#not citrus cocktail or whatever it’s called

[loonfull-sonnetzz]

Okay but imagine Tangerine, this very ‘professional’ assassin who literally chopped ppl up, was scared of needles, *needles* of all things😭 So like he has to have Lemon help him with his testosterone injections <3

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard, Part 3

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 7300

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, lol slow burn, ust

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The delicious food in your belly, regardless of who cooked it, had turned you into a completely different person.

Suddenly the storm raging outside wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to you. You were alive, right? You were safe and you weren’t being eaten alive by man-eating spiders. Sure, you weren’t sitting on a beach enjoying a pina colada, but there was a tall, handsome man in this bunker kitchen with a blender, whipping up some mixed drinks that involved fresh fruit, something sweet and something sour, something red and orange, lots of ice, and even more rum. Javier looked up from his blender and sent you the smallest, secret and obviously flirtatious wink.

What? You gasped.

You had been staring, a bit lost in your own mind as whatever blood that had been in your brain was otherwise occupied with digesting your dinner, and you have to admit, you hadn’t at all expected it.

You’d been watching him work some magic with a…thing, a smashing thing, something involving the peels from the citrus he had been squeezing. Your cocktail lexicon was lacking. You hadn’t at all expected the wink and it felt so quick and sneaky that you felt a warmth creep up your cheeks that you covered with both of your hands as you looked away from him, glancing around yourself for witnesses. This wasn’t allowed, right? Was this kind of behavior typical for the Sinking Sands Resort?

A single pair of large, dark brown eyes watched you and those eyelids blinked slowly without the owner actually saying or doing anything. There wasn’t a scoff or an eye roll. He just watched you. He just knew it happened.

You could not name this feeling that filled up your stomach.

He had seen the wink. Maybe it was shame. It was uncomfortable. He had witnessed a man paying attention to you. That was not the issue, but he had seen your blushing reaction to the wink. He witnessed you caving so easily, a little attention from a man, from any man, and you were a melting, blushing mess. What must he think? That you weren’t the strong independent woman that the year 2024 demanded of you? That you were probably the type to sign away your checking and savings accounts to the first man could make you orgasm on the first try? That if someone saw you, but really, really saw you for who you were, deep down inside where your secret fantasies played, you might just cry about it in the shower in between all the fake arguments that you would have won if you only said that back then.

What was it called? The horrors of being known. And by Doh Kyungsoo of all people. The last thing you needed was that man knowing how desperate you felt for any bit of human affection. Your fingertips still ached from where you’d lightly touched the backs of his hands and drifted up his smooth forearms, sinking your fingertips into the firm muscles you felt there, as you used, probably the only chance you’d ever have to really stare at his lips while he was blindfolded.

What if he used it against you?

The blender whirled to life and soon Javier was serving up an icy blended cocktail, complete with a sweet cherry on top and a paper umbrella. He placed the whole pretty concoction in front of you with a friendly smile and you waited until his hands were free and clear of the entire drink before you reached for it, feeling quite silly for going out of your way to avoid touching his hands. While he was conventionally handsome, you had some reservations about openly flirting with the man who was technically at work. What if he got in trouble for being too friendly with the Shifting Sands guests.

The drink was delicious and very heavy on the alcohol. Javier was not the one paying for those fancy liquor bottles.

“How’s that?” Javier asked while wiping the counter top and wiggling his eyebrows up on his handsome face.

You bit your lip and nodded once, just one up and down. Tilting your head to the side, you tucked your hair behind your ear so anyone who might want to could get a good look at the smooth perfection of your neck. The top you wore was pretty low cut and while it gave the illusion of casual wear, it actually took an incredible amount of self awareness to keep it positioned in the most flattering place on your neckline. You then smiled your softest, sweetest smile, letting him know that it was just to your liking with a very dainty sip of the drink. You were aiming for cute. You sipped with too much conviction and the sip backfired. You felt the burn of the strong alcohol hit the back of your throat and instantly that burning made you want to cough. Ohhh, it burned.

There was no way to cough in a ladylike way. You held your breath instead and you could feel your eyes watering from the effort.

“I’ll make you something Mr. Doh. Are you a sweet, strong, or bitter kind of man?”

If ever a man was bitter…

“I’ll have the same thing,” Kyungsoo said with a shrug. You didn’t dare look in his direction for fear that he was observing you too closely again. Gathering dirt, most likely. You could make out his relaxed posture out of your peripheral vision. Elbow on the counter, his other arm draped across his thigh.

That arm moved though, and you caught a motion of him tucking his hair behind his ear; his hair that wasn’t even long enough to tuck, his hair that fell, black and straight just below his eyebrow and yet he pretended to tuck it and he then adopted a similar come hither posture with his shoulders sagged, his head tilted to the side and oh god. He was mocking you now. You were looking at him as he did it and his teasing eyes drifted to yours once, sending you the fakest, and most dramatic wink you’d ever received from anyone.

You’d stab him in the night time.

“Let’s see if I can make it without squeezing lemon in my eye again,” Javier giggled and lifted his index finger to rub over his eyelid — the winking eye —the fucking flirtatious winking eye that sent sweet and secretive suggestive signals at you earlier and you suddenly realized wasn’t a wink at all — ohhhh. Ohhh no. You were a fool. Worse, you were a fool with a witness. The shock brought the cough out of you. It was a loud, full-bodied, very un-maidenlike cough. You sounded burly. Like a 5 pack a day smoker.

Beside you, a loud snort of laughter broke through your coughing and in your peripheral vision, you could see him actually shaking as he openly laughed at you.

“Be careful with that lemon, Javier. Someone might think you were flirting with them, right, Princess?” Kyungsoo had angled his torso toward you — a better position for making fun of you as he sought your confession of what you’d just thought was taking place between you and this poor man behind the counter who was literally just trying to do his job, not the guests. Kyungsoo’s eyebrows wagged suggestively and his grin was wide and all too knowing.

You could feel the warmth of embarrassment on your face just below the surface of your skin.

You swallowed the burning alcohol in your mouth and did your best to steady the expression on your face.

You lifted your chin and you rolled your eyes, and then openly glared at the man, simply unable to come up with a single response that would save your ego. You might have even let out a threatening growl in his direction.

No, Javier hadn’t been flirting with you. No, there were no other men here who were eligible and interested in you. You’d learned earlier that Mr. Chen was a married man and devoted father of two little girls. Jun and Roxy had been an item for quite some time. Javier was more enamored with impressing the aloof Chef Doh, and well, Kyungsoo — he was winding down with his laughter but that didn’t mean he was about to stop torturing you anytime soon.

There was nothing and no one for you here. The rain outside had been steadily falling for quite some time now and you suddenly longed for an escape. The sound of the wind had died down a while ago and you longed to feel the coolness of the refreshing raindrops on your face. Maybe while you were out there a tornado would carry you far away from this jerk.

“I’m going to have a look outside. I want to go for a walk. I am going outside. Is there a way to go out?”

Kyungsoo was still watching you, his very own drink in hand and his mean words at your expense ever freely flowing from his stupid mouth.

“You sound like a dog that is slowly learning how to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

You inhaled a deep calming breath.

He’d picked up a big yellow lemon and was holding it up in front of his face like it was a ball he was about to throw. A teasing, shit-eating grin was plastered across his face.

If you could just smack him, only once. You’d make it a really good one.

His lips pursed and his voice lifted higher and sweeter.

“Does my Princess wanna go play with the ball outside?” He said it, but the second it was out he seemed to freeze in place.

“You —,” you gasped, fully caught off-guard by the usually cruel nickname said in that way — said with his falsely sweet voice and with all of his fake affection attached to it. You felt betrayed by your subconscious to be having a surge of this uninvited feeling simply because instead of with his usual disgust, he addressed you with — with — as if you were his Princess — the butterflies were quick to flutter up inside of you but you were just as quick with another swift gulp of this drink to shove them deep down inside your belly where they needed to stay.

My Princess

Pl—Please…it was laughable if it wasn't so damned impossible.

My Princess

As if —

You breathed in and out through several exasperated scoffs, each one more convincing than the last.

“You —” you swallowed the drink angrily, “sound like an ass—”

“Mr. Doh,” Sara’s voice called out, interrupting the bottom barrel scraping level insult you were about to hurl his way, which no doubt would have only escalated whatever was going on between the two of you right now. You were sure you could see remnants of that same teasing smile still lingering on his lips. His cheeks were much pinker than you remembered before. Maybe he was a lightweight and was feeling the effects of this strong drink already. Whatever bullshit he was shilling out, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. It did take a few moments for him to register that he was being called and actually respond to it.

“Could you come this way, please?” She asked a few breaths after she was sure she had his attention. Her smile was soft and inviting and in her hands she carried a single sheet of paper.

Your curiosity about where he was going popped like a bubble when a fresh drink landed right beside your empty glass on the counter. This one looked different. You looked up into Javier’s face and he was smiling at you with a small nod of his head toward the drink.

“This one might be a little stronger,” he grinned.

“Let me guess, your job is to get us both hammered so we spill our deepest darkest secrets all over this stainless steel countertop.” You reached for the drink. You had been joking but Javier wasn’t playing it off with jovial laughter as you’d expected him to.

In fact, he didn’t really say anything. He was just reaching for ingredients to make another drink.

Eventually though, after you’d given in to the silence and started sipping on what you liked the taste of right away — it reminded you of iced tea in color and tasted sweet and refreshing — he started to talk.

“So what is the deal with you two, anyway?” He asked first. You had a mouthful of alcohol. Your already finished half of the glass and paired with the first drink you had you were beginning to feel the familiar warm dizziness of the liquor buzzing around inside of you.

“How much alcohol is in this?”

“Lots,” he confessed, “We have a bet. I think you two are exes. Nasty breakup. Maybe one of you cheated, he’s a chef so I’m gonna say it was him. You know, job with long nights and questionable ethics. Plus something about you gives ‘good woman’ vibes.”

“Oh my god, no. We never dated, he is the devil,” you giggled. It wasn’t particularly funny but it felt funny; his dramatic story of a whirlwind romance and the kind of breakup that not only split the pair but caused an earthquake between the group of friends, forcing them to pick sides.

“But, you do like him.” It wasn’t a question, “and he likes you.”

“He does not. He hates me.”

“He likes you. And you didn’t deny it, so you like him.” His declaration sounded so sure you wondered what the hell kind of strong alcohol he had been taking swigs of when you weren’t looking.

“It doesn’t matter. We would probably end up killing each other before anything else happened between us.”

Javier pondered your words for only a few moments. “So what do you like about him?”

You felt weirdly comfortable and safe in this conversation. With Claire or with anyone else who knew you both mutually, you were extra guarded. You hated everything about Doh Kyungsoo. You never wanted to see his face ever again. You wanted to live in a world where he did not exist. But with Javier, with the quiet corner you both were hidden away in, with the alcohol in your blood, you could feel your caution beginning to slip.

“Why does anybody like anybody?” You shrugged in a sad way. You knew it didn't matter what you thought about him, the seeds had already been sewn with so much poison, nothing would ever grow. “He’s nice to look at. He’s nice to listen to when he isn’t calling me mean names, his voice sounds nice. He —” you lifted the black straw to your lips and drained the last bits of the tasty drink, “has a strong back. My grandma always said a man ought to have a strong back.”

“A strong back?”

“Yeah, like sturdy. Like a mountain. A redwood tree. Like an old, solid wood picnic table without a single crack even after generations of all of the grandchildren dancing on it at the same time. That rat bastard.” You inhaled slowly and deeply and exhaled through your lips with your eyelids sagging just a little bit.

“Jesus.” He whispered under his breath, “that’s possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in all of my years of working here.”

“I just called him a rat bastard,” you giggled and Javier laughed openly.

“Yeah you did. I’ve never been insulted with that much passion. Maybe you’ll get to test out the strength of his back soon.” He lifted his eyebrows as if he just said something that made any sense to you. You just stared at him, shaking your head after a few of his suggestive wiggles.

“If you still want to go outside there’s a small covered patio right out that door,” Javier lifted a bottle opener to point toward a big gray metal door at the back of the room, “I think the storm should be calmer now, but will probably pick back up again in about an hour. Should be safe for now but you should really come back inside if the wind gets bad again. I’ll send you another drink and maybe some company in a little while.”

Oh, was he getting rid of you now? You spun on the chair you were seated on and plopped your feet down on the tile floor, making you way toward that door, grabbing the thing and giving it a big push with all of your might.

It swung open easily enough and the outside air was fresh and chilly. There were no lights out here but the occasional lightning flashes gave your eyes a little bit of a chance to adjust to the darkness. The space was small, with a concrete bench built into the wall and the cover of this patio extended just enough for you to be able to sit down without getting splashed with the falling rain too much.

You were exactly the right amount of drunk. The rain falling sounded loud enough for your senses to cloud over and you leaned your head back against the cool concrete enjoying the way the noisy rain echoed off of that tin roof and reverberated inside of the center of your skull.

The wind still had some power. Occasionally a strong gust would bring a wave of rain your way and your bare legs would take the brunt of it. You didn’t care much, even though you knew you shouldn’t stay out here for too long in these shorts. It was just a little cold. You were sober enough to know what you should and should not do in a hurricane.

The sound of the door opening pulled your eyes back open and you looked through the space that opened up. It was Sara and she came bearing gifts.

“Javier said you were out here,” she said with a sweet smile and you scooched over just a little so she could sit down beside you on the side that wasn’t getting as much rain. She handed you a fresh drink and sat beside you, warming your cool bare arm with her warmth. She had an excited smile and what looked like a sparkle in her eyes. The moment her hands were empty she was gripping your arm. She was squealing lightly, a whispered and excited noise that came from the center of her chest and then she was shaking you in excitement.

“He likes you. Doh Kyungsoo,” she squealed right into your ear, “Oh my God. I could die.”

“He,” she was pulling your arm in big dramatic movements, she was shaking your whole body harder, ”likes,” saying each word one at a time, “you.”

You looked into this poor delusional woman’s face the moment the shaking stopped.

“Sara, he just called me a dog in there,” you said flatly. “Not a puppy or even a doggie. A dog. That’s one step up from bitch.” Her smiles dropped and you could see the worry on her face.

“What? Why? What exactly did he say?” Finally she was asking the real questions. No matter how much of a crazy jerk he was he wouldn’t say something like that to someone he liked. She had it all wrong.

“I said I wanted to come outside,” you lifted your hands to show the outside you were now partaking in, “and he said ‘does my little princess want to come outside and play with a ball’ and then he’s like ‘you know, like a dog? Because you are a dog.’ He didn't imply it. He said it.” You dropped your voice as low as you could go with your lady voice when you did the impression of him. You figured it was a pretty good likeness. You had his accent down and everything.

You reached for the drink and took a long pull through the straw.

Sara was silent, but she no longer sported the worried look. She now looked quite pleased actually.

“He calls you ‘my little Princess’ and you refuse to believe that he likes you?”

“No, you didn’t hear how he said it. He’s so mean about it. He says it like an insult like I’m a spoiled brat. He uses it sarcastically.” This drink was just as strong as the last one, the ice tea one.

“Why on earth do you think he likes me? He totally hates me.”

“He just told me.”

You looked into her face to gauge her truthfulness. She was a little fuzzy around the edges.

“He didn’t,” you said, “he’s very sarcastic when he talks. If you don't know to look for it you might misunderstand.” You’d deny it forever. You’d deny it to save yourself from the pain of giving into it and then being crushed by his overwhelming hatred the second he showed up. “Look, tell me exactly what he said and say it in the exact same tone he said it in. And what you said first, I’ll need the full context.”

“So we do these interviews periodically throughout the retreat, to gauge how well the singles are getting along with each other. As you saw earlier, I took him aside to talk. Basic things like is there anything he needs to make his stay more comfortable. He said he doesn’t expect much given the current circumstances so he’s just happy to have a dry place to sleep and warm food to eat. He doesn't want to be a bother, which I felt was very kind of him.”

“Then to kind of ease into the topic of possible love interests, I pointed out that he didn’t seem to fare too badly while cooking blindfolded. Not a single burn or a cut and he said,” She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, “‘I had the best assistant. She did really well in there.’” She had a very pleased look on her face. You on the other hand stared at her with a more doubtful expression.

“That’s it? Even I know how well I did in there. I did everything for him, of course I was the best assistant. He’s probably never experienced that kind of support while cooking, Jesus, I literally held each of his hands inside of my hands when he was cutting up that fucking fish. I had to hug him for that, you know.”

Sara was smiling and nodding, not understanding your point. It wasn’t romantic of him to say you were a good pair of eyes, it was literally just a fact.

“And how did that feel?” Sara whispered as she leaned in closer, “hugging him?” Her excitement level was too high, “did he smell nice?” She was enjoying this way too much, “did his back feel strong?” You could see it even in your inebriated state. You pushed a shoulder against hers in protest, bringing a giggle from her chest. You didn't answer her silly questions, even if the memory of the smell of his back was still ingrained inside of your nose. Even if he had a warmth to him that you longed to touch again, you refused to say any of this outloud.

“What was your very first impression of him like?” Her next question was calmly asked. She had settled down with the shaking and squealing and over the top ridiculous excitement when none was warranted and she looked into your face now, just a friend asking another friend about a guy.

“Umm,” you looked out at the falling rain, ignoring the way the wind picked up a little bit and whipped waves of rain onto your leg, up higher on your thigh now that it had started getting a little wild, “I actually saw him from a distance at first. My friend Claire was hosting a dinner and he was sitting at the end of this really long table and wow, what a face. Just, some people get to walk around looking that handsome and nobody says anything?” You were giggling when you met Sara’s eyes and you noticed your drink was mostly empty already. These things went down so easily. The once perfect level of drunk you had was beginning to tip over the edge toward downright tipsy. You hoped to God you had enough self control tonight to slow down. This team obviously wasn’t about to slow down on offering you the alcohol, this was part of their plan.

“And, I mean, our friends, our mutual friends, they even tried to set us up once but,” you frowned dramatically and looked away from her expecting eyes, “I mean, he hates me of course. It didn’t work out. It would never work, we are both just…” You let your words trail off with a long dramatic sigh.

“He said he couldn’t stop looking at you,” Sara’s voice filled in the silence after your sigh, “that his first impression of you,” she inhaled a breath and her hand wrapped back around your arm as her eyebrows lifted in wonder, “was that you were so pretty he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”

Impossible. She was lying to you to get you to confess something incriminating. You looked down at the third very strong drink these people had fed you and you could feel it then, just how very drunk you had become in such a short amount of time. Your memory slipped back to what she had asked you.

‘Did his back feel strong?’

This was part of it. This was part of the game they were playing to get you both to grow closer to each other. To get you to admit to things. You had told Javier earlier about your feelings for Kyungsoo and now Sara knew this information. She was using your own words to push you into him, telling you exactly what he had said about you just as — you gasped suddenly with your eyes widening — just as Javier was probably telling Kyungsoo right now exactly what you had said about him.

No. No, he shouldn’t know that. He couldn't know that.

You stood up and your legs were wobbly.

“No, Sara. He is a bastard and I am a dog, remember? We hate each other and there is no getting past hate.”

You hadn’t heard the sound of the door opening.

“I hate that man.”

The wind had been too loud. The rain had been falling in stinging waves against your skin. The storm had been raging too wildly for you to have heard anything else.

You fought through the terrible feeling of your entire back being soaked and you fought the lies they tried to get you to fall for, just so you could believe it all, believe that there was even a glimmer of attraction and affection from him and then they would all giggle and laugh when he broke your heart and rejected you again.

“He’s always only been a bastard and a jerk. If it wasn’t for this storm, I would be on the first plane far away from him the second I saw his face in that room earlier. You couldn't pay me enough money to stay here with him.”

They didn’t know. They didn't know what it felt like to have been rejected by him. They didn't know how much it hurt for him to put you in your place, again and again.

“I would be so much happier if I never met him.”

You had already said so many terrible things by the time you saw his eyes — dark, cold and angry. He was standing in the doorway listening to your long speech about how much you despised everything about him and how desperate you were to get away from him.

Oh no. Oh no, all of that had been — had been too harsh of you — You were only trying to stop all of the games but he heard it all.

He was moving through the doorway and there was a loud bang as the wind took the heavy metal door and slammed it closed.

His eyes were on fire. The words that left his lips were full of carefully controlled emotion.

”You’ve never even met me. You don't fucking know me,” he wasn’t yelling, he was growling at you.

“But you sure like to act like you do. You don't know shit. So you can step down off your high fucking horse. Quit pretending like you’re somehow a victim of my terrible personality and look in the fucking mirror for once because one of us an asshole and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

He wasn’t raging and speaking loud or irrationally and that somehow made it worse. That didn’t change the way his low voice delivered his message to you with the same amount of vitriol. If anything, his clear delivery made his words hit you even harder. He was very angry and he was upset with you. You felt every bit of his anger deep inside of your belly, it made your stomach burn and clench.

You lifted both of your hands in front of you in some stupid attempt to respond to him with body language.

This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to have heard any of that.

You felt as if your entire face might be burning up. You felt shame in this.

All other times you’d fought with him, the right and the wrong had been crystal clear. He was wrong and you had been right. He was the bad guy and you were the good guy. But now, this time, and with the look of actual hurt you could see deep inside of his brown eyes you felt something different.

“Kyungsoo, wait. That’s not what I meant.” You managed to get the words out. You weren’t sure why you felt so desperate to set the record straight with him but it was probably what you knew deep down inside.

He was right. You were the asshole here. H-Had it always been you?

“I’ll just — step inside so you two can talk,” Sara had stood up and moved to the door, far away from the upset that was filling most of this back patio up with an uncomfortable atmosphere that you could almost not breathe within.

But you were trapped here, with him and his anger and his hurt feelings and — and — but, wait a minute. Why exactly were his feelings hurt? Because you called him a bastard? That wasn’t new. Because you proclaimed your desire to escape him? He frequently did the same.

Why did it matter to him what you thought?

You were insignificant to his life.

The door closed behind her and you were standing as far away from the man as you could. Most of your entire back was soaked with rain. You could feel the cold from the harsh wind beginning to prickle your skin and make you shake just a little bit.

Kyungsoo had stood to face you for a while but when you didn’t immediately offer any explanation like ‘it’s Opposite Day today! You say the opposite of how you really feel because it's fun. Isn’t this fun?’ he moved to sit down on the concrete bench and he stared ahead looking at the rainstorm but not actually seeing it.

After a few deep breaths you reached down deep and pulled out some words for him.

“They’re playing a g-game with us. There is-sa game happening right now.” You sounded drunk. This might work against you. His eyes moved from blank staring into the blackness of that rainstorm to blank staring at you. His arms were crossed over his chest and he still looked very mad.

“That man in there,” you lifted a finger to point toward Javier and you made a fist, moving it downward to pantomime the smashing motions he was making with the smashing thing back then when he was doing his smashing. You motioned three times and then quickly realized your hand, moving up and down like this resembled an obscene gesture. Oh god. Did you just do the hand gesture for jerking off?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, quickly moving both of your hands behind your back. “That man,” you motioned with your chin instead, “is gathering information. He is a spy. They all are.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows had flattened out but he was still looking at you with that same blank expression. So far, so good. You would get him to see the truth.

“What did he tell you about me? Did he tell you something like—” you lifted your face, looking up and to the left toward the ceiling of this patio, making a quick decision about what sorts of your secrets Javier might have told Kyungsoo. It was tricky because you weren’t about to offer up the exact same secrets.

You couldn't get the secrets out. Instead you made a “mmm mmm” sound in the place of the words you might have told Javier about how handsome you found him, or about how nice his voice sounded as he whispered instructions to you as you both were cooking earlier. What if he said the thing, the strong back thing?

“Is your question to me, Did that man,” Kyungsoo lifted his hand and quickly jerked off the air three times, “tell me mmm mmm mmm something?”

You nodded your head, thankful that he was so good at solving puzzles. He understood.

But he wasn’t answering. He just sat up straighter, his eyes opened wider and he repeated the question you had asked him.

“Did that man tell me mmm mmm mmm something?”

“Yeah,” you nodded again, stepping just a little bit closer to where he sat. You were getting colder now.

