, she tries to convince herself that’s the only reason she’s wearing it to bed each night. It wasn’t because the smell that calmed her, reminding her of that dimpled smile and dazzling green eyes that would wander into her dreams every night now and then. And it was especially not because she found herself falling for those same pair of eyes, no, not a shred of feelings besides friendship there.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sammy deadpans.

“What are you talking about now?” Y/N questions, keeping her eyes on her phone as she texts back Harry.

“You and your little affair,” Sammy quips back. His choice of words causes Y/N’s head to quickly snap up and look at her friend. He’s giving her a bored look, a smug little smile on his face that makes Y/N narrow her eyes.

“I am not having an affair, Sammy, so let’s not start that rumour around the office, please,” Y/N says to him in a hushed voice. “Plus, Mark hasn’t bothered to call or text me in almost a week now. So, I’m pretty sure the next time we do talk it will be to end things officially,” Y/N explains, her voice falling flat as she feels her heart rate pick up just thinking of her and Mark breaking up. Regardless of the fact he’s hurt her feelings, annoyed her and so on - it’s still a break up, and they really freaking suck.

“I sure hope so,” Sammy says. “You know I’m team Harry all the way,” he gives Y/N a wicked smile which she only rolls her eyes at.

There were no teams to be on, she thinks. She was just becoming friends with Harry, and yeah, she found him ridiculously attractive and really sweet too, but she wasn’t dumping Mark for him or anything. If she was dumping Mark it was because of how their relationship turned out, without Harry’s help, and how neither of them are benefitting from being together anymore. Hell, they didn’t even have sex last time he was in the city. It also didn’t have to do with the fact that Y/N would be nervous that Harry could hear them. Nope that thought didn’t cross her mind not even once - Y/N finds herself biting on her bottom lip as she’s deep in thought and trying to convince herself certain things.

Her phone buzzes where she left it on her desk brings her back to reality. She picks it up and swipes up as the face ID recognizes her, opening up the messages, between her and Harry, that she was previously on. Y/N can’t help it as a chuckle leaves her lips. She notices how Sammy leans back in his chair and raises a brow at her, but she chooses to ignore him and instead keeps watching the gif Harry sent on loop over and over again.

It was a cartoon Santa, dabbing. Yes, Harry used a gif that had to do with a trend from the world's youth. Y/N never would have guessed Harry even knew what dabbing was. She holds back another chuckle and looks up a gif to respond to his. She goes for one that’s a cartoon of Rudolph, his nose lighting up like a strobe light as he dances on two legs. It’s silly, but she’s enjoying this back and forth texting of stupid Christmas themed gifs. It’s been going on for about five minutes and she doesn’t even know why or how it started, but she loves it.

How’s work so far today? Harry texts after sending a gif of the Olaf the snowman from Frozen, dancing in the field of flowers. Y/N tilts her head to the side and leans further back in her seat, stretching her legs under her desk. The work that was on her desk was long forgotten when her and Harry began texting earlier.

It’s good, I finally have a few moments of downtime at my desk. We had like four clients in this morning for some fittings for the many Christmas parties going on next week. Y/N sends that off before typing, How’s your day? Write anything good yet?

Glad it’s less busy now, don’t let me distract you with all these amazing Christmas gifs though. And I’ve got a few things written while at the cafe, finally found the right melody for another song I was working on last week. Harry types out to Y/N, biting on the nail of his thumb after hitting send. He’s been leaning on the guitar in his lap for the past twenty minutes. That melody was found, but pushed away after he got into texting Y/N.

Not too distracting, although I think Sammy is jealous no one’s sending him any silly gifs. A second text shows up only seconds later, Harry’s sometimes surprised at how fast Y/N can type. And that’s good though! Will I ever get to hear you play in person besides through the wall our apartments share?

Harry smiles over his thumb at the first text but then is biting at his nail again as he reads over the second bubble a few times. He isn’t too surprised that she can hear him play from her apartment, but he is surprised she’s asking to hear him play. He doesn’t think he’s all that great of a guitar player. It’s kind of hard to think when he’s best mates with one of the best guitar players in the industry; Mitch could outplay him any day. Harry stops biting on his nail and hovers his thumbs over his keyboard. Although he’s usually too nervous to just sit and play for someone, he finds himself imagining playing for Y/N.

Tell Sammy I’ll send him some gifs too if he wants. And as for playing for you, maybe... if you catch me on a good day. Y/N shakes her head at his response, somehow not too shocked that’s what he says. She recalls him not telling her what popular songs he had written, how his cheeks grew a shade of pink at the mere idea of Y/N knowing of his work. So, she’ll take her odds and pray that someday soon she gets Harry on a good day and hears him play something.

“Y/N,” Amanda’s voice calling her name causes Y/N to jump, sitting straight up in her seat and nearly dropping her phone. She shuts off the screen and feels the vibration from her Apple watch, a notification reading that it was time to head into the conference room to interview new interns with Amanda. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Amanda standing behind her with her eyebrows raised and her lifeline of a notebook in hand. “You alright?” She asks, slight concern in her tone.

“Yeah,” Y/N clears her throat and stands from her desk, wobbling on her heeled boots as she gathers up her laptop and cell phone. “I’m all good, ready to find us some new interns,” she states with a smile.

Amanda gives her a look as if doubting her, but then nods as Y/N steps in front of her and they move into the conference room. It’s not until their third candidate that Y/N thought of her boyfriend. Her watch buzzes, flashing up at text from Mark, then one from Sammy right away. She ignores them and tries to focus on listening to yet another fashion student talk about their love for the industry and the company. She was once just like them, sitting on the other side of this conference table and grinning ear to ear from just being in the building. She still felt excited to come into work every day and she feels very grateful to still feel that way. So, therefore she doesn’t hate sitting there for a few hours and having a handful of first impressions with girls that she once was. But, in the back of her mind she’s wondering what Mark could have texted her. It’s been five days since the phone call she ended up hanging up on him. What could he possibly have to say?

“Thank you for coming in today,” Amanda says with a smile to their last interview of the day. The small blonde stands up as the two of them do, and reaches across the table to shake both of their hands before saying short goodbyes and letting one of the receptionists walk them out.

“I think I liked her the best,” Y/N comments, writing a quick note beside her resume.

“I agree. We’ll email back and forth a bit more about it. I’ve got another phone meeting with a few clients for the new year first,” Amanda explains as she’s reading over her planner before snapping it shut.

“Sounds like fun,” Y/N nods before walking separate ways from Amanda and heading back to her desk. As she gets closer, she can't help but notice the oversized bouquet of flowers on her desk. Her eyebrows pinch together as she slows her steps, taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges in the bouquet before reaching for the card that stuck out of it. Sammy pops up then, right by Y/N’s side almost breathing down her neck.

“Did you not get my text? These showed up like halfway through your interviews,” Sammy states, trying to read the card before Y/N can. She shields it’s away from his eyes and looks at him over her shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologizes and takes a step back.

Y/N reads the printed out note and finds herself sighing as she reads it over again. I’m sorry - Mark. Y/N shakes her head and rolls her lips into her mouth, staring at the bouquet again. That’s it, just sorry? She thinks, but then remembers that he had texted her too. Maybe there’s something more there but Y/N finds herself doubting it.

“Who’s it from?” Sammy questions. Y/N ignores him and pulls out her phone from her back pocket. She unlocks it and taps on her messages app, having to back out of her conversation with Harry in order to open up Mark’s text from earlier.

Did you get the flowers? The company sent me a notification saying someone signed for them. Y/N rolls her eyes at his careless text message; not an ounce of emotion behind any of his words, through text or on the note. She doesn’t find herself smiling at the flowers, thinking how it’s a nice gesture, but instead finding it ridiculous that her boyfriend missed the whole point of the fight and just thinks some random bouquet of flowers will fix everything that she’s feeling. Is he even bothered by the fact they fought and haven’t spoken in five days? She wonders as she shuts off her phone screen without responding.

“Mark sent them,” Y/N finally tells Sammy, turning around to hand him the card. After he grabs it, and Y/N turns back around and places a hand on either side of the vase. She turns on her heels and walks around her desk to the left, moving Sammy’s chair out of the way and placing them on his desk instead. “You can have them, they look better on your desk,” she stays in a flat tone of voice, feeling indifferent about if she should just throw them out or not.

