#of course it focused on ping and music that's what the festival was about that was the important lore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bopbopstyles · 5 years ago

Text

Temptation (pt. 1)

RATING: M/smut

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

“Can I ask you something?”

She turned back and looked at him. “Sure.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

She shrugged at his question. “Dunno. I’ve never been to parties here before. We’ve got different majors. It’s a big school.”

“Not that big.”

“Big enough.”

“Too big if I missed out on meeting you until now.”

Her breath caught. The words fell from his mouth with such ease, such nonchalance, as if his words didn’t shake the ground she stood on.

Harry’s a fratboy and Nora (might) be in love with him. (part 1)

PART TWO | PART THREE

After a semester abroad, the last thing Nora felt like doing was going to an American frat party.

She had spent the semester in Germany going to clubs and house parties, weird bars and day drinking at festivals. All she wanted was a pint of good beer, a cute boy to flirt with in her horrifically bad German, and go home and curl up in her double bed. Now she was back home going to a beginning of semester frat party where there would be shit beer, she wouldn’t be “the cute American girl,” and she was back to the Twin-XL life. It was the weekend before school started, so she knew it would be crazy—no one had work to do, no one was stressed, and everyone was desperate to be back at school and away from their families.

But Maddy wanted her to go, and so she was going.

“You’re going to drink these boys under the table!” Maddy called to her from their bathroom where she was curling her hair. “We’re going to play rage cage, I’ve already decided.”

“I hate rage cage,” Nora lied. She loved it and she knew it. “Abroad changed me!”

A bootie came flying in her direction, and Nora caught it before tossing it back to Maddy. “You’re a shit liar.”

She took another sip of the drink she had mixed, some decent vodka and Fresca, her secret weapon of a mixer. “Who are you going after tonight again?”

Since Nora had left Maddy had decided she was in love with the boys of Delta Sigma. They were mostly the international boys who didn’t seem like they’d be the frat type and were so hot you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them. Also, apparently their parties were insane. “His name’s Liam,” she said, “and he was quite possibly the most gorgeous boy on earth.”

“What’s his instagram again?”

She read out a handle from memory, and Nora typed the handle into her phone as she took another sip. She scrolled through the photos, most of which appeared to be from frat parties, with the occasional more artsy photo of him and friends. They appeared to be on actual film, which was interesting for frat boy. “Is he a photographer?”

“No, why?”

“These photos looked like they’re on actual film," she replied. Nora clicked on one and it’s a photo of him, but she noticed he had tagged someone. Someone with the handle @harry_styles. She clicked on the name and was immediately entranced. Based on his bio, he was their year at school, but she had never heard of the kid before. He also appeared to be British. She scrolled through his photos, all taken on film, and gorgeous. Some were of landscapes, but most were portraits of people doing simple and mundane things. He was incredibly talented. “Some kid named Harry takes them,” Nora told her.

“Oh, I think he was friends with Liam. I’ve seen them before.” Maddy strutted out of the bathroom and striked a pose, perfectly curled hair bouncing behind her head as she shook it. “Like?”

“Love.” Maddy was wearing a snakeskin bodysuit, ripped black jeans, and heeled booties, and she looked incredible as usual. “Now what the fuck am I going to wear?”

“Good lord, you will be the death of me someday, Nora Tate.”

The party was in full swing when they arrive. They weaved their way through the crowds on the front lawn, Maddy jabbering in her ear about how hot this Liam kid is. Nora simply nodded along, thankful for the vodka coursing through her veins, because the amount she did not want to be there was pretty high.

The lights were low and the music was loud when they opened the door, the smell of sweat and cheap beer hitting her immediately. Ah yes, this was why she left America.

“Rage cage," she reminded Maddy, and Maddy squeezed her hand before pulling her deep into the crowd. They weaved their way through the throngs of people to the kitchen, where they poured themselves drinks, and then Maddy dragged her to the basement.

There were four pong tables set up, three of which currently had games going—all simple games of pong, and a bunch of people loitering around the tables waiting for a turn. “We’re going to have to start the game,” Maddy told her quietly.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared!”

Good lord. “Who do I talk to about starting a game of rage cage?” Nora yelled into the loud room.

Everyone stopped talking and looked in one direction.

Harry was leaning against a table in the back where a computer is set up, most likely controlling the music. “Me,” he yelled in reply, standing up. “Let’s play.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Maddy told her, laughing, “and I love you.”

Harry was fucking gorgeous in person. Like, he was gorgeous on social media, but in person he was effortlessly beautiful. Cropped hair with a wave to it, high cheekbones, and the swagger of someone who truly didn’t give a fuck about what people think of him. She suddenly decided that Maddy was not alone in her love of this fraternity.

A bunch of boys, freshman pledges from the looked of it, finished filling cups with beer and setting up the table. Nora grabbed Maddy’s hand and led her over to the table. She set them up right in the middle, the best place to be, and placed their cups in a safe zone of the table. “Remember, controlled bounces," she reminded Maddy, who was notoriously horrible at this game, “and I’ll help you drink if you need it.”

“My savior,” she replied, and Nora snorts in response.

“Want to start?” She looked up and Harry was standing next to her, holding a ping pong ball out to her. His accent was like butter and she honestly wanted nothing more than to hear it constantly on a loop.

“Sure.”

Some pledge had the other ball and positioned himself across the table from her, and everyone scrunched together around the table. Bodies pressed closer and she tried to ignore the feeling of Harry’s arm flush against hers.

“Good at this game?” Harry asked her, leaning his head over so she could hear him.

“Actually, yes,” she replied.

“Let’s see,” he said, and she thought she caught a wink before she bounced the ball and made her first cup.

Maddy was drunk, despite the fact that Nora had been avoiding giving her a cup the whole game. The problem wasn’t Maddy though, it was the other people at the table. Upon discovering Maddy was a) still quite sober and b) horrible at the game, they took it upon themselves to single her out, sending all their cups her way. Meanwhile, Nora was in her happy drunk phase, one that could be sustained by sipping a drink every hour, but became messy if she went too hard.

Next to her, Harry was flushed and laughing, the alcohol and the game having loosened him up. They kept bumping into each other, their fingers brushing when he passed her the pong ball, and it messed up her breathing every time.

There’s only three cups yet, and she was just praying that Maddy didn’t end up with the bitch cup. But as the ball and the cups worked their way around the table, some pledge drinking one and a girl drinking the other, there was only one left. And the ball was coming straight for them.

“Fuck,” Nora said under her breath.

Harry looked down at her, somehow having heard her. “You good?”

“I just don’t want my friend to have the bitch cup.”

Harry glanced over at Maddy. “looked like it would do her in.” “Harry, pay attention mate!” His head whipped back and the tall stack of cups was right in front of him. He took the ball and Nora watched him, knowing he was going to make a perfect shot in, just like he had all night.

Except he didn’t. He missed.

And he missed again.

“C’mon Harry!” Someone yelled, and her eyes focused on the boy standing before Harry, who was desperately trying to make it into the single cup he has in front of him, but the slick beer-covered surface of the table meant the cup was sliding around and he kept missing.

Harry missed another shot.

And the boy before him made his.

“HARRYYY!!!!!” The table screamed, and everyone started chanting his name as he reached for the bitch cup.

He caught Nora’s eye right before he started chugging the beer, some of it spilling down the front of his barely buttoned shirt.

And it hit her—he missed on purpose.

He was trying to make sure Maddy didn’t have to drink it and instead made sure he drank it.

Harry slammed the empty solo cup down on the table and cheers erupted, a grinning Harry the triumphant loser.

“Another game?” Some kid asked, and everyone agrees, but Nora just shook her head.

“We’re good,” she said, taking her and Maddy’s drinks from earlier.

Harry stepped away from the table. “Same,” he said, and no one questioned that.

“I wanna find Liam,” Maddy said to her as they stepped away from the table.

“Okie doke, Tiger,” she told her, and Maddy giggled in response.

She looked up at Harry who was standing right in front of her, blocking their exit. “Thanks for that," she told him, their eyes catching.

“Anytime,” he replied. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

As if she didn’t already know his name. “Nora.”

“I’m Maddy!” Maddy piped up from behind her. “Now we’re on the hunt for more alcohol and some dancing, so could you scooch out of our way?”

Harry chuckled, and Nora just rolled her eyes. “Have fun,” he said, and she tugged Maddy away from the table.

“he was soooo hot,” Maddy said as they climbed the stairs. “Like literally, could-melt-polar-ice-caps hot.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“And you love me for it!” She said, throwing her arm around Nora’s shoulders. “Now let’s find us some dancing.”

Maddy hadn’t been able to capture Liam’s attention despite all of her efforts, but she had captured the attention of another DSig boy, who she was now dancing with in the middle of the dance floor. Nora made her promise to tell her if she was going to leave without her, and with that Nora left her to her own devices.

She wandered outside, seeking fresh air, and sat down on the edge of the deck that extended into the backyard. It was quieter out here, the thud of the bass faint and the cold air welcome on her sweaty skin.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a smooth British accent said to her.

She turned and saw Harry sitting a few feet away from her, leaning back on his hands, a beer next to him. His thin white button-down was unbuttoned low, exposing tattoos littering his torso, and thanks to the porch lights and soft glow of the moon she could see the many rings adorning the fingers of hands and the pendant necklace lying on a butterfly tattoo just on his abdomen. She caught sight of a trace of stubble on his chin and perhaps an earring in his ear.

Nora had never been this entranced by another human being. “Tired of your party?”

“Bloody hate these things after a while.” He took a swig of his beer and sighed. “You said it was Nora, right?”

She nodded. “Without an H.”

He cracked a smile. “Harry, with an H.”

“What would it be, sans an H?”

“Arry.”

“That isn’t a name.”

“Most people call me something that,” he said.

“‘Arry?”

“Yeah.”

“Most people call me Nor," she replied.

“But your name is already so short, why do you need a nickname?” She shrugged in response. Just what people did. “You’re taking the thunder of everyone with names that aren’t nickname-able.”

She leaned back on her hands, copying his pose. “Your name is nickname-able.”

“Try.”

Names rolled over in her head. “I’d probably just said ‘H’.”

He was quiet for a beat. “Never heard that one before.”

“Well, I’m happy that I could introduce it to you.”

They were both quiet for a second, and then she heard the scrape of fabric. Harry had scooted closer to her, his position changed so he was facing her, one leg still dangling off of the porch, the other bent in front of him. “What do you study, Nora without an H?”

“History," she replied without a beat. “Mainly German history.”

“Why?” His tone was genuinely inquisitive, as if this was a completely intriguing fact that he simply must know more about.

“I guess…I’ve always liked stories," she told him, finding her words as they come. “And history is really just a bunch of stories that they can learn from and use to make sense of the world around us.”

He considered her answer. “I like that.”

“And you? What do you study, Harry with an H?”

“Comparative literature,” he replied. “Focusing on Italian.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “I’ve always loved languages and reading, and it just seemed like the right fit. You have a better answers than me for this question.”

“You like comp lit?”

“Love it,” he said immediately.

It was rare to find a fratboy who genuinely enjoys what he studies, so Harry was an outlier. “And you speak Italian, I assume?”

“Sì.”

She knew no Italian, but she gathered that that’s a yes. “How long?”

“Most of my life.” He took another sip of his beer, and someone opened the sliding door behind them, music and voices swirling around them. “My grandparents bought a house in Italy before they had my mum and it’s stayed in the family. I’ve spent all my summers and holidays there.”

“You were there for Christmas, then, I assume?” He nodded. “I’m jealous.”

“Best place on earth.”

“Where in Italy?”

“Lucca. It’s not too far from Florence.” He scooted a hair closer to her as he swung his other leg onto the porch, winding his long legs into a comfortable position. “You ever been?”

“To Italy?” He nodded. “Nope. Didn’t make it there while I was abroad.”

“Shame. Where’d you go?”

“Berlin for the fall semester," she replied, and he perked up. “Traveled a bunch, but stuck to central and northern Europe mainly. Copenhagen, Prague, Luxembourg, Amsterdam, Warsaw, and then around Germany. Spent a week in London during Thanksgiving and my mom met me there.”

He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, and she watched his bicep flex with the movement. “That sounds incredible. My parents told me being here was my study abroad, so I’m missing out.”