“What the fuck does that mean?” His eyes were even wider now. “What does that mean? Are you having a stroke?”

You could hear genuine frustration in his voice. He was lifting his hands toward you. You’d misjudged his puzzle solving skills.

You closed your eyes and took another step, reaching his knee with your knee, you reached out and touched his outstretched hand. Maybe this might help with your words.

“Okay, so earlier, S-Sara,” it was difficult to grasp tight to her name but after a few tries you got it, “S-Sara told me that you,” you lifted your finger and reached out toward his face, landing your index finger right in the middle of his soft bottom lip. You pressed down and his lips parted with the softest gasp for air, “she said that you told her, and she told me, that you told her,” he lifted a hand and wrapped it around your hand, pulling your finger down from poking his lip as you figured this puzzle out. You looked down at the picture of his hand holding yours. “She said you thought I was pretty.” His lips were still parted and his warm hand was still wrapped around yours, holding you still, keeping you from blowing away in this wind.

“She told me you said that. That was a lie, right? They’re playing games with us.”

His lips were closed and his eyes were still watching your face. It didn’t seem like he was any closer to working out an answer to this puzzle.

“What lies did they tell you I said about you?”

Something flew by, something bigger than a leaf, maybe a small tree branch. You heard it hit the column that supported this patio and the sound of it made you jump as you spun around to see what it was.

“We should go in. It’s getting worse out here. And you seem extremely drunk.” When Kyungsoo finally responded to you, he didn’t answer any of your questions.

”Did Javier say anything about a mountain, or a p-picnic table?”

Kyungsoo stood up when you were distracted by the branch. He had spun on his heels and had walked away from you, leaving you half drenched and so close to the edge of this patio that the next swift gust could have easily thrown you off the platform down into the mud.

“Because they are lying.” You grasped for it. You leaned into it. You grasped and you leaned only where you expected to feel the strong sturdy column from this patio you felt none, and when you leaned you leaned against nothing at all and you felt the world leaving your body. You felt the falling. The falling scared you enough to let out a cry of fear. There was no floor beneath your feet, you were only falling down, how far did this step drop down onto the wet earth below?

You closed your eyes and braced for the impact. It would probably hurt. It might even break something. You’d ruin your outfit at the very least. You closed your eyes and you felt someone there. Someone warm and sturdy with smooth arms that circled around your waist, pulling you back from the edge with such strength and force you knew it had to be him. It had to be someone with a strong back who could support you and keep you from falling down.

You grasped at him, pulling yourself up with tight fists clenched around the white cotton of his shirt and when you opened your eyes the world had righted itself again. There was no more falling and no more panic. Your feet were planted firmly on this patio floor, situated directly in between his feet, your arms around his shoulders and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and the rain that fell onto both of your heads dripped through his hair, pulling wet strands of black hair down in front of his eyes, obscuring most of his vision except for what he was looking at right in front of him, which was your face, which he looked all over without speaking. Those eyes touched over every one of your features and with each second that passed of it the more you began to feel the warmth returning to and soon overwhelming your skin.

You’d never be this close to him before this. You’d never wanted to be, before this. You let your eyes drift from the up close view of his lips to take in the view of his face. You allowed the smallest gasp to leave your chest. There was a thumping inside of you that seemed to originate from somewhere inside of him. Water ran down his face and you pulled your lips in, tasting rain water on your tongue.

“Inside. Now.” His command growled against your parted lips and you tasted the light fragrance of alcohol on his breath. The grip of his arms around your waist did not loosen despite the urgency you heard in his words.

Your hands should not have been moving but they were. The back of his shoulders and that plain white t-shirt was soaked through and the rain continued to fall over the both of you. When your hand traveled up the back of his shoulders and rested over the back of his neck you felt the incredible tension within his muscles there. He was solid and stiff and your hands should not have moved any more but you had a very flimsy grasp of your own self control

From the back of his neck you moved again, touching lightly around the front of him, fingertips trailing over his Adam’s apple and up to touch his pretty face.

The tension you felt within his arms changed when you let your fingertips trail over to his soft cheeks and when you touched the soft plump bottom lip you felt the clench of his jaw, the exhale of air through his nose and the tightening of his arms around your waist. His eyes were closed and that same thumping echoed throughout your chest.

“What did Javier tell you I said?” Your whispered question was stunted through the difficulty you had with breathing.

“That you thought I was someone with strong back muscles. I guess you need someone to help you move furniture. I don’t fucking know.”

You let out a laugh and his eyes opened to watch your face. He said it with a straight face but there was something just under his words that sounded like humor. The more time you spent with him, the more you actually began to pick up on the fact that most of the shit he said was a joke in disguise. Most of it. Sometimes he was just being mean. But this one was actually funny. You threw your head back with the laugh and his eyes danced around your entire face as you wound back down.

“You better not call me to help you move. We aren’t close enough for that.”

The real irony was this man saying something like that while still holding you tight up against his entire body like this. You were pretty sure he brought you back up to a normal body temperature by lending you the heat directly from his skin.

“Did you really tell Sara that?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. There was a change in his posture when you asked it though.

You felt his arms loosen. You felt one arm leave you entirely and he reached around in front of himself to grab ahold of your hand, the same wandering one which had been touching his lips tonight and he wrapped his fingers around your hand, encasing it within his warmth and he pulled it down.

You felt the absence of his heat first, then the wobbliness of your legs returned to you, reminding you of just how drunk and cold you actually were.

“You’re soaking wet,” his words followed a quick glance down the length of you and even in this darkness you could make out the traveling of his pupils. You knew the fabric of this top and the too-short shorts would have clung to the shape of you — outlining the swell of your hips, the cinch of your waist, your soft breasts — giving his imagination too much to work with in the unlikely instance that he would be so inclined to have any sorts of imaginations about you, you’d given him the material for such impossible impossibilities.

It didn’t matter.

It would never happen. He was turning away from you, taking his warmth and body heat and muscles covered in transparent thin white cotton on top and flimsy black fabric that when the lighting flash just right gave you the outline of what you both knew was occurring between your hips and his hips when they’d been pressed up tightly against each other.

He was leaving and the big metal door slammed shut and before you could even shout out from behind him, calling him a coward for avoiding your question — and before you could even tell him how absolutely full of shit he was, the door opened back up and Sara was at your side with soft, dry, warm towels and a crowd of fussing and fretting Shitty Sands Resort staff members were all blabbering on about how lucky you were that you didn’t actually fall off that patio onto the jagged rocks and cactus (!!) below and how heroic and magnanimous Doh Kyungsoo was to have saved your pathetic and insignificant life.

He spun the tale to a crowd of very impressed ooh-ers and ahh-ers and you were far too drunk to add anything more than to throw out the random accusation that the entire group of them were dirty spies and the occasional request to go back outside which was shut down instantly by every single voice in the room.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hello my love!! For the mistake prompts:

Miracle Baby by Nothing but Thieves + Dealers choice!

This is such a fun idea😮‍💨 Happy drabbles!

Wasting My Time

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Miracle Baby

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (romantic, no pronouns used but disclaimer that this one feels more female-implied than others)

Word Count: ~1450

CW: Swearing, mentions of drugs, explicitly implied sex

Note: First, I love the subtle roast calling this a “mistake prompt” thank you Ella 😂 this song is so cool and gave me hazy dive bar feelings, and going-home-with-hot-stranger feelings. Hope you enjoy!

Matt hated things like this.

His fingers idly tapped against the cool condensation blanketing the beer bottle on the bar in front of him, halfway torn between thinking about his trial in the morning and debating whether to go out tonight. Either way, he was itching to leave.

It was loud. The obnoxious kind of loud, not the kind where you could feel the appreciation for life and joy and merriment. Being dragged along to these stupid law school alumni mixers was the worst way to spend a Sunday evening. Yeah, you hated things like this.

But you’d just spotted the perfect distraction.

At your 10 o’clock. Tall, dark, handsome, sitting alone at the bar. Better yet, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, so, common ground.

You made your way through the masses, through the thick and clogged atmosphere saturated with terrible work-related jokes and the desperation to impress. Everyone else was in a sea of familiar faces but not you. You didn’t go to Columbia for law school. You only came because your roommate was too shy to come alone and promised she wouldn’t abandon you the exact way she did about five minutes ago.

Besides, you’d only lived in New York for three months and you’d spent so much energy settling into your dream law job that you hadn’t given much attention to making friends. Or to sex. But that was about to change.

Hence, the lone wolf at the bar.

After ordering some kind of sour cherry and lime cocktail with an over-the-top name, you settled on the stool next to the man. He didn’t acknowledge you and a quick glance at his walking stick gave you an indication as to why not.

“Let me guess,” you turned your head towards him and he looked your way. “Criminal law?”

He nodded, smiling with half his mouth. “What gave it away: the cheap suit, or the air of constant dread?”

You laughed, and the sound of it made Matt’s smile crack open. “You didn’t hand me a business card the second I sat down. And the lack of white powder around your nose.”

He laughed back, and you were successfully distracted.

His name was Matt, you soon learned. Past knowing he practised criminal law and that he graduated from Columbia you learned nothing more about his law career. You told him you were new in town, he told you he’d lived here his whole life, you told him you were grateful to meet someone so normal who’s been around forever and still thinks this city is worth staying in. He asked you why you chose New York and you said it just seemed like the right place to be. You couldn’t explain in. You blushed when you admitted it and your heartbeat picked up, so maybe you were doubting that decision.

He asked you about your hometown and turned his body completely towards you. You told him about it, about escaping on scholarship to Princeton, and your knees were soon gently resting against his. Somewhere throughout the course of the conversation, he rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to just below his elbows. He took his time, made a subtle show of it.

You sipped slowly, Matt noticed; you weren’t here to get drunk. The citrus of your drink complimented the lavender in your shampoo, body wash, whatever the fuck it was that was the calmest thing in this place. It was clear you two were getting on well. So much so, no one bothered you.

Finally, he asked: “Where do you practise?”

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head and pulled a knotted cherry stem from your teeth. “You and I are having a nice conversation here, Matt,” you chuckled. “All I do, all fucking day, is talk about law, think about law, breathe the fucking law-”

He grinned and held up an apologetic hand. “Message received.”

“Let’s talk about anything else.”

“Okay,” he held up that same hand towards you, putting the ball squarely in your court. “Shoot.”

You narrowed your eyes and twirled the stem between your fingertips. After a moment of contemplation, knowing very well where this may lead, you decided that this tall, dark and handsome distraction was worth the risky line.

“Do you think you could beat a grizzly bear in a fight?”

His eyebrows shot up but he didn’t stutter. “Excuse me?”

“No weapons. Pure brawn. One-on-one. Who wins, you or the bear?”

“The bear,” he waved his hand decisively. “No question.”

“Thank god,” you breathed in relief, nursing a smirk behind the stem in your fingers. His puzzled look was his question, so you answered. “Six percent of American men think they could beat a grizzly bear in a fight. Which means, there are about…” you looked around in a estimate head count, “four men in this bar who vastly overestimate their abilities.”

Matt bumped his eyebrows. Another question.

“I’m just making sure you’re not one of the four,” you said after another sip. Your glass was almost empty.

“Oh?” Matt cocked his head and found himself drawn in closer. “And why is that?”

You placed your now-empty glass down, letting it hit with a finality against the wooden bar. “Forgive me if I read you wrong, just seemed like you were searching for a reason to get the hell outta here too.”

Matt let your comment linger, and lifted the bottle to his lips to take another swig. He drained the last little bit and placed it on the counter next to yours. Your heart was beating pretty fast and you tried to calm your cherry-stained breathing, tried to look cool and collected. You wanted him, and you were the perfect distraction.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Your breath in was shaky. Risky. No one else would’ve heard it.

“I’m just making sure I’m not wasting my time,” you said. “It’s not usually that fun, going home with a man who thinks they’re more capable than they actually are.”

He laughed once through his nose and pulled his beaten leather wallet from his coat pocket, placing thirty on the table to cover his beer, your cocktail and a tip for the bartender. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he stood and held his open palm out to you. You took his hand and left your stool with your coat and bag over your other arm. He leaned down, leaned in, so you could hear his husky promise over the sound of the bar. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Sufficed to say, you had never met a more capable man.

His place was nice, his sheets were clean, he was strong and generous and attentive and that was a big problem. Because this was supposed to just be a distraction. A one-night thing. But it was hard to leave his bed at two thirty in the morning, it felt like tearing yourself away. And that was a problem.

Stay, he’d said. He had fresh towels, a toothbrush, he’d call you a cab in the morning after he’d made you coffee. I can’t, you said. On any other night you would have, but tomorrow was a big day. He understood, didn’t press the matter, and he called you a cab after wishing you a twenty-minute goodbye.

It was only at quarter to nine that same morning, when you were walking up the front steps with a takeaway coffee in hand, that you realised you didn’t have any way to contact him other than through your roommate, who might have his information. You didn’t even know Matt’s last name.

Matt thought about you as Foggy prepped the client in hushed whispers from the defence table. As he straightened files and pens and his personal voice recorder, he wondered when he’d run into you again. You’d been a good distraction. Too good. It was like you were still next to him, like he could still smell the cherry and lime, the lavender and honey and-… wait.

You settled next to your boss and put thoughts of last night out of your head, ready and focused to take on the day. It was a big one. For the first time since moving to New York, you were the lead on a case.

Matt’s mind raced as he listened to every whisper in the courtroom, and as he listened to them hush as the judge kicked off proceedings from the bench.

“Are we ready to begin?” Judge Wallace asked in a deadpan, looking straight to the defence’s table. Foggy stood.

“Defence is ready, Your Honour.”

From fifteen feet away, Matt heard the prosecutor stand. He closed his eyes behind his glasses and held in a sigh when he heard your voice say:

“Thank you, Your Honour. The State is ready to proceed.”

Oh… fuck.

[sarandipitywrites]

Friday Kiss Tag

i've gotten a few tags for this one: @winglesswriter (here), @mysticstarlightduck (here), and @willtheweaver (here). thank you! here's an early scene from Spark Signature:

An old fashioned: a drink they couldn’t associate with Julián any less. Maybe he’d just been in a rush to order, and didn’t know any other drinks by name. If his aversion to it was any indication, he still has a massive sweet tooth—Vy’s inclined to just slap together a hurricane and call it a night. “So this is all yours, huh?” “Mine and the crew’s.” Or. Or maybe Julián thought he had something to prove. Some people still think a booze-forward cocktail is somehow more proper or noble or what-the-fuck-ever than an easy sipper. And it isn’t as though Vy’s been around to teach him right. “…I like it. It suits you.” “It does, doesn’t it?” Vy snags a lime from the citrus box as well as the bitters and simple syrup from under the counter. From the wall, they retrieve a bottle of rum. “Decrepit, trashy. Visually, socially, and olfactorily offensive.” At the wine fridge, their hand hovers over the champagne for a moment before they grab the prosecco instead. “Fun. Fascinating.” Vy scoffs as they shake up the drink on ice. They strain it into a chilled coupe glass, top it with the prosecco and, after a moment’s consideration, finish it with a sprig of mint. Brownish, frosty, with a sophisticated pop of green: a sipper in disguise. Julián accepts it and, without so much as a ‘you better not be poisoning me,’ takes a generous sip. His eyes widen. “…Kind of genius, even if they won’t say it.” “Genius? Are we still talking about the bar?” “Were we ever?” “Julián Quintana Benoit, are you flirting with me?” “Jules.” The overhead light reflects off the surface of his drink, into his eyes. An amber halo in the dark. Ecliptic. “Call me Jules.” They shouldn’t do this. They shouldn’t reach across the bar and hook their fingers through one of the myriad holes at the collar of his shirt. The give of the fabric—the quiet, creaking rrrip of the tear deepening—shouldn’t send a bolt of heat straight to the pit of Vy’s stomach. The taste of him, of Jules—rum and mint and the faintest whiff of ozone because of course he’d taste like magic—shouldn’t warrant the noises Vy’s making, the whine as they pull away, their lips unaccountably cold without his. Sex won’t fix this. Vy knows it, even as they’re guiding Jules up the lift, down the hall, into their bed. Whatever’s tethering Vy to him—whatever it is that Vy can’t sever by ritual or alcohol or time or distance or anything fucking else—won’t be banished in a night. Maybe it can’t be banished at all.

tag! @sarahlizziewrites, @daisygrayce, @dyrewrites, @just-a-local-dreamer, @breath-of-eternity, and an open tag

Spark Signature taglist (ask to be added or removed): @leah-yasmin-writes, @unrepentantcheeseaddict, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @mundanemoongirl

[aces-and-angels]

Enid questions:

Drink of choice? (Ex tea w cream and two sugars)

Favorite way to destress?

How is her relationship to her parents now after switching careers?

What is Joaquin’s favorite thing about her?

What animal does she relate to the most and why?

PLS AND THANK YOU

YESSSS

Drink of choice? (Ex tea w cream and two sugars)

an iced chai with almond milk to get her day started/whenever she needs a boost (she has a low tolerance for caffeine- so she tends to order teas over coffee)

for alcoholic bevs: enjoys cocktails w/ notes of citrus- so lemon drops, moscow mules, and palomas

Favorite way to destress?

enid's brain is always on- so whatever she does needs to be mind-numbing. she's a hard worker and on the flip side, a veg master

she's indulgent (and has the means to be) so she's the type to book a vacation and spend the day in her room enjoying the amenities

on a more lowkey level- she is a foodie at heart, so on her days off, she likes to explore the city and try out new restaurants

How is her relationship to her parents now after switching careers?

ooo this is a good question

enid was able to hide her lack of interest in medicine very well from the family- and since her grades appeared fine, they never thought to question it

on the day she was scheduled to take the MCAT- she made it to the waiting room of the testing center. when she was called to check in for the exam, she got up and left the building completely. just kept walking until she couldn't recognize the street she was on anymore

she knew she was fucked if she went to her parents without a plan- so she doesn't tell them anything until she submitted the last of her law school applications

the initial response was rage- which she argued her way out of (already lawyering lol); their apprehension over her decision lasted until she was hired at park & davis

their relationship improves as enid advances in her career. she spoils not only herself but her parents with gifts whenever they visit

What is Joaquin’s favorite thing about her?

you want me to think of one????

i'd say it's enid's wit. finding someone who can go toe to toe with him with ease was eye-opening for him (and a big reason why he kept coming back to her)

What animal does she relate to the most and why?

okay this took some thinking- and i'm gonna go w crows based on how enid operates

crows have an excellent memory- they remember faces of those who've caused them harm + those who've been kind and treat them accordingly (feed the crow, there's a chance they give you a gift in return)

[tattatakeonme]

If you had to create a cocktail yourself, what would the ingredients be, What color would it be, and what would you call it?

Oooh okay okay so, it has to be blue! 💙

And I want it to be sweet in your mouth but burn down your throat?

Mmmh,

Spirit - Vodka! (As much as I can legally put in)

Liquer - Berry Liquer🫐

Citrus - Lime

Fruits - Mulberries, Blueberries, Berries?

Ice - one round ball(or whatever shape you prefer!)🧊

Juice - Cranberry juice🍒

I kinda wanna have it be set on fire? Can sugar be on the rim?? Does it have to be salt?

Anyhow, I would name it

"Hakuna Ma-tatta🫐🍒"

H-how did I do??

This was so much fun by the way!! I really enjoyed it, Thank you Karube.🙆🏻‍♂️

🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️

[lordspreyer]

“We call that Gunfire back home— A cocktail made of black tea and rum— Ooh!” The excitement can be heard in Carmichael’s voice: He’s found a box of black tea. “—Along with a bit of citrus and sugar. No milk needed.”

Luckily, Carmichael had already boiled the water. All he had to do was drop a bag into the empty mug and pour over the piping hot liquid.  The priest chooses to ignore whatever the expiration date was on the box— The layer of dust atop it was enough to tell him the tea would probably be stale.  Steam rises as the hot water splashes into the tea bag-filled mug.  Carmichael's golden eyes follow Nezumi about the kitchen, whom was doing his best to make Carmichael comfortable.  It dawns on him then that he might be boring company. He asked for boring tea on a weekend night.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from someone,” Carmichael begins, a nervous smile finding its way onto his lips.  “Ermm— I assume a fine man such as yourself has many dates lined up on his off days, oho!” 

"Of course," Nezumi nods sagely and points to the cupboards with a hand that is clutching a glass with double whiskey in it. "It ought to be somewhere in there — have a gander, father. Make yourself at home."

To be completely honest, Nezumi doesn't remember the last time he bought anything even resembling tea. He drinks coffee, mainly, sometimes with a dash of bourbon or vodka, of which he has plenty at home. But tea bags? Carmichael will be lucky to find a tucked away box with a few dusty, old satchels.

Meanwhile, Nezumi walks towards the fridge. He glances at the date on the milk bottle and promptly empties it into the sink, letting some water run over it.

"I'm all out of milk, though," he informs. "I could offer you some Rum into the tea instead."

[feytouched]

as i'm getting more into mixology, here is a non exhaustive list of things i want to try:

the aviation (violets!!!)

making brandied cherries next cherry season for aviation garnishes

the water lily (violets!!! and orange!!!!)

traditional absinthe with the proper glass and sugarcube and spoon. for that authentic bohemian poet vibe

moscow mule (pretty much can do already with what i have at home, have already tried in bars, but specifically i want to spice it up w my ginger pepper syrup)

making orgeat using the cherry pits of the cherries for brandying

mai tai with the orgeat

espresso martini. i want to know why everyone in the 90s seemed to love this one

appletini. it's fall y'all

revenge of the cosmopolitan. this time with citrus simple syrup bc it was not quite smooth-tasting last time

café maria theresia. i mean it's coffee with cointreau and whipped cream and orange zest what's not to like... it seems perfect for winter!

in sum i want to open up a pretty teahouse decorated in art nouveau style with a backroom that's a library where people come and read and study. my baking specialties (cookies, cakes, etc) are always fresh to accompany a steaming mug of whatever tea you fancy - we would have a dizzying selection of special blends - and after hours i'd host private book club meetings for the regulars and on friday nights it's a secret cocktail bar you need a password to enter. and if you get well enough acquainted with me i will read your tarot cards for you on the house. this is my calling in life

[russilton]

Everyone is talking about the Red Bull AU (which I too am also very excited about), but I think we need to show a bit of appreciation for the Fuck Boy AU. Dude… I actually can’t wait to read it 😅😅😅

*presses a firm kiss to your forehead platonically*

You, I like you, and you will be DELIGHTED to hear I wrote another 5k of it the other day. It was all porn. I spent 4 hours straight typing about fingering. It is getting close to finished now and I’m hoping to have it with you all soon!

An actual snippet below the cut to tide everyone over, and because I can. It’s not quite full NSFW but it’s spicy and suggestive.

———

Before he can bolt, George reaches for his wrist to squeeze it, ignoring the fine sheen of sweat covering them both as his fingers land on Lewis’ pulse point. Lewis knows stopping him will look even more suspicious, so he just stands there, trying to slow his heart rate before he finally makes eye contact with him. The sight alone makes him want to groan, but he settles for biting the inside of his own cheek. The man in front of him now is a far cry from the boy he’d been sitting in a press interview with that morning. Just like Lewis, he’s practically shiny with sweat, damp hair pushed out of his face and making him look older. His eyes are blown wide, and his face is flushed a gorgeous pink that his lips mirror. He wonders what he must look like in comparison, and hopes for the sake of public safety it isn’t similar.

They can’t do much more than stare at each other for a moment before George seems to come back to his senses a second earlier than he does. He opens his mouth and seems to stumble over the start of a few different sentences before huffing and finally ending up with

“I think we both need a drink”

“I think you’re right” George nods tightly, and tells Lewis to head back to where he’d found him earlier, turning to disappear into the crowd before Lewis can see if their dancing had been as effective on George as it had been on himself.

When he gets back to the booths from earlier; they’re all occupied already, and Lewis glances around trying to find a seat while he adjusts himself subtly. Eventually he finds an empty leather bench not far away, and settles onto it, keeping an eye out for George so he can gesture him over.