“Are you going to break up with him?” Sammy asks, his voice is quiet and soft - sounding like a caring friend instead of a gossiping coworker.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip and nods, “yeah, I think I am going to. I just don’t know how, breaking up with someone on the phone feels so shallow and I would hate to be broken up with over the phone.” She explains, turning back around to look at Sammy again. He’s frowning, a look of pity in his eyes.

“But it’s unfair to you both to keep this relationship going on like this, Y/N,” Sammy says, letting out a deep sigh and tosses the card in the garbage bin by Y/N’s desk. “You’ll know what to do, you always do,” Sammy adds on with a smile.

Y/N tries to mirror her friends smile but feels it fall flat on her lips. She’s doubting herself, doubting her choices with Mark these past four months, and she keeps doubting herself all day till she’s walking into her apartment. She closes her door and slips out of her coat. Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone while walking to her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed before pulling up Mark’s contact.

Her fingers hover over the call icon, her heart beating a million miles an hour as she imagines how this phone call is going to go. Should she really break up with him over the phone? She thinks, yet again doubting herself. This was really the only way to do it, seeing as he won’t be in the city for who knows how long. Y/N didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore, especially since it started to feel less like a relationship as the days went on this past month. Y/N inhales deeply just as her phone begins to ring, Mark’s contact picture of him kissing her cheek fills the screen in her hand. Y/N exhales before tapping the green icon on the phone and bringing it to her ear.

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my text earlier,” Mark starts off the conversation with a hard tone of voice as if he’s annoyed. Y/N licks her lips and nods, even though Mark can’t see her.

“Yeah, um, sorry, work got busy,” she lies. She had the time to text him back, she just didn’t know what to say as her thoughts were clouded with how to break up with him.

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

“The flowers? Yeah, I did,” Y/N sighs. She’s racking her brain on how to do this. How do you break up with someone over a phone call? She shakes her head and brings a hand to her forehead, pushing her fingers through the roots of her hair. “Mark, we need to talk,” she says, feeling that’s the best she can do - the good ol’ classic line.

“Yeah, we do,” Mark agrees with a sigh from him now. Y/N listens as it’s like something shuffles on the other end of the phone, as if Mark switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Look, Y/N, you’re a wonderful girl, truly, you are. But we’re not really benefiting from this, are we?” Mark says, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as her brows pinch together.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N questions.

“Uh, yeah-”

“No, no, I’m breaking up with you. I have thought long and hard about this for days now, and I don’t think we should be together anymore, Mark,” Y/N blurts out quickly, feeling as though her moment that she’s been talking herself up to all day was being taken away from her. She releases the grip she had on her hair and stares straight ahead at the painting on her wall, waiting for Mark to say something.

He lets out a long breath, “then I guess this is a lot easier for the both of us then, huh?” He says. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief.

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

“I’ll uh, I’ll send my assistant over soon for any of my things I’ve left at your apartment. She’ll bring the few things of yours that are at my place too. Are you available tomorrow?” Mark explains, asking the question so casually too. In fact, he sounds like he’s distracted with something on his end of the call too.

“Have you had this planned for a while now or something?” She asks, her eyebrows only pull together tighter in confusion. How can he act so unbothered only seconds after breaking up with her? She thinks. Sure, it’s a mutual break up, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t bothered by it still.

“Uh, no,” Mark mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself - how did she even date this guy?

“You know what, whatever,” Y/N breathes out as her eyes close and she runs a hand through her hair, “I’ll be home from work around five in the evening tomorrow for your assistant to come by. Tell her to be on time, please,” she tells Mark.

“Alright,” he says. There’s a couple beats of silence between them, and she doesn’t feel upset over it at all. In fact she feels at peace with this breakup. She supposes that they didn’t date for long, and they never said I love you to each other and really didn’t spend too much time with one another the past two months. Maybe that’s why she’s not bothered by this break up at all.

“Well, it was fun, Mark,” Y/N says, “I wish you the best,” she adds.

“You too, Y/N,” he replies. And with that, Y/N brings the phone from her ear and ends the call. Staring at the screen that was on Mark’s contact info for a few minutes as she lets herself fall into her thoughts.

That was a lot easier than she imagined it to be earlier today. Y/N falls back on her bed, her hair fanning out around her as she holds her phone to her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Did he have this planned though? She finds herself thinking. She imagines that he sent those flowers earlier to butter her up, maybe, before he called to break her heart only hours later. And having already made plans for his assistant to go through his apartment and bring her things to her. Maybe he already had gathered her things beforehand, meaning over a week ago he would have packed it up - only to come over to her house and fight with her for days on end before making her drive him to the airport. Y/N just shakes her head as her thoughts run wild.

Y/N knows exactly what she needs to do to get out of this overthinking stage that she’s got herself into. She gets up from her bed and opens her closet, her figure skates sitting on the bottom of the closet leaning nicely against each other. She finds an empty tote bag and tosses them inside, then quickly gets dressed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a plain white turtleneck long sleeve, and then layering by putting on a dark grey crew neck that has ‘LA’ in white writing across the front.

After making sure she has her wallet, phone and keys, she puts on a black puffer jacket and heads out her front door. Harry’s walking out of the elevator just as Y/N is locking up, he’s got a Starbucks hot drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Harry says, but then his eyebrows pinch together as he realizes the time, “where are you off to?” He wonders. Y/N brushes her hair from her face and lets out a small sigh.

“It’s, like, two weeks till Christmas and I haven’t gone skating yet, so I just got up and grabbed my skates to go out,” she explains, lifting her shoulder that her tote bag was hanging off. Her skates are poking out the top slightly, Harry notices the white figure skates with a pair of matching light pink guards on the bottom.

“Oh, fun,” Harry nods, meeting her eyes again.

Y/N doesn’t even think twice before she’s asking, “did you want to come with me?”

Harry smiles, causing Y/N to mirror him, before he takes a few moments to nod in response. “I would love to, yeah,” Harry clears his throat, noticing how overly excited he may have sounded. “I should dress a bit warmer, though, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he tells her, motioning to his apartment door down the hall.

“Good call,” Y/N says, following him to his doorway. Harry holds open his door for her after unlocking it, then letting it close softly behind them as he takes off the lighter jacket he had on. Y/N smiles at the decorations around his apartment, loving how the glow from the lights of his tree filled up the space around them before he can turn on any lights.

“I don’t have my own skates, suppose I’m not a real New Yorker like that,” Harry states as he opens the closet beside his front door and starts ruffling around in order to find where his scarfs were hiding.

“That’s fine,” Y/N says with a soft chuckle, turning around to watch as he sticks his head into the closet and pushes things around. “They have rentals at Bryant Park,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been,” Harry admits. He finally gets a hold of the long burgundy scarf with a brown leaf pattern on it, his mum had gifted it to him a few years back. Harry pushes the doors of his closet closed and puts the scarf down for a moment, hanging it on the door handle before he grabs his long black coat to slip it on. Once he’s got that on, he wraps the scarf around his neck, fixing the collar of his coat and the scarf so it’s comfortable.

“You’ve really never been to Bryant Park?” Y/N asks surprisingly. It wasn’t Central Park by any means, but anyone who lived in the Manhattan area typically had walked through Bryant Park.

“Nope,” Harry says, grabbing for his forgotten Starbucks drink, bringing it to his lips for a quick sip. He looks up at Y/N to find her smiling at him. “What?” Harry questions.

“Nothing, I’m just excited for you to see Bryant Park. It’s beautiful during the Winter,” she states.

“Well then, let’s not waste any time, come on,” Harry nods his head to the door and gives her a smile while holding it open for her. She thanks him, waits for him to lock the doors before they fall into step with one another to the elevator. Harry beats her to hitting the button, literally leaning in front of her in order to push the down button before she can. Y/N shakes her head at him, smiling.

“So how was your time at the cafe earlier?” Y/N asks Harry, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“It was good,” Harry says, tilting his head to the side so he can look at Y/N, “wrote another song about love,” he adds with a smile. Y/N chuckles and raises her eyebrows.