“That’s a shame," she told him. “I needed the break from all this," she waved her hand around them, attempting to capture the absurdity of college and the pressure and the exhaustion in a single motion. “Felt nice to be given the opportunity to slow down a bit.”

“I can imagine.”

Their conversation slowed a bit. The sliding door opened again and a group of girls started talking loudly near them, their discussion circling around some boy they’re all in love with, but they thankfully made their way to the fire pit on the other side of the yard.

“Can I ask you something?”

She turned back and looked at him. “Sure.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before?”

She shrugged at his question. “Dunno. I’ve never been to parties here before. We’ve got different majors. It’s a big school.”

“Not that big.”

“Big enough.”

“Too big if I missed out on meeting you until now.”

Her breath caught. The words fell from his mouth with such ease, such nonchalance, as if his words didn’t shake the ground she stood on.

“Nor!”

She looked up and Maddy was standing in the doorway and she was thankful for the distraction. “You okay?”

“I wanna go homeeee,” Maddy said, her words slightly slurred. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s go home then, babes.” She downed the rest of her beer and then turned to Harry. “See you around, H.”

Before he had the chance to reply, Nora walked inside, the door shutting behind her.

Maddy and Nora spent the rest of the weekend decorating their apartment and analyzing Harry’s sentence to her. Maddy was convinced that he had a crush on her, but Nora begged to differ. Nora thought he was just a poetic guy who had a bit too much to drink. Maddy rolled her eyes at her but let it drop finally and began describing Niall, the adorable Irish boy who she had been dancing with. He was sweet and funny and a good kisser, and didn’t try to get her to come home with him. Just got her number and told her to find Nora so she could go home since she was drunk and tired. (Sometimes, Nora thinks, it’s a bit sad how low the bar was set.) She seemed to have forgotten all about Liam, who she said was just too unattainable that it wasn’t worth trying.

By Monday, Nora was anxious to get into the classroom. After a semester of operating at half intelligence because all her classes were in German, she was excited to be able to actually communicate her full thoughts on a topic. She wanted to write papers and read things that intrigued her.

She'd put a lot of thought into crafting her schedule, leaving time for her shifts at the coffeeshop on campus, while also balancing her schedule between History, German, and Gen Ed requirements. She'd chosen to takes an Urban Studies class for her technology requirements, since it required use of something classed GIS. Maddy was an Urban Studies major, so Nora decided that it was safe to assume she’d help her pass if she needed it.

She chose a safe seat—middle of the room, middle of the row, able to see the screen but not too close that she looked too eager. She unpacked her notebook, already labelled for the class and her pencil bag with her favorite pens. She was ready to be back at school.

She was not ready for Harry Styles to slide into the seat next to her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, and she just about jumped out of her skin.

“Fucking hell.” The words fell from her mouth without pause. “You scared me.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not," she said, catching her breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Fulfilling a Gen Ed,” he replied. “This seemed interesting and easy enough. You?”

Embarrassingly, the same reason. “Me too.”

He smiled. “Was nice to see a familiar face when I walked in.”

Before she could reply, the lecture started, and her mind tuned out everything else in the room. Their professor went over the syllabus, which seemed decent, and then started in on the first lecture. Nora was quickly engrossed, scribbling notes about different city planning techniques and histories, making notes of things she wanted to look up more on. The professor had a good lecture style—succinct, engaging, and a bit funny. He had some memes throughout his presentation that got the class laughing, and she tried to ignore how Harry’s soft chuckle made her stomach flip.

In fact, she spent the whole class trying to ignore Harry.

She tried to ignore the way he bit his lip while he wrote notes, the wrinkle in his eyebrows when he was trying to understand something, the way he pulled on his lip when he was reading intently. How his handwriting was messy but clear, how he said “fuck” lightly under his breath when he smudged ink, how his leg bounced up and down when he was trying to focus.

But most of all she tried to ignore the fact that he kept glancing over at her.

Because the thing was, Nora was not in the market to have feelings for someone. She didn’t want to have a crush. She wants to have aimless sex with cute boys and go about her life as she wanted. After the fall, she'd decided that boys were confusing and a waste of time.

Jonas. She'd met him at a house party and it had been a fling—they’d hooked up a couple of times, he’d make her tea and breakfast in the morning, they’d drunk text each other, and he’d act like her boyfriend if they were out together. Sometimes the things he’d say and the way he’d look at her would make her wonder if it was more for him. If he cared. But then, before she knew it the semester was over and it was time to go and their didn’t even have a proper goodbye. It was weird and confusing and when she left she didn’t know what to make of it, because if they’d had more time she probably would’ve dated him. And now, sometimes she'd remember the way he’d back her up against a wall and wonder if she'd find someone who would kiss her the way Jonas did.

So when Nora looked at Harry, she couldn’t help but wonder how he would kiss. And that was when she knew that even though she had only known him for two days, she was developing a crush.

And that was the opposite of how she wanted to start her semester.

When class ended, Harry turned to her and said, “Want to go pick up their course books?”

She didn’t have a class next, so she had no excuse. So she just said yes.

“What did you think?” He asked, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as they exited the lecture hall.

“The professor was great," she replied. “Really engaging and seems like he was not going to be harsh of a grader since it’s an intro class.”

“Yeah definitely. And I liked how he explained all of the different city plans with such detail but also clarity. He seems to know what he was doing.”

They turned to exit onto the campus green, and she pulled her coat a little tighter around her. It was January and she had forgotten how cold it could get in Massachusetts. “Which section do you think you’re going to do?” The professor had mentioned at the end of class that they would have weekly discussion sections with their TAs to go over material and readings, and had listed out the different time options. She was leaning towards Wednesdays at 11, just after their class was over.

“Probably Wednesday at 11,” he replied. “Fits best into my schedule.”

Fuck. “I was thinking of doing the same one," she told him. This was not good. More time around Harry was not going to be good for her.

“Really?” Nora couldn’t help but take joy in the smile that spread across his face. “Thank god. I hate going into those sections and not knowing where to sit.”

They turned into the building with the campus bookstore, and Nora unwound her scarf from around her neck. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that.”

“Do you have other books you need to pick up?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m going to hold off and go after my other classes so I can figure out what I can get at the library first.”

“Good idea.” He pulled out the syllabus from his backpack and studied the instructions their professor had written down for the books their need. “I think they’re over this way,” he said, leading the way to the back corner.

“Spend a lot of time here?” She asked, shocked he knew where to find the books without even asking for help.

“I worked here during freshman and sophomore year,” he replied. “They never change up the organization of this place.” He scanned the shelves with his finger, mumbling the names of the authors they were looking for under his breath. Nora stood behind him and couldn’t help but smile. “Here,” he said, pulling two copies of one out. “Hold them?”

“‘Course.” She took the books and held them in her arms while he continued his search for the second and third titles they need. He quickly tracked them down, snatching them off the shelf and adding them to the pile in her arms. “That it?”

“Yes.” They weaved their way to the front register and she followed Harry, watching how his long brown coat whips around his ankles when he walked.

After they paid, they walked back out to the campus green and stood on the edge of the sidewalk facing each other. “Do you have another class?” He asked her.

She nodded. “Later. Think I’m going to go home and drop these off first, though.” She lifted the stack of books in her arms and he smiled.

“Bit too heavy for you?”

“Shove off," she said, and a smile sneaked onto her face when he chuckled.

“Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

She took a step back and shouldered her bag. “Bye, H.”

“Bye, Nora.”

She tried to ignore the beauty of the way he said her name. But she failed.

Maddy and Nora had been in the library for most of Saturday doing their readings for the next week, and by seven o’clock Nora wanted to bash her head into a wall. She kept re-reading the same sentence about the layout of Vienna’s old city and couldn’t process any of the words.

“Maddy," she whispered, poking her in the arm with the cap of her highlighter. “I want to go.”

“Stop poking me, you ass.” Maddy looked up from her readings. “Let’s get out of here—I feel like I smell like library at this point.”

We packed up their stuff quietly, ignoring the death stares from a girl with a problem set spread out on the table in front of her. “It’s like they don’t realize that people naturally make noise when they move," she said, and Maddy snorted, earning them more glares. “Come on, we should go before we’re killed in here.”

She followed Maddy out of the room they were in and made their way down the hall, the sound of Nora’s sneakers squeaking on the tile floor earning us yet more glares from people. It was literally the first week back at school, Nora thought, how are people already so stressed about work?

Maddy suddenly slowed her walk and matched her pace with Nora’s, leaning in close to her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that Harry walking towards us?”

Nora looked up and realize that it was Harry. He was wearing an oversized black sweatshirt and a pair of houndstooth pants that he somehow makes looked both comfortable and stylish, along with a pair of glasses. She simply does not understand this boy’s ability to looked so good constantly. “I cannot talk to him right now," she told Maddy. “I looked like complete shit and he looked like…a Greek god.”

“Shut up. You’re going to talk to him because he was basically beelining over here.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck," she said under her breath.

“Nora.” Harry’s voice was soft because of the library, and she loved the way it sounded. “Maddy, right? I’m Harry.”

Maddy nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Harry’s gaze turned back to her, and she decided then and there that she loves him in glasses. He was not just a Greek god, he was a studious Greek god. Tortoise shell, peak book nerd. “How are you?”

“Good," she replied. “Was just doing the reading for their class.”

He groaned. “I haven’t even started it. How bad is it?”

She shrugged. “A bit dry, but not horrible.”

“Great,” he said. “I have that to look forward to doing. What are you two up to tonight?”

She looked at Maddy, who shrugged. “Unsure at this point.”

“We’re having another party if you want to come.”

“We’ll be there,” Maddy said before Nora had the chance to reply. She shot Maddy a death stare, which Maddy just ignored.

Harry grinned and it was utterly adorable. “I’ve got to keep working, but I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye H.” The nickname fell from her mouth with ease, and he smiled in response.

“Bye Nora.”

He walked away and she turned to Maddy, who was grinning ear to ear. “What?”

Maddy shook her head and gave her a knowing smile. “You’re fucked.”

She looked back to Harry’s receding figure. Maddy was right. Nora was completely fucked.

They had been at the party for an hour and Nora had yet to see Harry. She didn’t know if he was hiding or something, but no matter which room she went into or how hard she looked, she still couldn’t manage to spot him in the crowd. The party was bigger than last weekend as everyone was now on campus, and Maddy and Nora kept running into people they knew, so now they’ve developed a little crew to hang out with. Their friends Taylor and Lauren arrived shortly after Maddy and Nora did, and they brought with them a girl who was in the same sorority as Lauren and was dating a DSig. As a result, they all end up trashed and dancing without much time passing.

Nora threw her arms around Maddy and screamed the lyrics to a Post Malone song, and Nora felt utterly, blissfully happy. She had forgotten about this side of frat parties while she was gone—how happy she was when she was dancing and there was alcohol coursing through her veins. Some girl must have gotten hold of the music, because the song changed to an old Taylor Swift song and the girls lost it, jumping up and down in the crowd and screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

“I need a drink!” Nora said when the song was over, her throat hoarse and her hair sticking to the back of her neck. The song switches, and the Maddy screamed—it was her favorite song and she had to be on the dance floor for it. Nora could see the torn look in her best friend’s eyes, and she shook her head. “I’m good—I’ll be back in a second.”

She pushed through the crowd, apologizing as she dug her elbows into people to make a path to the kitchen. She grabbed a beer, needing something cold and not too strong, and leaned against the countertop, letting the cooler air wash over her skin.

“Hello.”

The words tingled down her spine, and she turned her head to see Harry standing in the door jamb. The kitchen had mostly cleared out, so it was just the two of them and a set of girls who looked like freshman trying to decide which mixer was less disgusting with their bad vodka. “Hi, H.”

“Having fun?” He was wearing a black t-shirt and it was tight in all the right places and Nora had to force herself to not consider what it would be like to take it off of him.

She nodded. “Couldn’t find you, though.” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them and Nora wanted to shrink into the counter. She sounded desperate and psychotic—she had barely known this boy and now she was complaining about now being able to find him?

But Harry just smiled. “I was upstairs,” he explained. “Was trying to finish a bit of work before I started drinking.”

If he was doing work here, Nora assumed he lived in the house. “You live here?”

“Unfortunately.” He moved towards her, grabbing a beer from the fridge next to her, and Nora caught a flash of light blue on his fingers. Harry painted his nails, she realized.