As he sits there waiting, sweat cooling and going tacky on his skin, the reality of the situation hits him. He’d just spent half an hour grinding on the ass of a guy he’d sworn he wouldn’t touch and every second of it felt perfect. He should leave, get up and go back to his hotel room. He’s hard as nails but there’s no time for him to find someone else like he’d planned, he’ll just have to be satisfied with his own hand and whatever far too expensive liquor he can find in the mini bar. He needs to do something to stop himself now or he’s going to end up making a mistake he can’t come back from.

“Hey, there you are, no booths?” He’s out of time, George is already back, standing in front of him with a glass in each hand. The drinks in them are violently colourful, even under the dim, coloured bar lights, one looks almost teal, and the other white and blue. George hands the teal one to him with a grin. Lewis takes a short sip through the straw and is punched with a hit of citrus and strong alcohol

“What the hell is in these?” He laughs, as George sips his with a smirk

“Don’t recognize the colours?”

“Are- are they serving team inspired cocktails?!”

“Yes, yes they are. I believe yours is actually called an ‘adios, Mouther fucker’ and has about 5 kinds of spirits in it-“

“Oh my god-“

“And mine is a blue russian”

“So it’s just cream, vodka and blue-“

“Yup”

They both lapse into giggles then, tension gone. Lewis manages another sip before he puts the drink down, if he drinks it any faster he knows he’ll throw up. George seems to be taking a similar approach, gently stirring the drink with his straw while he eyes Lewis. He feels hot all over again and tries to deflect, still far too hard for this.

“Wait, Williams? Celebrating your new drive early then?” He teases, pointing to the drink.

“Why not? They didn’t have any F2 drinks and technically this one’s mine… questionable as it may be”’

“Are you talking about the drink or the seat?” George snorts at his teasing comment, moving to put his drink on the side table next to Lewis’. Then George steps back in front of him and levels Lewis with a look he can’t quite make out in the low light.

“The drink. Williams isn’t a bad seat… but could think of better ones”’

He barely has a second to process, going to ask George what he means, but the words die on his tongue as George moves forward, quick as lightning to sit in his lap. Unsurprisingly, he moves as smooth as he dances, sliding to straddle Lewis’ thighs and rest his weight there before Lewis can stop him. He does manage to prevent him from getting too close, hands flying back up to his slim hips again to hold George still before he can get an unwelcome introduction to Lewis’ increasingly interested erection.

Most of George's height is in his legs, so sitting like this their faces end up far too close, Lewis only has to tilt his head up a little to look up into George’s eyes. His pupils are dilated, but he’s staring at Lewis steady and determined, like he’s testing one of the Mercedes’ cars again, not sitting in their driver's lap.

He wants to say so many things, but they all clog in his throat as he stares back. George is a perfect weight across his thighs, comfortingly heavy and real, but light enough Lewis is fairly sure he could lift him without much effort. And isn’t that a thought, being able to haul George around however he wants. He’s not helping himself calm down but it’s hard to escape the want when he can’t tune George out.

As if he knows Lewis is thinking about him, George leans forward a little, tapping Lewis’ cheek with two fingers to get his attention. When Lewis meets his eye properly, he smiles, settling more firmly now he’s reasonably sure Lewis isn’t going to throw him off.

“Hey, get out of your head for once will you? If you really, truly want me to go, I’ll go.”

He looks almost nervous as he says the last part, like he’s worried Lewis will reject him. Doesn’t George know what effect he has on Lewis, how much more often Lewis has fallen into bed with strangers just to get the thought of George's pretty lips off his mind?

“George…I never wanted you to go, you know that right?”

“How would I know that? I haven’t ever been able to figure out what you want. One minute you’re looking at me like you want to bend me over the nearest table, then the next you won’t even look at me. I- blimey, Lewis, I never understood why you avoided me.”

“George, I avoided you because I’m so much older than you. You should be off getting wasted with other drivers your age, celebrating your win, man”

“Why? I’m an adult, I want you, I always wanted you, maybe this is how I want to celebrate?”

“George, you’re only 20-“

“Old enough to drink, old enough to smoke, and old enough to risk my life and body every week in an F1 car, just like you do” George sounds so sure, so confident, and he’s right after all. Lewis’ will is slowly wearing away.

“If you’re not interested, that's fine. But if you’re withholding on moral grounds, why.”

Because Toto would kill him. Because he knows what tabloids would say if anyone found out. Because Lewis got his F1 seat the same year George first climbed into a kart.

He’s trying to think of something, anything to say to George that won’t sound like a deflection, when George leans back. He twists like he’s going to move away, saying something about how he’ll leave Lewis alone now, and Lewis can’t do it anymore. He can’t keep pretending that this isn't exactly what he wants.

So he gives in to baser instincts, grips Georges hips tight and hauls him deeper into his lap, so George can feel just how much Lewis wants him. It knocks a shocked grunt out of the younger man, but George recovers fast, wrapping his arms around Lewis’ neck and ducking his head there. Lewis is glad for once, to be making George gasp, not the other way around. He turns his head, just enough to get his lips up next to George’s ear so he can make absolutely sure he hears the answer to his next question

“George, are you absolutely sure-“

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Lewis. I just want you to Fuck. Me.”

The directness knocks a groan out of him, and he retaliates by slipping his hands round to cup George's ass. His jeans might as well be a second skin with how well they sculpt to his body, so he squeezes tight with one hand, and let the other two fingers slip down under his belt, feeling along hot skin till George bucks into his grip.

He leans back into the cool leather of the back rest so he can take the man straddling his lap in fully. He feels confident, powerful, now that he’s given up on holding back from what he really wants. George is flushed and his breath looks like it’s picking up with excitement. His shirt is damp and disheveled, near see through, a combination of the bright UV of the overhead lights and thin fabric making it so he can just make out the dark shape of Georges nipples. It’s all too easy to let a hand slide around his hip and up under the linen, stroking his waist teasingly.

“I think that can be arranged” He says it just loud enough that George should be able to hear it even as the club around them starts to pulse again, music beginning to pick up. Clearly he hears it just fine though, because he stares at Lewis, eyes wide, mouth dropping open slightly. Lewis can’t stop himself, he leans up again, getting his face just a few centimetres from George’s, close enough to be sharing breaths.

“I think it’s time we get out of here, huh?” He murmurs, earning a breathy laugh from George.

“Your place or mine?”

———

A note for anyone who read to the end, both the adios motherfucker and blue Russian are real drinks. I had to google them, because I do not drink at all, I cannot vouch if they are good or not, but the adios motherfucker will probably fuck you up real good.

[sugardaddytonystark]

Love Bites (Love Bleeds)

author: sugardaddytonystark pairing: vampire Tony Stark x Reader word count: 4000+

*Explicit*

🔊 Love Bites

At thirty-eight years old, Tony Stark was bitten.

That was ten years ago, and he’s been either blessed or cursed to live out eternity in that same body, hidden away from the light, from people. Few know that he’s fallen victim to the virus. Rumors say that he’s just a shut in, an eccentric, only leaving the house when he’s in his armored suit. But you know better.

You have been his court-appointed guardian for a few months now, and you’ve spent more time with Tony in that short time than most people have in the last decade. You two were getting close, but lately he’s been distant, holed up in his basement workshop. And that’s the one place you don’t go, his private sanctuary.

You have free reign of the rest of Tony’s house, it being your home now as well, and you make good use of it. It’s dark now as you make your way down the stairs in a half-stumbling, middle-of-the-night daze. But you know every step by rote, every creak and every corner. So, even though there aren’t any lights on in Tony’s Malibu mansion, you can navigate it just fine.

You do turn on the light when you round the bar nestled into an alcove in the sitting room. You don’t feel like walking all the way to the kitchen, and you know that the mini bar will have stocked some kind of juice for making cocktails.

As you sip on your drink, you look out into the darkness of the living room and see two shining eyes staring right back at you. The glass slips from your hand as you startle, and in your panic, you step directly on the broken shards.

“OW! SONUVA B—”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re off your feet, cradled in a pair of strong, solid arms. You look up and it’s Tony, brows furrowed above concerned, blackest-brown eyes. He tries to give you a little smirk when he sees you staring up at him, but the space between his eyebrows is still pinched, the look of worry on his face.

“If you wanted to join me for a nightcap, honey, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low and smooth as he carries you into the adjoining living room.

You clench your jaw, trying not to show how much pain you’re in. “Well, you know me,” you say, “can’t do anything without a little flair.”

“Something we’ve got in common,” Tony replies as he lays you down on the couch. He gently places your head against the arm before getting a throw pillow from the chair and placing it behind you. He sits down on the other side and puts your feet in his lap.

“Here, drink this,” he tells you as he leans over your legs to pick up a glass from the coffee table. “Your nightcap.”

You take the drink and just hold it for a moment, letting the cold radiating from the glass sink into your fingertips. You bring it up to your lips and catch the scent of whiskey, of citrus. You didn’t even know Tony could drink alcohol.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he mutters, looking at the sole of your foot, “next time, a little less flair.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, the glass perched at your lips.

He looks up at you beneath thick eyelashes, a flash of crimson in his otherwise dark eyes. He places two fingers under the glass and tilts it up. “Drink,” he tells you. “You’ll thank me later.”

You tip your head back as you down the rest of Tony’s drink. It goes does smooth, heating up the back of your throat, the warmth blossoming in your chest. You hand the empty glass back to Tony and he sits it on the table.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

You nod your head and close your eyes, fists balled and nails digging into your palm as you prepare for the pain. You can feel Tony’s grip on your ankle tighten, and when he pulls the shard of glass out of your foot, you have to try your damnedest to suppress a scream.

His grip tightens even more, managing to ease the pain a little, slow the flow of blood, as he gently slides your bloodied sock off your foot.

“Shit,” he says, dropping the sock from his one hand and your ankle from his other.

Tony grabs the hem of his shirt, brings it up and over his head. He presses it to the sole of your foot to stop the bleeding and you hiss at the pressure, recoiling at the touch. He wraps his palm around the fabric, keeping his shirt tight against the wound, fingers curled up and over the wounded appendage.

His hold on you is tight, forcing you to stay still. His other hand is stroking your ankle, up your shin - a soft, soothing motion. His eyes are cast downward, fixed on the place where you’re bleeding into his wadded-up shirt.

You watch Tony as he works, trying to distract yourself. He’s nice to look at. More handsome in person, even, than in pictures. He has a lean build, slender but with strong muscles under cool, winter-pale skin. His eyes are the darkest shade of brown, flashing with crimson when they hit the light. They’re big and round and warm, making him look innocent and young, even younger than his everlasting thirty-eight years. His hair is dark, his beard slightly longer than stubble. His lips are flower-petal pink.

The angle of the light from above the bar casts half of his face in the shadow, highlighting the slope of his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow. A glow emanates from the metal embedded in his chest, and now more than ever, you’re reminded that Tony is part man, part myth, and part machine.

He is truly incredible, you think, and not for the first time. He glances up at you, catches your gaze, then quickly averts his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“I just… feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” you reply, feeling like velvet – throat dry, head thick and fuzzy. You don’t know if it’s the blood loss, the drink, or just being in Tony’s presence, but everything is starting to feel slow-moving, like you’re stuck in a daze.

The corner of Tony’s mouth turns up in a smirk, but still, he doesn’t look at you. “Have you been missing me, honey?” he asks.

“Yes,” you tell him, unabashed.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, shakes his head, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently peels his shirt from the sole of your foot, inspecting the damage. It must be bad, because you can see his brows furrow again, his nostrils flare.

“Shit, you’re gonna need stitches,” he says. “I’m gonna call the Doc, alright?”

“Wait, Tony,” you say, before he can stand up. “Can’t you just… you know?”

His grip tightens on your ankle. “No,” he says sharply, but he doesn’t try to stand up again.

You’re tired and weak and in pain, so when you whine, “Why not?” you don’t even feel bad about sounding so infantile. “You can heal me in a minute. If not, I’ll be limping around here for weeks.”

Tony, being what he is, can heal a wound almost instantly. His saliva mixed with his blood, and whatever science or magic that is involved, can keep you from being bedridden for however long it would take your wound to heal on its own. You wouldn’t ask normally, but he’s here and, well, you’re curious, not to mention that you’re not ready to be without his touch once again.

“I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself,” he admits to you, softly, as if ashamed.

“I’m bleeding everywhere and you’re controlling yourself now.”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he responds, almost a growl, his voice deep and low. “I wouldn’t call how I’m feeling ‘being in control.’”

“Maybe not, but you’re doing it!”

You two just stare at each other, neither of you budging nor relenting. It’s not even awkward, just tense, this silent battle of wills. But you know that Tony is more stubborn than you, so finally, you give in.

“Fine,” you say. “Just get someone to sew me up.”

But Tony doesn’t move. He just looks at your wounded foot, your ankle still in his painful grip. His stillness is almost unnerving, his dark brown eyes unblinking, his pale face statuesque against the darkness of the room.

“Tony,” you say, nearly frightened. “Please, do something. I’m bleeding!”

“I know,” he replies, his voice soft again, as he seems to shake himself from his stupor. “I know you are.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tony lifts your leg and presses his nose against the inside of your ankle. He breathes in and closes his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your foot, his short beard brushing over your skin.

“You have no idea how incredible you smell,” he says, so low you barely hear him. “How tempting you are. It’s not that I don’t want to…”

And as he speaks, your hands curl into fists beside you, his words shocking you into near panic. It’s too much, this quick shift, this sudden change in atmosphere. You’re suddenly too caught up in the scene playing out before you to manage any coherent though, let alone words. Do it, you want to tell him, but you can’t, heart pounding, voice caught in your throat. Do it.

“...it’s that I want it too much.”

Tony brings up one of his knees to kneel on the sofa so that he’s turned toward you, between your legs, your ankle still in his hand, your other leg resting across his thigh. He eases up on the pressure around your ankle and you can feel the blood start flowing to your foot again, wet heat running down your wounded sole.

You watch him, enraptured, as he wipes his mouth across the bottom of your foot. You don’t even flinch from the sting of it, too fascinated to move. But you can feel him trembling, his breath coming out ragged against your skin.

When he lifts his mouth from the arch of your foot, there’s a smear of dark blood against his lips. And then, behind, sharp teeth shining white and deadly. His eyes flash with a nocturnal sheen – deep, deep burgundy all but glowing in the darkness. He looks dangerous and feral and like nothing you’ve ever seen before in your life.

You barely register that the pain in your foot has faded, the wound now a mere memory. You can only focus on Tony’s lips, painted red, and the intense pounding of your own heart. Never have you been more aware of the blood rushing through your veins. Or the reality that you’re living under the same roof as the person who would desire it the most.

Tony doesn’t relinquish the hold that he has on your ankle, but the other hand lightly grabs hold of your calf on the same leg, and then slowly, slowly, you feel his palm slide up to the back of your knee. He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving up, palm sliding across the inside of your thigh, his hand squeezing your flesh and staying there.

In the stillness and in the quiet, you can feel your pulse pounding beneath his palm.

Tony then sets your ankle on his shoulder, his hold giving up its claim. He smears blood from his lips up your ankle, kisses the side of your calf. From behind coal black eyelashes he looks up at you, mouth hovering above your skin.

“Aren’t you gonna stop me?” he asks, placing his lips on the inside of your knee. He kisses you there and you shiver, almost tickled by the soft touch against your sensitive skin, overwhelmed by him worshipping places that no one else has ever even cared to touch.

You slowly shake your head no and he closes his eyes, dragging his cool mouth up the inside of your trembling thigh. You arch your back as he moves higher still, planting a line of kisses up your delicate flesh.

“There are places where you smell the most you,” he whispers, almost absentmindedly, lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “The back of your knee... the inside of your elbow... your throat, your hair… your cunt.” He buries his face between your legs and inhales deep, moaning. “You should really tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him, your voice hardly even a whisper. “Don’t stop, Tony.”

“What do you want?” he asks, mouth hovering over your pussy, those shimmering black eyes looking up at you from behind dark lashes.

You roll your hips up. “I want you to bite me.”

He rears back so fast that you jump in surprise. You sit up and grab his arm, afraid that he’s going to leave. You must have gone too far this time. Too far too fast and now you’ve pushed him away.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says, voice hoarse and rough. “You don’t really want that.”

You lead him closer by his arm, then wrap your other hand around the back of his neck. You lean your forehead against his and you hear him take a shuddering breath. You close your eyes and savor the feeling of him being so close to you – forehead to forehead, the sides of your noses resting against the other, your fingertips against his flesh and his hands noticeably absent from your body. You shiver, chilled at all the places that you two are touching, his skin cold against yours.

“I do,” you tell him. “I want you, Tony.”

You stare at him, waiting. He stalls a heartbeat before he tilts his chin, angling for a tentative kiss. He presses his soft lips against yours, wraps his arm around your waist. You cup his face in your palms, thumbs running across his cheekbones. He nips softly at your bottom lip, not even close to breaking the skin, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

It should disgust you – having Tony’s mouth on yours after he licked up your blood – but you only taste a slight metallic tang, mostly masked by the whiskey that both of you drank. It’s intoxicating, Tony’s cool mouth, his sharp teeth against your sensitive lip, his taste, yours, the sharp sweetness of the alcohol.

“More,” you moan. “Please.”

“Impatient,” he chides, then plants a kiss on the side of your mouth. “Greedy.”

Tony turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist, your hand cupping his cheek. He runs his tongue over the delicate veins, and you gasp, trembling in anticipation. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps moving, kissing up the inside of your arm, his mouth leaving a trail of goosebumps on the surface of your skin.

He moves his arm from around your waist, bracing one hand against the couch behind you as he slides his other hand under your shirt and up your stomach. His fingertips are cold and soft against your body, the temperature almost a shock, and you’re torn between moving away and arching toward him. But the sensation is nice, you’ve never felt anything like it, and you know you won’t be forgetting it any time soon.

Tony’s lips touch your bare shoulder, once, slowly, and then once more, lingering against your skin. He moves upwards and your breath catches when you feel his open mouth against your neck. He sucks the blood to the surface of your throat like he can taste it through your skin, marking your soft flesh with soon to be tender bruises that you’re sure will last for days.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, hear your quickening heartbeat. Tony is saying something, but it doesn’t register in your mind, you’re so caught in feeling of his lips against your skin as they move.

“Where –?” you sigh, echoing what you think you heard.

You groan as Tony pulls away from you, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring down at you, half-smiling. “Where do you want it?” he asks again, cocking an eyebrow. “The throat is conventional, but –"

“Yes,” you reply, impatient. “I – anywhere. Everywhere. Just… please.”

You want him to devour you, consume you. You want his lips against your body, to feel his teeth sink into your skin. You’ve dreamt about it almost every night, giving yourself to him, him having his way with you, doing whatever he wants to do with your body.

Tony’s smile grows wider, and he bites down on his bottom lip, sharp white teeth gleaming in the low light. He bends down, chest to chest, and kisses you again, his cold skin melting against your warm body, the two of you separated by just your shirt. He makes quick work of that inconvenient piece of fabric, his lips leaving yours just long enough to pull it over your head and throw it out of the way.

His mouth moves down your throat, slowly, across your collarbone, down your breast to latch on to your hard nipple. His tongue licks across it, then he lets his teeth graze the taut peak, his hand coming up to pinch and pull at your other one.

The chill of his fingers has you shivering, arching your back up toward him. Your eagerness must spur him on because he grabs your breast in his palm, almost too rough and desperate, fingertips digging into your flesh.

Too soon, Tony moves between your breasts, then kisses down your stomach. You roll your body to meet him at every place his lips touch – sternum, then stomach, then hips. He grabs the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down your legs as he sinks to his knees on the floor.

His hands grip the back of your knees and pull your legs apart, opening you up to him. The way he’s handing you now is neither gentle nor shy, maneuvering you so that he can get his shoulders between your thighs, his face level to your cunt.

It’s jarring, to realize that you’re naked on Tony Stark’s living room sofa, with Tony himself below you, in just his sweatpants and socks. That his blood, no matter how little of it, is inside of you now. Your blood in him. This joining seems irreversible, more momentous than you would have ever imagined. There’s no possible way that you will ever be the same after this, regardless of what happens.

What has happened will have been enough to change you completely.

And then Tony tongues the sharp point of one of his deadly teeth, a strange glint in his dark eyes, and you are thrust back into the present, aware and frightened of what you’ve asked for.

Tony no longer seems hesitant, not when he grazes the tip of his nose against your clit. Not when he inhales your scent, moans on the exhale. And certainly not when he covers your clit with his mouth, lips and tongue shockingly cold against your hypersensitive flesh.

“Tony!” your practically scream. “Fuck, Tony!”

And he moans at the sound of your voice saying his name, the noise vibrating against your pussy, making you squirm. Your hands find his hair, soft between your fingers. Having something to grab on to is somewhat grounding, but you can feel him move against you, your hands not guiding him but just touching, and that only adds to the realization of what you’re doing. Only makes you that more desperate.

There’s no build up to get used to the sensations. Tony starts immediately licking and sucking your clit like he can’t help himself. Like he’d want nothing more than to eat you up here on his sofa. And you’d let him too, let him have all of you if that’s what he wanted. More than just your blood or your pussy. You’d let him devour you whole.

Your body arches and you push against him, making him bury his face harder against you. Tony flattens his tongue and licks at your clit, then moves lower, and lower, tongue lapping at your entrance, then, the sensitive spot between your pussy and asshole.

You’ve wanted this, dreamed about it, and now that you have him, it’s so much more than you could have ever imagined. And when he slides a finger into you, easily with the aid of how wet you are for him, you can barely hold yourself together.

Tony pumps his finger in and out of you, slowly, while his tongue plays with your clit, explores your folds. You could cry, you feel so good, and when he adds another, you do. Tears spill down your cheeks as his fingers fuck you, pressing against your soft inner walls and curving just right.

As he pumps into you, the inside of his knuckles rub against a spot below your clit that you never even knew was there, and you can feel that pressure building, that feeling growing low in your belly.

Tony’s mouth leaves your pussy and his thumb finds your clit, his strong, dexterous fingers touching you in all the places that you need. He kisses your inner thigh, licks at the skin there, sucks, nips, and you jerk at the sensation. His works at the soft skin, sucking a bruise into your flesh.

You couldn’t stop it if you wanted. You come. Hips rolling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You hands still gripping his hair tight. Your eyes are pressed closed, the wetness of your tear still lingering on your cheeks.

And then – he bites. And it’s euphoric. There’s ringing in your ears like the aftermath of a scream, and maybe you did, your voice rough and raw as you call his name, as you plead for something that you don’t even know you want.

Everything is black, your entire body narrowed down to his fingers filling you up and his mouth sucking your blood. You can’t even hold on to him anymore, your hands drop from his hair as you come down from your orgasm, Tony still sucking on the tender and bruised skin of your punctured thigh.

You feel weak, only moving when Tony wipes his mouth on the inside of your thigh. And then he lifts up, face to face with you and you make a feeble attempt to kiss him, instinctively. You can smell the bitter copper scent on him as he turns his face to the side, nuzzles his cheek against yours.

He’s warm now, such a drastic difference than from before. Warm, pink cheeked, thin lips red and slightly swollen. You could mistake him for human.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Tony says. “Can you walk?”

You nod your head, but you sway as you stand. Without hesitation, he picks up like he did before, and carries you effortlessly up the stairs and toward your room. The walk is peaceful, silent, and you let the lull of his footsteps calm you. You close your eyes and almost as soon as you do, you are in your bed, warm and comfortable under the blankets.

Tony stands above you and you hold onto his hand, then run your fingers up his arm, from his wrist, softly, to his elbow. How long will you be able to touch him like this? Now that you’ve had him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to let him go.

“Will you come see me?” You ask. “Tomorrow night? Please.”

Tony gently takes your hand off of his elbow and brings it up to his lips. He kisses your knuckles, almost chaste. “Goodnight,” he says, eyes shimmering in the darkness of your room. “And sleep well. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.”

if you’ve got love in your sights,

watch out, love bites

[berrynarrybanana]

on a summer evening

The one where Harry met Bea.