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

The whole walk to Bryant Park, all Harry can think about is when the hell was the last time he skated? That and how good Y/N looked, which is a thought that’s always going through his head, to be honest. But he’s stressing himself out, hoping and praying that some sort of muscle memory clicks in and he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Y/N. God, maybe he should have just saved himself the embarrassing situation and declined her invitation. Harry knew the moment he looked into her eyes there was something a bit off with her; how her smile didn’t quite reach its full potential - so the moment she asked if he wanted to come along with her, he didn’t even think twice before saying yes. The girl has her own figure skates, Harry wouldn’t doubt it if she’s about to skate circles around him.

“All black outfit,” Y/N comments as she watches Harry pick out a pair of black skates in his size, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear all black before,” she adds with a smile.

“I used to only wear all black,” he admits, “back in uni, I really didn’t venture out in fashion and only wore black jeans and black t-shirts basically all year,” he explains to Y/N, letting her lead the way to the area for skaters to sit on the many benches and do up their skates.

“I truthfully can’t even imagine that,” Y/N replies, taking a seat on the bench right by the open door to the ice rink. She looks out at the about forty people on the ice, lit up by the many Christmas lights hanging over it and a few light posts in each corner too, as the sun has fully set now. The city around them is still hustling and bustling as it always is, which makes her smile.

“It was a tragedy, but I got older and realized that fashion can be fun, especially after moving to New York, seeing what people wear out for some innocent ice skating,” he mentions, taking in Y/N’s fashion forward outfit. The style was very trendy these days, he had noticed - online and in the streets.

“I would be an abomination of a former FIT student if I just walked around New York City in leggings and a hoodie,” Y/N states, “if I’m going somewhere, with someone, I always feel the need to look good.”

“And you do, by the way, look good,” Harry says, his words coming out quick and in a bit of a stumble. Y/N can feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before she begins to lace up her skates.

Y/N has her skates done up before Harry, so she has an extra minute to take out her phone and open her Instagram app. She checks out her newest comments, liking a few, before she finds herself aimlessly scrolling through her feed and liking some posts there. Checking up on Harry, she notices he’s almost done doing up his skates, so she stands up and grabs her tote bag that now holds her skate guards and chunky black boots.

“Did you want to lock anything up?” Y/N asks Harry, motioning to the small lockers to their left.

He shakes his head, “no thank you,” he says before his attention is back on tying his skates. Y/N smiles at how his tongue pokes out just slightly passed his lips before she turns around and walks over to lock up her tote bag, making sure everything but her phone is inside.

Once the small locker door is closed, she walks over to the wall of the ice rink and opens her Instagram again, putting on a quick filter that makes it look like it’s being filmed with an old film camera before she pans her camera around while holding down the button on the screen. As she turns to face where Harry is, she cuts off the video and double checks he’s not in it. With having so many followers, she always makes sure that her friends and family are comfortable with being posted before doing so. Y/N adds a quick caption of ‘first skate this season’ with a white heart emoji before she posts it to her story, then she slips the phone into her back pocket and walks over to where Harry sat waiting for her.

“Ready?” Harry asks, smiling up at her.

“Yup,” she nods, smiling back at him. Harry nods, muttering ‘alright’ under his breath, and then stands up on wobbling legs. Y/N chuckles and reaches for his elbow, helping him stand up straight. “You’ve skated before, right?” She asks, realizing now that she only assumed that he had.

“Uh, it’s been a few years,” Harry admits, flashing another nervous smile her way. All he can think about is her hand on his arm, and how she hasn’t let go of him yet. Harry hadn’t even thought about the potential arm holding, or hand holding maybe, they could get into here. She has a boyfriend, he reminds himself over and over again as he watches her lips tug up as she smiles back at him again.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow then,” she assures him, pulling at his arm gently to get them moving forward on their skates.

Y/N takes the first step onto the shining ice, letting her blades slide over the top slowly before she takes a sharp turn and is in front of Harry in an instant. His eyebrows fly up his forehead as his eyes fall down to her skates again, noticing how worn out they look now, her left foot lifting up as she sticks the toe of her skate blade into the ice - her whole stance made her look like some sort of professional. Harry’s head snaps up and he meets her gaze, lips now smirking at his stunned expression.

“You’ve been skating a lot before then, hm?” Harry gulps, looking back down at his feet as he inches slowly to the ice.

“Since I was a kid,” Y/N reveals. He’ll touch more on it later, but first he wants to get himself onto the ice and get this embarrassment over with. Harry sighs and starts to place his right foot into the ice, letting out a deep breath as he does but just as quickly as he makes the move he’s slipping. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, ready to fall before he even has both feet on the ice. But both of Y/N’s arms fly out and grab a hold of his forearms, causing him to wrap each of his hands around her much smaller forearms.

Harry shakes his head and just decides to get it over with, pushing both skates onto the ice in a quick motion. Y/N is fully prepared for his sudden movement and skates backwards, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure she doesn’t get in anyone's way. She keeps a tight grip on Harry’s arms and smiles as she looks up at him and sees the stressed out look on his face.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N assures him, her voice causing Harry to look down and meet her soft eyes. “We can move a bit closer to the wall so you can hang onto it for the first bit?” She suggests, motioning to the wall beside them.

“Probably for the best,” Harry agrees, nodding his head and finally taking his eyes off Y/N’s in order to make his way to the wall. The few movements on his part aren’t as hard as he thought they’d be to get over to the wall. He thinks his muscle memory for skating will click in soon, hopefully.

Y/N takes it slow beside Harry, waiting for him to get comfortable enough to only need one hand on the wall before she lets go of his arm. She already misses the warmth from his touch. Not even one day into her and Mark’s break up and she’s already feeling touch deprived. To be fair, her and Mark hadn’t so much as given each other a few quick pecks and barely snuggling on the couch the last couple days they were together. Y/N shakes her head slightly at her thoughts of Mark.

“So how did you get into skating?” Harry asks after a few moments of them finding a slow pace.

“Um,” Y/N pauses as she thinks of how to explain how her parents didn’t want to spend much time with her, so they stuck her into many different hobbies to fill the void. “I was into a lot of the typical little girl hobbies, dancing, gymnastics, art, but figure skating was something that just really stuck with me as I grew up. Probably in connection with my obsession with the holidays, and the winter season,” Y/N explains, noticing already how Harry’s pace on his skates is picking up.

“Are you, like, really good?” Harry questions. Y/N chuckles and looks away from the ice below them to meet his gaze before he’s glancing down at his skates again in order to keep upright.

“Yup,” Y/N nods, rolling her lips into her mouth to hide her grin.

“So humble,” Harry jokes with a chuckle. “You could probably skate circles around me, huh? Do those little twirly things too?”

“I could do a few spins, yes,” Y/N says and nods her head. “I’ll let you get used to the ice first before I throw out any big moves,” she adds, looking down at how Harry’s feet were moving on the ice. Every minute he is getting better, soon enough he’ll let go of that wall and be able to skate in slow laps around the rink with her.

“How very considerate of you,” Harry notes, causing the both of them to chuckle again.

They do another two laps with Harry’s hand just inches away from the wall, hovering over it just in case he made the wrong move. But then soon enough, they’re mixed in with the other skaters and making strong, smooth strides across the ice. Y/N is laughing at something Harry says about how he must look like Bambi on ice, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up, when Harry just about falls. She catches him gasping and opens her eyes quickly before catching his hand in hers.

“You okay?” She asks, clear concern in her voice as she moves in order to meet his eyes. Harry knows this isn’t the first time they’ve sort of held hands, but it still feels like her skin is too warm for his cold touch and butterflies erupt in his stomach as she cards their fingers together so effortlessly. Damn Styles grow some balls and don’t let her make all the first moves, he thinks to himself.

“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles and nods, completely losing focus on the world around them as they float across the ice looking into each other's eyes and holding hands.

Y/N licks her lips, blinking up at Harry in what feels like an innocent way but realizes the moment his gaze drops to her lips that maybe it isn’t. Clearing her throat, she squeezes Harry’s hand and then slowly lets go. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed by how short they’d held hands for, he was hoping it would at least last a whole lap around the rink. Y/N shivers and sticks both of her hands into her coat pockets, playing off letting go of his hand with being cold, but in reality touching Harry’s skin made her feel like she was on fire.

“Tell me what your favourite colour is,” Harry blabs out loud suddenly.

Y/N furrows her brows and looks up at Harry. He’s no longer watching the ice with each stride of his skates, instead his posture is completely at ease almost as he seems much more confident on the ice now. Something tells Y/N that Harry is stupidly good at pretty much anything and if he doesn’t get it right the first time it would only take a few more before he masters it.