This fraternity boy painted his goddamned nails light blue.

Who was this boy?

What planet was he from?

And more importantly, where had he been all of her life?

“I like your nails,” she said. “What color is that?”

He glanced down at them. “Dunno. Stole it from my sister over winter break. I can check and text it to you later, though.”

“I’d like that.” Nora took another sip of her beer, the cold drink feeling good in her body. “Where are all your friends?”

Harry shrugged. Nora got the sense that he didn’t really care about all the fraternity stuff and she liked that. Frat boys had always annoyed with their “bro energy” as Maddy called it and she’d met some real assholes during her time in college. Harry seemed like an outlier though. “You want to dance?” He asked her, breaking her out of her trance.

She straightened up. “Sure.” She tried not to think about the fact that she cannot, for the life of her, dance sexily. Maddy had made fun of her for it since freshman year, and despite her efforts Nora had not been able to master the art of looking hot and dancing. She was more of a whip-your-arms-around-and-scream dancer.

When they reached the crowded living room, Harry grabbed her hand and Nora loved his callused hand in her hers, the way he held it tightly so he didn’t lose her in the crowd. He didn’t go too deep into the crowd, wanting to make sure they had space to breathe and it was not too hot. When he stopped moving he tried to create space for them, wanting to make sure they could actually move, not just stand there like idiots and battle for oxygen on the dance floor. Nora took a long swig of her beer, and then she started to sway her hips, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

She liked this boy. She had a massive crush on Harry and his soft words and the way he called her by her full name and smiled at her. She had a crush on the way he was dancing—awkwardly and with a goofy grin on his face, screaming the lyrics to the Top 40s hit along with her. She liked that he didn’t seem to care what people thought of him, that he painted his nails baby blue and knew how to dress himself. She even liked his tattoos, which she usually secretly judged people for, but on Harry they fit him. She wanted to trace the outlines of them and ask him about the stories behind them, to know everything about him. She liked that he took the hit during rage cage for Maddy. She liked that when they were dancing he gives her a thumbs up to check in and make sure she was doing okay.

She really liked him, she realized as she dances with him. She wanted to impress him, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable—more in a way where she just wanted him to see the best parts of her. But she also wanted him to know her, she realized. She wanted him to know things about her and like being around her as much as she did. Because he put her on edge, but not because he made her uncomfortable, but because of how much she liked him. She wanted to know him, even if it was just to be friends, because he seemed interesting. She felt like he has layers to him, and every time she snatches another piece of information she only has more questions.

Even if they were just friends, Nora wanted to know him, she decided.

So she decided, fuck it all, and danced like she didn’t have a care in the world, because she wanted him to see the real her. She wanted him to see her awkward dancing and to accidentally hit him in the face with her hair so that he knew her and could bail if he didn’t like her. She wanted to give him and out and see if he took it.

And he didn’t.

They dance for what feels like forever, their beers long gone. He grabbed her hand at one point when people were becoming pushy and pulled her closer to him, their sweaty bodies touching each other practically every time they move. They sang their favorite songs, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I fucking love this song,” when Mamma Mia came on, and Nora decided that it’s the cutest thing she had ever found out about someone. She told him about her obsession with Drake when In My Feelings comes on, and he admitted that he listened to this song on repeat for three hours one time. They had these snippets of conversation on the dance floor, their faces close and voices loud enough to be heard over the music.

SexyBack came on and they both devolve into seventh graders, obsessed with this song and not really caring about the meaning. Nora danced, throwing her hands up and dropping her hips lower than she had before.

And then someone slammed into her back, throwing her straight into Harry’s chest.

The feeling of him close to her set her skin on fire.

She had kept just enough distance during the evening to make sure they weren’t this close, but it had not taken much for them to be fully flush against each other. And now they were and Nora could feel everything. One of her hands was on his pecs and she could feel the smooth muscle across his chest, and the other hand landed on his side, the palm of her hand on his abs and she felt the outline of abs there. Her fingers dug into his skin, grappling for balance as she tried to find her footing.

Harry’s hands immediately found her waist, holding her steady. His fingers felt like they were searing on her lower back, the contact sending Nora into outer space. And she didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from him, but either way her head was spinning a bit.

“You okay?” He asked, his accent smooth as butter in her ear. His lips were close enough that they brush softly against her hair and the edge of her ear. Nora was trying not to hyperventilate, but also maintain her footing, and not press all of her weight onto Harry.

She was about to answer that yes, she was fine, so sorry, when someone bumped into her again, pushing her back into Harry. He stumbles this time and wrapped his arms around Nora fully to try and keep them both upright. He was essentially hugging her at this point and Nora thought her heart might have stopped the second she felt him tug her close to him.

“Someone’s really trying to push you over, aren’t they?” He said with a chuckle into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” Nora apologized, finding her footing and straightening. She didn’t push away from Harry though, and he didn’t let go of her. “I didn’t mean to fall onto you—or into you, I guess?”

He shook his head. “No matter. You okay, love?”

Love. The word reverberated through Nora’s head and she tried to keep her wits about her. She knew she was feeling mushy tonight—all these thoughts of Harry and how adorable he was and sweet and kind had got her melting for him, but maybe that was the alcohol? She couldn’t keep it straight. And when he called her love, all of the efforts to keep it together just fall apart.

“I’m okay,” she answered softly. “Are you?” She looked up and into his eyes, and even though the room was dark, she could still make out his eyes in the strobing lights, the flashes of his beautiful hair and his high cheekbones. She could see his eyes meet hers and Nora felt this pull in her chest to kiss him. He didn’t break eye contact with her and Nora was just searching his eyes, begging for an answer, an explanation, some hint to tell her what to do and what he bloody wanted.

Because she knew what she wanted. She wanted to kiss him.

“‘M fine.” His voice was like sandpaper and she wondered if his mouth was as dry as hers was. He hadn’t moved his hands from her back, only loosened them slightly so he was not holding her quite so close.

She inched her fingers upwards, one landing on his shoulder, the other on his elbow. Nora wondered if she was imagining the way his breathing had quickened. Did she kiss him? She wanted to. She wanted to kiss him so bad. She wanted to know what his lips feel like on hers, if they were as soft as they felt when they bushed her ear. She wanted to know what he tasted like and how he would kiss her. Did she just do it? She searched his eyes one last time, the seconds stretching into what feels like hours. “Can I kiss you?”

He blinked.

Nora held her breath.

Then, his lips were on hers and suddenly Nora knew exactly what his lips feel like on hers. They were soft like velvet and he smelled like heaven.

He kissed her like it was his last breath, desperate to know if she breathed the same air as him. Deep and wanting, the intensity building with every press of his lips to hers. It was urgent, yet soft—he didn’t lick into her mouth, just stays on her lips. And man, can the boy kiss.

Her hand moved from his shoulder to his neck and wound through the hair there, a breathless moan leaving his mouth, and she wondered if he liked it when she pulled his hair.

So when he finally did lick his tongue against the seam of her lips and she widened them, she pulled, ever so softly.

And he moaned deeply, his grip on her waist tightening.

Nora wanted to kiss him for the rest of time.

Her other hand moved from his elbow to his back, fingers finding the material of his shirt and pulling him closer to her. Her fingers curled into the cotton, the sweat from them dancing on her palm but she didn’t care because she wanted him closer. She could feel every inch of his body flush with hers and she loved it—the way he felt against her, the way her skin was lit on fire, the way she wanted to drink purely Harry until the end of time.

“Nora,” he said, pulling back, allowing both of them to catch their breath, “do you want to come upstairs?”

She hesitated. It’s not that she didn’t want to—she’d love to fuck this boy until the dawn of time—but she had no idea where her friends were, and she would rather not let them think she’d been kidnapped. And if she thought about it, she knew she probably shouldn’t. She barely knew Harry and she had class twice a week with him, and most likely a discussion section on top of it. If it didn’t work out, she had to see him constantly for the rest of the semester, which was not ideal.

His finger raised her chin slightly so she had to look into his eyes. “I’m not trying to get you to sleep with me, by the way. I just want to get out of this fuckin’ sweaty crowd so I can kiss you properly and not worry if I’m going to be kicked in the back. And if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine too. I’ll stay here if you’d rather that. Or we don’t have to kiss at all—I don’t want you to do anything you have to.” He was rambling, unsure of his standing. Her hesitation had thrown him for a loop and Harry wasn’t sure if she even wanted to kiss him at all anymore. Was she into it? He thought she was from the way she pulled him towards her, but from the hesitation he wasn’t sure and he wanted to be sure.

“No, it’s not that,” she said, and his fears were immediately pushed aside. “I just want to let my friends know where I am first.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Where are they?”

Nora looked around the crowd, but couldn’t catch sight of them anywhere. “When I left they were here. Lemme try texting them.” She pulled out her phone and found a string of texts from the group chat with Maddy, Taylor and Lauren discussing the fact that she was making out with Harry Styles and that they were fine and to do whatever she wanted, that they’d find her when they were going to go and check in. Truly the best friends of all time. She quickly texted them that she was going upstairs to Harry’s room and then she looked back up at him, his lips quirked in a smile. Nora wondered if he saw the texts, but then decided there’s no reason to freak out—he was making out with her, after all. “Upstairs?”

“Upstairs.” His fingers wound through hers and he led the way out of the crowd, dodging groups of frantic dancers and couples making out just as they had been. He navigated the crowd with ease, his tall frame putting him a head above most other people, and Nora just held onto his hand and let him lead her out of the crowd and up the stairs.

It was quieter on the second floor, a row of doors to bedrooms shut and soft music drifting out of some, the loud thud of the bass from the main floor less intense. Nora stayed close to Harry, her body magnetic to his. He led her down the hall, telling her who lives in all the other rooms, pointing to the bathroom as they passed it, just in case she needed it. Then, they were standing outside a room with his name on the door and he turned to her.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked her, searching for confirmation, which he found when Nora nodded.

He pushed open the door, a soft light from his bedside table lamp illuminating bits of the room. Nora saw posters of bands, a minimalist map of Milan, and stacks upon stacks of books lining the walls. She stepped inside and he shut the door behind her, and she continued to investigate the room, taking stock of the various pieces of information she could collect from its decoration. A guitar leaned against the wall, sheets of paper next to it with scribblings on them—he was a musician—and a basket of cleanly folded laundry lies in the corner so she knew he was clean and tidy. He had photos of his family on his dresser, which warmed her heart, and a stereo in the corner with a stack of records next to it.

“What do you think?”

She turned to him. He was leaning against his door, a look of curiosity and a hint of fear on his face. They were still learning about each other, and he had exposed a huge part of who he is to her by letting her in here. “I think you like music and books.”

Harry just laughed. “Well, you’re right about that.”

He didn’t move from the door, so Nora decided to take the lead. She wanted to kiss this boy again, not have a conversation about his favorite book he read or the musician that transformed his understanding of music. She sat on the edge of his bed, leaned back on her hands, and gave Harry a look that screamed, “Come.”

And he does, a quirk in his brow. He stood between her widened legs, brushed a thumb across her jawline, and then leand down to reconnect their lips. Nora softened immediately, her hands begging for purchase on his skin, and pulled him towards her. Harry kicked off his boots and then gently pushed Nora up on the bed, following her, the desire written all over his face. He was about to lean down to kiss her again when Nora said, “Wait. Shirt?”

He pulled it over his head without a second thought, and Nora relished in the sight of his tattoos. The butterfly on his abdomen she’d seen before, the swallows on his pecs, the ship on his arm that she hadn’t. The small musings up and down his arms that she would look closer at later, she decided. In the mean time, she pulled him in by his neck and he collapsed into her, his weight a welcome feeling against her body. Nora widened her knees and hooked her ankles around him, resting them on his lower back. The pressure pushed him closer to her core and she gasped at the feeling—she couldn’t help it. He was big. Bigger than she expected.

Harry stopped his assault on her neck and looked up at her. “This okay?”

“God yes,” she replied. “Keep going.”

He smiled, and returned his lips to her neck, pulling and prodding at her skin with his lips and his teeth, sucking what would be a hickey later onto the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Usually Nora despised hickeys, but she couldn’t find the reason to care right now. Her hands scrabbled at his skin, trying to find purchase, the feeling of him grinding slowly into her and his lips on her neck almost too much.