Warnings: Alcohol, fainting, asshole men who knock women over in clubs

Word Count: 13k+

P.S I did not edit

July 13, 2018

Harry’s POV

I pressed my lips to the shot glass, tossing back my fourth tequila shot of the night as Jeffrey slipped his hands over my shoulders, giving them a squeeze. I tilted my head back with a goofy grin, resting my head on his shoulder. Next to me, Gemma sputtered out, slapping her shot glass down on the marble bar top with a sour look on her face. I tried not to laugh at it as Jeffrey spoke. 

“One more show to go.” Jeff shook my shoulders gently. “You did it man, you did 89 shows on your very first solo tour and you fucking killed it.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you and the band.” I turned my head, smiling at him. “Thanks for always being there for me, Jeffrey.” 

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this amazing journey.” Jeffrey said. “Are you excited to have a little time off after this?

“Is it really time off if I’m going to be in the studio recording another album?” I rolled my eyes before turning back to the private bar. I lifted my hand up, catching the bartender’s attention. “Two more tequila shots, mate? Please and thanks.” 

“I am not doing another tequila shot.” 

With another eye roll, I looked over at my very unamused sister. She was practically swimming in her jean jacket, her hands tucked into the sleeves. I put the pieces together, realizing it was her boyfriend’s jean jacket that she was wearing over her casual outfit for the evening. 

“I’m not trying to get shitfaced tonight, H. I have to pick Michael up from LAX tomorrow and I cannot deal with that place when I’m hungover.” 

“These shots are for me.” I clarified, playfully scoffing her. The bartender sat them down in front of me and I slid them in front of my body in playful defense. “Think I’m gonna pay for all your alcohol tonight? You’re running a successful business now, aren’t ya? Think you can afford your own tequila shots, mate.” 

“Oi, mate,” She whacked my shoulder with her sleeve, her face screwing up as I laughed. “Fuck off.” 

I laughed, reaching down for one of the tequila shots. The glass was pressed to my lips, a little bit of tequila spilling onto them, when my name was called from somewhere behind me. 

“Harry!” 

My blood ran cold as I realized who it was. 

Hannah.

I turned in my seat as Jeffrey muttered a ‘good luck, man’ before walking away.

Gemma let out a low whistle and I shot her a quick look before I turned back. Hannah looked like trouble, her blonde hair tied back and her red dress just a little too perfectly snug. I tried not to stare at her body for too long, my eyes snapping back up to her face after I realized she wasn’t alone. 

I stood up from my stool, plastering a fake smile on my lips. 

“Hi, stranger.” Hanna dropped her new boyfriend’s hand, tossing her arms around my neck for a quick hug. I gave her a half hearted hug back, glancing at the man hovering behind her with an unamused look on his face. “How are you?” 

“Doing good love, thanks.” I tried not to let myself get caught up in the scent of her perfume as it wafted over me. Vanilla and citrus tickled my nose, throwing me back to a memory of us cuddled up in bed, her hair dangling over my face as she kissed me. “Hey, mate. Nice to meet you. M’Harry.” 

“Greg.” He stuck his hand out and gave it a firm handshake before glancing back at Hannah. She gave him a bright smile, a silent conversation passing between them. A bitter taste sat on my tongue as I watched them. That used to be me.  “Nice to finally meet you, bro. Heard a lot about you.” 

She seemed happy. 

Something about her love drunk smile and her glowing skin set me off. 

Why did she get to be happy? 

“Are you guys here for the night?” I cleared my throat, leaning back against the bar as Greg slipped his hand around Hannah’s waist, giving it a squeeze. 

I hated this.

If hell was a place on earth, then surely I was perishing in the flames right now as I watched the girl I once loved be touched by another man. Even if I didn’t love her anymore, I didn’t want to see anyone else touching her. Especially not the guy she was fucking around with when she was with me. I cleared my throat, shifting around as Hannah nodded. 

“Yeah.” She glanced up at Greg before looking back at me. “We’ll be at the show tomorrow though. Got tickets and everything.” 

“You didn’t have to do that, Hannah.” I frowned, my brows furrowing. “Would have let you guys hang out in the barricades with everyone else.” 

Even though you broke my heart into a million pieces. 

“We wanted the full fan experience.” 

That was a nice way of saying she didn’t want people to think we were back together. She wanted my fans, my family, and everyone else in the world to know that whatever we used to have was over now. I pressed my lips together in a tight smile, nodding at her.  

“We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She said, leaning over to give me a halfhearted hug. “Don’t get too wasted, I expect to get my money’s worth from your performance.” 

“Yeah, I’ll try.” I let out a forced laugh as they walked away. 

“Wow.” Gemma whispered beside me. “Think I’ll go ahead and take that shot now, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” I mumbled, watching them walk away. “Take as many as you want.”

This was going to be a long fucking night. 

                                              ****************************

Bea’s POV

“This is the best birthday ever.” Claire shouted over the music, her eyes glued to Emma Stone as she walked by with a drink in her hand. “That’s the fifth celebrity I’ve seen tonight. I can die a happy woman.” 

“You think Emma Stone is a good one,” Jackson, one of our closest friends shouted. “I just saw Katy Fucking Perry.”

“I didn’t know that was her middle name.” I called out, causing Claire to bark out a laugh. “I hate to be the one to do this guys, but I have to break the seal.” 

My entire group of friend’s groaned and I finished sipping my watermelon margarita. 

“It’s the last bar of the night!” Claire shrugged, glancing at everyone else as if to say ‘fuck off, she’s fine’. “Go on, leave me and Emma alone while you’re havin’ a piss. Fix your lipstick while you’re at it! It’s all smudged up and patchy.” 

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes, finishing up the last of my drink before I sat it down on the high top cocktail table we had been hovering at for the last twenty minutes. “I’ll be right back!” 

“Hurry up! Twenty minutes until I’m officially twenty-four” She cheered, a bright smile lighting up her face as she looked behind me. 

I wasn’t looking forward to pushing my way through the dance floor to get to the ladies room, but the tequila I had consumed tonight definitely did me a few favors. I was feeling frisky and I wasn’t afraid to tell someone off if I needed to. As I walked, trying my best to avoid elbows and asses being tossed in my direction, I started to think about how happy I truly was tonight. 

Every bar that we visited during her birthday trip was amazing. We were drunk out of our minds and enjoying every second of it. The real world was long forgotten, any thoughts of work or real life problems dissolved with tequila and laughter. I made a mental note to pat myself on the back for planning such a perfect surprise for her birthday this year. 

When I finally made it in the direction of the bathroom, there was a line out the door. Luckily, it was only four girls standing outside the restroom. I made my way to the end of the line, adjusting my purse before I reached for my phone in the small, cross body bag. 

“Your dress is so fucking cute,” At first, I wasn’t sure that anyone would be talking to me of all people, but I was wrong. I looked up, a drunken smile on my lips as I noticed the girl in front of me smiling back. “I wish I would have worn something more like that. It’s so hot in here I think I could pass out. Where did you get it?” 

“Target!” I cheered out. “The lady gave me a discount on it! She wanted the same dress so I ran back to get it off the rack for her and she took six dollars off!” 

“That’s wicked!” She smiled back at me and I could tell that it was genuine. “I’m Madison!” 

“Beatrice!” I shouted back. “Nice to meet you Madison!” 

“You too,” She nodded.

After a few more minutes of friendly chatting, Madison disappeared into the restroom without another word. I checked my phone, reassuring myself that I hadn’t missed Claire’s official birthday just yet. With a relieved sigh, I shoved my phone back in my purse as a girl came out of the restroom. It didn’t take me long, my flowy dress perfect for drunk peeing. 

When I was done washing my hands, I started touching my lipstick up. There were a few drunk girls in a small group gathered just behind me, laughing loudly. I loved watching drunk girls just as much as I loved being a drunk girl. They were always so nice about everything and I adored that. 

As I put the top back on my lipstick, a girl walked up next to me. 

I glanced at her a few times before I finally decided to walk out, afraid she would find me creepy for my staring. Something about her face and her style was oddly familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to the face. As I continued walking, my mind focused on the girl, I felt a body collide with mine. I let out a squeak, holding my hands out as my body started falling back. 

“Oi, mate! Watch where you’re fucking going next time, yeah?” The voice that was shouting sounded like it was right next to my ears and a pair of arms were tightening around my body as I stumbled back. “Fucking drunk pricks think it’s funny to do stupid shit like knock women over.” 

I blinked a few times, unclenching my fists as I tried to get my footing back. I slowly opened my eyes, not realizing that I even closed them as the arms that had been around me slipped away, letting me stand on my own. I was thankful I opted out on high heels and went for a pair of closed toed Chelsea boots instead. They were much easier to wear when I was drunk and they were most definitely the reason I was standing steady right now .

 When I finally found my feet flat on the ground again, my head started to spin and my skin flushed cold even though my blood was running hot. I had fainted before in my lifetime and this was always the feeling that I got right beforehand. I reached up to press my fingers to my forehead as I swayed, the arms that were around me seconds before slipping back over me again as I reached out, gripping the shoulder of my knight in shining armor. 

“Easy there, love.” The voice that spoke before was definitely British and the owner was definitely talking against my ear. I felt a hand slip over my forearm, guiding my arms to rest over their shoulders as their cool breath tickled my skin. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, lovely. Gotta hear your voice.” 

“I-” I choked out the word before dropping my head forward. I guess my forehead landed on their chest, the scent of their cologne oddly soothing. “It’s hot in here.” 

“You need to get some air?” The voice asked and I nodded. “Alright, let’s get you some air. Come on, love.” 

I felt one of his arms slip around my waist, pulling me close to his side as I opened my eyes again. The room was still spinning, but I didn’t feel like I was going to fall anymore.

The arm around me and the reassuring feeling of my savior's side pressed against my own made me think that maybe I was going to be just fine. 

                               *****************************************

Harry’s POV

It all happened in slow motion before me. 

I was leaning against a cocktail table, my phone glued to my face as I waited for Gemma to come out of the crowded bathroom. There was a bathroom upstairs for patrons of the private bar, but we had come down to find Jeffrey. He left at some point during Hannah and I’s awkward exchange to find a few of our friends that were coming to join the party upstairs. 

When he didn’t return after about twenty minutes, we decided to go looking for him. While Gemma was in the bathroom, I heard a group of guys at the table just a few feet away talking a bunch of shit about their sex lives. With each little lie or arrogant comment made, I rolled my eyes. They sounded like proper fuckboys and I felt sorry for any girl that decided to go home with them tonight.

 As I was scrolling through my private instagram, my thumb hovering over an old picture of Hannah and I curled up on the beach behind my Malibu home, I heard a squeal over the loud music in front of me. I snapped my head up, my eyes immediately landing on a girl who was nearly toppling over to the ground and one of the guys from the table I mentioned earlier standing in front of her with wide eyes, watching her fall. 

I wasted no time dropping my phone and moving forward. 

I slipped my arms under hers, her back colliding with my chest as I crouched down to support her. 

“Oi, mate! Watch where you’re fucking going next time, yeah?” I snapped out, moving my body so that I could try and steady the girl on her feet. She was still tense, her hands balled up in fists as if she were still waiting for her body to hit the ground. “Fucking drunk pricks think it’s funny to do stupid shit like knock women over?”

I’m sure someone had caught that on their camera phones and surely they would spread it on every social media platform. The guy in front of me just shrugged it off before turning back to his friends. If that was his tactic to pick up girls, then it was a shit one and I hoped that someday a girl punched him in the face. 

Sure, it was a little aggressive, but so was knocking innocent girls over and watching them fall. 

As I steadied the girl on her feet, my hands slipping over her soft biceps, Gemma appeared.

“Grab my phone and put it in my pocket.” I said. “I left it on the table behind me.”

“Got it.” She shouted. “What happened.” 

I shook my head at her. 

I didn’t have time to explain it all right now. 

I turned back to the girl as she lifted a hand, pressing it to her forehead. All the blood in her face had drained and even though I had put her back on her feet, she was swaying from side to side with her eyes squeezed shut. She was cute, that was for sure.

I slipped my hands up her arms, grabbing her wrists before dropping them over her shoulders. I rested my hands on her sides, gripping them tightly so that she wouldn’t fall over. Gemma slipped my phone in my front pocket before leaning up to shout in my ear. 

“Gonna keep looking for Jeff.” She told me. “Be careful.” 

“You be careful.” I said. “Call me if you need me.” 

“I will.” 

The girl stumbled a little and I tightened my grip. 

“Easy there, love.” My lips brushed over the shell of her ear as I spoke. The floral scent of her hair tickled my nose and I tried not to dwell on the comforting smell. “Can you hear me? Talk to me, lovely. Gotta hear your voice.” 

“I-” She choked out the word, her body swaying forward and her forehead pressing against my pectoral muscle as her arms tightened around my neck.  “It’s hot in here.” 

“You need to get some air?” I called out, flexing my fingers against the plush skin of her sides.

 She was so soft under my touch and the boyish part of my mind wondered what it would feel like to grip her sides just like this while I was fucking into her from behind. I cleared my throat, pushing those thoughts far, far into the back of my mind. Now was not the time or place to pop a stiffy over a stranger I just met in a nightclub. 

“Alright, let’s get you some air. Come on, love.” 

I let my right arm slip over her waist, pulling her in close to my side as her arms dropped in front of us. Her head lolled onto my shoulder and for a second I was worried that she had passed out,  but she quickly pulled it back up with a soft shake. Her right hand fell down against my own on her waist and I reached over with my left hand to grab hers. I prayed that I could get her down the hall and into the private elevator without anyone else catching me. 

The last thing I needed was for this to be on the internet alongside a video of me shouting at a stranger in a bar. I pulled her along, past the table of jackasses and a few more groups of friends. I just had to get her past the bathroom and to the elevator in one piece before we made it upstairs to fresh air and a softer scene and quieter people.

Occasionally on our walk I would glance over at her just to make sure she was still conscious and I wasn’t dragging her along beside me. I noticed that she had finally opened her eyes, but I couldn’t see what color they actually were from the angle I was standing at. We were nearly to the elevator when she stopped dead in her tracks, snapping her head up to look up at me with wide eyes. 

My eyes trailed over her face and down her body, searching for any injuries I might have missed. 

“What’s wrong?” I quickly, tightening my grip on her waist. “You alright?” 

“My best friend.” She blinked up at me, her strawberry red lips set in a deep frown and the skin between her thick brows wrinkled. My heart skipped a beat at just how cute she looked like this. I quickly shook the thought away. “It’s her birthday and I was supposed to get back to our table.” 

“We’ll give her a shout when we get in the elevator.” I said. “S’alright. I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

“I don’t have my purse.” She said, looking down at her body and then up at me. “I- I must have lost it. Fuck, it’s probably on the floor and my phone-” 

When her eyes met mine, she looked a little nervous as if I would be mad at her for losing her purse after nearly being knocked to the ground. 

I gave her a gentle smile. 

“I’ll go get it.” 

The faster I ran back for the purse, the faster I could get her upstairs and myself out of the public eye. I glanced around, my eyes finding an empty spot against the hallway wall where no other patrons of the club were crowded. It would be easier to leave her there than to take her back with me. I walked us over and slipped my arm from around her waist, settling it on her upper arm instead to guide her back to the wall. 

“M’gonna leave you right here and go get your purse, okay?” I ducked down, looking into her eyes. 

They were blue. 

Just a standard blue, no other colors mixed into her irises. They were pretty, shaded by her dark lashes and complemented by the orange eyeshadow and highlighter on her cheekbones. 

“It’s black.” She said. “It’s got a little gold buckle on the front. It’s Kate Spade.” 

“Alright.” I nodded, my lips ticking up at the corners. She had a pretty voice, but she was a bit louder than she needed to be. “Gonna leave my phone with you. If anyone tries to mess with you or you just feel unsteady, dial 911.” 

I couldn’t leave her my unlocked phone with all of my personal information in it. That would be a terrible idea. She was cute, but I still didn’t know her.  Besides, there was no way for her to even call me if she had my phone. She had a better chance calling the cops for help than me anyways. 

“You don’t have to.” She said quickly. “I’ll be fine.” 

“What if you nearly faint again?” I asked, my brows quirking up. 

She snapped her mouth shut as I slipped my hands from her sides.

I nodded quickly, pursing my lips out at her before I reached into my back pocket, slipping my phone out. I leaned back down, steadying myself with a hand on her bicep as I spoke into her ear. 

“I’ll be back in a tick.” I said softly, giving the fleshy part of her arm a soft squeeze. 

“Okay.”  

With that, I left her there in the back corner of the hallway before jetting off.

As my feet carried me on, two questions kept running through my mind. 

What was her name and why did I feel so attracted to a girl I didn’t even know?

                                         *********************************

Bea’s POV 

I was holding Harry Styles’s phone in my hand. 

The moment I looked into his eyes, I knew who he was. 

I had been a huge fan of One Direction since the beginning of their career and even though Harry wasn’t my favorite member, I still loved him dearly. I had been following his solo career from Dunkirk to his debut album. Now I was standing against a wall, waiting for him to return with my purse. Part of me wanted to say something to him about my knowledge of his existence.

The other part of me knew better than to do that. It would be embarrassing and I wouldn’t blame him if he left me downstairs on my own afterwards. As much as I hated to admit it, I still felt dizzy and I actually needed some fresh air. I was surprised that he hadn’t left me to my own devices already, if I was being honest with myself. I was just a stranger in a club and he was Harry Styles. 

The situation didn’t make sense in my hazy brain.

I gripped his phone tight in my hands, afraid that it might fall out of my clutches and land in the wrong set of hands. I was the only one in the dimly lit hallway, but my irrational fear was there to stay. Surely he would be mad if I lost it. My knees were still wobbly and I was still lightheaded but I was admittedly feeling much better than before.

I dropped my head against the wall behind me. I was more upset and worried about missing Claire’s official birthday than being pushed over by a drunken asshole. I had left her all alone on her birthday while Harry Styles was carting me off to a rooftop to get some air. Before I could dwell on it more, I felt a warm hand land on my bicep, the touch breaking me from my thoughts. 

When I snapped my head up, I saw Harry standing there. 

“Are you okay?” He ducked down, his breath washing over my skin and sending chills down my spine. “Still feeling dizzy?

“Yeah.” I nodded. 

“Alright, let’s get you upstairs.” He pulled back, giving me a soft smile before slipping his arm back over my waist. 

I wasn’t sure that I needed his arm for support anymore, but I didn’t know how to politely tell him that, so I let it be. His cologne was strong and the smell was almost calming to my senses. All of the panic that I had before was washed away with one whiff of vanilla and tobacco. When we finally made it to the elevator, he leaned over to press the button and my eyes caught a glimpse at his tattoos and his rings.

I had forgotten all about his tattoos, my eyes stuck on the giant anchor inked on his wrist. I wanted to reach over and touch it, but I knew that would probably make me seem insane. Instead, I tightened my grip around his phone. When the elevator doors opened, he glanced down at me with that smile again. The dimple carved into his cheek and his cologne were making me feel dizzy again. 

I turned forward, taking a deep breath with my eyes closed. 

“Do you feel like you’re going to faint again?” Harry’s arm tightened around my waist and I jumped a little, gripping his phone so tight that I’m sure my knuckles were white. “Can I do anything?” 

“I’m okay, just a little shaky.” I squeaked out, taking a deep breath as the elevator started to move. 

Out of instinct, one of my hands flew out as a way to steady myself, searching for something to hold onto. 

“I’ve got yeh.” He slipped his fingers through mine and I let out a groan as he chuckled beside me. 

“S’not funny.” I mumbled, slowly my eyes before looking up at him. “I’m like bambi on ice skates.” 

“You’re drunk and your equilibrium is thrown off.” He said softly. “It’s okay, I promise we’re almost to the top.” 

“Thank god for that.” 

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

Harry’s POV 

Maybe you should just let her go, Harry. I’m sure she can stand on her own.

I rolled my eyes, looking up at the ceiling as I ignored the voice in my head. 

I wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

“I still need to call your friend,” I said softly. She gave a quick nod, releasing my hand to fish around in her bag for her phone. After a few seconds, she had her phone unlocked and on a contact name. I tightened my arm around her waist, as I held the phone to my ear. “Thanks, love.” 

“Where are you!” The voice on the other end of the line was loud, but the music behind the voice was much louder. “Are you okay? You left for the bathroom forever ago and it does not take that long to reapply lipstick. Did someone kidnap you?”

“She’s not been kidnapped.” I tried not to laugh, fearing that the girl and her friend would think me crazy for finding her panic comical. “My name is Harry. Someone knocked your friend over earlier and she looked a little unsteady. M’taking her up to the rooftop now so she can get some fresh air and cool down for a minute.” 

“There’s a rooftop?” Her friend asked. “Where is she now?” 

“We’re in the elevator.” I said. “If you want to meet my sister down by the bathroom, she’ll come up with you. It’s an exclusive section of the club and you can’t just...walk into it. Gotta have a code. I’ll have my sister wait for you. Her name is Gemma.”

“You’re Harry Styles.” Her friend stated casually as we shuffled into the elevator. I reached out to hit the rooftop button before slipping my arm back behind her. “Interesting.” 

“Is that okay?” I asked, glancing down at Bea as the elevator doors closed. 

“Yeah, I don’t… you’re cool, I guess.” She said. “I’m not exactly alone though. There are like...six of us.”

“Oh.” I said softly. “Is everyone else going to be okay with the whole….Harry Styles thing?” 

“Yeah.” She laughed. “No offense, but Beatrice and I are the only two people who know that you’re an amazing and wonderfully talented being. They won’t even bat an eye.” 

“Good.” I said. “And if...I don’t know, Beyonce were to walk by?” 

“We’ve already seen her.” Claire said casually. “No problem.”

“I’ll see you soon then.” I laughed. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

“Claire.” She said. “My name is Claire.” 

“Goodbye Claire.” I said. “And happy birthday, by the way.” 

“Thanks.” 

The phone beeped as she ended the call and I extended my hand out, offering the girl her phone. She took it back with a quiet thank you before stuffing it in her purse. She cleared her throat, trying to stand up a little straighter. There was a lot more light in the elevator and I could see her much better. I studied the freckles on her face, her skin glowing around her cheekbones and her forehead. 

She was really pretty. 

There was something about the soft features of her face and her plush cheeks that made my lips twist up into a smile. She looked up at me, her thick brows pulling together in the middle just a little bit as she gave me a curious smile. 

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, straightening out my smile as I reached up to scratch at my jaw quickly. She had caught me staring. “Um, what’s your name?” 

“Beatrice.” She said softly, her lips dropping down into a frown. “You can call me Bea if you want to though.” 

“Beatrice. That’s a very pretty name.” I said, turning my eyes back to the elevator doors as they opened. “Like I told your friend, the rooftop bar is a little exclusive. Are you going to be okay?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, glancing at me with a secretive smirk on her lips. “Haven’t freaked out yet, have I?” 

“Ah, you do know who I am then.” I tightened my arm around her waist and she laughed, giving me a quick nod. “Claire might have mentioned that.”

“Unfortunately, I know way too much about you.” She laughed, her cheeks turning pink as we started to walk. “I was a huge One Direction fan, like a...a massive, massive One Direction fan.” 

I let out a laugh, a genuine laugh that pulled from my belly, sending an echo through the air after.

“Are you teasing me?” I asked, my voice slipping up an octave. “S’not ‘Treating People With Kindness’ is it?” 

“Who said you were my favorite solo artist?” She asked, cocking a brow up. “‘Treat People with Kindness’ what does that even mean?” 

I sputtered, my eyes growing wide as I shook my head. She was really teasing me and it was so fucking adorable. I stared down at her in shock as she tried not to laugh at her own joke.

“You’re mean.” I said, a teasing lilt to my own voice. “I’m taking you back.” 

She laughed softly as we continued to walk around the wooden boards of the private bar. There was a sofa nestled in the corner of the bar I had reserved for myself and my friends. There were already bottles of water and a few different beverages tucked away in an ice bucket. I guess my friends would be making new friends tonight.

“Niall was my favorite for a while, but you stole my heart eventually.” She confessed as we walked past the first bar and turned a corner. 

I looked down at her, blinking in disbelief. 

She seemed confused at first, but it hit her seconds later. 