“It changes almost every other day,” Y/N admits, biting down on her bottom lip - which causes Harry’s eyes to flicker down to her lips yet again. “Lately it’s been green,” she exclaims, as she speaks Harry’s gaze falls back to her eyes.

“Like my eyes?” Harry teases, batting his eyelashes.

There’s suddenly a group of teenagers in their way, causing their conversation to pause as they have to maneuver around the few bodies. Harry finds that he doesn’t struggle at all with the quick movements he has to make with his skates in order to get around them. He smiles to himself, proud of how fast he’s picked up skating again. Maybe he’ll try the little twirly spin around Y/N to impress her. Too bad she’s much more talented on skates and is picking up speed before making a quick turn and is now skating backwards in front of Harry with her eyes narrowed and a tight smile on her lips.

“Firstly, that was a poor set up to try and get a compliment out of me, I’ll just tell you that your eyes are very pretty,” Y/N states. Harry smiles at her words, those pesky butterflies back in his stomach once again. “And second, my favourite green is more like a dark, rich, forest green,” she explains, quickly looking over her shoulder as they turn the corner of the rink. Harry notices how effortlessly she picks up her skates and crosses them over each other to smoothly take the turn.

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

Y/N smiles and nods, “exactly, like a Christmas tree,” she says, a beat of silence between them before she asks, “what’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink,” Harry answers without missing a beat. It’s been his favourite for years now, since he was just a young lad.

“Like my lips?” Y/N teases, her voice dropping down into a low and soft tone that causes a fire to spark in the pit of Harry’s stomach. His eyes drop to her lips at the mention of them, which Y/N notices and smirks at him before she’s turning on her skates and facing forward again. They both don’t say anything as they skate around the other turn of the rink, avoiding an older couple that has slowed down in front of them. Y/N still has a smug look on her face when Harry glances to his left where she skates beside him. Obviously, yes, exactly like the shade of your lips, Harry thinks and wishes he had the guts to say aloud.

“More like,” Harry pauses and then smiles, “like the Pink Panther,” Harry jokes.

“You know what, fair enough,” Y/N chuckles and shrugs her shoulder.

The two of them continue to ask each other more random favourites, getting the basics down with favourite foods, favourite alcoholic drinks, and favourite word too, of course. In fact, they are just skating at a leisurely pace for quite some time. Y/N notices that the number of people on the rink dwindles down to a mere twenty and she lifts her Apple watch up, so it lights up and shows her the time. Bryant Park should be closing within an hour or two, depending if they’re on holiday hours yet, meaning that Harry and her have spent nearly two hours out on the ice together.

“I think it’s time you bust out some of those fancy figure skating moves,” Harry suddenly says unprovoked. Y/N furrows her brows and shakes her head, watching a young couple, just a few people ahead of them, holding hands, like how she wishes her and Harry could have been this entire time. But it’s too soon, she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her eyes still on the couple as they’re laughing together - much like how her and Harry have been. Did these strangers around them think they were a couple?

“Fine,” Harry huffs and starts to skate a bit faster to be a few strides ahead of Y/N before he comes to a wobbly stop a bit more into the middle of the rink out of everyone's way. Y/N comes to a much smoother stop in front of him. “I’ll give it a shot then, how hard can it be to spin around a few times.”

Famous last words, Y/N thinks as Harry tries to whip his body around to try and attempt to do a spin. She can already see how he’s lifting the toe of his left skate, the small ridges getting caught on the ice while his body is still trying to spin around. Y/N’s eyes widen as she suddenly tries to stop him, her hands just barely getting a hold of his arms before he can fall. But his weight is too much and her skates slip out from under her. A small screech escapes her mouth as the two of them begin their fall to the ice - for surprisingly the first time tonight. Harry turns them both so he gets the worst of the fall, moving Y/N so she falls more on top of him rather than on the ice. Y/N notices and quickly moves her hand to the back of his head to ensure he doesn’t smack it against the hard surface. Her fingers card through his hair, while her other hand is clenching into a fist around the fabric of his coat.

“Shit,” Harry groans as the bodies fall to the ice. Thankfully, he tries to sit up a bit during the fall, so he doesn’t hit his head but instead he feels immediately pain shot up his elbow and backside.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasps, blinking several times as she takes in what had happened. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks Harry in a rush of words.

“I’m okay,” he nods, which causes Y/N to realize her hand is still brushing through his hair. She rubs his scalp a few times with her thumb before removing her hand and quickly lifting her body off of Harry’s. “I’ll probably have a bruised ass, but I guess that’s karma,” he tries to joke.

Y/N frowns and smacks his arm gently, “don’t pull that shit again, oh my god, I thought we were going to end our night in the ER.”

Harry chuckles and sits up, taking in how Y/N has sat up on her knees with both her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes wide and wild with emotion - but otherwise she looks alright. Thankfully, Harry did good and kept her safe in their fall.

“Just need a few ice packs and maybe a joint before bed to ease the pain,” Harry says, only half joking.

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together, “do you smoke weed?” She asks. To be honest, she couldn’t imagine Harry as some pothead. Not that there was a true look to a ‘pothead’ these days. Hell, she’s had her fair share of joints and edibles while in college. Even afterwards too, Sammy loved to roll a joint or two towards the end of their wine nights.

Harry shrugs and begins to get up from the ice slowly. “Not really. It makes me a bit sleepy, truthfully,” he tells her.

“I get that,” Y/N nods, “I don’t smoke often, but when I do, I typically fall asleep within the hour after smoking. It annoys the crap out of Sammy.” She tells Harry truthfully. Harry nods as well, only a little bit surprised to learn that Y/N didn’t say no to drugs in her youth. Not that he was judging, far from it really cause he had no room to judge, but he just simply didn’t imagine her consuming anything more than a bottle or two of wine.

The two of them get up off the ice now, finally getting back on their feet. A sigh leaves Y/N lips as she brushes her hands on her jeans. “I think you falling is our cue to get out of here,” she suggests, skating slowly backwards towards the doorway where the benches were.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agrees and begins to follow her, trying not to whine with his movements as a sharp pain stings his bottom with each stride of his skates.

Y/N leaves Harry to sit on the bench they had used before and goes over to unlock her locker and get her tote bag. Harry’s lucky no one stole his shoes he had just left under the bench with no care in the world, she thinks as she walks back over and sits beside him. She unties her skates and is slipping on her boots before Harry can even untie one of his skates. Y/N puts the guards on her skates and places them into her tote bag before turning to look at Harry, noticing the pained look in his face as he bends forward to work on the laces of his other skate.

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

“No,” Harry pauses to hiss in pain, “I’m fine,” he adds, but Y/N just rolls her eyes and scoots over on the bench till she’s nearly pressing right up against Harry’s side, leaning down in order to work on his laces.

Harry watches her nimble fingers untie and loosen the laces, noticing how her hair falls as she bends down further. A faint smell of roses hits him with the movement of her hair as she pushes it back away from her line of sight. Harry looks away, glancing around them to see if anyone’s watching them because from any other view it may look like Y/N is giving him-

“There you go,” Y/N says with a smile and sits up again. Harry looks at his skates to see them completely loosened and ready for him to slip off easily.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

After Harry has his trusty not-so-white vans on, they walk over to return his rentals and make their way out of the ice rink area of Bryant Park. Harry notices the shops around the park, the painted white frames and clean windows were rather pleasing to look at while the inside glows with soft yellow lights. He wonders what they sell, but notices Y/N hiding a yawn behind her hand and decides it’s probably best they just head home. Also, his ass really did hurt with each step he took.

“Would you like to get a hot cocoa before we walk home?” Harry suggests, pointing to the small shack that was open and looks like it serves hot drinks and a few treats maybe.

“I would love that,” Y/N answers with a bright smile.

Her heart can’t help but burst at the thought that Harry knows her so well already. Not even a month of knowing one another and he already is so much better than Mark ever was. He would never go skating with her or buy her a nice warm drink afterwards either. It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend anymore, Y/N finds herself reminding herself, which causes her heart to pitter patter in her chest again. This time thinking about how maybe Harry could maybe be her boyfriend, one day.

“Hi,” Y/N gives the small brunette at her front door a tight smile.