“Harry,” she said, gasping for air as he tugged at the neck of her shirt to gain more access, “roll over.”

She unhooked her ankles and he rolled, pliant to her words. She straddled him immediately, loving the view of Harry Styles spread out beneath her. His hair was tousled from her fingers, lips swollen from her kisses, chest rising fast from her. She felt him beneath where she sat on his abdomen and it made her smile. Then, she pulled her shirt off and she watched him look at her.

Nora hadn’t always loved her body. She remembered the first time she ever took off her shirt, the boy looking at her didn’t know what to say or do with her breasts, and she hated it. She wondered if they were too big—girls in films have breasts, but never ones that were like hers. The size that hurt when she ran and gave her back aches. The size her friends didn’t really understand—the size Nora hated as a teenager. But in the past two years she decided to stop giving a fuck. She thought she was beautiful and she was done letting what other people think of her change that. And when she let Harry look at her, she was wondering what he was thinking. Did he think she was as beautiful as she does?

And then he told her. “Good lord,” he said, voice hoarse, “you’re gorgeous.” He leaned up and kissed her cleavage that’s exposed, Nora’s fingers finding a home in his curls.

“Fuck, H,” she whined at the feeling of his lips on her tender skin. She bent down and captures his lips with her own, pressing him back onto his back, loving their bare skin on one another. They were battling for both air and dominance, and when Nora’s lips started traveling down his neck and onto his chest, Harry thought he stopped breathing for a second. She sucks a hickey on his pec, right above the swallow, and then blew on it and he practically shivered from the sensitivity.

He could feel her traveling southward and even though he wanted her to suck him off—good lord did he want her too—he stopped her. He tugged her up, reattaching their lips, a “C’mere,” whispered between them. He wanted to kiss her for longer, he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. And also, quite honestly, if she kept occasionally rolling her hips like she was doing he might come from that alone. She was gorgeous, yes in the way she looked, but also the confidence she exuded and the way she told him what she wantd and the way she was tracing up and down his arms and sides with her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He was fucked, because this girl had managed to turn him into putty after knowing him for just one week.

And then she started really moving her hips back and forth. Nora knew what it wa doing to him and she loved it—loved the knowledge that she was the one making him feel this way and she wanted to see how far it would go, how far she could take it. So as she kissed him, their lips moving in sync, she rolled her hips on his, grinding down every once and a while, drinking up every breathless moan leaving Harry’s lips, savoring each grunt, and when he let out a low, “Nora, please, fuck,” she knew she had him in her hand.

She smiled against his mouth and turned her head, leaning down to his ear, and whispered, “Tell me what you want, H.” He grunted and she rolled her hips again, the seam of his jeans rubbing against her clit in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “What do you want?” She asked, her voice low and dripping with desire.

“You,” he said finally. “Fuck, Nora, I want you.”

Nora kisses his cheek and then makes her way down his chest, making a path right to his dick. Harry had given up any contemplation of waiting, he couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted her so bad it genuinely physically hurt. He needed to come and he needed to come now. Nora popped the button on his jeans and Harry lifted his hips to let her pull them down.

Then, a series of knocks came from the door.

Nora’s head whipped up and so did Harry’s. No one knocked on his door usually. They knew he was private, that he didn’t like people in his space unless he invited them.

“Nora?” Maddy’s voice could be heard over the dull throbbing of the bass from downstairs, and Nora let out a sigh. “We’re heading out babes.”

Nora looked between Harry and the door. “Give me one second,” she called back to Maddy, her eyes not leaving Harry. “I’m going to go,” she told him. She had shit to do tomorrow. But also, she wanted to make sure she was not making a mistake by hooking up with Harry, since she was going to be seeing him all the time for the rest of the semester. She wanted to think about this, because she wasn’t expecting this to happen and needed to take a moment to consider the repercussions of her actions. She barely knew Harry—what would he do if they fuck? Would he ignore her for the rest of the semester? He might be nice, but he was still a fratboy, and Nora had enough experience in that department to know the norm wasn’t to bring a girl flowers after.

“Everything okay?” He asked, sitting up as she snatched her shirt from the other side of the bed where had she discarded it.

She nodded. “I just need a second to…think.”

Harry considered this. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he is—that they have class together for the rest of the semester and it was probably not the best idea to fuck your classmate the first weekend of the semester. “Okay,” he replied. “No worries. I’ll, uh, see you in class, I guess?”

Nora was tugging on her booties and she looked at him with a small smile on her face. “Bright and early Monday morning.”

Harry got up, rebuttoning his pants. As Nora was about to open the door, he grabbed her wrist, acting on pure instinct, and pressed a kiss against her lips. It was softer than the ones before, a simple kiss that was a goodbye, but also a question. A question begging, “What’s next?” Nora broke the kiss, and with a touch to the hickey left behind above the swallow, she was out the door and gone.

Harry stumbled to his bed, his body hitting the mattress with a sigh.

He was so, so royally fucked.

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

i hope you guys enjoyed this! this is my first fic and i’m super excited about her. :) let me know what you think of my lil frat boy harry. there is more coming soon. xoxo

ask me about fratboy!harry here | masterlist here

935 notes · View notes

pcprminibigbang · 4 years ago

Text

PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to [email protected]! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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

FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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

FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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

FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

#polygon #polygon cyberpunk red #pcpr

15 notes · View notes

laytonsartblog · 5 years ago

Text

Okay so I'm dumb here's a one shot

I know I said everything that's a story would be posted on AO3, but, I have dumbass energy and was inspired by the reblog I made earlier and it is 2 am on a school night so WOOO incoherency is at an ALL TIME HIGH

@infinimay whoop tagged u for what I'll call the Bus Duty AU

Perhaps I'll make this a series?? Something light, fluffy, nothing too heavy on the angst (okay I lied)

The Wheels on the Bus (Spin the Tales of Love)

Chapter 1., Like Patton

Virgil and Damian woke up to get to school at precisely 7:30 am, and to be ready by 8:10 for when their bus arrived, every school day.

Their mother, which is now Virgil's stepmother, always said that a tight schedule and tighter patience is what wins people over. That must be how she got Virgil's idiot dad, who took nearly three years of coy smiles and teasing touches to even start dating. They had married this year, and while Virgil is certainly happy about it, he didn't realize that it came with having to deal with a new stepbrother.

That's why, instead of 7:30 and 8:10, Virgil rises at 7:15 and is waiting by 8:00. Their mother never notices, never needing to wake up this early for work, and their dad works night shift. They were by themselves, but they handled it for nine year olds. Virgil especially figured out how to handle it as soon as he figured out that despite all this change, he was still by himself.

"Vi! Vi!" Damian, or DeeDee as he liked to be called, shouted as he approached Virgil at the bottom of the street. "Why do you never wait for me?"

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know, you give me a weird feeling, like cooties, but nice? Like wriggling worms in my head. It's sticky."

There was silence between them as they waited for their bus.

"You give me wiggly feelings too. Truce?" Damian suddenly said after what seemed to be forever to their adorable little minds, and he outstretched a hand.

Virgil took it. "Pleasure doing business, Worm boy."

Damian pouted and pulled his hand back, but didn't need to wait much longer in cute anger as the bus pulled up to their street. Seemingly forgetting the nickname, he pulled Virgil along onto the bus.

"Hey, kiddos!" their favorite, and only bus driver greeted as they sat in the front row.

Virgil never liked the bus, despite how early he was this year. It was loud and cranky and he had to sit next to DeeDee and there were always the mean kids who flicked his head as if a ping-pong ball on the way to their seats. The one thing that made it bearable was the fact he got to sit close to Patton.

Patton had allowed them to use his first name from the get go, inspiring names like "Patting!" from the kindergarteners or "Shatting" from the mean sixth graders. Virgil never tainted the name for he saw no reason to change what was already his favorite part of the morning.

Patton gave them treats on their birthday, never forgetting a single one. Patton hugged them when they were sad and showed them that crying was okay. Patton never yelled or screamed when things got too loud; he knew better than to plague these children with learned behavior, scorn, and hatred. Instead he'd play games that involved the whole bus to busy everyone, or at the very least play music and encourage them to sing along or guess the song.

Patton made things better. But Virgil knew he was sad.

Today, even with Damian's unwavering questions at everything he saw and with the fake stories he kept saying to the kid in the seat next to them, even he could tell that their bus driver was tired.

The two observant fourth graders watched as their second father didn't smile as brightly as he usually did whenever he greeted the kids getting on. He sagged; sluggish and baggy. Virgil noticed he looked a lot like his cousin Remy before a test under his eyes.

However, despite how observant, Virgil never knew how to comfort the gentle man. It's why he and Damian are in the front row. The doctors said he has a "speech impediment" where he couldn't put the words in his head to the outside world quite right. They said his brain was wrong. He knew Damian had a streak of lying and throwing tantrums. It's why he didn't like his new brother; he only served to make him look stupider.

Still, that didn't stop Virgil from putting a hand to Patton's shoulder, at least not entirely. He didn't expect for him to gasp and jump, but Virgil didn't exactly know what to expect anyway. He just pulled his hand back and looked down at his ripped pants in shame the rest of the bus ride.

They got there slower than Virgil had thought, but no, they were on time. Perhaps his brain was being weird again? He couldn't tell, but either way he walked begrudgingly by Damian into the school.

They passed by their school's office on the way into the gym, which is where you wait until school started. Virgil, again, ever the observant one, saw his school secretary in the window.

He was what was best described as professionally squabbled, or in Virgil's terms, cleanly messy. Mr. Nguyen had hair that was combed back just so and glasses that hid all his worries and fears. He had impeccable pressed ties that, on the occasion, got festive when a holiday came around. He had skilled hands and Virgil hadn't walked by a day where he wasn't working or presenting a board meeting or, if he wasn't doing that, wasn't there at all for the whole day.

Virgil never really disliked Mr. Nguyen. He had no reason to like him either. But right now, Virgil could see he looked exactly like Patton did; utterly miserable.

"Hey, DeeDee, y'see Mr. Nguyen? In the window?" Virgil whispered as he sat right at the entrance so he could get a good look at him.

Damian merely ignored him. "We always see him. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is," Virgil started, already frustrated with the words that wouldn't come out. "He like- he- he's Patton today."

Damian rose a brow, a suspicious trait he most likely picked up from his mother. "You mean he looks like Patton did today?"

Virgil could only nod in relief. "Yeah! He looks Patton today. Do you think the teachers look like that today?"

Damian scanned around the room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary on the teachers' face. However, he did spot a certain trashy boy that Damian all but felt puppy love for. He waved him over. "Rem! Rem!"

The boy, peeking from the corner around his preoccupied brother at his name being called, grinned a crooked and partially toothless grin and ran over to Damian. They merely embraced before Remus took out his backpack, no doubt to reveal some gross frog from his collection.

Virgil cared less and just kept staring at the office, seeing Patton and a few other drivers come in for their mandatory morning report before they head out to go back to whatever they do when not driving. Patton still looked like a walking corpse.

Virgil vowed to take that frown away.

However, the school bell had other plans.

Virgil thinks that time really has slowed down, and maybe it isn't his stupid brain.

Every minute of class felt not as much a blur as it usually was. Usually, class was as easy as it got, and today he even got to skip out of gym for speech classes. He liked the speech teacher, Valerie. She allowed him to say her first name like Patton did. Virgil liked Valerie too.

But even his marvel at how fantastic his day had been so far didn't distract him from the fact his bus driver was unhappy.

Virgil sat with Damian and all the other broken kids at lunch. Remus was there too, and as much as he loved Damian off his back, the two talking about frogs and the fact the French eat frog legs was already starting to get on his nerves. He just focused on his sandwich and juice box, never saying a word.

It became time to throw out the food, and Virgil knew it was gametime. He looked to everyone at the table before rushing, the other two running to throw out their styrofoam plates the fastest.

Sadly, like always, Virgil's dreams of success were barred by Remus's long, nimble legs and long, skinny arms.

Virgil wanted to pout and tell them that Remus always wins, but Mr. Glover came in to clean and one look sent the three of them scrambling to recess.

Today they had art time, and Virgil had never been more determined in his life.

He grabbed construction paper, glue, crayons, markers, tape, and a How-To: pop up book. They were supposed to be making Thanksgiving cards for one of the staff members, and technically he was following what he was supposed to do. It was just that Patton's name hadn't been listed on the board to write to for their fake post office.