“I did not mean...I wasn’t teasing that time, I swear.” She held a hand up in defense, trying her best not to laugh. She rolled her lips in, looking at me with wide eyes as I watched her face. I had already said it before, but fuck she was cute. “I completely forgot about that song, to be honest. I’ll take the jokes down a notch.” 

“You’re rather cute, you know that?” I whispered, narrowing my eyes playfully. She blinked up at me, her cheeks now a beautiful shade of pink. “Like...right now, even through the dark, I can tell that you don’t know what makes you beautiful.” 

Immediately, her shoulders started to shake as she let out a laugh. She reached up to rest her hang over her mouth as a few little giggles slipped from her lips. I laughed with her, but I mainly kept my eyes on her. The way her eyes crinkled up at the corner, the tears that formed on her water line as she laughed a little harder, the way she held her hand over her mouth like she was hiding something.

Maybe she was insecure about her smile? 

She had one of those silent laughs, but every few seconds she would take a breath and she would let out a little squeak. We had to stop walking for a second and she turned a little, hiding her face in my shoulder. I don’t think she was trying to be flirty, it looked more like a habit than anything, like she was hiding her face from me. When she was done giggling at me, she reached up to wipe at the corner of her eye as if a tear had fallen out.

“That was….wow.” She rolled her lips in again, shaking her head at me. “You got me there, Styles.” 

We started walking again and I remembered that I had to text Gemma and let her know to meet Beatrice’s friends downstairs. I cursed under my breath, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. Beatrice didn’t say anything, but a few seconds later, I felt her arm slip around my back. 

It was probably more comfortable for her than letting her arm hang between us, occasionally bumping into my thigh with each step we took together.

I welcomed it, returning her smile with one of my own. If she were my girlfriend, I would lean down to press a few kisses to her strawberry red lips right about now. Shooing away the thought, I lifted my phone to my ear. 

“I can’t find Jeff.” She sounded frustrated. “I don’t know where he is.” 

“Forget Jeff, he can handle himself.” I said, my brows pulling together. I didn’t want her getting caught up in a crowd on her own. “Just head back upstairs. There’s a girl named Claire downstairs waiting for you-” 

“I’m not walking one of your fuck buddies upstairs.” 

“She’s not my fuck buddy, dickhead.” I snapped at her, looking up to the sky in disbelief. “She’s Beatrice’s friend.” 

“Oi, don’t call me dickhead you knob.” Gemma snapped back. “Who is Beatrice?” 

“The girl, Gemma. The one we were just with downstairs.” I rolled my eyes, looking back down at Bea as she tried not to laugh at me. “Just bring her and their other friends up with you and be nice. It’s her birthday.” 

“Oh, joy.” Gemma said. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Bye,” I said. “Love you.” 

“Love you too, knobhead.” 

I hung up the phone, rolling my eyes at my sister. I looked up, noticing that we had made it to the back corner of the bar where my section was reserved. I tightened my arm around Beatrice for a second, catching her attention. She had been too busy looking at the decor and the fairy lights around us. When we finally walked up to Frank, the bouncer assigned to my section, I gave him a curt nod. 

He lifted the rope and I guided Beatrice into the little area with a sectional, a loveseat, and a large table with snacks and drinks in the middle of it all. I let go of her, walking over to the bucket of ice with drinks stuffed in it. I grabbed a bottle of water, turning back to hand it to her, but she looked like she had gone into shock again. I turned behind me, realizing what she was staring at. With a soft smile, I walked over to her, careful not to block her view of the city below. 

“Holy fuck.” She whispered. 

The lights were hitting her eyes and I swore it looked like there was a twinkle in the ocean of blue in her eyes. I watched as a soft breeze rustled up her red hair. A few strands stuck to her lips, catching in her lipstick, but she quickly reached up to brush them away. This view was nothing to me. It was one I had seen a million times. I had seen the view of this city from practically every single angle. I didn’t need to turn around to watch the lights of the city with childlike wonder. There was a new view that I wanted to commit to memory. The view of this beautiful stranger standing in front of me.

“This is so beautiful, Harry.” That was the first time I heard her say my name but it nearly knocked my feet out from under me this time. There was nothing muddling or overpowering her voice now. 

“It really is, isn’t it.” I said softly. “It’s breathtaking.” 

When she looked back at me, I think she realized I wasn’t talking about the city below us. 

                            ___________________________________

Bea’s POV 

Harry Styles was charming. 

He also couldn’t keep his eyes off of me and it was kind of shocking to me. How could someone so angelic and beautiful be fascinated by someone as ordinary as me. Every time I caught him looking at me, it took my breath away. Part of me was worried that he was only doing it to pull me into some trap. Maybe he was just looking to take someone home tonight. When my friends made it upstairs, especially my beautiful Claire, I was afraid he’d stop staring at me altogether. 

If he wanted to take someone home, she was the girl for it.

 She was drop dead gorgeous and they would look so good together. When we finally sat down on the soft outdoor sectional, Harry made sure that I was able to see the view of the city behind him. He cocked his left leg up on the sofa and dropped his arm over the back. Occasionally his fingertips would brush over the skin of my bicep and every time it sent chills up my spine.

“Where are you from?” Harry asked me softly. “You don’t sound like Los Angeles?” 

“What do I sound like?” I cocked a brow up, intrigued by his statement. 

“Charleston.” He said slowly, his own brows pinching together. 

“I have family down there.” She nodded. “My dad was born and raised right outside of Charleston, but he moved to Virginia before I was born. That’s where I’m from.” 

“Virginia.” He nodded. “Is that where you live now?”

“No, actually.” I cleared my throat, turning my body towards his. “Claire and I live right outside of Georgetown in Washington, D.C.” 

“Claire is your roommate?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” I nodded. “We met a few years ago. I actually used to be her boss.” 

“Really?” Harry laughed softly. “What do you do?” 

“Well, I was a manager at a hotel when I met Claire.” I started. “But I work in Sales now. I do a lot of the event planning and I deal with the catering team a lot.” 

“Do you like it?” He asked softly. 

That was a new question. 

Most people just assumed that I loved my job. I really didn’t though. I had fallen into the hospitality industry as a teenager and after receiving two promotions before I turned twenty, I felt like I owed it to the company to stay with them. I hated my job, but I never let anyone know that. I was grateful to even have the opportunity to have a career most people didn’t have until their mid thirties. Harry’s eyes were trained on my face as I tried to think of the right words to say. 

“No.” That would do, I suppose. “I actually really hate it. But I’ve been with the company since I was eighteen. They’ve given me a lot of great opportunities. Most people take ten years to get where I’m at in a hospitality career.” 

“What would you like to do?” He asked. 

“I don’t know.” I gave him a soft smile. “I have a question for you now, Mr. Styles.” 

“Ask away.” He giggled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He was so pretty and I didn’t know how I was even keeping it together. 

“Why am I up here with you?” I asked softly, slipping my hands to my lap so that I could pick at the skin around my nails. It was a bad habit, but I was nervous and I couldn’t help it. “You could have given me my water and sent me back by now. Hell, you didn’t even have to bring me upstairs if we’re going there.”

Before Harry could answer my question, I heard my voice behind me. 

“Beatrice Noelle!” 

I snapped my head around to see Claire walking past the bouncer in front of Harry’s private section, our other friends following behind casually. I felt his fingers brush over my shoulder again and I glanced back at him.

 He was trying to not smile, but I could tell he was amused by Claire.

“We aren’t finished with this conversation.” Harry whispered in my ear, pulling back with a soft smile.

He winked at me, shocking me further for a second before I remembered that everyone was right behind us. I stood up, shuffling in Claire’s direction with a dramatic pout on my lips. 

“I’m so sorry, Claire.” I slipped my arms around her and she squeezed me tight. Claire was the same height as Harry and with my heeled boots on, my nose just barely brushed over her shoulder. “I’ve completely ruined your birthday! Some guy on the dance floor-” 

“Harry told me.” She pulled back, placing her hands on my face just as Harry had done earlier. I let her inspect me with concerned eyes. “You’re alright though? No bumps and bruises on this lovely face of yours?” 

“I’m fine.” I rolled my eyes, reaching up to swipe her hands off my face as Harry chuckled behind me. I shot him a look over my shoulder and he held his hands up in front of his chest as a defense. I turned back to Claire, giving her a soft smile. “We can head back down now if you want to Claire? I’m feeling better now.” 

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Harry said from behind me, rising to his feet as if he would have to physically stop me from leaving. I rolled my lips in, glancing behind me. I felt his hand play at the fabric of my dress before I felt the warmth of his hand on my side. “Please feel free to stay up here. There’s a nice view, it’s a lot less crowded, and there’s free alcohol.” 

“We’ll stay.” Claire said before holding her hand out past me. “Claire Nelson, nice to meet you.” 

“You as well,” Harry shook her hand before turning back to our other friends. “And everyone else?” 

“I’m Matt.” He stuck his hand out, his shoulders squared up. “Thanks for taking care of Bambi. She’s definitely the clumsy one out of the group.” 

“That’s the truth.” Chloe laughed behind Matt, her hand resting on his lower back as she waited for Harry to finish shaking the tall blonde hair. “I’m Chloe, Matt’s girlfriend.” 

“Lovely to meet you both.” Harry smiled, turning to Tara next. “And you are?” 

“I’m Tara,” She said casually, quickly shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

“You as well.” He said. “And last but certainly not least-” 

“Jackson.” The most boisterous and positive of us all. “I just loved you in dunkirk. You did such a good job, I felt terrified when you were going off on that poor french boy.” 

“Thank you so much,” Harry chuckled, his finger tightening on my waist as he settled back in place next to me. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” 

“Thank you for inviting us up here,” Chloe said. “It’s stunning.” 

“It’s not a problem at all.” We made eye contact and he shot me a wink before looking back at everyone. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” 

“Thank you.” Claire plopped down next to my previous spot as Harry’s sister walked past the table and towards the love seat. 

She dropped down to it, pulling out her phone immediately as Harry and I settled back in our original seating. I felt her eyes practically burning a hole in the side of my face as I looked up at Harry. His eyes were trained on me again and I felt my face heating up under his fond gaze. 

“Gemma, let’s go grab a few drinks at the bar?” Harry suggested, glancing at his sister over his shoulder before looking back at me. He rested his palm on my knee and I shivered at the feeling of his cold rings on my skin. “What would you like?” 

“I’m fine.” I said softly. “You don’t have-” 

“Someone has been indulging in watermelon margaritas all night.” Claire spoke up from beside me, poking my side as I glared at her. 

“And what would you like, Claire?” Harry chuckled looking back at my friend. 

“Same thing.” She smiled. “Thank you, Harry.” 

“Harry, you really don’t have to-” I started, but he interrupted me. 

“It’s fine, Bea.” He gave me a soft chuckle. “Think I can swing a few drinks for the birthday girl and her friends without draining my bank account. Gemma and I will be back in a second. Just make yourselves at home.” 

“I’m sure they will.” Gemma grumbled under her breath. 

My whole body went cold as I looked over at his sister. 

She was glaring at me and even though she shared the same eye color as her brother, her eyes were a cold contrast to the warm green of Harry’s. 

“Gemma.” Harry snapped her name, standing up from his spot on the couch. “Knock it off.” 

“Whatever.” She stood up, practically flying out of the private section without another word. 

Harry looked down at me, his own cheeks flushing pink for once. 

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “She’s a bit overprotective sometimes.” 

“I don’t blame her.” I mumbled, offering him a reassuring smile. I don’t know what came over me, but I reached up to squeeze his hand softly. “Don’t worry about it. I would be the same if my brother was a super famous rockstar.” 

I winked at Harry and he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he squeezed my hand back. 

“I’ll be right back.” He said. “Don’t miss me while I’m gone.” 

“We’ll try not to.” Claire laughed, watching Harry as he slipped his hand from mine and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Claire turned to me with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck is happening?” She said under her breath. “That is Harry Styles! Are we...is this a fanfiction that we’re living in because it feels like it!” 

“I really don’t know.” I whispered, leaning closer to her. “He just...he caught me before I fell and then he went back to find my purse and we were joking with each other in the elevator and he won’t stop looking at me Claire. I mean, proper puppy dog gazes. He’s so sweet.” 

“He seems quite...smitten.” She smiled. “You do too. What was that thing with your hands a minute ago. You just reached up like it was yours to grab.” 

“I know!” I leaned back into the sofa, rubbing my hands over my face. “It just kind of happened, like I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it happened.” 

“I know one thing, that’s for sure.” She laughed, slipping her hand up to pinch at my cheek. “You two look damn cute together and I’m not letting you leave without his number. Unless you plan on leaving with him, that would be okay too.” 

“Claire.” 

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

Harry’s POV 

“What is your deal?” I let out a frustrated sigh as Gemma and I walked towards the bar. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.” 

“You don’t even know her, Harry.” Gemma snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Neither do you!” I rolled my eyes, leaning against the bar. The bartender was helping someone else down at the other end of the bar, so I sat there patiently as my sister pouted. 

“You just snapped at me!” She narrowed her eyes at me. 

“You were being mean.” I sighed, holding my hands up. “You practically called her a groupie in front of her friends”

“Isn’t she?” Gemma snorted. 

I snapped my head to look at her with a harsh glare. 

“No.” I shook my head. “She’s actually very sweet. For the first time in a very long time, Gemma, I was just Harry. I was having fun with a very sweet girl and I wasn’t stressing about albums or tours or ex girlfriends who want to do me in. I was just having fun.” 

Her face fell, but before she could speak, the bartender walked up to me.

“Hey, mate.” I gave him a smile. “Do you have any kind of cake here? My friend just told me it’s her birthday and I didn’t come prepared.” 

“We have a triple berry trifle, it’s angel food cake with berries and cream.” The bartender said. “I can have a few slices sent over to your table if you’d like.” 

“That would be perfect, we would need four slices.” I nodded. “Also, can you bring out champagne with the cake?” 

“Yeah, no problem.” He nodded. “You want your usual as well?” 

“Yes,” I nodded before listing off the drinks everyone had asked for. 

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Would you like me to delay the cake so you guys have time to finish these drinks up.” 

“That would be perfect, thank you so much.” I nodded as he scooped some ice up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give her a chance.” Gemma said from beside me. “Her friend was telling me that she’s a model and I just got a little skeptical about it all. You really don’t need another model in your life.” 

“I really don’t. But Beatrice is really kind, Gem.” I laughed, tossing my arm around her shoulder before kissing the side of her head dramatically, making a lot of noise. She pushed her hand against my side, rolling her eyes. “I can take care of myself though Gem. I really like her so far and I just…just give her a chance.”  

“Fine.” She grumbled. “Go take the pretty girl her drink. I’ll keep the friends distracted while you two flirt.” 

“Thanks, G.” I chuckled. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, knobhead.” 

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

Bea’s POV

Harry had the bar send over cake for Claire and Mitch’s joint birthday. 

When they set the cake down, I practically melted into a puddle of mush right then and there. He ducked down to whisper in my ear as the staff sang happy birthday to my best friend. He told me that everyone deserved cake on their birthday. When the champagne came over, Claire was so excited that she practically jumped out of her chair and launched at Harry for a hug. Right after cake, Jeffrey (I learned that he was Harry’s tour manager and close friend. He was the reason Harry went downstairs in the first place), Sarah (his drummer), and Mitch(his guitar player and close friend) joined us. They had been stuck downstairs, mingling with some old friends in the bar while we were upstairs. 

As everyone made friendly conversation, my eyes started to grow heavy. It was nearing the end of the night and I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be energetic. Instead, the alcohol that was in my system and the sound of Harry’s voice were lulling me to sleep. I tried my best to sit up straight, but at some point I started leaning against the back of the couch. It didn’t take long for Harry to slip his arm from the back of the couch to rest on my shoulders. After that, I was moving closer and closer to him with every breath I took.

“I think it might be time to call it.” Gemma let out a loud yawn from the loveseat, her legs tucked under her and her head lolled to the side. “I have to be at the airport so early tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, it is really late.” Claire glanced over at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re practically asleep, aren’t you Bea? Someone’s gonna have to carry you out.”  

“Pretty much.” I mumbled, reaching up to rub at my eyes with the knuckles of my fingers. “Been up for nearly 25 hours.” 

“Before we part ways, I would like to have a toast.” Claire said softly. “Is that alright?” 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Go ahead birthday girl.” 

Claire reached for her half empty glass of champagne, lifting it in the air. Harry shifted closer to me, catching my body as I started to fall closer to him. I was cuddled into the crook of his arm now, our thighs pressed together and my head just below his chin, resting on his shoulder. I felt him turn his head and I could have sworn that he sniffed at the hair on my head before giving me a soft kiss. 

It made my heart swell in my chest and when I looked up at him with a soft smile, he just returned it with tired eyes. Something came over me and I tilted my head, pressing a kiss to the stubbly skin of his jaw and then to the dimple carved in his cheek. I giggled when I pulled back, basking in the fact that I had shocked him with my action.

 I turned back to Claire quickly, hoping that no one caught me kissing his cheek. 

“I would like to raise a toast to my very best friend.” She said. “This morning, I was stuck at home wallowing about my birthday and getting old. Beatrice has been listening to me cry about it for months. She knew I wasn’t excited to turn twenty-eight, so she decided to plan this wonderful birthday trip to Los Angeles so that I could have fun on my birthday. This toast is for her, the most selfless and kind hearted woman that I know. Thank you, Beatrice, for giving me the best birthday of my life.” 

“Aww, Claire Bear.” I leaned over, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

“To Bea.” She said, clinking the tip of her glass to mine.

I leaned back towards Harry and he dropped his glass down, tipping the top towards mine as everyone continued to toast to me. They went back to their conversation in no time, leaving Harry and I on our own as we stared into each other’s eyes. 

“To you.” He whispered, giving me a gentle smile. His dimple popped out again when he smiled and I had to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss it again. I looked down to his lips, my mind trailing off to the thought of them pressing into mine. “What?” 

“I just…” I stopped myself. “Nothing.” 

His brows crinkled and he gave me a confused smile. 

I didn’t want this night to ever end.

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

Harry’s POV

Beatrice kept looking at my lips and I knew she wanted to kiss me. 

I wanted to kiss her too. I wanted to kiss for so long that when I was done, she was breathless. I wanted her to pull away with swollen red lips, no lipstick, and flushed cheeks. There were a lot of other things I wanted to do to her, but I had to wipe those thoughts from my mind. This wasn’t a girl I was trying to take to my hotel room for a quick fuck. 

This was a girl I really liked, a girl I was about to ask out on a proper date.

I could only hope that she was in town for a few more days. I knew that she brought Claire to L.A for her birthday, but I didn’t know when she was leaving. A small pang of hurt rang through my chest as I realized how my previous girlfriend’s must have felt when I showed up just to turn around and leave again. I never wanted Bea to leave my side. 

It was a bit early to think like that, but it was how I felt about her. 

“What?” I asked her as she looked down at my lips again. She licked over her bottom lip before tucking the fleshy part between her teeth. 

“I just…” She trailed off, her eyes slipping back up to mine. “Nothing.” 

“When do you leave?” I whispered as our friends talked around us. 

“Tuesday.” It was Friday...technically Saturday right now. There was still time. “We fly out in the afternoon.” 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” She said. “It’s up to Claire.” 

That was a good thing. 

If there was one thing I knew about Claire and Beatrice, it was that they would do anything to make the other one happy. That was clear in the way they talked to each other and about each other. I glanced over at Claire who was having a deep conversation with my sister and then back down to Beatrice. For a brief second, I saw black ink on the inside of her left arm. I reached down, using my thumb to turn her arm softly. She looked down with me, my eyes trailed over the insect tattooed on her forearm. I heard her clear her throat as she shifted her arm so that I could see it better. 

How had I not noticed that earlier?

“It’s a honeybee.” She whispered softly. “Most people think it’s a fly because I didn’t put any color in, but it’s not.” 

“I really like it.” I whispered. “It kind of reminds me of one of my own tattoos. Got a giant butterfly on my stomach.” 

I plucked at my shirt around where my tattoo was. 

“I’d like to see it someday.” She said softly. 

I knew she meant it innocently, but I couldn’t help but imagine her settled on my thighs, her hands pressed into the tattoo as she moved her hips. I looked up at her, catching her eyes as she realized the double meaning to her statement.

She opened her mouth, ready to backtrack, but I stopped her. 

“I wanted to know what you’re doing tomorrow because it’s my last show.” I said quickly. “I want you to come.” 

“Really?” She sounded genuinely surprised by my offer and it took me by surprise. 

Didn’t she know that I liked her? 

I could hardly keep my hands off of her. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Everyone can tag along if they’re interested.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I nodded. “You can stand down in the barricades with Gemma and her boyfriend. He flies in tomorrow...well technically today. We can do dinner before the show and everything.” 

“Like a date?” She asked, her eyes searching my face. 

“I haven’t been on a proper date in a really long time.” I confessed. “I mainly just hang out with people and see where things go. I...it can be a date, but I don’t think it should be.” 

Her face fell and I closed my eyes, realizing that I was avoiding her question. 

“I don’t think it’s fair to call it a date because I’ll be on stage most of the night, not with you.” I said softly. “That wouldn’t be fair to you and very narcissistic of me.” 

“Well…” She pursed her lips, a playful hint in her tone. “Tomorrow night we can just hang out. But...I think you deserve a proper date.” 

“Is that so?” I let out a nervous giggle, my chest feeling lighter as she nodded. “Are you going to show me what a proper date is?” 

“I would like to.” She said. “Will you let me?” 

I realized then that I would do anything she wanted me to do if it meant that I was able to spend more time with her. 

I was totally fucked. 

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

Bea’s POV

Harry had to say goodbye to me on the rooftop. 

He seemed upset that he couldn't see me downstairs to the uber he ordered for me, but I understood. I wasn’t too keen on being crowded and harassed by paparazzi at this point in the night. My makeup was nearly gone, I was still tipsy, and I was extremely tired. Everyone else filtered out before us, Mitch and Sarah glued together behind Jeffrey and Claire and Gemma chatting away. 

The plan was to ride the elevator down together and separate before we got to the door. Harry and I were still lollygagging by the couch, not ready to go back to the real world waiting for us downstairs. For the first time in my life, I wanted to go home with someone. I wanted to curl up next to Harry and listen to him talk for hours and hours. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” Harry brushed his fingers over the warm skin of my cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. “I feel like we didn’t have enough time.” 

“We have tomorrow.”

My hands were resting on his abdomen and I wondered if his butterfly tattoo was underneath my fingers. I looked up at him with a sad smile, letting him know that I felt the same way. 

“You asked me earlier why I didn’t send you back downstairs,” He started, licking over his bottom lip as his eyes shifted away from mine for a second. 

I could see that he was trying to find the right words to say and that sent a rush of butterflies through my stomach. I wondered for a moment if that’s what his tattoo meant. His eyes found mine again and I gave him a soft smile, reassuring him that I wanted to hear what he had to say. 

“It’s okay.” I whispered, gripping the soft cotton of his shirt. “You can say it.” 

“You’re very sweet and kind. It’s been a long time since someone has made me feel this way. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way. I feel so...giddy. I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. When I was talking to you, I didn’t feel like Harry Styles. I felt like Harry, a really nervous guy in front of a beautiful girl.” He confessed, his hands cradling my neck just as they did in the bar earlier. My eyes fell to his lips again and I couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Are you going to kiss me now?” I whispered. “Because I would really, really like it if you did.” 

“Fuck yes.” Harry let out a soft chuckle before leaning forward to press his lips to mine. 

 I smiled into the kiss, slipping my hand up his chest and towards the back of his neck as he tilted my head up gently with his thumbs, deepening the kiss. Our friends cheered behind us, whooping and whistling as Harry tilted me back just a little.  It took a few minutes for us to pull away, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip as I pulled back with my eyes still closed. 

He let out a whine, pecking my lips a few more times before ducking his head down, his temple pressed to my cheek we both laughed, shoulders shaking gently. My cheeks were sore from the amount of smiling I had been doing and there was an ache in my core from laughing too hard. 