She’s almost thirty minutes later than Mark said she would be. But to be fair, the subway was later than usual on her way home so Y/N had only just gotten home ten minutes ago. She had texted Mark to let him know and relay the message to his assistant, but he didn’t answer, no surprise there. So, in hindsight it wasn’t the biggest deal that his pretty little assistant was late.

What the big deal was the way she just strolled into Y/N’s apartment and set the box of her things on the couch. Y/N is standing by her door still in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyes wide at the girls behaviour. When she turns around and gives Y/N a funny look while pointing around at her Christmas decor.

“It looks like Mrs Claus threw up in here,” she says.

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters and walks over to where she stood by the couch. Mark’s assistant steps back, pulling out her phone and tapping away at the screen as she seems bored to be here. “I’ll go get Mark’s things,” Y/N says, but then just as she’s about to walk away her eyes catch something red near the top of the box of her things that Mark had packed up.

She pushes her favourite Eagles shirt out of the way and hooks one finger around the lacy red fabric. The Victoria’s Secret label sticks out of the barely there red thong that’s hanging off her index finger. Y/N doesn’t recognize the underwear, she thinks as her head begins to spin. How the fuck did a pair of woman's underwear get into this box of things Mark packed up? Why would he have a red thong at his apartment that wasn’t Y/N’s? What the actual fuck? Another round of questions are about to spew in Y/N’s head as her heart beats out of her chest but then suddenly Mark’s assistant is reaching for the lacy fabric and taking it out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Oh, those are mine. Must’ve slipped in by accident,” she stammers out the words. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart is beating out of her chest, as she puts the pieces together.

“Really? A thong just slipped into the box?” Y/N urges, narrowing her eyes at the young brunette standing in her living room. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?” Y/N asks and raises her voice, the anger filling her whole body now.

“Ex boyfriend,” the brunette has the guts to utter out.

“Answer the damn question,” Y/N snaps back at her.

Her face is turning red, to match the stupid thong in her hands, “uh, it’s none of your business-”

“Just tell me!” Y/N shouts, feeling like she deserves some truth in this moment. Mark’s assistant visibly gulps, avoiding Y/N’s eyes and looks all around the room.

“Like, a few months,” she mutters under her breath, still not meeting Y/N’s burning gaze.

Her whole body is shaking with the anger coursing through her. She should have known. How could she be such an idiot? She thinks while shaking her head. Of course, Mark was cheating on her during the entirety of their relationship. They were only dating for four months, meaning that for at least half of it, he was busy screwing his fucking assistant - how unbelievably cliche of him, but also how unbelievably naive of her to not guess. Y/N brings a hand to her forehand and rubs at her temple as a headache begins.

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

“Get. Out.” Y/N spits out the words, glaring at the brunette who has the audacity to be so nonchalant about being the other woman.

“What about his things?” Mark’s assistant all but winces out the words, her dark eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell Mark to eat a dick,” Y/N sneers, taking a step towards the girl which causes her to step back. She can’t deny the bit of joy she feels at the sight of fear in the girls eyes. “And get out of my apartment, now!” Y/N shouts at the woman.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, turning around and walking to the front door.

Y/N is hot on her heels, making sure to slam to door shut behind her. The moment she’s left to herself, her apartment falling silent around her, she feels the pain settle in. Mark cheated on her with his assistant that he then had the nerve to let come over to her apartment. The realization of how embarrassing this whole situation is hits her, along with the hurt too. Regardless if it was a mutual break up, being cheated on does not feel good. Y/N sniffles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she suddenly is holding back sobs. Tears fall down her cheeks while her brain runs wild thinking of how many times Mark could have fucked his assistant and then just waltzed into her apartment and then they-

Her thoughts are cut short as she’s bolting to her bathroom, throwing the door open and bending down in front of the toilet. She lifts the seat and empties her stomach into the bowl. After a moment she’s coughing, lifting her head out of the toilet and reaching for the lever to flush away any contents that were in her stomach. Y/N grabs the hand towel to her right and brings it to her mouth, wiping away the bit of drool at her lips.

Y/N can feel the vibration from her cell phone after a moment of sitting on the bathroom floor, zoned out on the shower and thinking about how stupid she could have been to trust Mark. She lets out a short sigh and reaches into her back pocket to find her buzzing phone. Her eyes roll on instinct of seeing Mark’s contact photo taking up her screen. A part of her wants to answer, to yell and to scream at him. But a bigger part of her feels sick to her stomach again and just tired, honestly. So, she ignores the call and opens her phone to her contacts and deletes Mark all together. She goes into her photos and does a quick sweep of any photos of them together. It was something she was going to do eventually anyways, but after the news of him being a cheating piece of shit she couldn’t waste another second before getting rid of anything involving Mark.

Mark is a fucking asshole. His precious little assistant came by to drop off my few things and one of her thongs was in the box, so she spilled the beans that she had been sleeping with Mark for months. Meaning that piece of absolute trash was cheating on me like the entire time we were together. Y/N types out the message to Sammy, making sure that he knows the drama first - but also just simply because he’s her best friend.

Sammy is typing back a response as Y/N stands up from her spot by the toilet, flushing it again due to her spitting a few times into the bowl, and then she quickly washes her hands and looks up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red, her hairs a bit frizzy and out of place from the perfect curls she had earlier today, and her makeup is ruined. She decides to wash her face, drying it with a clean towel as her phone vibrates on the counter.

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m going to kill him. Please tell me we have a murder plan, I know where we can hide the body. Did you want to talk about it? I can come over and bring a big bottle of tequila? Sammy sends each sentence as a separate text, adding a few choice emojis too. The knife is used many times. His enthusiasm makes Y/N chuckle but then she’s frowning again while walking out of the bathroom and to her bedroom.

Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed and cry it out some more while listening to some sad music. But I’ll keep you updated on any murder plans I think up. Y/N sends back her texts before throwing her phone down on her bed.

Letting out another sigh, Y/N strips out of her tight fitting pants and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants. Next, she takes off the collared button up shirt she had worn tucked into her pants today, hanging it back up in her closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Her eyes wander around her bedroom, a certain article of clothing was on her mind to put on and snuggle into bed with. Y/N smiles as she sees Harry’s black hoodie on the top of her laundry hamper. To be honest, it needed to be washed, but she needed the comfort of his oversized clothing more. So, she tugs it on, puts her hair into a messy topknot bun, and tugs down the hood before lifting the blanket and getting into bed.

Not even three songs into her ‘depressed? yeah, me too’ playlist of sad songs, there was a knock on Y/N’s front door. At first she thinks of ignoring whoever it is, but then her music is cut off as a phone call comes through. It’s Mark’s number, regardless that she just deleted his contact, she still knew his phone number. Y/N groans and gets out of bed. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she imagines Mark or that little assistant of his having the balls to come to her apartment again and demand for his few things he had left around here. Y/N narrows her eyes and unlocks her door, ready to glare at her sad excuse for an ex boyfriend - but her face instantly softens at the sight of Harry standing there.

“Nice jumper,” Harry comments. A smile on his lips as he takes in how Y/N looks in his clothing, days after he had lent it to her. But that smile vanishes when he notices the redness in her eyes and her pouting lips. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks, his voice full of worry as he fights back reaching for her and bringing her in for a hug.

Y/N sniffles, “um, I thought you were Mark, sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sorry, is he coming over?” Harry questions. Suppose it made more sense for her boyfriend to comfort her during a bad day, he thinks although it tears him up inside that it can’t be him.

“No, no, he’s in Arizona, or somewhere. I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs, her voice sounding brittle, like it’s about to crack at any second, as she tries to keep herself composed in front of Harry. “I don’t really care actually, we broke up,” she reveals, her gaze down at the floor. Harry’s wearing those dirty white vans again, she wonders if he wears anything else.

They broke up, holy shit don’t freak out Styles, keep it together, Harry’s thoughts are all jumbled up at the news of Y/N and her boyfriends break up, which she is clearly very upset over, judging by her appearance and how she’s sniffling every second - bringing the sleeve of his Columbia jumper to her face to wipe her nose. Harry frowns and adjusts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Harry says softly, “break ups can really suck,” he adds - knowing from experience just how terrible break ups can leave a person feeling.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathes out and looks up at Harry now, “but he’s kind of a trash human so it’s for the best, honestly,” she tells him, letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be crying so damn much over the guy, she thinks.