No matter. He would make the best card ever to cheer up his favorite and only bus driver. Damian seemed more interested in watching Remus eat the glue stick and then calling for them to go to the nurse.

Virgil ignored the two's antics in favor of focusing on his masterpiece.

Finally, at the end of the day, with high hopes and spirits and even better hope for Patton, Virgil all but ran to the bus he remembers so clearly beyond anything else. Damian followed close behind, sitting beside him in the seat they always sat.

Virgil heard Patton greet him, as always. Virgil could still hear how tired he was. He looked as pale as Virgil did.

Virgil, without prompting, took out his card and shoved it into Patton's hands before taking his seat and covering himself up with his hoodie as far in the seat as he could go.

Patton watched the young boy sat back down in a hurry before looking down at the card. The craftsmanship, of course, could be better, but honestly Patton could hardly care. He read the "I Think Your Cool" at the top and then a hand drawing of a turkey, covered in glitter and Patton's signature blue.

Patton almost cried, and then did cry when he saw the inside.

It held handwritten words with a picture of presumably Virgil fighting away the storm clouds over Patton; the bus with muscles and also beating up the stormcloud. The words wrote "I saw your sad face. I want to fix it. See! Fixed it!"

When Patton looked up, sniffling and holding the card dear to his heart, he saw Virgil peaking out from his jacket. That little boy held the softest smile and even Damian stopped for a moment to grin, gap tooth apparent but not even a hint of malice could fill Patton at this moment.

Last night had been so awful, but maybe today hadn't been so bad. No, today had been fantastic. Virgil fixed his heart for just a moment.

Edit: the card! Made by moi

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sander sides angst #Bus Duty AU #eventual logicality #the dark bois are gonna save the day #with an addition of Roman #after a while #whooooweee it is 4 am and I have nOT slept gn

61 notes · View notes

1ddiscourseoftheday · 5 years ago

Text

Fri 26 July

So much to cover okay, so much content so little space so literally everything probably gets less space than it should (but not less love never less love.)

Pictures: another Louis one from 1883 Magazine, shot from below laughing like he's ready to gleefully stomp us all, is this the best Louis photoshoot literally ever IT COULD BE and there's only a few more days til the mag comes out, more Gucci memoire pics of Harry looking soft focus and very pretty, I like the one where he looks confused in a silky robe the best, candids of Harry in London from yesterday in a festive yellow shirt driving around in a yellow convertible like a little banana in its peel, Niall looking serious and handsome and dangerously fashionable, and Liam looking adorable and happy and innocent in glasses...but also wielding a ping pong paddle authoritatively, so there's really something for everyone in that one.

twitter and instagram: Louis chatted about song snippets he's posted saying that there isn't a song called Moonlight and that it is in fact called ** ***** it, like I'm not censoring: that's what he said! He's truly out here watching us, ummmm hi I guess wbk but still, how embarrassing. Louis if you're reading this ** *** ******* *** *** ****! Anyway, two songs were brought up, the one that isn't Moonlight (the cheap drinks through the whole night song) and the "took some time cause I ran out of energy playing someone I'm supposed to be" one (goddd that lyric is so great) and he said... maybe that both would be on the album? And that one might even be a single. It's a little confusing which he's talking about when. Niall was confirmed as a player at the pro am of the tournament he's putting on like... Yeah? No shit of course he is? And he preemptively says he's gonna be bad. "Don't say that!" says a fan, and he says he can only be focused on and good at music or golf at a time and it's been music do we want him to change that? Also that he might not be that bad but his every fuck up being broadcast and memed makes it seem that way. He also followed Jodie Comer and maybe it was cause he watched Killing Eve but I'm gonna say it was at least in part the Bruce Springsteen quote she has as her twitter bio, a kindred fan soul. Liam liked an Edward Enninful pic featuring a dog out for a fancy dinner and one of Stella Maxwell where she talks about getting paddled, thematic, but don't get worked up she's publicly involved with Kristen Stewart.

Contest: another chance to win a meet and greet with Liam! This one includes a VIP pass (er excuse me: a VIP experience) for his small show 16 August in London. No word yet on the Miami contest winners but I guess we'll know tomorrow when they go to meet him.

Charting: maybe WMYB? It seems anniversary streaming has it on track of it keeps up to be not just on the charts but Billboard number one, amazing! Liam liked a tweet about it, and the video views hit one billion, maybe driven by all the people trying to find the split second where you can see Harry and Louis holding hands. (edit: oops that went over a billion a while ago well anyway streaming numbers are high)

Meanwhile, in response to talk about Harry's seeming support for the Israeli state, HSD is championing an effort to get signatures and testimonials on a (moderated and edited) google doc that will be sent to Harry in an attempt to 'explain the side of the story from a Palestinian perspective so hopefully he can educate himself on the matter.' While Harry has never made a clear statement on anything the issue he has done things that did seem to indicate, at the very least, a not anti Israel stance, and that strongly suggest he supports the regime or did at one time. I'm interested in the idea that support for Zionism is so widely seen as a problem, I find that heartening, and to me personally this seems like a harmless effort. I find it hard to imagine him reading through endless pages of testimonials and even harder to imagine him opening himself up to the absolutely disastrous press coverage that expressing even the mildest anti Israel sentiment would mean in the US and UK, but hey dare to dream! And I do enjoy the idea of him being confronted with the idea that support for Zionism is potentially a bad business move for him, though I suspect he's already well aware of that.

151 notes · View notes

harryandmolly · 6 years ago

Text

When the World Stops Turning - Chapter 1

Summary: A love story in two voices - cowritten with @achinglyshawn

Warnings: Language

Word count: 10k

Lydia frowns in the mirror. Her hair just ain’t bouncin’ and behavin’ tonight.

She lifts the curling iron again then puts it down. She picks it up again, swirling a thick red chunk around the wand and holding it for a few seconds. She lets it drop. The curl falls weak against her neck. She sighs and unplugs the iron, deciding to stop stalling and just do it.

She hasn’t been looking forward to this dinner party. Her week has been long – 30 hours babysitting and a full class schedule do not make for the kind of weekend that Lydia wants to be spending out schmoozing. But it’s Allison and Kristin’s third anniversary and she missed Allison’s birthday last month AND bailed on drinks with Kristin last week, both due to her schedule, so she really can’t ditch this, as badly as she wants to.

So she shows up. She’s in a short midnight blue dress and heels because of course Allison and Kristin insisted on cocktail attire now that they’ve moved into their new apartment and it’s bougie as fuck. There are even place cards at the table.

She greets the hostesses and gets herself a glass of red, wandering over to her end of the table, wishing she brought a date.

The thought runs cold in her head when she sees the man sitting in the seat next to hers. At first, all she sees is bone structure, curls and broad shoulders. Her fingers tighten on her glass. And then she sees his eyes.

He feels like a proper adult, being at a dinner party in his married friends’ brand new apartment. He brought them a bottle of champagne to christen the place with, because his mum always told him it’s the polite thing to do, bringing a gift, even if they don’t ask.

He doesn’t expect it all to be so formal, considering the parties he goes too are usually, like, drunken dance parties at clubs or friends’ condos (or his own), or hotel and festival parties on tour. He doesn’t ever think he’s seen his name on a place card that wasn’t for an award show before.

He also hates that he’s the only single person here, apparently. He didn’t think to ask about bringing someone when he first got the invite. It’s not like he has anyone to bring. Finding a date last minute isn’t exactly easy when you’re busy all day doing tour promo.

He makes his way to the dining room, and slides into his assigned seat next to his friends Margo and Chris, who are wrapped around each other because the apartment has ‘such romantic ambiance’. Shawn wants to gag, just a little.

He’s pouring himself a glass of white wine from the bottle he found on his way to the table, when he feels movement next to him, sees it out of the corner of his eye. He slides the bottle of wine away and sips at his glass.

He doesn’t want to look over just yet, partly because Chris is saying something about the guitar he’s refurbishing for Shawn, and partly because he’s worried it’s another couple he’s gonna have to pretend he’s not agitated by.

But Margo cuts Chris off when she leans towards whoever just sat next to Shawn, her eyes bright. “Lydia! Hi!”

Lydia. Not ‘hey you two!’ Or ‘Lydia and Steve!’ Just Lydia. Shawn looks over.

Lydia manages to sit next to this tall drink of water without rolling an ankle or kicking him under the table, so she considers it a success.

She beams across the table at Margo who is practically sitting in Chris’s lap. She hopes the look on her face is more smile than grimace.

“Hi, guys,” she says brightly, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. She turns to the man sitting next to her and gets a proper look.

He really is gorgeous in an almost ethereal kind of way. His hair is dark and curly and falling over his forehead just so and she can appreciate a man who can style his hair properly. He wears a suit jacket like no one she’s ever seen, including Paul, her incredibly well-dressed gay brother-in-law who could’ve been the sixth Queer Eye guy. She clears her throat, feeling like she recognizes him somehow. Maybe it’ll come to her if she keeps staring at him like she’s planning to do all night.

“Lydia Hamilton,” she murmurs, grinning at him, offering him her hand to shake, “Nice to meet you.”

He’s not staring. He’s not, really. He’s looking, observing. He’s— fucking breathless. Really. He thinks he’s been holding his breath since he caught sight of her bright red hair. Her face doesn’t help. And then she smiles and he actively has to remind himself that he needs to exhale.

He decides he loves the sound of her voice when she says hi to Chris and Margo. He was jealous of them for having each other before, but now he’s jealous of them for knowing her.

He’s about to turn his attention back to Chris so this Lydia doesn’t catch him staring, but he has a hard time looking away. He gets caught.

She turns and looks at him and just smiles brightly, the same way she did for Chris and Margo, and then she introduces herself by offering her hand. He forces himself not to be a moron.

“Shawn,” he replies, curling his large palm around her small hand and shaking gently. Then, “Ah, Mendes. Shawn Mendes. Nice to meet you, too.”

He’s not used to needing to tell people his last name, but Lydia said hers and she’s looking at him like she’s not sure who he is. And that’s different. It’s a little refreshing, actually. His smile comes a little easier.

Shawn Mendes. That’s who he is.

When her brain pinged her that she recognized his face, her assumption wasn’t celebrity. It wouldn’t be, anyway, with this crowd.

But there he is. She knows his name, he’s a musician. He’s a pop star, she’s pretty sure. He’s definitely a little younger than she is, but you wouldn’t know it looking at him. And god, is she looking at him. She tries not to bat her eyelashes like a cougar.

Lydia laces her fingers together and looks over at Margo who is observing them with interest. She looks back at Shawn.

“So how do you know Kristin and Allison?”

He doesn’t mean to eye the full curve of her lower lip, to stare at her mouth so blatantly, to study the freckles dusting her face, but he’s already doing it by the time he realizes it’s happening. It’s like forgetting to breathe when he’s nervous. He can’t help it.

Her words snap him out of it, and he really hopes she didn’t notice. He doesn’t want to creep her out, like a fucking idiot, just because he wants to learn the lines of her face. It’s a nice face. It’s not his fault.

He forces himself to look her in the eye, but that doesn’t really help with the whole remembering how to breathe thing.

“Oh, yeah— well, Kristin helped me customize my studio a couple years back. We’ve been friends ever since. What about you?”

Lydia doesn’t hear any ‘asshole rockstar’ in the way he explains his customized studio so she lets her guard down a little further.

“Oh, uhm, Allison’s in my Ph.D. child psychology program at the university,” she explains, sipping her glass so her hands have something to do other than reaching out and grabbing his. He has such big, beautiful hands.

She hopes the Ph.D. thing doesn’t make her sound like an academic asshole. She figures if she doesn’t say it with her nose in the air like her mother does when she tells people about Lydia’s career path, then she’s usually safe.

Ph.D. Well shit. He might be a little out of his depth, talking to her. She’s beautiful, obviously older, and apparently super smart. What the fuck was Kristin thinking, sitting him next to her?

“So you’re like, really smart, then?” He blurts before he can stop himself, because apparently he’s the Pinky to her Brain.

Lydia tilts her gaze down to her name card when Shawn asks if she’s smart. He does it in that cute boyish way that surprises her because he doesn’t seem entirely comfortable to be chatting with her. It’s sweet and unexpected. She would be expecting more of an arrogant Justin Bieber vibe from him and instead she’s getting boy next door. It’s refreshing.