“That was nice.” I massaged the nape of his neck softly with the tips of my fingers. “We have to go.” 

“I can’t leave you after you kissed me like that.” He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at me playfully as he dropped his hands from my neck to my sides. “Don’t go.” 

“I have to. Besides, you need to rest.” I whispered as his fingers dug into my skin, holding me tighter. He pouted at me and my heart squeezed in my chest. Why was he so cute? “We’ll see each other in a few hours, remember?” 

“S’too long.” His words were slurred now and his accent was thicker. I could tell how tired he was by the way he pulled me towards him. “But I guess you’re right.” 

“Listen, I will separate you two myself if I have to.” Gemma’s voice was a lot closer now. Harry retaliated by slinking his arms around me, pulling me into a hug as if to say, ‘Go ahead and try to pull us apart’ to his sister. I laughed, letting my hands settle on his shoulders. 

“Harry, you have to let go.” I whispered in his ear. “I promise I’m all yours tomorrow.” 

“Must the women in my life always torture me?” He groaned, shifting his head so that he could press a kiss to my shoulder. “I guess I’ll let go.” 

“Good boy, Harry.” Gemma cooed playfully and I could hear Claire laughing. “Let’s go, come on now.” 

“M’not a bloody dog.” Harry pulled away from me, but his hand dropped down to mine. He laced our fingers together as he glared over at his sister. He glanced back down at me, his lips still settled in a pout. “See how she treats me? You’re gonna let her go home with me? I might not make it until tomorrow.” 

I tossed my head back, laughing at his adorable and pouty face. 

“Oh piss off you sap,” Gemma snorted. “Let’s get a move on. I better not turn around to see you two snogging again.” 

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

Harry’s POV

I tugged Bea along with me, walking towards the elevator behind the rest of our friends. 

When we stopped just in front of the elevator, waiting for the doors to open, I heard my name from behind me. My eyes grew wide as Bea looked up at me and then behind us. She quickly turned back to me and gave me a soft smile. For a second, she tried to slip her hand from mine, but I tightened my grip, turning us both around as I smiled at Hannah. She was pressed into Greg’s side, her arm wrapped around his lower back and her eyes glassy. 

“Hi again.” I said. “D’ya have a fun night?” 

“We did.” She nodded, looking up at Greg. “Someone caught me by surprise.” 

It was then that I saw it. 

She stuck her hand out, my eyes automatically landing on the teardrop shaped diamond on her left ring finger. My eyes practically bugged out of my head and my throat went dry. She was going to marry Greg. The girl that I once loved, the girl that I still thought about quite often on a lonely night when I was in bed, was going to get married to someone that wasn’t me. I almost fell into a spiral, tongue tied and unsure of what to say to her, but I was quickly brought back to reality when I felt Bea squeeze my fingers, her soft voice filing in the uncomfortable silence that lingered. 

“That’s a gorgeous ring, oh my.” She said softly, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes as if to say, ‘I’ve got this, don’t worry’. “And he proposed on such a beautiful night as well, how sweet of him. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you.” 

I looked away from Bea and back to Hannah to see that she was looking at me, her face scrunched up in confusion. She shot a quick glance at Bea and then back at me, waiting for an explanation or an introduction. She wasn’t going to get one, not right now.

“Congrats,” I smiled, holding a hand out towards Greg. “You’re a lucky man.” 

“Thanks, Styles.” Greg shook my hand and when I pulled away, the elevator bell dinged. 

We all piled into the elevator. Bea and I tucked away in the back corner as the doors to the closed shut in front of us. Gemma looked over her shoulder at me a few times, but I shook my head at her, silently asking her not to say anything. 

“Are you okay?” Bea asked, reaching up with her free hand to touch my arm. 

“Yeah.” I turned my head towards Bea, flashing her a soft smile as I squeezed her fingers. “Just fine.” 

For the first time in a long time, I meant it. 

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

Bea’s POV

Harry left me at the bottom of the elevator, slipping down the hallway with Gemma and Jeff before everyone else. Saying goodbye wasn’t the best part, but the soft kiss that came before he walked away was sickeningly sweet. Gemma seemed to warm up to us at some point in the early hours of the morning and she left me with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Claire and Harry were talking in hushed tones while I bid Gemma goodbye, but when I looked up at them to try and catch what they were talking about, he just shot me a quick wink. 

I gave him a playfully pout and he gave me one of his girlish giggles with crinkled eyes and smile lines. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt. Tomorrow night - or tonight, rather - I would have to share that smile with hundreds of people that adored him the same, if not more than I did. 

Watching Harry walk away sent a pang of hurt and frustration through my heart, but Claire was quick to swoop in, standing where Harry had been all night. 

“You’ll see him again in a few hours, don’t pout like a child.” She slipped her arm through mine, hooking it around so that we were linked together. “Let’s go have some greasy late night pizza and watch a movie before we crash, sound good?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

We barely made it through Notting Hill. 

Claire passed out on my shoulder about ten minutes into the movie while Tara and Jackson passed out on the floor below us. Matt and Chloe had gone straight to bed when we got back to the airbnb. I, however, couldn’t find it in me to close my eyes and go to sleep. There were so many thoughts racing through my head that it was spinning as I tried to focus on Hugh Grant. When was the last time I got so swept up in a guy that I completely abandoned all of my fears? 

There wasn’t one moment with Harry where I felt out of place or scared to act on my emotions.

Normally I was hesitant and observant, overthinking every little thing until I made an official decision about someone. I had never been so...affectionate with someone that I had just met. Part of me was worried by my actions and by Harry’s as well. Was this a normal thing for him? Did he do this regularly? Is that why Gemma didn’t want us on the rooftop? I had started chewing my nails at some point, my nerves taking over any good feelings I previously had.

 Maybe I just needed to tread carefully tomorrow. 

After covering Claire up with the throw blanket on the back of the couch, propping her head up on the throw pillow, I tiptoed over Tara and Jackson on the floor before finding my way to my room. 

Carefully, I shut the door behind me, rolling my lips in and wincing when the floor creaked below me. I was so tired and I didn’t want to wake Claire up. She would want to talk more about Harry and my feelings and I just was far too tired to talk anymore. I slipped into bed, settling my phone somewhere on the empty side as I snuggled in. My brain was stuck on a particularly lewd memory of the evening.

I had been trying to steer my brain away from the dirty thoughts I was having, but it was no use.

Harry’s cold rings contrasting with my hot skin was something I couldn’t shake. I could still feel his large palm on my leg, resting there like that’s where it belonged. The song ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off’ wasn’t a completely inaccurate account of me and tequila. The burning liquid did something to me that I couldn’t quite explain. I could taste the tequila on Harry’s lips during our kiss, the bitter liquid masking the sweet taste of his kiss. He convinced me to toss back a few shots, and now here I was. I flopped onto my back with heavy eyes and a frustrated groan. I just wanted to sleep. 

I cursed myself for not bringing any toys along with me. I might not have been sexually experienced, but I was a human being with needs. Masturbating, to me, was more fun than any sexual experience I did have. The two experiences I had with another person left me unsatisfied. An ex-boyfriend of mine that I didn’t date for long flashed through my mind for a second, but he was wiped away when I remembered the sound of Harry’s laughter in my ear. At first I was upset at the lack of vibration and the full feeling of my favorite toy between my legs, but that feeling vanished when I closed my eyes and Harry flashed through my brain. 

The column of his throat, covered in a few droplets of sweat from the humid Los Angeles air sent my hips bucking up into my own hand. The sound of his husky voice in my ear had me slipping my fingers as deep as I could. The one thing that sent me over the edge was his eyes. The sultry and mischievous glint hidden behind beds of green had me clenching around my fingers and biting at my lower lip as an involuntary moan slipped. I had never finished so fast before.

When I finished, my chest heaving as I opened my eyes in the dark room, my phone buzzed from somewhere on the bed. I didn’t reach for it immediately, not wanting to break the hazy spell I was still under. If I kept my eyes closed, Harry would still be there in my fantasy, kissing me softly. When I finally found my phone, I noticed that I had a text from Harry. He had put his number in my phone when we were still on the roof, adding a few berry emojis next to his name. I questioned about it and he gave me a soft shrug before stabbing a few of the berries in the cake he had delivered for Claire. 

He held his fork up with a smirk, nodding his head as a gesture for me to lean forward and take a bit of the berries resting there. I giggled when I thought about how I leaned forward, wrapping my mouth around the fork. Harry shifted in his seat after that, putting the cake far away as he watched me revel at the taste of tart berries in my mouth. I had never been that bold or flirty in front of a man before, but he drew it out of me somehow. 

When I opened the text message he sent me, my breath caught in my throat. 

‘I don’t know what happened between us tonight, but I do know that I don’t think I could ever go without you after the way you kissed me. Have sweet dreams, honeybee. Xoxo H’

A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth and I rolled over, letting out a squeal into my pillow. 

Harry Styles had me under some kind of spell that I never wanted to be free of. 

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

Harry’s POV

Gemma pestered me the entire car ride home. 

She wanted to know everything about Bea before she could officially form an opinion about her. 

So far, she liked Bea’s friend Claire. After a rocky start, the two quickly began chatting about a common interest that I had no knowledge of. When we finally made it back to my house, I was thankful that she was nearly asleep in the passenger seat of the car. Waking her up wasn’t going to be fun, but I knew she would have a proper strop with me tomorrow if I left her in the car. 

After a few choice words, Gemma was off and up to the guest room she considered to be her own personal room. I went about fixing myself a cup of tea with more honey then necessary. There was a small scratch in the back of my throat and I really hoped that I wasn’t coming down with a cold. That was most likely the case though. When I was in the band, I would fall ill after every tour, all of the travel and germs finally catching up with my body. 

Part of me wanted to call Bea. I just wanted to make sure that she made it home safe. Part of me also wanted to know if she still wanted to talk to me after tonight. Did it even mean anything to her? When I finally made it up to my bedroom, the weight of the world started to weigh down on my shoulders. It had been a long day and all I wanted was to close my eyes for a little bit. 

I put my phone in the bathroom to charge just so I didn’t pick it up again after I got comfortable. Beatrice was fine. I didn’t need to text or call. I had to trust in the process. Hannah had always told me before that being with me was difficult. There was never really time for her to process the things that she felt for me when I was always there, checking up on her. 

I didn’t want to overwhelm Bea. 

I wanted this one to last. 

As I started to drift off into a light slumber, images of her started to play in my mind like a movie. A smile slipped onto my face as I shifted around in bed, trying to get comfortable. I could still smell her perfume on my shirt from where she rested against me. The soft rose scent sent a message to my brain that I couldn’t control, my cock twitching in my boxers as a response. It didn’t take long for me to get hard, a desperate and frustrated groan slipping from my lips as I flopped onto my back. Jerking off to my memories of Beatrice felt cheap and wrong. She deserved more. 

“Fucking ridiculous.” I grumbled under my breath, dipping my hand down to my boxers. When I slipped my hand over my cock, my cold rings caused me to hiss out, I let the movie of Beatrice play out in my head despite my previous thoughts. “Don’t even know her, Harry. But you’re still jacking off to her, aren’t you?” 

I brushed my thumb over the tip of my cock, my heartbeat picking up as I thought about her sweet voice. I wanted her to be here right now, whispering in my ear, telling me what to do. I wanted her soft hands on my skin, brushing her fingertips over my chest as she kissed my jaw. I should have taken her home with me. Deep down, I knew that even if I asked she wouldn’t have come home with me. 

There was something guarded about her. I couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t a relationship you could just dive into. I came with a lot of baggage. As the memory of her lips wrapping around my fork flashed through my mind, I bucked my hips up, cum dripping down over my fingers and pooling around the base of my cock. 

With a groan, I threw my covers off my legs before walking into my bathroom. I stripped my boxers off, tossing them to the dirty clothes hamper before I walked over to my sink. After wiping myself clean, I reached for my phone. Fuck it. I wanted her to know what I thought of her. It was selfish of me, but I wanted to make her want me the same. I wanted her in my life and I this time, I wasn’t scared to make it happen. 

I wasn’t going to let this girl slip through my hands. 

[honeypirate]

So.. do you like jazz?

Hinawa x fem!reader

Hinawa taglist- @soft-citrus-central

Your heart is racing as the time approaches. Your band playing soft jazz as background music before the performance. You’re adjusting your dress as the stage lights dim and they announce it’s time and people cheer.

You’ve had this jazz club for a few months and although it’s still relatively new it’s got quite a crowd already. Packed every single night and doing even better than you anticipated, all because of your singing and the way Asakusa loved your grandfather who the club was named after.

The lights go out and you make your way on stage, your band behind you getting into their place and you notice your trombone player, Richter, was missing. you send a look Will behind the bar who mouths that he’ll find out as you place your right hand on the microphone.

The spotlight hits you and the crowd goes quiet as you start to sing the opening song

“I hear music when I look at you. A beautiful theme of every dream I ever knew. Down deep in my heart. I hear a play I feel it start then melt away I hear music when I touch your hand a beautiful melody from some enchanted land”

In the middle of your song, your eyes catch the stairs as two men enter, you watch as they take off their jackets as the reach the bottom step, their eyes on you as you finish the chorus.

The man with glasses finds a table in the middle of the room, sitting down all the while his eyes on you. His darker haired friend heads to the bar and comes back with tall beers as your first song ends, cheers as the lights dim again.

You sit at the piano, your dress swishing against the stool as your hands rest against the cool keys. One of your backstage guys, Matt, sets up your microphone as the spot light turns on you again.

“Thank you all for coming” you say with a little chuckle as Matt whispers in your ear about a song switch since the Richter was running late. You nod to him and cover the mic as you whisper back thanking him for telling you.

“Sorry about that” you say back to the crowd and start to play the melody to your song as you talk to them.

“Many of you know my trombone player, Richter. He’s going to be late so I’ll have to change this next song. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do” your eyes land on the handsome men and you wink at the one in glasses before changing the melody and beginning your song.

Hinawa was blown away by your performance. Your voice he heard from the street was magical, calling him directly to his soul as he walked down the steps. When you spoke at the piano, your voice was as melodic and sweet as your singing. He felt electric and he couldn’t look away from you on the stage. You’ve captivated him, giving him the sweetest feeling that his heart hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss. I’m longing to linger till dawn dear. Just saying this. Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams whatever they be dream a little dream of me.”

When your fingers release the keys and you pull your foot back, your skin tingles with the adrenaline from hearing cheers for you.

“Richter!” You hears cheers from the other side of the room and you smirk, looking up and seeing him walking quickly through the crowd as people chuckled. “Glad you could make it” you tease in the mic and the room laughs as he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes with a smile as he sets up his instrument.

Your eyes keep finding the handsome man with the glasses throughout your performance, his laughter finding your ears when you would joke and his claps were the loudest. It made your heart flutter and your cheeks blush, you’ve never seen someone so obviously blown away by you and it was enough to fluster you.

At the end of your last song the crowd cheers and you smile with a small bow. “Let’s hear it for the band!” You say with a smile and gesture behind you, the cheers twice as loud as before.

“Thank you all for coming! I’m here every weekend! I’d love it if you came back again” you say with a smile, looking into handsome glasses eyes before the spotlight turns off and the normal club lights come back on as you hand your mic to Matt as you walk off the stage. Your band changing back to play soft music for the rest of the night.

When you get to the bar you see that the handsome men now have some of the fire shoulders with them and you guessed they were from another company.

“Hey get me another round of what table 21 has and tell me who they belong to also get me the captains and Konros usual” you say to Will and he nods, pulling up a tray and glasses, pouring them and placing them so you can serve.

“How are my Soldiers doing tonight?” You say and place glasses starting with Captain Benimaru and Konro then the two you don’t know.

Konro answers you first “Hey y/n. Amazing performance as usual. But we didn’t..” you smile as you place the tray under your arm “on me tonight” you say “to show my appreciation for your support”

Benimaru picks up his glass “since it’s free” he says and you chuckle

“I dont believe I’ve met you boys though” you say and hold out your hand “y/n l/n. This is my club”

No glasses takes your hand first and you learn his name is Obi and he’s like a cute puppy dog. Glasses takes your hand and you feel actual sparks and warmth against your palm. “Hinawa Takehisa” he says and his deep stern voice sends tingles down your spine “so you’re the lieutenant of theee???eighth?” You guess, his hand still in yours and he nods with a smirk “good guess. Obi here is the Captain.” Your hand is still in his but it isn’t shaking any longer and his eyes were so intense you kind of loved it

“you know what they say about Lieutenants though, don’t you?” You ask and move closer to him with a playful smile

He moves closer to you and smirks “what do they say?”

You sigh with a smile and let your gaze fall to his lips for a moment as you lean in close before you say “they are...” you pull back “really good at paperwork”

Obi laughs hard and you get a chuckle from Beni which was more than you ever got. Hinawa smirks and you give his hand a squeeze before letting it go, William coming and getting your attention, whispering into your ear.

“Sorry Soldiers, duty calls” you meet Hinawa’s eyes “I hope I’ll being seeing you again soon Hinawa” you say with a smile and then add “you too Captain” with a little salute before making your way back to your office to handle problems with deliveries.

The next night, as you’re slipping into your performance dress in your office, you see in the security feed the Lieutenant that’s been running through your head all day, walk through the door with a little smile on his lips and his Captain on his heels.

You slip on your shoes and fix your lipstick before heading out to the floor, last night you went to him, let’s see what he’s got tonight.

You walk to the bar, pretending not to notice them as you talk to William behind the bar. Taking the inventory list he’s been working on and talking about what we’re out of and what cocktails he should push.

You make a note on the inventory sheet as Hinawa walks up, ordering drinks for him and Obi. You smile as you finish your note then look up and make eye contact.

“Welcome back Lieutenant” you say and he smiles softly “thank you. I’m excited to be back” he says sounding monotone and not at all excited, dry but with a smirk and a glint in his eye, which you found amusing.

“So.. do you like jazz?” You ask with a joke in your tone and he laughs with air out his nose and rose his eyebrows as he looked at you like you were adorably amusing

“Yes. It’s my favorite music” he says as he slips his cash on the bar as Will puts his drinks down.

“I’ll see you after your performance” he says and you grin “I’ll be looking forward to it Lieutenant”

“The crowds just a bit bigger tonight” you say and a get a few cheers “I’m honored. Thank you. This is my last song, dedicated to a..” you smile and make eye contact with Hinawa “a handsome Lieutenant”

“Moon river wider than a mile I’m crossing you in style some day you dream maker you heart breaker wherever you’re going I’m going your way”

You exit the stage, holding your skirt in your hand so you don’t step on it and you can see Hinawa stand in your peripheral vision.

You get the hallway that leads to your office as Hinawa reaches you.

“You’re amazing” he says and you laugh “I’m glad I give off that first impression. You should get to know me before you praise me though” you say and smirk up at him as you both walk towards your office.

“Then let me take you to dinner” he says and you smile, stopping outside your office “when?”

He hums for a moment “right now”

You look into his eyes with a smirk as you think about it. You’ve finished your paperwork and you have more than enough employees on the floor. Your assistant manager is competent. You nod as your smile grows “okay. Let me change first. Can you get my zipper?” You ask and turn around, moving your hair away from the dress.

He swallows hard and hesitated for just a second before his strong warm hands slowly unzip your dress, his fingers stopping at the bottom of your spine.

You turn around and smile up at him again “Ten minutes and I’m all yours Lieutenant” you say and softly close your door on him.

“I’m happy for you man!” Obi says as he slaps Hinawa’s shoulder as he puts on his jacket “I didn’t think she’d say yes if I’m being honest” he says with a laugh and Hinawa just rolls his eyes “yeah yeah” he says and then sees you walk out of the back hallway.

You meet his eye and smile softly and he feels his cheeks flush as he adds “I’ll meet you back in a few hours, I’ll drive home you can have the rest of my beer” before he walks over to you and takes your hand. “I hope you like sushi” he says and you squeeze his hand “well good thing I LOVE sushi!” You say with a cute grin and his heart skips.

Obi watches with a smile and shakes his head, he was happy for his best friend for finding someone who seemed to be perfect for him. He raises his beer to their backs, hoping for the best, before taking a drink.

You don’t know how long you spent at the sushi restaurant down the block. You got small orders of lots of things that you shared, both discovering new sushi to love and getting more comfortable with each other.

After leaving the restaurant, he offers you his elbow and you hold on to his bicep with a fluttering heart and warm cheeks. You spent the last two hours eating sushi and joking around like close friends, it was nice and fun but right now it felt like a different atmosphere.

The sky was dark and there wasn’t many people on the street as you walked slowly down the sidewalk, the quiet air between you sweet and comfortable.

“What made you want to open a jazz club?” He asks and you chuckle and smile up at him, eyes full of happiness as you say “my grandfather loved jazz and we used to listen to it tigether. I always loved it since I was a kid and so I made the club in memorial to his love for jazz and for me. He left me money in his will and it just seemed right” the breeze blows and you hold his arm closer with a shiver.

He holds your hands in his opposite one as he wraps the arm you were holding around your shoulders, holding you closer and his unzipped jacket coming around your side a little and enveloping you in his warmth.

“Jazz was a thing my father and I liked” he says with a smile and you wrap your arm that was against him up on his back under his jacket as he holds your other hand. “He would have loved your club and I’m positive your grandfather would be proud” he says with a firm nod and intense eyes and you smile up at him “thank you Hinawa”

You get back to your club and Obi honks the matchbox truck horn slightly to get Hinawa’s attention.

“Will I see you again, Lieutenant?” You ask with a flirty smile as you wrap your other arm around him in a hug

“Whenever you want” he says quietly and tucks your hair behind your ear

“I’m free Wednesdays and Thursdays” you watch as he smiles and it makes your heart flutter

“Wednesday then. I’ll pick you up at seven” he says and you can’t help the genuine grin that takes you over “I’ll be looking forward to it” you say softly and his eyes flick to your lips.

You hope he kisses you but when he doesn’t seem to be going to move you lean up on your tip toes and kiss his cheek, hugging him tight and sighing happily next to his ear “goodnight Hinawa. Be safe” you whisper with a smile in your voice and then let him go and turn to walk away.

He grabs your hand and pulls you back to him, a gasp leaving your throat as his hand gently cups your cheek and presses his lips to yours.

You melt into him and he deepens the kiss, holding you to his chest as your lips move together. It was soft and sweet, not too short of a peck and not a make out, the most romantic and breathtaking kiss you’ve ever been graced with.

“Goodnight y/n” he says and kisses your forehead before he lets you go and starts walking towards his truck.

You giggle and wave with your fingers at him as he gets in his truck and starts the engine, Obi saying something slurred you didn’t understand as the truck door shuts.

You head back into the club with a small happy squeal as they drive off, your lips still tingling from his kiss making your stomach fill with butterflies as you walk slowly down the stairs.

[vv3nti]

BIRD BOSS (part three)

[social media hybrid]

summary: y/n wants to rush her recovery process, putting her hero career on hold for what should have been a simple injury was devastating. she was ready to give. but the number two hero had an irresistible proposition. but he lands himself in a rocky situation as a crush develops on y/n; who quite frankly wants none of his shit. will hawks win her heart or will someone from her past steal it away?

warnings: language!!, angst, fluff, some ooc—sue me, CRACK, and LANGUAGE, pay no attention to timestaps, adult talk??? excuse the mistakes pls and ty

2.4k words

SERIES MASTERLIST

NO. NO. NO. NO. Your eyes widen as they fell upon your boss’ relaxed figure, chatting with your friends. What the hell was he doing here, and why did he look so casual among your peers? There was still time to make a run for the door; no one had even noticed you descend from the bathroom; feigning sickness didn’t sound like a bad idea right about now. This wasn’t the plan; Hawks was supposed to go home and meet you on sunday, not stay and mingle. He was ruining the atmosphere; people were gawking and staring at the pro, bringing unwanted attention to your table. Why would he think, showing up to a mediocre downtown club was a good idea? You didn’t have much time to dwell because Mina exposed your existent as she called you over. She smiled brightly, countering your set grimace. Keigo turned around slowly, a smirk decorated his lips and a glint in his eyes. He knew what he was doing; he found it quite amusing and rather eventful.