“Oh, well then, fuck that guy,” Harry agrees with a nod of his head.

Y/N lets out a genuine chuckle at his words. She brings a hand, that is covered by the cuff of Harry’s hoodie, to her forehead to swipe back any crazy wispy hairs that are in her face. “So, what brought you to knock on my door?” She asks, smiling as Harry realizes he had gotten distracted by her state and forgot why he knocked at all.

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “um, a few friends of mine are in this band, it’s nothing crazy they just play at the pub a few blocks away. And I was wondering if you weren’t busy if you wanted to come with, thought it could be fun. But if you’re not in the mood to leave your home I understand,” Harry explains to her.

“No, I would love to come with,” Y/N insists. She lets out another chuckle and motions to her current appearance. “Just not looking like this, and as long as you promise there will be liquor involved in this Saturday night out.”

“I’ll buy you as many drinks as you need,” Harry promises with a smile.

“Then count me in,” Y/N says, mirroring his big dimpled smile. “Just give me some time to get ready?”

“You’ve got plenty of time, we don’t have to leave for another hour and a half,” he tells her. “I’ll let you get to it,” he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he takes a step away from her doorway.

“Oh, I’ll wash the sweater and give it to you soon, by the way,” Y/N says, lifting both her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Harry just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Keep it as long as you need, it’s no problem, honestly,” Harry tells her while flashing a grin her way, hoping that it makes her feel even a little bit better. And it does, his casual response to her wearing his hoodie and then those dimples - it had her stomach fluttering. She gives Harry a small timid smile, tucking her chin down slightly into the collar of the hoodie as she watches his walk backwards down the hall to his door. “I’ll come knocking again in a bit,” Harry adds before he’s out of her sight and she’s closing her front door shut once again.

Y/N absentmindedly brings her hand to her mouth, biting on her nails as she stares off at her Christmas tree - though the lights are blurry due to her zoning out. You can do this, Y/N thinks and begins to give herself a pep talk of getting out of the sad break up phase and going out with Harry and his friends. Oh my god, Y/N’s eyes widen at her thoughts, what am I going to wear?

Y/N felt overdressed.

After twenty minutes of ripping apart her closet and tearing items out of her dresser drawers, she was truly tempted to just keep on Harry’s hoodie, pair it with some good jeans and some red heeled boots and call it a day. But that would be weird, showing up to hang out and meet Harry’s friends while dressed in his clothing. She was sure they were already going to assume things with him just bringing her along. Y/N didn’t need them thinking they had sex before too.

The thought had made Y/N blush like crazy as she tore off the stupidly comfortable hoodie and grabbed a silky white top that plunged low in the neckline, tying off just at her belly button, and then had long flowy sleeves. Pairing this with her trusted pair of light blue jeans, and for accessories: some chunky gold hoop earrings and layered gold necklaces to fill up the amount of skin she was showing at her chest. To top it all off, she slipped into her go-to black Balenciaga boots and long brown jacket to keep warm. After heading into the bathroom quickly, she brushed her hair through again and restyled the curls, put on a touch of light makeup, and then made sure to stick her lip gloss in her small black purse just as Harry was knocking on her door again.

Harry was dressed in a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face, brown trousers and a blue and cream plaid jacket that quite literally made chills wash over Y/N’s body when she saw the whole fit - but that jacket, it made her head spin with some rather inappropriate thoughts. She’s a fashion major, can’t blame her for thinking clothing can make someone even more attractive. But even then she should have gotten the vibe of this evening and changed into something more casual.

But she didn’t, so now as she’s walking into a dive bar a few blocks away from the apartment building, she feels very out of place. Everyone’s wearing t-shirts and jeans, it smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes, and was definitely not the place to wear a silky white top that cost about five-hundred-dollars.

“You alright?” Harry's voice is soft and closer, as he steps directly behind Y/N after walking into the bar.

He notices how she crossed her arms at her chest and seemed to tense up almost immediately after walking in. Y/N shivers at the feeling of Harry’s breath falling over her exposed neck, having pushed her hair to lay on her left shoulder while he stood over her right. Y/N is still looking around the bar, trying to put together who may be Harry’s group of friends in this crowded bar.

“Y/N?” Harry tries again, this time placing a delicate hand on the small of her back - barely touching her, that he’s not even sure she’s noticed through her thick jacket. But she does, and she feels dizzy at the sweet gesture.

“Yeah,” she sighs, blinking a few times before looking to her right shoulder at Harry. He’s lips are so close, she thinks while trying her best to keep her eyes on his eyes. “Just feeling a little overdressed,” Y/N admits with a tight smile.

Harry shakes his head, “you look fine, better than fine actually. You look amazing,” Harry watches as Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a split second. He smiles but clears his throat, finding that they’re both blushing at his comment now. “As any FIT student in New York City should, of course,” he adds on to try and make his compliment a little less obvious.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

When Harry saw Y/N for the second time that evening, it was like day and night from the hour before when she answered her door in his hoodie. She looked incredible, and was so out of his league. Dressed like she was going to a photoshoot, hair flowing down her back perfectly, and accessories that made him visibly gulp - he was a sucker for some gold jewelry on a girl, it was a weird weakness of his. And now, standing in the dim lighting of this dingy dive bar, she did look a little out of place, but in the best way possible, like she shined too bright to be in just a dark and depressing place.

“This way,” Harry says, leading the way to where he notices his friends are sitting at a table. They thankfully got his texts about him bringing Y/N with him and had two seats open for the both of them.

“Should we stop at the bar and get a drink?” Y/N asks. She’s honestly unsure how the service works at a place like this. To be honest, she hadn’t been in too many dive bars in her years.

Harry stops, looks behind him at her, and shakes his head. “We have a waitress that works basically every night my friends play, so she’ll come by and get our drinks for us,” he explains to Y/N. She nods, giving him a tight smile, and Harry can’t help but notice how she’s still got her arms crossed at her chest. Is she uncomfortable here? Maybe he can make some shit excuse after the first few songs and get her home.

Harry notices as he’s turned towards Y/N just how much attention is on her. He’s not surprised, seeing how he already realized how much she sticks out in a place like this, but he doesn’t quite enjoy seeing every male’s - and a few girls too - eyes in this place on the girl he’s brought with him. So, he makes the quick decision of holding out his hand for Y/N to take. She looks at Harry’s outstretched hand and feels her breath get caught in her throat. Playing it off, she smiles and reaches forward, watching as his much larger hand envelopes hers and tugs gently to get them moving again. Y/N’s stomach is already full of butterflies and her head is spinning at them holding hands for all of ninety seconds it takes to get to his table full of friends - she needs a drink, stat.

Harry lets go of Y/N’s hand as he approaches his friend's usual table and has to bring his arms up in order to hug Adam, who’s throwing himself into Harry at the sight of him. Harry huffs out a laugh, making a comment about how drunk Adam must be already, to which he responds by smacking Harry’s back a few times and laughing with him. Y/N can’t help it as the corners of her lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of Harry engulfed in a hug by a man bigger than him. As she’s watching their interaction, she notices how everyone else is watching her. Y/N’s smile falls right away and she finds herself crossing her arms at her chest again.

“Everyone,” Harry speaks a bit louder in order to get everyone's attention as he turns around and holds his arm out to Y/N, which she takes as her singal to step forward for an introduction and smiles timidly at the group of four others at the table. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is everyone,” Harry announces, smiling at his friends - catching Mitch’s smug look in return.

“Hi,” Y/N says, her voice that soft and gentle tone that he had grown to like, quite a lot, actually.

“I’m Tom,” he’s the first to speak up, offering a hand to Y/N to shake, which she turns just a bit to her left in order to properly greet Harry’s friend. Tom’s got bleached hair that’s not styled and laying flat on his forehead, his roots are a dark brown that match the mustache and bit of bread he’s got. Y/N notices the few different necklaces around his neck while he’s wearing a simple outfit of a black long sleeve and black jeans.

“Jenny,” the woman sitting to Tom's left reaches over the table in order to shake Y/N’s hand. She’s also got bleached hair, and a dazzling smile too. Y/N notices the equally dazzling ring on her finger and she glances down at Tom’s hands to see a wedding band, assuming they are married due to them sitting so closely.