She leans in a little closer as the noise in the room picks up. Everyone’s sitting down now and the caterers are bringing salads. Kristin and Allison really did go all out.

“I’m smart, but I’m not a freaky brainiac,” she assures him, wanting to make him comfortable around her. Some people assume her graduate education means she has a stick up her ass, but she doesn’t.

“You’re a musician,” she says dumbly, blinking at him for a moment. She readjusts when Margo giggles into Chris’s neck.

“I mean, I’ve heard your music. Margo, we’ve heard his music, right?” She raises her eyebrows across the table at her friend who looks way too amused. And who clearly knew this guy was coming and didn’t warn Lydia about sitting next to a fucking Adonis at dinner. It’s so Margo it hurts.

His ears go pink when she figures out who he is, says she’s heard his music. He chokes out a chuckle, looks down at his name card and moves his wine glass in a few small circles on the tablecloth as Lydia asks Margo about him.

“I mean, I get some radio play, so. Maybe you have.”

They’re distracted from their introductory small talk when they tune in to Margo telling a story about a time Chris drunk dialed her in college. Lydia’s giggling and feeling the wine go to her head already. She hasn’t been drinking much lately, too busy with her head in a book. Maybe she does have a stick up her ass.

She stops paying attention to him as people crowd into the room and Margo starts telling a story.

He’s disappointed, to say the least. So he doesn’t pay attention to the story, instead watches Lydia listen and focuses on the way her cheeks flush as she drinks wine and laughs. It’s a pretty laugh. The prettiest he’s heard, probably.

He barely picks at his salad as he pretends to listen to the couple next to him, more concerned with sneaking glances at the woman next to him. He feels kind of like a creep, but he’s not exactly used to flirting with 20-something Ph.D. students with red hair that reminds him of The Little Mermaid.

He has a hard time thinking of something charming to say. It’s easier with fans, anyway. They already love him. He doesn’t have to work very hard.

As people crowd around the table, she feels squished into Shawn’s side but she’s not complaining. He’s warm and he smells like expensive cologne but not too much. She kind of wants to bury her face in his shoulder.

She pushes her wine glass away for a minute.

He’s worried he’s crowding her too much, but he doesn’t have much room to move, what with 18 people at dining table meant for 16.

His elbow accidentally knocks hers as she’s pushing her wine glass away from her. It wobbles.

“Oh shit-“ he murmurs, reaching forward to steady the glass. He lets out a sigh, then glances at Lydia with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I just—“ he laughs, “I’m worried Kristen might send me to the kid’s table if I get wine on her tablecloth.”

Lydia reaches for her tipping wine glass but Shawn grabs it and swears under his breath. She grins watching his long fingers wrap around her glass and push it to where she was going to leave it.

She busts into a girlish giggle when he cracks a joke. She worries it sounds a little overdone like she’s trying to flirt with him. She isn’t -- he’s just really fucking cute.

“Good reflexes. Did you play sports?”

He makes her laugh. He didn’t even think it was that funny, but she laughs and he feels like it’s his greatest accomplishment yet.

He blushes a little and shrugs, “Some soccer, but I spent most of my time trying to get my hands on instruments. Which, you know, requires its own sort of quick reflexes, I think.”

She tries not to think too hard about him playing soccer because he’s tall and looks to be all lean muscle and she has a thing for soccer players as it is.

“What about you? Are you all school, all the time?”

She hums and goes to answer him when Margo pipes up.

“Yes!”

Lydia looks playfully offended. “What are you talking about? I’m so fun! I went to Paint Night at that bar with you guys like… two weeks ago!”

Margo fixes her with a look. “Lyd, that was two months ago.”

Lydia sulks. “Fine. I used to be fun. I’m just busy I guess. I bet you are too.”

He figures getting a Ph.D. is like a full time job, so it makes sense that that’s all she has time for. He feels kind of bad for asking, now, just because he didn’t mean to put Lydia on the spot.

He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with a full schedule. And with jerks like Margo thinking I’m lame for it.”

He ignores Margo’s little “Hey!” from beside him, preferring to keep his focus on Lydia.

He keeps cracking jokes and she keeps giggling like she’s in high school and talking to the cute quarterback. She finds herself noticing little things he does that fascinate her and she figures it’s her psychology background picking up on his body language.

She licks her lower lip and reaches for her wine again. “So are you working on music right now or?”

He tries not to let himself stare at her pink tongue when it darts out to wet her lip before she sips her wine. He’s not sure he’s successful, even though he’s trying to focus on her nose instead.

For some reason her question makes him blush. It’s not the question, really, but the person who’s asking it. He finishes chewing a bite of salad as he nods.

“Yeah, I mean I just finished my next album. So right now I’m mostly deciding on singles and doing tour promo. It’s the more boring part than like, actually writing music, but also a really exciting part.”

He can’t help but babble. Finishing an album is the best feeling in the world.

If he won’t stop blushing, she’s going to keep staring at him. And she doesn’t mind that so much especially with the way he’s looking at her all wide-eyed and hopeful. No one’s looked at her that way in a while.

She doesn’t really know anything about music production or what he means when he says it’s boring and exciting at the same time but he’s getting animated and she likes it.

“So does that mean you’re going on tour soon?”

“Beginning of June, yeah. I guess that’s pretty soon,” he says with a breath. “Shit, yeah, sooner than I remember.”

He likes that she seems genuinely interested, and not just interested because he’s famous. It’s like his celebrity status isn’t of much consequence to her, and he likes it. Usually the only girls who flirt with him are ones who want bragging rights or a photo op.

“But that’s— I mean, let’s talk about you, instead. If that’s okay.”

Lydia is a little thrown when he asks to talk about her. She’s trying to remember the last time someone, a male someone, said that to her. She’s drawing a blank.

The entrees arrive and Lydia is grateful for something to fiddle with as she pokes around with her fork, taking tiny ladylike bites like she learned at cotillion before her debutante ball. She remembers her posture and straightens her shoulders.

“Ok. Other than Ph.D. student and favorite of Margo’s to mock, what do you want to know about me?” she hums, leaning into him a little, experimentally. She lets her arm rest against his at the tightly-packed dining table.

He feels a lump form in his chest when she leans into him, her arm sliding against the length of his as they sit almost as closely as the actual couples at this table with them.

Shawn laughs. “Well, I think I’m actually Margo’s favorite person to mock, but we can argue about that later.”

He doesn’t even pretend to pick at his entree, just watches Lydia eat instead. “Are you from Toronto?”

It’s a boring question, but it’s better than asking, ‘What do you look like when you come?’ Or ‘Do you like breakfast in bed?’

She feels very well attended to. He’s not even eating he’s so interested in what she’s saying. She loves feeling so terribly fascinating. It makes her feel sexy and sophisticated, two things she’s not all too familiar with feeling.

She smiles warmly. “I’m from Baltimore, actually,” she tucks some hair behind her ear and shrugs, “My parents are still there and I have a brother in Boston. Most of my family is in New England. They’re all very ashamed of the fact that I’m a diehard Orioles fan.”

American. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks that’s sexy. But maybe he just thinks anything about her is sexy, because he’s pretty sure Baltimore isn’t a particularly sexy place.

He laughs a little and shrugs, finally lifting his fork to stab at a piece of chicken. “Well, I know next to nothing about baseball, so I’m okay with the Orioles thing, if that makes you feel any better.”

Lydia is feeling great. She bites her lower lip as she brings her glass back up to sip at it. She decides to turn it up a little.

“Well, good, because we’re definitely the only single people at this table, so I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot over something like baseball.” Her voice is light and teasing and just a little sexy if she played it right.

Her voice wraps around him like silk, and he feels his heart stuttering in his chest. Everything she says sends shivers down his spine. He watches her lips press against her wine glass and he wishes they were pressing against his lips, instead.

Christ, he’s fucking pathetic. He barely knows her. He’s sure she’s definitely not thinking about kissing him.

“Ok. Ask me something else,” she murmurs, tilting her head at him.

He has to take a sip of his own wine to wet his drying tongue.

“Okay. Why child psychology?”

He asks her her favorite question. She tries not to watch him swallow but he has a really nice neck. She sweeps a wave of curls off her own neck to show off her warm expanse of white skin above her off-the-shoulder dress.

“Because kids are the closest thing we have to magic. So if I can help them, understand them, maybe protect them, then I find that fulfilling.”

He doesn’t get what she means and he feels stupid for wanting her to explain it. But it’s also her profession of choice, so she probably doesn’t mind talking about it. He just hopes he doesn’t come off ignorant, or like a kid himself.

“I thought, like, chemistry or something was the closest we have to magic,” he says with a crooked smile. “And personally, I think it’s music.”

Shawn argues her point gently and not in that horrible mansplain-y way some guys do. He has a differing opinion and he doesn’t mind sharing it. It’s very sexy.

“Music is great. Music is amazing. But kids are the world’s whole future. Their imaginations are as vivid as they’ll ever be. Kids haven’t had the chance to fuck up yet. They haven’t hurt anyone. Kids are magic.”

She finishes the last bite of her food and tries not to look at him like he’s dessert.

He thinks, maybe, he’s in love with her. She’s articulate in a way he hopes to be, tries to be, but she’s effortless with it. Plus, she’s passionate. He still thinks music is the most magical thing they have as mere mortals, but he’s extremely close to conceding, and not just for the sake of flirting.

“Well shit,” he murmurs with a gentle laugh, then takes another sip of wine. He wets his lips after he swallows and chances a glance at her. “Maybe you have a point there.”

She’s looking at him already when he looks over at her. She almost gets distracted by him licking his lips. She smiles, satisfied.

“Oh good, my ‘kids are magic’ routine has another convert,” she jokes, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs toward him. She looks around the table and sees the couples deep in conversation. She’s quiet for a minute, observing. She reaches up to fiddle with her necklace.

He tries to busy himself with food when there’s a lull in the conversation, but then he feels her shift next to him, sees her angling herself more towards him and he’s done for. He reaches for wine instead.

“I can’t believe I’m at an age where I’m getting invited to dinner parties instead of keg parties. It’s a little disheartening, actually.”

He laughs a little when she speaks again. Something brave inside of him makes him mirror her actions, and he shifts in his seat until he’s facing her a bit more.

“I mean,” he begins as he sets his wine down, “I know about a couple of messy ragers going on tonight, if that’s really the scene you prefer.”

Lydia grins for a second when he turns closer to her. It’s like their unofficial, unspoken signal that they’re not interested in the rest of the party. They’ve found who they want to spend their evening with and they’re going to stick together.

Lydia subtly glances down at herself as plates of tiramisu are passed around. She adjusts the dipping strap of her dress and giggles. “Not in this dress, pal.”

He loves tiramisu, and he hasn’t had much of an appetite for anything else, so he decides to tackle a bit of the dessert.

He’s chewing when Lydia reaches down to tug at her dress, and he lets himself scan her body, just for a moment.

“What do you mean?” He asks when he swallows, smirking a bit before continuing, “I think you look great. I’m sure you’d be very popular.”

‘Great’ is possibly the biggest understatement of the century, but Shawn’s trying to play it cool. He doesn’t need her knowing how pathetic he is by waxing poetic about the way her dress clings to her in all the right places.

Lydia lifts and lowers her shoulders, fluffing out her hair again. She eyes him.

“I happen to agree, I really like this dress, so I won’t be wearing it to a messy rager. My messy rager uniform in college was ripped skinny jeans and a ratty band t-shirt, I don’t know if that’s what the kids are wearing these days.”

She laughs it off but she feels a little weird, having said it. She doesn’t really want to point out to Shawn that her rager days are largely behind her, even if she’s the one who brought it up.

He feels his throat go tight because yeah. Tight, ripped jeans and tattered shirt probably looks really good on her. He tries not to choke on his dessert.

“I’m sure you look just as gorgeous in jeans and a shirt, so. I don’t think it matters what everyone else is wearing.”

He hopes he sounded as cool and casual as he was going for, because the way his heart thumps in his chest feels anything but cool or casual.

His compliment burns in her cheeks. She swallows the last bite of her little cake and grins at him through the sugar rush. “Thank you,” she hums.