“Y/N! Look! It’s Hawks.” Mina gleamed, her drunken state failing to keep her excitement from bubbling over; she was practically bouncing off the floor. The time you told her you’d be working for the pro-hero, she went ballistic, bombarding you with a profound number of questions. Sure, the girl did have a special love for heroes but let’s not forget Hawks’ popularity due to his appearance, which granted him a few extra points in Mina’s book. It took a lot of self-restraint not to roll your eyes at your starstruck friend as you traveled to the booth.

“Yes, I see. What is he doing here?” you emphasized, turning to Hawks, the previous glare returning to your expression. If your eyes had mouths of their own, they would have told him to fuck off in a multitude of ways. You hoped he’d take the hint and leave you be, but to your luck, Keigo either didn’t notice or choose to ignore. You bet on the latter.

After a few seconds of your stare off, Keigo straightened his posture, flashing his pearly whites. “Hello, babybird.”

“Answer the damn question.” That earned you an elbow to the gut from Mina.

“Well, I know I told you to give me the bill on Sunday, but I thought it’d just be easier to take it straight from the source.” He scissored his centurion black card between his pointer and middle finger. He feigned surprise before reaching down on the table, grabbing a white iridescent clutch. “And you forgot this.” Hawks confessed, handing you the bag. You knew you didn’t take a purse to the gala, and you knew Hawks knew you didn’t take a flashy purse to the gala. So what the fuck was this expensive piece of material doing in your hands. “Consider it a thank you for showing up tonight; finding a last-minute date would have sucked.”

The explosive blond spoke up, all attention rushing his direction. “You gave her your card already; a simple verbal thanks would have done.” He snapped with a scowl. To say Bakugou had a distaste for the pro-hero would be an understatement, and he has zero hesitation voicing his dislike. It was painfully obvious Bakugou was envious of Hawks; number two hero, highly on almost all charts, and good looking, he had it all and at the mere age of twenty-three. In truth, you believe he looked up to the wing hero, but even if that were the case, her friend would never admit it.

Keigo took notice of the boy's irritated persona; he wasn’t a stranger to haters, but right now, he’d rather Bakugou not ruin the moment. Absent Mindlessly waving his hand around, Hawks remarked, “Well, maybe, I like to spoil my employees, Ground Zero.” The quick look of surprise on Bakugou’s face satisfied Hawks, as did Mina praising how sweet he was. “I’ve seen you on TV before; your quirk is just as explosive as your personality, too, huh?” He sassed, the snarky response earning a few giggles from your friends.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, grumbling incoherently as he sunk further into the plush seating. If this went on any longer, you swore you’d choke on the testosterone.

You turned towards the booth. “Hey, he’s only messing around with you, Katsuki. Just let it all out by order drinks, yeah?”

The smug expression vanished from Keigo’s face rather quickly, a confused one taking its place. You're on a first-name basis with this guy? He thought, though, he tried to mask his it as best he could when you focused your attention back on him.

“Listen, thank you for the drinks and this.” You lifted the clutch in your hand. “I appreciate it, but I-” The pink-haired girl to your left softly tugged your arm. The desperation in her eyes caused you to look away only to meet the begging stares the rest of the group bore into your figure. Guilt crept up your spine—no, you shouldn’t be feeling this way, but you didn’t want to disappoint your friends. So much for a night off.

You signed, dragging a hand down your face. “Fine, you can stay.”

The night progressed relatively smoothly; it was a surprise to you how well Hawks mixed with your friends. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in his presence. Well, everyone except for Bakugou, who continued to sulk by himself. His sour attitude prompted you to a stand, reaching your open palm in his direction. Bakugou ignored your offer, but you were persistent and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

“Katsu, please.” A whine pulled from your throat, attracting the attention from the winged-hero talking with Momo, Kirishima, Denki, and Mina. “I want the legendary ‘Lord Explosion Murder’ mix, and you’re the only one who knows the order, c’mon.”

You squealed as Bakugou grumbled in agreeance; you clutched his wrist and started your departure to the bar. The rest of the table paused their conversation, watching you leave. Hawks didn’t remove his gaze until you were entirely out of sight; confusion racked through him again. He found himself wishing you talked about your personal life more because as he’s out with you now, he doesn’t seem to know anything about you.

“That’s the nicest Bakugou gets.” Denki laughed. “And I have to say I’m jealous. What a world, him not hating me.”

“Well, you should’ve snatched him up first,” Momo replied, giggling profoundly when the yellow-haired boy glared. Not that he would ever admit it, but when they first met, Denki had quite the crush on Bakugou. “And maybe he’d be your boyfriend, huh.”

Mina’s entire being jumped in her seat, eyes wide and lips pursed. She slapped Momo’s shoulder sharply, giving her a pointed look, one that a mother would give their child when they’re acting out in public. “Bakugou is not her boyfriend.”

“Maybe if he ever got around to confessing his feelings to L/N. It’s been years at this point.”

Oh, was this interesting? Hawks shouldn’t find this as intriguing as he did; this was his assistant, for fuck’s sake; he should be professional instead of indulging in this drama. But, hey, when has he ever been known to keep things traditional. Keigo deemed his attraction to you a given crush; isn’t it abound to happen to two people who work closely and spend a lot of time together? Right? Whatever the reason, he couldn’t seem to just enough. You’re a drug, and he’s addicted, obsessed, always wondering when he’ll get his next fix.

Mina rolled her widen eyes. The girl was far too biased to even indulge in the conversation, but she couldn’t help but peeve. Mina had her money on Hawks swooping into your life before Bakugou ever got over himself. “A girl can only wait so long.” She huffed, perking up as the explosive blond rounded the table. “Where’s Y/N?”

Bakugou mumbled something about you taking too long to order, causing the group to erupt loudly. He was never great showing his affection around other people, huh?

“You left her up there?”

“By herself?”

“What the hell, Bakubro?”

“What about the Lord Explosion Murder.”

“Dude!”

All noise ceased as Hawks stood up, his chair sliding back against the dark wood. “I’ll go check on her; I need a refill anyway.” The bass of the club drowned the sound of ice rattling against his glass.

You tapped your finger to the rhythm on the beat as you waited, watching the bartender move from person to person. Unfortunately, they were out of orange citrus syrup—to key ingredient to Bakugou’s said drink mix—so you had to find something else to get. You didn’t mind waiting, though. Reading the odd cocktail combinations was quite entertaining as long as you didn’t have to go back and face Hawks.

“Hey.” Keigo’s voice caused you to glance behind you. He leaned over your shoulder to place his glass on the bar, his warmth mixing with your own. Hawks was exceedingly close to your body; you were able to smell his spicy cologne as his front lightly grazed your side. You partially expected him to pull away, put some distance between your bodies but part of you knew he would test the waters. “What’re thinking?” he asked smoothly, eyes grazing the menu. “This sounds good.” Angel Wings was the name of the daiquiri, how cute.

You felt your cheeks begin to flush, this was too far, and you’re intoxicated. Keigo’s usual teasing comments and flirty gestures you could effortlessly ignore, but this was entirely different. There was no room to shuffle away from his figure, for someone occupied the space next to you. Why did he find so much pleasure messing with your head? Truthfully you aren’t surprised; this is what Hawks does; he reels girls in and leaves a trail of hearts in his wake. You’d witnessed it a handful of occasions. Angry, pained, desperate girls trying to either enter the agency building or spam your social media to reach the hero. You will not fall victim to his charms, but as you turn to the side, your eyes meeting his yellow ones, you felt your facade grasping for dear life.

A chillingly squeaky voice pulled you from your trance. “Can we please take a picture with you?” Two petite girls stood feet away, clutching phones in their shaking hands. “Sorry, we just have never had the chance to meet a pro.” You don’t think you’ve ever been so thankful for quirky drunk people.

On the opposite spectrums of things, Keigo internally cursed; he was so close. And although he had no clue what he was close too, it felt right. But thing one and thing two had to show up and spoil it. Before acknowledging the two, he turned back towards you only to see you’d moved away from his touch and started conversing with the bartender. Fuck. Despite his frustration, Hawks equipped his award-winning smile and accepted their request.

“Sorry bout’ that, babybird.” Keigo hummed sheepishly. He knew you dislike the alum of attention he attracts when performing mundane activities, and by the slight squint in your eyes, he figured the distaste settled in you once again.

“Hmm, here.” Your fingers grazed his own as you handed him a fresh drink. Of course, you knew his order. “I'm used to it, gotta take care of the fangirls.” The prior encounter was still fresh on your mind; you cursed yourself for allowing Hawks to get into your head like that. Your walls stood up pretty high, but tonight, he almost made it over the top for whatever reason.

“I'd much rather it be you be one of my fangirls.” And the teasing was back. Classic. “I could always make some exceptions for you, take a few pictures.” He suggested, lips curling into a sinister smirk.

You rolled your eyes, your head lolling to the side. A part of you wanted to play his game, ruffle his feathers a bit, but on the contrary, that would successfully add gasoline to the raging flames. You took a sip of your drink. “My friends really like you.”

Keigo couldn't say why, but the compliment made his heart flutter. He wanted acceptance from your peers. Made him feel like he was doing something right for once in his godforsaken life. Running into you was his golden ticket; Keigo never hesitated when it came to you; he’s always so sure. That’s one reason he keeps you around because as much as you invade his thoughts, you also focused his mind. “Not all of them.” Why would he bring him up? “What’s his problem, huh? Got a crush on you.” Keigo said teasingly, masking the sour taste in his voice.

A stream of air blew from the nose as you shook your head with a small smile. “Aha, no. Katsuki, he…” you trailed off, searching for the right words. The mood dampens. “He blames himself for what happened. He took it remarkably hard, so he’s kind of protective. But no, he does not have a ‘crush’ on me.”

Hawks wanted to ask more questions, he craved to fill the gaps, but he refrained. He wanted you to open up to him on your own will; although he was reasonably comfortable around you, Keigo knew you still put walls up around him. He respected it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying. “Either way, he has a major stick up his ass. Popularity charts are gonna be rough on him.”

“I know,” You want Bakugou to succeed as a hero; it’s all he's ever wanted. But his hostile disposition was going to hold him back. “You should teach him the rings,” You joked, partially.

“No can do, I'll be too busy teaching you, babybird.” Hawks was quite the optimist, but you figured he was just trying to make you feel better.

You looked down, stirring your drink. “Tch, whatever.”

“It's true; we’ll be an unstoppable duo!” Hawks beam, waving his hand in the air enthusiastically.

“If I take your offer.”

“Oh babybird,” Keigo paused, inhaling through his teeth. “You signed a contract. You're stuck with me for life and the afterlife.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” With that, you left him standing at the bar. Not only did you want the last word, but you also wished to get back to your friends. This was their night, after all. “Hey, take care of your fan club before joining us.” You motioned to the group of people gawking at the winged pro.

taglist: @therealwalmartjesus @katzurras @noonewouldlisten25 @cathy8taffy

[appleandelder]

Cooking with Cannabis

*Disclaimer: this is for adults in areas where it is legal to use cannabis. proceed at own risk, I am not responsible for what you do. thanks. links are to offsite articles*

Why make edibles?

Consuming cannabis through edibles allows one to enjoy her gifts without smoking, which is great for people with sensitivities ... when you want to keep your lungs strong in times of respiratory plague... to just simply enjoy in a different way, or to add a unique flavor to a special dish!

[Green Flower: Complete guide to edibles]

[Why do edibles give you a different high than smoking?]

[Read More: Fats and Cannabis]

Plant material

Choosing what kind of plant material to use to make an edible creation can depend on a few factors including availability, taste, potency, and utility. Obviously use whatever is accessible and affordable, but thankfully we are in the midst of the cannabis renaissance and a multitude of products are at the disposal of the cannabis chef. Flowers with an endless amounts of variable flavors, oils and resins, water soluble isolates, terpenes extracts, keif and hash, and more can grace the cannabis cooking cabinet.

Since a grower will have a superabundance of trimmings, looking to get the most their harvest, infusions, and extractions are usually made with the resinous leaves surrounding the flower that are cut before curing. For a more potent batch, full flowers might be employed.

If a quick infusion is needed it’s better to use oils or resin. Isolates and extracts of thc or cbd are used to help cut the cannabis flavor while distilled terpenes can be added to enhance it.

What recipie being prepared may also influence what material to use and might call for an infusion or not. Leaves, flowers, steams and even roots can be used for cooking!

*pro-tip: before decarb of green material soak for ten minutes or so in room temperature water to help extract chlorophyll, this will help cut the green taste...but let dry completely before adding to oil, the decarb process will help dry*

To decarb or not to decarb ?

Decarboxylation is highly recommended. This process exposes the cannabis material to heat activating the latent cannabinoid thc-a to the psychodelic delta9-thc. For the same reasons cannabis is smoked and not consumed raw, the heat is responsible for cannabis’ more potent qualities. Even hemp should be decarboxylated, converting cbd-a to the more active cbd.

One of the easiest ways to decarb: preheat oven to 240f with a mason jar inside. Once heated (wait like 15-20 mins after preheat is done, this allows for the oven to stabilize), load the warm mason jar with ground material or resin. Close it and leave it on its side in the oven for 60 mins shaking it around every 20. Once complete allow to cool in a closed jar and then add oil or butter (etc) right to jar for a one container extraction.

One may choose not to decarb: Old fashioned butter makers don’t do so and can still make a decent product, a recipe could decarb in the cooking process instead, the properties of thc-a may be desired, or one may want to focus on the flavor of cannabis and creating an integrated meal without it being overly intoxicating.

[Read More here]

Dosing

Dosing can be a confusing endeavour when it comes to making cannabis edibles. For more consistent results using resin extracts are more reliable, but there are ways to guesstimate what the dosage is when using cannabis flower or trimmings. Without proper testing, this is all just an estimation. Without a chemical analysis the amount of thc might not be known; however, it’s safe to assume that flower these days fall in the range of 15-20%, while trimmings having 8-15% depending on if fan leaves were taken out, keif would maybe be 50-75%. Figuring the exact amount of thc extracted from the cannabis plant material into the oil or butter is tricky, but always considering it 100% with allow a guess of the maximum dosage. A dispensary will reccomend 10 mg as a starter dose but someone with more tolerance can raise that threshold considerably.

Formula for approximately dosing edibles: Mg of plant material x %cannabinoid / amount of menstruum ... and then amount of infusion/serving of edible

So if I were to infuse 10 grams of cannabis that was 20% thc into 1 stick of butter (8 Tbs) and making 12 cookies: 1000mg x 20%thc = 200mg thc infused into 8 tbs butter would make each tablespoon about 25mg thc. My recipie for cookies takes 1/2 stick of butter and makes 8 servings so 100 mg (4 Tbs butter) / 8 cookies = approx 12.5 mg thc per each cookie.

It’s good to note that cannabis, when ingested, can take 45 minuets to 2 hours to take effect. Always start slow and be patient if using a new recipie. When making larger infused meals, pair with cbd to help mellow effects of thc.

[the Green Flower article above also talks about dosing]

Infusions

To infuse cannabis, soak plant material or resin in a solvent (fat or alcohol) exposed to heat for a considerable amount of time (2 hours - overnight or even 2 months for some tinctures). This is best done in a crockpot, but there are as numerous of infusion methods as there are cannabis chefs.

Butter, Clarified or Ghee, and Coconut oil are the most popular mediums for infusing cannabis into food. It is definitely the best for baking and making sweet confections. But butter has its savory applications as well and makes an easy addition to almost any recipe.

*Pro-tip: when infusing flower or leaf into hard butters/oils, add equal parts water, this helps trap chlorophyll and other less than palatable constituents. After straining plant material, slowly cool allowing water to separate and oil to harden. Discard dirty water and what’s left is a better tasting butter.*

Infusing cannabis into liquid oils, like olive or sesame, is great for dressings, marinades, and sauces. It’s important to remember thc is a volatile chemical and will start to degrade and vaporize at high temperatures. Unless the temperature is low keeping the oil below 350f*, it’s best to use oils not for cooking with but for adding flavor and potency to finished dishes.

*(it’s ok to bake at temperatures higher than 350f as long as food or oil does not exceed that temperature, just don't use oil for frying or sautéing)

Cream or milk is a classical method for extracting cannabinoids. The key here is using a milk high in fats (so avoid 1 or 2%, but maybe try coconut milk) and using a low heat, slow infusion, making sure not to scorch the milk. Bhang is a traditional Indian drink made from a cannabis milk infusion. Milk infusions can be added to coffees, teas, and other beverages, creamy soups, numerous desserts, or enjoyed on their own.

*Pro-tip: adding sunflower lectin in fat/oil infusions leads to a more potent edible. Read more [X]*

Alcohol is a convenient solvent for recipes that don’t include a fat source. Add cannabis tincture to beverages to enhance teas, sodas, cocktails, or even hot drinks. Use in recipes for: jelly, gummy candy, and lollipops. It can be added to a finished soup and even used in pie crust. A tincture made with activated (decarboxylated) cannabis will provide the most potency, but one made with fresh flowers can offer an array of intriguing flavors.

Using cannabis as an ingredient

Fan leaves that have no resin on them, and therefor are not psychoactive, make a great ingredient to add many dishes. Younger leaves are best as older ones can be bitter, but not terrible. They can be a substitute for spinach and are great sautéed with butter and garlic. Stuff cannabis leaves instead of grape. Leaves can also be enjoyed as a juice.

The stems and branches could be used to add flavor and fuel when smoking meats. A hemp smoked cheese would probably be amazing.

Flowers can be grated to accompany breadcrumbs or spiced streusel toppings, added to parmesan, but are best utilized in seasoning blends.

The roots are also edible and can be used to cook with, however I have no experience doing so.

In recipies and how to pair

When cooking with cannabis, the goals are either to mask or to compliment flavor. Thc and Cbd are inherently flavorless so the factor can be avoided all together using terpene free isolates or extracts and can be added to any dish without worry. However, for most cannabis cooking with involve some pairing of flavors.

The reason cannabis brownies are so popular is that the complex bittersweet flavor of chocolate is good to mask the flavors of cannabis, especially paired with fatty nuts. So chocolate based desserts are great for hiding cannabis infusions.

Pungent spices also help to cover cannabis flavor. Pair cannabis with ginger, cinnamon, clove, even spicy peppers, to overpower the cannabis taste.

Complimenting cannabis can be dependent on the strain but citrus along with floral and earthy herbs are all good to accompany cannabis cooking. Pair with lemon/lime, oranges, lemongrass, lavender, sage and rosemary, thyme, basils, oregano, and marjoram.

Considering terpenes in cannabis cooking is a great way to find what to pair and how to enhance effects. Each individual strain with offer an array of flavors that of effectively paired can creat a perfect cannabis recipe. Use ingredients that have similar terpenes as the cannabis strain or enhance the cannabis experience (like mango).

[Terpenes in herbs and spices]

[image source]

Floral and citrus strains make good dressings, desserts, and beverages; they pair well with fish, chicken, and rabbit. Musky and earthy strains are good for savory dishes, stews and soups, and chocolates; they pair well with red meats, mushrooms, and cheeses.

The possibilities of infusing cannabis into food is endless. Add to favorite recipes, create new ones inspired by the flower, or find a recipe in a cookbook below.

High Times’ Cannabis Cookbook [read here]

Bong Appétit: Mastering the Art of Cooking with Weed, a Cookbook, complied by the editors of Munchies

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

In spiritual practice

The aspirants to initiation, and those who came to request prophetic dreams of the Gods, were prepared by a fast, more or less prolonged, after which they partook of meals expressly prepared; and also of mysterious drinks … in the mysteries of the Eleusinia. Different drugs were easily mixed up with the meats, or, introduced into the drinks, according to the state of mind or body into which it was necessary to throw the recipient, and the nature of the visions he was desirous of procuring.… Magicians have, in all ages, made use of similar secrets (Salverte, 1829/1849). - Excerpt from: Liber 420: Cannabis, Magickal Herbs and the Occult by Chris Bennett.

Set and setting are extremely important when approaching cannabis spirituality. Consuming a cannabis edible, especially after fasting, can result in a spirtual experience, but only if done with respect and in ritual manor. Cooking can become a ritual, or done in veneration to ancestors or deities. Dishes made with cannabis can be given as offerings and can be accepted as sacrafice. With correct set and setting, consumption of cannabis infused food and drink can assist in trance, bring visions, aid in communication with spirits. Just be sure to take the time for proper personal preparation and to create a space suitable for the venture.

For healing

Consuming cannabis and letting the body process the cannabinoids through the digestive system offers an array of benefits. I use to make vegan edibles for a friend who had asthma and could not smoke. I personally honor edibles for their effects on the body rather than the mind and are great after a long day on the farm.

Cannabis edibles can be extremely helpful for some people who suffer from a plethora of issues. Please consult a professional physician or herbalist who specializes in cannabis if looking to edibles for their medicinal value.

Recreationally

It’s fun to hold a cannabis dinner party and make elaborate infused meals (even just for one). Experiment with different infusion methods. Create different cannabis concoctions and explore new ways to utilize the plant. Cooking with cannabis is a fun interactive way to work with the plant and enjoy its effects for anyone interested.

*Enjoy Responsibly*

[bxthharmon]

Ivy, Chapter 1 ~ Inhale, In Hell There’s Heaven

Words: 2219

Series Warnings: Underage drinking / Smoking weed / violence / abusive relationships / toxic friendships and relationships

Pt Warnings: drinking / smoking weed / a fight

Series Summary: She’s been faking her whole life, and he makes her realise she doesn’t have to

Pt Summary: A party leads to a reunion

Pairings: Pope Heyward x reader, Rafe Cameron x reader

A/N: okay sorry for dipping but im returning with the first chapter from my new series (yes ik the gif is from euphoria but i love it)

prologue in masterlist

“masterlist”

She meets Sarah at eight, outside the gas station in Figure 8. She is leaning against the cool glass, wearing a bikini and booty shorts and smoking a blunt with a half empty bottle of Smirnoff in her free hand. She is met by Sarah’s disapproving gaze, and sulkily puts the sweet scented blunt out, mumbling about needing some kind of pregame to make it through the party. They link arms, walking in silence through the unlit suburbs, houses too big for their own good. 

They hear the party before they see it. 

From around a corner, they can hear the deep bass and the loud chatter of drunk teenagers. Sarah, innocent and apprehensive, lets her friend walk ahead, watching as the girl high fives and fist bumps almost everyone, calling out greetings to those she can’t reach, and answering random quick fire questions as she wanders down the front lawn. If Sarah was popular, Y/N was famous. On an island where everyone knew everyone, Y/N was the centre of everyone’s attention - the combination of being an experienced partier and high achiever found the respect of adults and classmates alike. She was the queen of the island, with a hold over the youth that couldn’t be rivalled.

The front door, open already, allows them into a thicker atmosphere, the reception hall opening up, on one side, the living room acts as a dance floor, thriving and jumbling with dancers. On the other side, the kitchen acts as a buffet of expensive spirits and party food. Past the stairs, the dining room is full of more dancers, but also more smokers, more drugs, the air at the back of the house thick with smoke. The large French doors of the dining room open into a huge garden, teenagers in the pool, around the pool, away from the pool.

Y/N leads the way to the kitchen, grabbing two solo cups from one of the red towers, and mixing herself a drink with concerning dexterity. For the first time since they entered the house, she turns to Sarah. Through the hum of the bass and loud shouts, Sarah understands that her friend is asking what she would like to drink. “Surprise me!” She shouts, and the girl in front of her shrugs, a small laugh playing at her features as she grabs a few bottles, some of them alcoholic, some of them not, and concocts a drink. Her hair flashes with the lights, neon pink eyeliner and glitter shining as she moves around, picking up bottles and stirring. After a minute, maybe two, the girl passes a drink back, an excited smile in her cerulean eyes as she bites her lip and gages her friend's reaction. Sarah takes a sip from the red cup, swirling the drink around in her mouth. She can taste the sweet citrus of orange and mango, and the masked tang of the spirits. Her friend shouts a warning, saying she’ll drink it like it’s juice, not vodka, so will definitely be wasted by the night’s denouement.