“Mitch,” a long haired young man speaks up just as Y/N and Jenny drop their hands. Y/N meets his gaze and blinks a few times, feeling slightly intimidated by him. Regardless of how he seems like the scrawniest at the table, his eyes just sort of bring Y/N to a stop, but she recovers swiftly and gives him a smile, returning the wave he gives her as it’s too far of a reach to shake hands. Mitch raises a brow at Harry, to which Harry is quick to return. Catching the interaction, Y/N imagines they are the closest of the group. Suppose he’s just a bit protective of his friend bringing a random girl around, Y/N thinks to herself before her attention is grasped by the last person sitting at the table.

“And I’m Adam, the only name you need to remember, obviously,” says the man who had hugged Harry upon their arrival. He’s smiling so widely there’s crinkles near his eyes, which make Y/N feel all warm inside as she stares into his big brown eyes. He’s got a full bread, like Mitch, and matching brown hair that looks like it may need a bit of a trim but he styles it well. Y/N likes his button up shirt that’s a dark navy with little white stars all around it, paired with some plain black jeans.

“It’s really lovely to meet you all,” Y/N says after shaking Adam’s hand, “thank you for letting me come crash your night,” she adds with another timid smile.

“Nonsense, it’s nothing special,” Jenny assures her, waving her hand too before wrapping it around her half full glass of what Y/N assumed was alcohol - or hoped, because she really didn’t want to be the only one drinking tonight.

“Ouch,” Adam scoffs jokingly, “guess your husbands best mates playing is nothing special then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hurt, Jenny,” Mitch nods, bringing his glass up to his lips to take a sip of the dark yellow foaming liquid in his tall glass - beer, okay, sweet, so we’re all drinking, good, Y/N thinks. She also notices that Mitch is the only one with an American accent. She wonders how this group all became friends, being from different parts of the world, where did they all connect?

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his friends, looking to Y/N to find her smiling at his mates too. He places a hand on her elbow, causing her to look at him. He nods his head to the open seats on the other side of the table for them. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and begins to walk around the table, stepping behind Tom and Jenny’s chairs before stopping at the first one on Jenny’s right. Y/N catches Mitch’s stare, now ignoring the conversation at the table to instead watch Harry and her, but she’s quick to look away from his intense gaze and focus on taking her jacket off. Just as she tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, fixing her top in a discreet manner too, a red headed woman steps up in between her and Harry who is also slipping out of his jacket.

“Hey, Harry,” the woman greets him in a sultry tone. If Harry notices the obvious show she puts into her voice, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey, Amy,” he says quickly, looking at his chair as he pulls it out and takes a seat.

“Running a bit behind your friends tonight, huh? What took you so long?” She asks. Seems she's rather observant of Harry’s presence, Y/N thinks, while she takes her seat and looks anywhere but to her right where the red head - fake red dye too, it was so obvious - back was mere inches away from her.

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her.

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #1dff #cstsyl #omg this took me so long i know but i really really like it and hope u guys to do!!

333 notes · View notes

ikeromantic · 3 years ago

Text

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

“And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #otome boys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

63 notes · View notes

heliads · 4 years ago

Text

Too Cold

Based on this request: “imagine with Bucky where you're on a mission in the mountains but due to the weather you need to stay in a little cabin for the night but it's terribly cold. He lights a fire but then he offers you his sweater. You're both getting closer (you have a crush as well on each other), so you kinda forget about the mission and just enjoy the time together as you also share a meaningful kiss?”

masterlist

“It’s going to be cold. Siberia, midwinter, ski resort? It’ll be freezing.” Bucky fixes you with an expecting gaze. You return the stare. “Buck, I’ve been on missions for years. I’ve trained and fought and killed in some of the worst places on the planet. I think I can handle a little snow.” Bucky shrugs. “I hope that’s true, because I’d like to focus on the mission, and being able to laugh at you for being wrong would distract me.”

You toss a glare his way. “You are a horrible friend.” Bucky just grins. “Maybe so.” You roll your eyes, then turn your attention back to the guidebooks and manila file folders strewn across the table in front of you. In less than 24 hours, you and Bucky will embark on a mission to ice-cold Siberia, posing as a pair of newlyweds at a ski resort. Such an elaborate scheme would usually never be a part of the Avengers’ repertoire, but the couple you’re investigating is so wily and tricky that you have no other choice.

The targets in question are a man and a woman, Sara and Henri Antonovich. They were noted members of HYDRA before the organization’s collapse, and their names are frequently listed among the visitors of certain Siberian military bases, especially ones containing Winter Soldiers. There have been rumored sightings of them around the area, and now you have proof that they’ll be staying at this particular resort in the hopes of meeting someone and making a deal. So, you and Bucky must go there as well, to catch them in the act.

The plane ride is uneventful, and you touch down in Siberia without too many worries. Bucky, already prepared to act the part of the dutiful husband, links your hand through his, leaning close as if to whisper a declaration of love. Instead, he tells you that a car is waiting, driven by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who will give you fake IDs and deliver you to your assigned rental cabin. Such is the romantic life of an undercover agent.

By the time you get there, you’re shivering. The car was cold, the journey up the icy walkway was cold, the time spent standing in the freezing winter air whilst you try to find your key was cold, and this cabin, unfortunately, is also cold. You walk through the door, hoping to find some last remnants of heating, but you are sorely disappointed. You walk briskly over to the thermostat, cranking it up and muttering something under your breath about stingy S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who wouldn’t even let you be warm in your own undercover house.

Bucky, noticing your arms wrapped tightly around you, grins. “What happened to your years of experience? Are they not helping you against the cold?” You make a face at his back, but Bucky does not see it and continues checking out some data file disguised as a paperback that he brought with him.

You purse your lips together. It’s strange- you’ve known Bucky for a while now, long enough to consider him a friend. The two of you have these moments like companionship, just like now, with jokes being exchanged and laughter bubbling out. But then Bucky seems to remember something, and it’s like a switch is flipped. He stays quiet and doesn’t open his mouth for a long time after that. You’re not sure what he’s thinking about, or why he only seems to want to talk to you in small doses, but it still feels like an ever-growing thorn in your side.

Especially since you have the unfortunate habit of crushing on him. Of course you had to fall in love with the one guy who doesn’t feel the need to talk that much with you, but it wasn’t like you had that much of a choice. He just appeared in your life, with his slight smile and broken mind, and he made you feel like you were more than just a gun and a badge, a placard on a S.H.I.E.L.D. desk. He made you feel like a person, and you love him for it.

You walk over to the neat stone fireplace to light some tinder and heat this place up. You’ve never been the best with fires, and Bucky knows this, so he crouches beside you to arrange the kindling and begin the blaze. After what seems like only a couple of seconds, the spark catches and a pleasantly crackling fire appears in the fireplace. Bucky stands back, satisfied, while you hold up your hands to the warm glow, desperately trying to ward away the winter chill.

Bucky glances over at you one last time, then turns and silently disappears from the room. You bite your cheek, pretending it doesn’t hurt you that he already feels the need to leave. If he’s already sick of you after only a couple of minutes, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to come off as a loving couple. Maybe it’ll be easy for you, because you’re not entirely sure that you’ll be faking it, but you don’t know whether or not Bucky could ever look like he was in love with you.

Then he comes out of the room again, holding in his hands a thick wool sweater. He tosses it towards you, and you pick it up, slightly confused. “You look freezing. Might as well try to stay warm, right?” You beam at him, already slipping it on. “You’re the best. None of my sweaters are anywhere near this warm.” You run your hands over the thick weaving, already feeling better.

“Well, don’t thank me quite yet,” he says with a light smile, “because I’m making you go back outside again.” You stare at him, mouth hanging slightly open in outrage. “No, you’re not. I know you’re not.” Bucky grins. “Afraid so. I’ve received word that one of our supplies came in late, so they’ve dropped it off, pretending it’s just the postal service.”

You sigh dramatically, turning to grab your winter coat once again. “You are the meanest friend ever.” Bucky walks over next to you, taking his coat off the rack as well. “Husband. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember?” How could you not? You give him a sideways glance. “If we’re undercover, I feel like you shouldn’t keep bringing it up all the time.” Bucky, hiding his metal hand underneath a pair of thick winter gloves, just grins.