He’s definitely flirting with her and she doesn’t really care, for the moment, that he’s a legitimate celebrity with millions of Instagram followers. She’s totally developing a little crush. Lydia hasn’t had a crush in forever. She’s not letting go of this feeling.

“But who needs a rager when you have tiramisu?” she almost moans through a bite of cake.

He watches her lips wrap around the tines of the fork as she eats her dessert. He almost moans, like a disgusting pervert. He takes a sip of wine to cool down.

“Tiramisu and some good company,” he murmurs, glancing at her as the corner of his lips tug up into a gentle smile.

They stay at the table longer than most of the other guests, talking and drinking. He makes her laugh a few more times and he decides he never wants to stop hearing the sound.

The party starts to wrap up and she’s sorry it does. She wants to see him again. With a little wine courage in her blood, as he helps her slide into her jacket by the front door, two of the last guests to leave, she flips her hair outside the coat and steadies her gaze on his.

“So, Shawn, can I get your number?”

As they walk to the door, he’s trying to come up with a cool, charming way to maybe get her number when she beats him to it. He flushes, because he didn’t ever think she’d ask.

“You— Yeah! I mean, yeah, no problem. Can I see your phone?”

Lydia loves the little stammer in his voice when he asks for her phone. She hands it over, complete with glittery pink case and a picture of Camden Yards as her lock screen.

Lydia likes being the one to get a number rather than give hers. She’s in control that way. She doesn’t get to be in control of much, usually, but she likes being the one someone’s waiting on.

Not that she imagines she’ll make him wait long. At all.

He types in his number quickly, then presses the home button and notices the baseball diamond on her lock screen. He smirks as he hands the phone.

“You really weren’t kidding about the baseball thing,” he says after they wave goodbye to Kristin and Allison and disappear through the front door together.

“But I guess that’s how I am with hockey.”

Lydia takes the phone back and shoves it in her pocket, wishing she had something else to do with her hands. She wiggles into her leather gloves and perks up when he mentions hockey.

“Hockey? I love hockey. I really like sports in general, honestly. I didn’t really play them growing up but I love watching them.”

They chat a bit more until she’s stopped in front of her old Rav-4 and shivering a little. She leans in to kiss his cheek and decides she’s going to have to distract herself from texting him tonight.

He’s been thinking about her all day. The kiss she’d pressed to his cheek seemed to sear his skin. He catches himself brushing his fingers over the spot again and again.

Lydia’s fidgeting on the couch, trying to study. The stereo is playing Shawn’s album like it has been on repeat all day because, ok, she’s curious and she doesn’t really know many of his songs now that she’s had the chance to look him up.

He hates not having her number. He wants to text her so badly. She asked for his number, so the logical part of him knows she must be intending to text. He just doesn’t know when. The irrational, insecure part of him thinks that maybe she was just being polite, or maybe she’s just looking for a friend, or that she deleted his number the minute they parted ways.

It’s been a few minutes under 24 hours since they met at the party. She had decided she was going to text him tonight anyway but hadn’t set a time for herself. She grabs at her phone and curls her knees in, smiling like an idiot as she crafts a text.

‘Hi! It’s Lydia. How was your day?’

His phone buzzes next to him before he gives himself too much time to spiral downwards into negativity.

‘Oh, hey! Actually not too busy for once, what about you?’

‘Pretty good, a little boring with homework all day so I’m coming to you for entertainment. Can you make me laugh?’

‘Two cookies are in an oven. One cookie says, “Boy it’s hot in here,” so the other cookie says, “Ah!! A talking cookie!!”’

‘Oh my god, I’m a little ashamed at how hard that made me laugh. Is that your go to?’

‘Lol, that’s from like, middle school. I’ve been telling that for years and most people just think it’s stupid.’

‘I’m glad you liked it, though.’

‘I did. I think I’m going a little stir crazy in here. The kids I babysit are on spring break and usually they take up all my energy. I kinda miss them’

‘Isn’t it nice to kind of have a break though?’

'Yeah, it is. And I'll be wishing they were gone when they come back. Do you have siblings?'

‘How old are they?’

‘Oh and yeah, I have a little sister.’

‘Pain in my damn ass, but I love her.’

'Quinn is 4 and Ellie is 6. It's weird being with them sometimes. Everyone always thinks they're my kids.'

'Lucky! I always wanted a little sister. I have a big brother who's married now and I really like his husband so I sort of have 2 brothers.'

‘No way you’re old enough to have kids. I mean. Technically, sure. But you know what I mean!’

‘Little sisters are the best kind of annoying, to be honest.’

'I know! I get all these dirty looks walking around with these kids like people think I got knocked up at 18.'

'And I would trade you Nick for your sister any day. I used to actually put a little sister on my Christmas list for Santa until I was like, 10.'

‘Mom and dad didn’t wanna indulge in that for you?’

‘I guess after two kids, most moms are tapped out.’

'Actually, I was an accident :)'

‘Oh.’

‘Fuck, omg’

‘Well, I think Liyah might’ve been too, so you guys can commiserate.’

'Ha! Is she much younger than you?'

‘She’s 17. Thinks I’m just so lame and embarrassing.’

'Well, to be fair, if she's 17 then you probably are. Plus I bet all her friends have huge crushes on you which doesn't help.'

‘I mean, who wouldn’t have a huge crush on me?’

‘Well. Besides Liyah. Gross.’

'And so humble and charming. Makes the girls swoon.'

‘Even you?’

‘I’m getting there. Would you like that?’

‘I mean’

‘I definitely wouldn’t complain’

‘Good. Maybe if you’re around I’ll see you again soon.’

‘That seems cryptic.’

‘You sure you want to leave it up to chance?’

‘It always works in rom coms. Have you seen Serendipity?’

‘Is that the one with John Cusack?’

‘Also I usually don’t trust life to be much like a romcom’

‘Yes it is the one with John Cusack. And I guess my experience hasn’t been very rom com like either, you have a point.’

‘I guess if I put it out into the universe that I’m usually at the coffee shop on 11th Ave on Wednesdays after my 4pm lecture gets out at 6 then maybe that’ll work.’

'Hm. Yeah, that might help the universe work its shit out a bit better.'

'Have you ever tried the Himalayan place on Yonge?'

‘I have not. Is it good?’

'Oh, it's the best. Staff is super nice and they have the best chocolate croissants in the world.'

‘Oh man you’re speaking my language. I love chocolate croissants!’

‘Yeah? They’re my favorite’

'I bet they're a great study food.'

‘I can’t say I know for sure yet. Should we find out?’

'I'd recommend it. They're great fuel for writing, so I don't see why studying would be any different.'

‘Hmmm. You free this Wednesday?’

'I'm always free for coffee and croissants.'

‘Well, tea.’

‘Perfect! Meet me there at 6:15?’

‘Yeah, totally’

Lydia has a crush. She’d be lying to herself if she says didn’t realize it at the dinner party where she met him. Having coffee with him, however brief, solidified it.

He was taking up a good deal of her attention when she wasn’t either studying or babysitting so she found she didn’t have time, or want to make time, for much else. She’d rather be texting him anyway.

So when she got the invite from Kristin and Allison for sushi and karaoke one Saturday night, she weighed it against cuddling under a blanket with her phone talking to him about nothing and everything. She turned down the invite.

When Margo casually mentioned that he was going, Lydia changed her plans. She walked into that karaoke bar in a clingy black t-shirt dress and her favorite black leather booties.

She might take him home tonight.

He gets to the karaoke bar early because he's so nervous. He figured Lydia would be studying or babysitting this Saturday night, but he'd braved a text to her anyway, asking if she was going. Just in case.

He holds his phone with slightly shaking fingers when she texts back twenty minutes later that, yes, she'll be there. He spends the next hour debating what outfit to wear, even though Saturday is still three days away. He even texts pictures to his stylist for her opinion. She always knows how to make him look his best.

So he's sitting at their booth in the corner, right next to the karaoke stage, nervously chewing on some Edamame when he sees her walk in. He almost chokes. She's always making him almost choke. He needs to just... stop consuming things around her.

He wants to wave her over, but he also doesn't want to look desperate, so instead he pretends he doesn't see her and leans in for another soybean. It almost slips out of his fingers, but his musician's reflexes save his dignity.

He’s fumbling with edamame when she spots him. She tries not to grin too hard at the flush in his cheeks. But he’s so fucking cute and it’s been almost a week since coffee. She find herself feeling a little flustered too, actually.

He sees her approach their group and pass out hugs from the corner of his eye, but he keeps his focus on the food and the sake martini he's nursing. God, he wishes he were cooler. He's supposed to be really cool. He's a fucking rockstar. With fans. Who throw bras at him on stage sometimes. None of that translates, though, when he's in front of her.

She strides over and hugs everyone at the table, saving him for last so she can sit with him. She leans in and whispers “hi” into his ear, leaving a little smudge from her maroon lipstick on his cheek. She swipes it off with her thumb.

“Woops. My bad.”

Then he feels her small hand on his shoulder and her lips on his cheek and his heart stutters in his chest. She whispers in his ear and it's all he can do not to groan like a total idiot. He knows his cheeks are pink but he hopes it's too dark for her to notice.

He laughs a little when she has to wipe some lipstick from his face and finally turns to look at her. She settles next to him and he wonders if it's on purpose or out of convenience. "Hey," he says, "You made it!"

She settles in next to him and orders a cocktail because this place has a bunch of funny, crazy drinks. Hers is fluorescent blue and sporting about 30 paper umbrellas. She sips at it for courage.

The drink she orders is like, bright neon blue and he can't help but laugh at her a little while she struggles to sip around all the umbrellas. "You know, I think a sake bomb would bit lot easier to handle for the same pay off."

She angles her chin around an umbrella to reach her straw. “I know, but I hate sake and I like tiny umbrellas. So Thunderpunch is the drink for me.” She winks at him and bites her straw.

“So, who’s up first to sing?” She angles a glance at him.

She looks at him like she's expecting him to hop up on stage, and he rolls his eyes a bit.

"Don't look at me. Maybe I'm tired of performing, for once," he teases as he quirks an expecting brow and smirks.

The table debates who should sing first. Shawn turns it down which she thinks is cute. She’s not sure if he’s being humble or if he’s just not drunk enough yet. He looks at her expectantly and her eyes bug a little.

“Dude, I just got here, I need, like... 3 more of these before I get on that stage.”

Finally, it’s decided Margo will kick them off because she’s already lit and does a surprisingly good job with “Crazy in Love.”

As she sings, Lydia leans over and swipes a tuna roll off Shawn’s plate with her chopsticks. When he looks up at her, she pops it in her mouth and smirks as she chews.

Lydia gives him this teasing look that makes him feel a little like they’re on a date, and not at a group hang. He rolls his eyes at her and pretends to protect his plate, clicking his tongue at her.

He quirks a brow, says, “That’ll cost ya, you know.”

He reaches over towards her plate with his chopsticks and steals one of her pan fried gyoza. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth then grins at her with a bulging cheek.

Shawn swipes a dumpling and she has to fight the urge to plant a kiss on his cheek as he chews. The Thunderpunch must be hitting her faster than she meant it to.

He swallows the dumpling and wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin before turning slightly, angling himself towards Lydia. “So, should we get you another Thunderpunch so you’ll get up and put on a show for me?”

She raises her eyebrows. “A show for you? It’s tempting, I’ll admit. But I should warn you I really can’t sing. And yes, I will need another Thunderpunch before I pretend to try.”

She waves down the waiter with a big, flirty smile to get what she wants. The second Thunderpunch arrives within minutes and Chris complains that Lydia’s orders always arrive first.

Lydia shrugs a shoulder and eyes Shawn, “It’s all in the art of the flirt, bro.”

She looks at him like they have a secret to share and Shawn feels his face heat up, just a bit. He wants to scoot closer to her, but he also doesn’t want to seem weird or pushy.

He smirks at her instead, tilts his head and says, “Yeah, and I’m sure the fact that you’re beautiful doesn’t hurt, either,” he glances at the waiter, “Dude’s probably hoping for a phone number.”

He doesn’t mean to like, suggest she should give the waiter her number. It’s just probably true. Like, who wouldn’t want Lydia’s number?

Shawn compliments Lydia like he’s stating a very obvious fact. I mean, she knew by the way he treats her that he’s attracted to her, but hearing him say it so simply has her a little giggly. So does the second Thunderpunch.