Sarah feels a sweaty palm grab hers, tanned hands connecting, and then the pair are off again, wriggling their way through the throng of bodies, moving to the beat. Sarah is hardly aware of their path - always ready to follow the girl blindly - until she finds herself outside, in the warm air of the late spring evening, bodies spreading out. Beyond the pool, teenagers stand in groups, some passing bottles or spliffs, some empty handed. Greetings are called out, most aimed for her counterpart, but a few called to her. Eventually, she is pulled to a halt. Kelce and Topper stand before her. Her boyfriend kisses her, and she smiles at the familiarity of the touch, tuning into the conversation, the clear night air allowing the ability to hear.

The talking is about parents - complaining, probably. Kelce is laughing at something Fallon is saying, and Topper is chuckling too. The conversation flows for a few minutes, each person taking intermittent sips from their respective cup. Sarah is talking to Topper, and when she looks up again, her friend is gone.

Y/N shimmies her way through the crowd, her cup dangling delicately from her blue-painted fingertips above her head as she works her way towards one of the dance floors - whichever one has a better atmosphere - she hasn’t decided yet.

She passes on the first, finding herself dancing in the suffocatingly crowded living room. After a while, when her drink is finished and her cup has been knocked away, her thirst gets the better of her, and once again she struggles against the tides of people, trying to get to the drinks. She works her cocktail magic, only drawing her attention away from her contriving at the sound of shouting. The kitchen thins out, and she sees the shapes of two men struggling against each other outside, hazardously close to the pool.

Curious, she joins the flow of people, working her way to the front of the forming circle, winking to Sarah, on the other side. She is surrounded by phone screens, each fixated on the brawl before them, following each punch, each kick.

The two offenders, one of them being the Cameron boy, the other blond and scruffy, seem dead set on causing damage. Before it gets exciting though, two more bodies join the violent fiasco, one of them being Kelce, the other a Pogue - recognisable as John B Routledge. 

The crunch and smack of each punch is painful to listen to, let alone tiresome. It’s the same shit every party - someone crashes, and everyone’s mad about it. Rolling her eyes, she sips her drink. She realises that she does know the blondie - he mows her lawn every Tuesday. She almost laughs at the thought, but withholds her self-inflicted humour. 

The fight fizzles out, the audience bored and the performers tired. One of the Kooks - he best friend's brother - is surfacing from the pool. She turns to leave, the entertainment of the night having ended quickly, but is stopped by the clammy hand of her friend.

“Does that happen at all parties?” Sarah asks.

For someone known for being an extrovert, she’s extremely inexperienced when it comes to parties. “Sure.” Fallon shrugs, already bored with the prospect of a fight. “Come dance with me.”

After another hour of dancing and drinking, she checks her phone. Her eyes scan over threatening texts from her parents, and countless missed calls.

Fuck them. The epiphany arises, and as if it’s genius, she agrees to her undisclosed plan. Wanting to take action quickly, she leaves whatever boring conversation she’s been dragged into and swipes a bottle of overly expensive whiskey and stumbles upstairs, opening each door cautiously, and slurring an apology at each yell until she finds the bathroom. She locks the door and sits down in the bath, drinking straight from the bottle as she ponders her own life.

She swings her legs up, worn nikes resting on the tiled wall as she drops her back, lying down so that she is nestled into the bath, her falling over her face in the cramped space. She discards the emptied bottle carelessly, enjoying the clunk that sounds as the glass hits the bathmat. 

She doesn’t know how long she lies there, turning every detail of her life so far over in her head, but when she wrestles her way out of the bath, the music is still in full flow. She fumbles to unlock the door, opening it into the face of a boy she hasn’t seen in years. “Pope?” She laughs, and he shakes his head despairingly, “Popey!”

“Oh my God, Y/N.” He frowns, not returning your drunken sentiment, “How much have you had?”

She groans, mumbling about his buzzkill tendencies as she almost falls down the stairs, rejoining the lively crowd of teenagers. She stumbles to the door, falling out into the fresh air as she checks her phone again, seeing that it’s almost half past one. She tries to gather her bearings, to work out which way leads home, but her inebriated state fights against it. Mumbling incoherent strings of words - barely able to be described as sentences - she realises that she only lives three streets over. In which direction, she is still uncertain.

“Need help?” The voice sounds behind her, and she spins clumsily, a pair of hands steadying her as she blinks dumbly at the offending face. The same face as earlier - Pope Heyward’s. Oh, so he thinks he’s so cool. Recognition dawns on her.

“Nope!” she hiccups. “Your friend fought Rafe.”

“Yeah.” he chuckles, letting go of her slowly, making sure she won’t fall. She blinks again, gazing at his face with utmost curiosity.

“He deserved it.” she decides, “He gets cocky.”

“That he does.” she tilts backwards again, and grabs her hands, pulling her back up gently, a familiar amused smirk forming as he glances down.

“I don’t think he’s a bad person though.” 

The boy in front of her raises his eyebrows, doubt adorning his features. “Debatable. Need help getting home?”

She ponders on it for a second, “As long as you don’t kidnap me.” she shrugs, “But he’s not.”

“Isn’t he?” the boy challenges, letting her walk ahead, swerving around with her arms out as she’s a child playing airplanes.

“Nope.” she bubbles, “None of these people are. I mean sure,” she spins around, sparing a look at the large house either side of her, “they’re backstabbing, fake, plastic assholes, but they’re not inherently bad.” He laughs, and she drapes a tanned arm over his shoulder. “Why’re you doing this?”

“You were wasted, I want to make sure you get home safely.” he explains, and she stumbles forwards, her arm sliding from its place on his shoulders.

“Popey, Popey, Popey.” she giggles, the thought of your childhood friend making you smile, forgetting for a moment that his shoulder was the one brushing against hers. “You used to be so carefree.” Pope nods slowly, your proclamation making sense in his head as he remembered the days before college applications and 4.0 GPAs. “So did I.” she murmurs.

“You seem pretty carefree now.” he scoffs, and she cackles.

“My darling,” she turns abruptly, forcing him to stop as you stroke his cheek mockingly, the sweet smell of alcohol and weed filling his lungs at the close proximity. “I’m a good actor.”

He scoffs again, “You’ve got everything, Princess.”

“In material terms, maybe.” she shrugs, rubbing her eyes so that colourful phosphenes imprint themselves in her vision. “But I’m trapped.”

She stops again on the street corner, and he faces her, unimpressed with her sentiment. “A caged linnet bird, are we?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m perfect.” she shrugs, and this time he rolls his eyes. “No seriously, I’ve got a 3.9 GPA, I study in the week, but look at me, a party girl. I’m a good friend, I’m dutiful and classy and I laugh at the right times and make the right jokes. I pull off being a preppy good girl and a party girl. But I’m so fucking bored. I want to feel free. I want to feel like I’m invincible, like my parent’s expectations and college plans and shitty friends can go fuck themselves because I’ll be free.”

There’s a glint of confusion in his eyes as he stares at her, watching the light in her eyes renew itself, even the idea of being rid of those metaphorical constraints giving the girl a happier aura. “What about all those times you ran away from home?” she turns to him, a smile on her lips as she cups his cheeks, drunkenly condescending.

She sighs. “I spent a few days high off my ass - it was hardly an escape. I wanna find a way to feel like all the pressures of this island are gone without actually having to leave.” He nods slowly, knowing the feeling, and she smiles, the embarrassment of the outburst plaguing her mind, retrospect sobering her up slightly. The girl steps away from him, “Shit,” she mutters, “I said nothing.”

She turns away, rushing towards the front door, now in sight. “Y/N, wait!”

Pausing, her shoulders drop as she faces the boy again. “Hang out with me, at least once - take a break.”

A frown pulls at her brows, mockery filling her eyes, “You?”

“Yeah, just trust me, okay? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

She bites her lip, skepticism adorning her features as she turns the offer over in her head. “10 o’clock - don’t be late.”

She steps backwards, out of reach, and for a second she finds herself wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t pushed the boy away. There’s a moment of silence, and even in her inebriated state she can tell that he’s noticed that she’s changed since their last conversation. In a weird, untimely realisation, she realises that she is not herself, and she hasn’t been for years now. 

Confronted with her thoughts, and this boy, she steps away again, turning away and walking towards her house not daring to look back until her door is unlocked. She knows what she’ll see, it will be just like last time. Still, she has to prepare herself for the observation.

He’s gone.

Permanent Tags: @eternalangst @ultranikilove @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @yxseminx 

OBX Tags: @annmariek8 @cheshirecat107 

Ivy Tags: @outrebanx​ @ad-infinitums​ @bricksatanakinswindow​

[luckcycler]

hi! i know you have a info page (or whatever it's called) for your characters butt doesnt work on mobile? anyways i wanted ask if you could tell me what ultimate talents they have?

Huh…

Not sure how invested you are with how you phrased your question but I just copy-pasted all the info on this ask.

I’ll put it under read more because otherwise, it will be super long

Basic info:

Heartbreak is a story of 16 former students of Hope’s Peak Academy who have found themselves locked in the bizarre setting of a love hotel. And thus, a new exciting killing game takes place once again!

As the concepts of guilt and justification clash together inside the sickeningly pink walls of the hotel, one starts to wonder who exactly is the morally righteous one?

And to shake things up… a new rule has been added to the monopad.

The cast:

Aino Inoue

Former Ultimate Mermaid

Age: 20

Class:75-B

Blood type: O

Likes: Long Walks on the Beach, Astrology

Dislikes: Sand

It’s time for opinions! Meaning opinions from this woman! This is Aino Inoue, the ultimate mermaid! Or more precisely a professional underwater mermaid actress. It appears childhood career dreams do come true! She became a very known underwater actress for her infectious charm and her ability to stay underwater for 9 minutes without breathing.

Her attitude towards others is very straightforward but that doesn’t mean she is unfriendly, actually quite the opposite and especially if she is under the liquid courage. What’s personal space? She certainly doesn’t know.

Aino is a very nosy person and loves to give relationship advice to other people, even when these other people really don’t want it. It doesn’t help that quite a lot of these advices come from her obsession with astrology and blood type personality theory.

She can also be seen more often than not with a cocktail in hand to a point her constant state of tipsiness worries some of the others. In Aino’s opinion, it just makes her twice as fun!

Daisuke Okamoto

Former Ultimate Robot Combat Champion

Birthday: May 25th

Age: 19

Class: 76-B

Blood type: B

Likes: Logic Puzzles, Memes

Dislikes: Raisins in Bread, Academic writing

Here comes the local memester! Daisuke Okamoto is the current robot combat champion. But despite his promising career path in the art of mauling battle robots and much to everyone’s bafflement. After his time in Hope’s Peak, he went to study engineering at his local university. He refuses to tell why he had such a change of heart even when he still regularly competes.

Daisuke is a second-generation immigrant with his mother being American and father being Japanese. Because of this, his sense of humor is influenced a lot by western internet culture. He tends to joke around a lot giving him a carefree attitude. He loves to entertain, although in serious situations his joking nature can come off as insensitive.

But under all the jokes and terribly outdated meme’s, he is very intelligent and a hard realist who wants to know every detail of the rules and isn’t afraid to ask them from Monokuma.

Gina Higanbana

Former Ultimate Biochemist

Birthday: October 31st

Age: 23

Class: 72-A

Blood type: B

Likes: Poetry, Family

Dislikes: Frankenstein (Story), Sour Plums

Speaking of eccentric mad scientists! Gina Higanbana, the ultimate biochemist is the sort of person who definitely befriended every monster under her bed when she was young. Gina is a boisterous workaholic which has paid off since she is known most for her study of parabiosis. Unfortunately, not all of her fame is from positive feedback, as some of her testing methods have been found very unorthodox…

Gina presents herself as larger than life, after all, she is a woman of science! Though she delves with modern problems, her way of talking is very old fashioned, and even poetic, making her sound like she would fit right into a 19th-century romance novel.  

While being a semi loud presence to the group, Gina tends to withdraw to her own space and has trouble talking about subjects outside of her interests. But when it comes to teaching neighbor kids how to turn a volcano eruption experiment into a baking soda canon, she is the right person to tag along.

Hotaka Muramaru

Former Ultimate Florist

Birthday: January 27th

Age: 22

Class: 73-B

Blood type: A

Likes: Frogs, Bellflowers

Dislikes: Kiwa Fukuda

Hotaka Muramaru, the former ultimate florist… Well, a former florist, really. He isn’t doing too hot in his life at this moment. These days he mainly does gardening work around his area. It is unfortunate as he was known for his striking floral arrangements and attention to small details before his family’s flower shop business went down.

Hotaka as a person is very forgiving by nature. He doesn’t like causing conflicts and it is very hard to get him angry. Despite these positive traits, he seems to be nice for the sake of being nice which makes it hard to get close to him in a way that matters outside of everyday small talk. It seems preserving what little image he has left is more important to him. This has also made him quite the perfectionist.

Kana Nakano

Former Ultimate Lifeguard

Birthday: May 2nd

Age: 25

Class: 70-A

Blood type: O

Likes: Children, Geocaching 

Dislikes: Spontaneous Plans

Kana Nakano, the ultimate lifeguard is very passionate about her job. She is the mom friend of the group you know you can always rely on in any hardships, niche killing games included.  She has become a very popular lifeguard at her local kids’ poolside as she has a knack for talking to children. Though because of this her way of talking can sound very condescending when speaking to other adults. She tends to simplify her words and soften the meaning much to some of the group’s irritation.

As a person, she can also be very stubborn until she meets her goal. If nothing else, she makes a great leader figure with a lot of survival abilities and experience in tough situations.

Katsurou Furusawa

Former Ultimate Hunter

Birthday: September 5th

Age: 23

Class: 72-A

Blood type: A

Likes: Sewing, Peace and Quiet

Dislikes: Wet Socks, Attention

This timid yet patient boy who looks like he just crawled out of a swamp is Katsurou Furusawa. Though he doesn’t like talking about his talent that much, he is known as the ultimate hunter. He got his title for his exceptional trap making skills and the ability to stay unmoving for hours to no end, blending to his environments seamlessly, and waiting for a pray to trigger his traps.

Personality-wise, Katsurou is bashful and likes to talk to himself rather than others. He has a tendency to be a people pleaser, disregarding his own beliefs and feelings on topics just to appease both sides of the argument. He was never a problem child, as he has always done what his parents told him to. Even accepting the invitation to Hope’s Peak was not his idea.

Katsurou is also a huge daydreamer. He seems to be more comfortable with the world inside his head than the real world, and it shows.

Kiwa Fukuda

Former Ultimate Scapegoat

Birthday: December 31st

Age: 23

Class: 72-B

Blood type: AB

Likes: Citrus Fruits, Tacky Decorations

Dislikes: Paper Cuts

Though she looks quite sporty, her talent is far from a healthy career. This awkward and accident-prone woman is Kiwa Fukuda, our protagonist. Unfortunately to some, she is known as the ultimate scapegoat, though this information is confidential especially in court. Her line of work is basically taking the fall for a singular person’s or even a whole company’s mistakes. If that’s not deemed realistic, she will direct the fault towards a more suitable candidate. The amount of guilt Kiwa’s work as a scapegoat leaves her with has made her desensitized and apathetic towards others.

Personality-wise, Kiwa is laidback and can come off as an airhead thanks to her apathetic demeanor towards their current situation. She tends to joke about terrible subjects that make people around her a bit uncomfortable to say the least.

Kiwa is also clumsy and tends to get involved in accidents without trying to. Be it an injury, a misunderstanding or a terrible accident, it’s easy to assume she always has something to do with it whether it was her fault or not. Kiwa now wears a bicycle helmet all the time to make sure she won’t get a third fracture on her skull.

Kohaku Iwatomi

Former Ultimate Gemologist

Birthday: June 4th

Age: 19

Class: 76-B

Blood type: O

Likes: Shiny Things, DIY

Dislikes: Loneliness

This is Kohaku Iwatomi and he is happily ready to talk your ears off! Kohaku is known as the ultimate gemologist, mainly because he changes his specialty in gemology quite often, always wanting to try out something new. He seems to excel in all the areas he has tried out so far through pure dedication and excitement towards his profession. Though, for some reason, he has been working as a gem appraiser in his local pawnshop for longer than his peers thought he would withstand to.

Kohaku is a very cheery young man who loves to mingle no matter the topic. If you know him, you probably know his whole life story. He doesn’t like silence, nor does he bode well if left alone for too long. He isn’t narcissistic though as he is very empathetic and wears his emotions on his sleeve, he just really likes company and he has so much information to share with everyone!

Kohaku also has a liking towards thrift shop clothes and DIY projects hence his striking and pretty mismatched appearance.

Masami Kiyokane

Former Ultimate Croupier

Birthday: July 17th

Age: 22

Class: 73-A

Blood type: O

Likes: Board Games, Philosophy of Ethics

Dislikes: Alcohol

As if there were not enough party poopers in this group… This is Masami Kiyokane and he is known as the ultimate croupier. He got his title through diligent croupier work at organized events and after coming of age, at established casinos. Masami also has gotten quite good at seeing who is cheating and he knows most card games by heart. He seems fascinated by game rules in general.

Masami’s personality is pretty uptight and passive-aggressive. His way of talking tends to be a colorful use of personification, especially when he is going on a tangent and complaining about something. Though he talks big, very rarely is his bite worse than his bark as he mutters under his breath before admitting he is in the wrong.

Masami has a very strong moral system he believes in. His rather judgmental attitude is unusual for someone who has a hobby of learning about ethical philosophy though and often he gets called a hypocrite for playing favorites. He is not very happy about that.

Mei Kaneko

Ultimate Phonologist

Birthday: March 21st

Age: 18

Class: 77-A

Blood type: B

Likes: Corvidae, Accents

Dislikes: Wasting Time

This young girl is Mei Kaneko. She is the youngest of the group as she is the only one still studying in Hope’s Peak. She should be set to graduate soon and she is more than excited to continue with her dreams towards a real working life as the ultimate Phonologist!

Personality-wise, Mei is very energetic and will give her all to any task at hand. She is also very loud and a bit of a daredevil. If you tell her to not push the red button, she will definitely push the red button.

Growing up, Mei’s neighborhood had always been surrounded by corvids. As she slowly got more familiar with them, she developed a fascination towards the crows that kept playing in her backyard. Mei had been studying dialects and languages since she was little thanks to her bilingual home and decided, quite abruptly, that her life work from then on would have to deal with establishing communication with corvids.

Nori Ikari

Former Ultimate Sailor

Birthday: December 8th

Age: 20 (?)

Class: 75-A

Blood type: AB

Likes: Folk Tales, Making Rope Knots

Dislikes: His Knee Brace

This theatrically boisterous man is Nori Ikari, the ultimate sailor. Believe it or not, he is as young as 20 years old, which has led some of the group to believe he is a vampire in disguise. Nori comes from a vast lineage of sailors of different ranks but all just as proud seafarers! Nori got his title as the ultimate sailor after recklessly making a week-long fishing trip alone in a trawler boat made for a crew of 10.

Nori tends to tell long tales of his ancestors which sound just bizarre enough that no one is quite sure if Nori is speaking the truth or not. To be honest, everything he says just sounds downright like a big fish story all the way down to his accent. Is this man real? No one has a good answer to that.

Personality-wise Nori can be pretty intense. He has a habit of making a bigger deal out of very normal things. Nori values honor and traditions and tends to get quite defensive if his integrity is challenged. And if needed, he might challenge you to a sword fight at a parking lot if he deems you need a fair ass kicking.

Okemia Momose

Former Ultimate Opera Singer

Birthday: March 10th

Age: 24

Class: 71-B

Blood type: A

Likes: Vintage Aesthetic, Home

Dislikes: Hope’s Peak, Luck

This nervous woman is Okemia Momose. It’s been a while since people have heard her sing, but she is still regarded as the ultimate opera singer. She got her title for her incredible range and her ability to hold a note for almost half a minute.

Nowadays though, her fame is shadowed by a traumatic event she went through in one of her performances. She was one of the performers at her local opera house which was run by a Yakuza family. However, there was a very strained turf war going on around the area that one day resulted in a shoot out at the opera house. Unfortunately to Okemia, she got caught in the crossfire and a bullet hit her temple. Though she survived, she got inflicted irredeemable damage to her brain which developed into a stutter.

Despite her towering over everyone with her height of a 6’5 feet, she is not very confident in herself. Okemia is a very high-strung person who tends to think the worst possible thing will definitely happen to her. Though she is nervous she has a lot of resentful opinions that are made from wise words

Shion Arai

Former Ultimate Figure Skater

Birthday: July 23rd

Age: 21

Class:  74-B

Blood type: B

Likes: Rhinestones, Straightforwardness

Dislikes: Cleaning, Bootlickers, Mornings

This person here is Shion Arai the ultimate figure skater! Under all the glitter, rhinestones, and an eccentric personality lies a somewhat kind-hearted individual who is willing to cooperate… as long as it doesn’t inconvenience them.

Shion got their title thanks to their impeccable ability to adapt and improve fast. They have won multiple competitions in their teen years despite starting the sport at age 12, which is considered quite late. After graduating Hope’s peak, Shion’s placement in the podiums has started to steadily drop. If asked about the slow decline of their career, Shion just shrugs nonchalantly, leaving it at that.

Shion identifies as nonbinary and they are very prideful towards their identity and their achievements. Despite this, they are also incredibly lazy and rarely bothers to do something they don’t want to. Their goal is to go where the bar is the lowest and if that’s not possible, they WILL complain.

Suzu Nagahashi

Former Ultimate Ballerina

Birthday: November 1st

Age: 21

Class: 74-A

Blood type: A

Likes: Rainy Days, Leather Jackets

Dislikes: Dancing

This cold and assertive young lady is Suzu Nagahashi, the ultimate ballerina and she is not here to get herself killed over some dumb motive. Suzu has been known for her skills all her life. Rumor has it her mother, a former ballerina, started teaching Suzu how to dance the moment she was able to take her first step. Absolutely no one was surprised when she got her invitation to Hope’s Peak, though she rarely showed up to school thanks to her harsh performance schedule.

Suzu is very stoic and she picks her words carefully. Though her tone of voice is very serious, her pink frilly dress makes her attempts to be taken seriously harder for her. Luckily Suzu is stubborn and will try her utmost best to keep the situation she has been thrown in solely under her control.

Tetsu Asukaze

Honorary Ultimate Taxi Driver

Birthday: October 1st

Age: 26

Class: N/A

Blood type: AB

Likes: Radio, Coffee, Extraterrestrials

Dislikes: N/A

This funky young man is Tetsu Asukaze and he is known as the ultimate taxi driver. Who would’ve thought that was a talent, huh? Tetsu’s situation as an ultimate is a bit different from others because he only discovered his talent after getting old enough to drive which meant his high school days were already over. Despite this, Hope’s Peak decided to give him an honorary title of an ultimate taxi driver. Whatever that means…

Even though Hope’s Peak had given a public acknowledgment of Tetsu’s talent, he doesn’t think much of it nor does he feel he really belongs with the other ultimates.

Personality-wise, Tetsu is your serene local cryptid whose life has no order and looking at his sleeping schedule it’ll stay like that. Despite his harmless chaos, he is a very sweet lad with a passion for the unknown and obscure theories.

Tsubaki Ito

Former Ultimate Mortician

Birthday: May 8th

Age: 24

Class: 71-A

Blood type: O

Likes: Medical History, Bad and Gory Horror Movies

Dislikes: Spirals

This unnerving and small woman is Tsubaki Ito, the ultimate mortician. She was born as a miracle child to an old couple that ran a mortician family business. In fact, everyone in her extended family is at least a generation older than her. As the years went by, her family slowly passing away from natural causes had become a regular occurrence.

Tsubaki is specialized in body restoration and desairology, as she tends to work with victims of causalities. She got her title by her ability to make even the worst of murder victims to look like they are merely sleeping in their caskets.

As the concept of death is an old friend in her family, Tsubaki has become desensitized towards the subject and can come off as insensitive towards the killing game. But what can you do when your daily routine occasionally includes pulling out a chainsaw from someone’s chest cavity due to a gruesome accident?  Despite this, Tsubaki is very sweet and will address everyone with an endearing tone.