It is still freezing cold outside. Maybe even worse, if that’s possible. Yet you still walk down the snow-encrusted path to the brown-wrapped package waiting for the two of you, just because you and Bucky are loyal Avengers who have to get your stupid gear even though it’s going to give you both frostbite. On the walk back, though, you’re treated to something you didn’t expect at all. The neighbours are coming out of their cabin. What’s more, they just happen to be Sara and Henri Antonovich. The couple you two were sent here to investigate.

You can feel Bucky tensing just slightly beside you at the sight of them. So he’s noticed them too. They have also seen you by now, and you wait, heart pounding in your chest, to see if there’s some chance they’ll recognize you and know that they’ve been found out. Sara turns, sees you, starts walking over. This is it.

She smiles and holds out a hand. “My name is Sara, and this is my husband, Henri. Are you two also here for the skiing?” You plaster on a smile, shaking her hand. “Yes, we’d heard about all the good snow and wanted to see it for ourselves. I’m Y/N, and this is my husband, James.” Bucky smiles at her, and shakes hands with Henri. He’s careful not to use his metal arm lest he give everything away.

You stumble slightly in the snow, but Bucky’s already reached out and steadied you, arm wrapping around your waist. You glance up at him, mouthing a silent thank-you. Sara grins. “Well, aren’t you two the sweetest! Did you get married recently?” You turn back to her, ready to let out every last detail of the lie S.H.I.E.L.D. cooked up for you. “Yes, we did. I met James at work. I know you’re not supposed to date your coworkers and everything, but he was so kind that I just couldn’t help it. I never wanted to leave his side, and we’ve been together ever since. This was supposed to be our anniversary vacation.”

Sara beams. “That’s so wonderful! Well, it was nice to meet you. See you later at the mountains.” She waves goodbye, and the two of them head off to an awaiting car. You and Bucky traipse back inside your cabin, and the second the door closes behind you, you fix Bucky with a disbelieving stare. “Did that really just happen?” Bucky nods, jaw clenched. “That was definitely the Antonovichs. I think we’ve got our guys. It’s time to call in the reinforcements.”

Bucky can’t believe it. How is this mission almost over- it barely started! All he and Y/N were supposed to do was track down Sara and Henri. He had assumed that it would take several days, yet somehow S.H.I.E.L.D. had a stroke of luck and managed to book them a cabin right next door to the very pair they were searching for. Sara and Henri are surprisingly good at staying hidden, too- if Bucky hadn’t recognized their faces from the countless data sets and case files, he would have assumed that they were nothing but well-intentioned neighbours.

His eyes flicker towards Y/N, who’s currently standing in front of the fire to keep warm. He smiles in spite of himself when he sees that she’s still wearing his sweater. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he suggested that the two of them go on this mission together- he can barely handle himself. He doesn’t know why he had to fall in love with the one girl who makes his mind freeze up and all his thoughts scatter to the wind, but it’s not like he had much of a choice. She’s just so amazing, so perfect- he can hardly think straight around her.

She, on the other hand, appears to be perfectly fine. His mind flashes back to that conversation with the Antonovichs, when she had told Sara all about their little ‘love story’. It almost hurt, in a way, to see how she was so believable when she said she loved him. If Bucky didn’t know better, he would almost think it was true. But it isn’t, of course. She’s just exceptionally good at pretending, and that’s all he’ll ever be to her, just another prop in a story. It would be better if he could remember that, but his heart still skips a beat when she turns back to him with a smile and an outstretched hand, gesturing for him to join her at the fire.

Once the appropriate calls to S.H.I.E.L.D. are placed and you know that the reinforcements are beginning their journey here, you allow yourself to relax and drift over to the fire once more. Bucky, like always, is hesitating on the fringes of the room, but you notice something different in his gaze this time. Maybe it’s just your hopeless heart deluding itself once again, but you almost think that he’s not avoiding you because he doesn’t like you, but for an altogether different reason. Maybe it’s because he likes you too much, and he’s just too afraid to lose you.

So you hold out a hand to him, and after a heartbeat, he joins you. He wraps his arm loosely around you, tilting his head to lean against yours and soak up the warm light of the fire. He speaks softly, his voice muffled as he presses his face gently against the top of your head. “Can’t believe our ski vacation is already over. It feels like we just got here.”

You nod in agreement. “Just when this cabin was starting to feel like home. Well, I guess there will always be more missions in the future. I suppose we just need to plan them out and make sure we get the best ones. You know, the ones where our targets are living next door so all we have to do is have a good time in the mountains.” Bucky chuckles softly. “If it’s all the same to you I wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly. “Another mission?” He shakes his head. “Another time alone. Like this, just the two of us.” When you don’t reply immediately, his gaze starts to close off, like he’s panicked that he opened up too far. What he doesn’t know is that your mind is spinning, trying to figure out what he means and if he loves you and how much you would love to spend another weekend or even a day with him. Then you beam up at him, and he relaxes again. “I would love that, Buck.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you used his nickname, or the warmth of the fire making everything seem far more comforting than usual, but Bucky finds the courage to lean down and kiss her. She smiles against his lips, and his hand creeps up to the back of her neck. When he finally breaks away, she looks positively radiant, so he kisses her again. The mission may be ending soon, and they may have to return to ordinary life, but at least in his moment, he has her at last.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

173 notes · View notes

cajunfoxnight · 2 years ago

Note

Heya! Long time follower of askoctoberfox here. You would know me from ask-terrakion and askomni, if those names are familiar, and here! Anyway, here goes.

I've been here since 2011 so hopefully I can offer some perspective that may help. I've ran a few blogs in that time and yes, in the past it was more active before The Ban, but things here are there, and picking up again I think. I'm getting a lot of attention on my blog as it is, probably close to or near the same as it's peak for the more exciting posts.

I know you're not a Pokemon blog, but your blog is absolutely beloved by the Pokemon ask blog community in particular. Every October I know so many people, including myself, welcome October's return every year.

That doesn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself, though. I'd advise you to do the story art and such throughout the year, if manageable, to post on October to help with ask flow, so you can continue that interaction.

I know people flocked to twitter after The Ban but I also know it's not that great there either. I don't think there's a specific site or platform that works like Tumblr does. It's hard. But, if you're worried about audience interaction, know this: You're very loved here. :)

Whatever you decide, know I support your choice 110%. :)

~Skins

I swear im not going to cry. Im not.. gonna cry. IM NOT GONNA CRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY TAT Hello! Yes I do remember you! I would really love to say thank you so much for your note and reaching out to me (I hope I can reply to everyone who did!) as well as your thoughts on October and her blog. I admit that I didnt think it was.. quite that vastly spread?? But, hey, color me surprised! Wow, has it really been that long?? Since 2011?? Wow I have lost all track of times these days, haha! But yes, youre right in that this offers a real nice perspective, which is something I badly needed. I no intention of her blog going anywhere, but I guess I wasnt all too sure if people were here much these days. Last year I felt like I was seeing quite a drop in notes/interaction from the previous years- and while it was still a good bit (and I was thankful for each one!) I was starting to wonder if people had moved on. Twitter is another place I am quite active outside of here, but I hear you when you mention about how crazy it is and getting your content seen is so hit or miss. Its funny in a way, youd think that running a blog for one month of the year that Id have plenty of time, but the problem is that I do commissions outside of October and that eats up a lot of my everything (I do enjoy it ) So personal work often has to be put to the side, that and my time management skills are bad |D as noted by how this year has gone |D. The nice thing about October's story is that The Plot thankfully is something thats not pressed for time, but I just have to get those certain pieces in place before I can move onto That. Even outside of the story, the thing I have loved the most when it came to making this blog, has been getting the chance to interact with others and spread my love for Halloween all over the internet with all of you!

There has been a lot to think on this year, and having that chance to just vent out those feelings, and getting the feedback that I have, has already done wonders for me. Whatever it is that I decide to do, I just want everyone to know that no matter what, I will not leave the story of October untold. Even if I may not get to tell it the way I want to, I dont want to leave people wondering what happens. Id still like to be able to draw it out, but.. well, time will tell, wont it? Thank you again! 🦊🕯️

#night talks #night rambles #my two cents #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #thank you so much

5 notes · View notes

mammonshuman92 · 4 years ago

Text

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right?

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker?

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more.

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.”

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad.

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me #mammon x mc

86 notes · View notes