“He can hope. I don’t see it happening, though.” She’s looking over at the waiter until she finishes speaking, then she moves her glance meaningfully to Shawn. She sucks down the last of her Thunderpunch and hums happily.

He tries not to read into the look Lydia gives him when she says the waiter won’t be getting her number. He doesn’t want to think on it too hard, doesn’t want to let himself believe that maybe she’s not looking to hand out her number because she’s starting to like him the way he likes her.

He orders a beer when the waiter comes back and realizes he had a good deal of drinking to do to catch up with everyone else.

She’s relieved to see Shawn joining in eagerly on the heavy drinking. She can’t wait to hear him sing. She wonders what song he’ll pick.

But now that she’s heavily and thoroughly Thunderpunched, her friends are looking at her expectantly and it’s time to do the damn thing.

Lydia finishes her bright blue drink and pops up like she’s determined to kick karaoke’s ass and Shawn can’t do anything but grin and watch as she makes her way to the stage. He sits back, relaxing against the back of the booth and sipping from him beer as he waits for her song.

She tries not to think about the fact that there’s a gorgeous popstar with actual singing talent sitting at the table watching her as she ascends the stage. The opening notes to “Stronger” by Britney Spears come on and Lydia grins, starting her performance.

“Stronger” starts playing and that’s so fucking awesome, Shawn has to put down his beer so he can applaud. He whistles as she takes the mic.

It’s more of Lydia shout singing and laughing than actually trying to do Britney any justice, but Shawn loves it. He loves watching her have fun. He loves watching her smile and flush and dance around like she doesn’t give a shit who’s watching.

He really hopes she’s starting to like him the way he so totally and completely already likes her.

She’s not going to be on Broadway any time soon but if it’s a show he wanted, it’s a show he got.

She’s still panting and giggling when she returns from the table, high fiving all her friends as they cheer her on. She saves his reaction for last.

She tilts her head at him and wiggles her eyebrows. She squishes into the booth next to him and orders another Thunderpunch from the very attentive waiter who looks annoyed at how close she’s sitting to Shawn.

He’s laughing and clapping when Lydia comes back to the table, high-fiving their friends along the way. She reaches him last and he feels his heart rattle his ribcage as he smiles up at her, his cheeks aching at this point.

She squeezes in next to him and it’s the alcohol coursing through his veins and the adrenaline from watching her dance around that has him casually draping his arm across the back of the booth close to her shoulders. Nearly touching. One little shift and they’d be touching.

“Ok, Mr. Mendes, were you satisfied with your show?”

He nods eagerly at her question. The bar is loud again as another person gives it a go with an *NSYNC song, so Shawn has to lean into her as he nearly shouts, “Better than Britney, herself, Hamilton!”

She laughs heartily, buoyed by his warm arm so close to her buzzing body. She leans back a little into it.

“That’s very generous. And total bullshit.”

She thanks the waiter when he brings her drink. She crosses her legs toward Shawn and claps for the poor sap who tried to do *NSYNC.

He grins when she calls his crap, but then he shakes his head and wets his lips. He looks at her seriously as he says, “Art is subjective, Lydia. They didn’t teach you that at Brown?”

He winks at her as he sits back a little and sips his beer, realizing mid-sip that now his arm is actually resting against her back. Suddenly, he feels way too hot.

God, he’s winking and joking and teasing her and her whole body is bubbling with it. She wants to kiss him right there in front of everyone, put her hands all over his body. She’s definitely drunk now but she’d still be lusting after him if she were sober, she knows.

“Ok,” Lydia prompts, nudging him with her elbow, “You’re up, cowboy.”

He’s setting his beer down when Lydia nudges him. He shakes his head a little at first.

“I’m not much of a singer,” he says facetiously, giving her a teasing glance.

“But, you know, if you insist,” he forces himself to stand, even though he’s drunk and definitely nervous. And not because of performing, but who he’s performing for.

‘Valerie’ by Amy Winehouse begins to play as Shawn takes his place at the mic. He tries not to stare at her while he sings, and instead plays to the crowd. His heart hammers the whole time.

Lydia scooches out of his way so he can take the stage. It’s a little comical how clearly he belongs there. He doesn’t have a guitar or 30,000 screaming women but he has that fucking voice that has Lydia wet in her panties. She crosses her legs tighter each time he catches her eyes while he sings, closing his eyes when he gets into it, caressing the microphone.

She has to stifle a moan. Margo elbows her in the ribs. Lydia giggles until he sits back down to thunderous applause, not just from their table, but from the whole bar.

She claps for him, smiles wide when he ambles back over to the table as the crowd cheers for him. He squishes himself beside her once more, even though there’s another, wider spot at the other side of the table he could settle into.

“Ok, you threw down the gauntlet,” Lydia laughs, shaking her head at him.

“I mean, you were taunting me,” he says with a smirk, turning towards her and not bothering to pretend he’s not leaning into her on purpose. His arm settles confidently across the back of the booth, pressing gently into her shoulders, and it’s definitely thanks to the alcohol.

Lydia licks her lips and narrows her eyes, tucking some wilting red curls behind her ear. “Honey, if you think that was taunting, wait until you get me started.”

She flutters her eyelashes at him playfully over her glass as she sucks down the last of her third Thunderpunch.

“So are you gonna answer?” He leans in so close his nose nearly brushes her cheek. He pulls back, only slightly, so he can look her in her pretty green eyes. His stomach flips and he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. She’s so fucking beautiful.

He’s talking so close to her ear, baiting her. She wants to turn and nip at his lower lip to teach him a lesson. Instead, she stares into those delightfully bleary honey brown eyes for a few seconds too long before she turns to the table.

“Who wants to see my party trick?” she calls. Chris’s eyes widen as the rest of the table cheers.

Lydia stands, grinning again, giving Shawn one last lingering look before she heads back to the stage.

Margo nudges Shawn’s arm, shaking her head, and laughs, “You’re gonna love this.”

The whole table cheers for Lydia, and all he can do is smile like the drunk idiot he is and stare at her as she makes her way up onto the stage. He has no fucking clue what her party trick could be.

In college, Lydia was known at parties for two things: 1. She could never remember that she hated gin until she drank it and almost spit it up 2. She could rap Eminem’s “Without Me” flawlessly from start to finish.

He nearly spits out his beer when she starts rapping. She’s not even looking at the screen. She’s playing to the crowd and looking at him and he feels his cheeks go fire red as he cheers her on. She’s doing more than justice to the song, and Shawn swears he’s never had a bigger crush on anyone in his entire life.

The liquor helped her put a flourish on it for him. She has the whole joint singing with her. She leaves the stage to raucous cheers and returns to the table. Standing in front of Shawn, she drops her nonexistent mic.

He laughs at her as she drops an imaginary mic in front of him, and it’s not even a competition anymore. He shakes his head and claps for her as she squeezes back into the seat beside him.

She felt like a rockstar coming back to the table. Is this what he feels like coming off stage every night? This is awesome.

He drapes his arm once more across the booth and her shoulders, leaning in as he shouts over the crowd, “I didn’t know you were secretly a gangster!”

He must be drunker than he thought because his free hand finds her bare knee as he speaks, and he doesn’t even realize it until his thumb’s already busy rubbing circles against her soft skin.

“I did it at parties in college. Made me very popular at frats,” she tells him, almost hissing when his hand meets her knee. He doesn’t even seem to notice he’s done it.

She’s looking between the curls falling on his forehead and his slightly parted wet lips. She swallows.

“HEY!” Margo yells at them like she’s been trying to get their attention for a minute.

Lydia looks over, annoyed. Margo smirks. “We’re doing ‘Island in the Sun.’ But by all means, you two stay here.”

Margo marches off to the stage before Lydia can react. She looks back at Shawn and strokes a hand over his wrist while he continues rubbing her leg.

He hears Margo shout at him but he can’t bring himself to look away from Lydia’s flushed cheeks and full lips. Her eyes shift to their friend, but Shawn keeps watching her. He smiles a little when she gives him her attention again and places her small hand over his wrist. He presses his thumb a little harder on her skin and tugs his lower lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Lydia’s confident smile drops a little when she watches from a close distance as he bites down on his lower lip while he’s staring at her. Like she’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” she murmurs even though the bar has only gotten louder.

He laughs a little, but he nods his head and says hi back. He feels some of his hair fall against his forehead, that one obnoxious curl that always falls down when he’s been bopping a little too hard.

He glances down at her lips for just a moment, then finds her eyes once again. He wants to kiss her. He needs to. His throat is tight and his skin feels too hot wrapped around his muscles, but he manages to find his voice, anyway.

His brows furrow slightly, his head tilting as he asks, “Can I kiss you? Please?”

If she were sober, she’d have noticed that she actually whimpers at the way he looks at her lips. Instinctively, she licks them, getting ready. Before he even asks his question, her free hand is creeping up his shoulder to hold her steady.

Her chest shudders. She grins, feeling confident again when his unflinching politeness strikes again. She brushes her nose over his and nods, choosing not to trust her voice for this.

Her body language almost begs him to kiss her, but he still feels a sense of relief wash over him when she nods her approval, her nose brushing against his in a way that has his heart clenching. He groans a gentle sigh and nudges his face forward.

He seems to sigh in relief when she gives him permission and it may just be the most adorable thing he does all night.

His lips slide against hers and he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe. She tastes like soy sauce and alcohol and he has to pull his hand from her knee so he can cup her jaw, steadying himself against her.

He sips at her lips while the bar raves around them, but he can’t hear it. He can only hear the way his lips move against hers and the way his heart thumps loudly against his ribcage. It makes a pretty melody, he thinks.

The kiss isn’t adorable. The kiss is fucking incredible. Maybe they’re both kinda drunk and full of karaoke adrenaline, but it’s quite a kiss. She’s definitely not ready for it to end when he starts to pull away.

So she doesn’t. She loops a hand around his neck and drags him back under, tracing the seam of his perfect lips with her tongue because she needs more, she needs to get closer.

She pulls him back in with a small yet firm hand on the back of his neck. This time he lets himself groan properly as her tongue teases his lips. He opens his mouth for her, let’s her lick at him before he sucks gentle at her wandering tongue.

When he groans into her mouth, she scratches a manicured thumbnail gently across the back of his neck.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t initially have concerns that he might not be any good at this. At kissing or at anything else. He’s young and even though he’s hot and famous, he might not have had time to get good with a woman’s body yet. And, hell, being hot and famous gives him more of an excuse not to have to try.

But Shawn has put the work in. She can tell. He’s got a big hand in her hair and she suddenly feels very safe with him, like he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

It takes all of his willpower not to wrap her up in his arms and pull her onto his lap. He grounds himself by pushing his hand into her hair and grazing his fingers over her scalp. He hums into her mouth, leaning forward into the kiss so she has to lean back against the booth to accommodate him.

He presses into her and she’s pinned, not aggressively, between him and the peeling fake leather booth and there’s nowhere she’d rather be.

He only breaks the kiss to pant for air. He keeps close to her though, keeps his hand in her hair and his nose pressed to hers as his eyes flutter open and his check heaves.

“So are you good at everything? Or are school, rapping, and kissing your specialities?”

She almost chases him again when he parts from her to talk but she manages to keep her cool. She takes the hand still resting on his wrist to place it on his cheek. It might be too affectionate so soon but she doesn’t care right now.

She stops herself from making a comment about definitely being good at everything, wink wink, if ya know what I mean. Instead she grins and brushes their noses together again.

“I also skateboard pretty well. Or I used to. I haven’t tried in a bit.”

She doesn’t want to get distracted by more small talk so she pulls him back in as their friends’ song ends.

She kisses him again and he takes it easily, sighing against her lip. His head buzzes but he’s not sure it’s from the alcohol anymore. People keep singing, the bar keeps cheering, and they kiss right through it. They’re in the back, basically in the corner, so it’s not out in the open enough for Shawn to be worried.

Eventually Margo makes her way back to the table and Shawn can feel her squishing into the seat next to him while she hollers at them. He pulls away from Lydia’s lips with a blush on his face and drops his forehead to her shoulder. He hides from Margo while she cackles and tells them they should get a room.

“This is a room,” he shouts over the music from his spot on Lydia’s shoulder.

He feels Margo’s elbow dig into his back as she huffs, “You know what I mean!” All he can do is laugh and keep hiding because now he is thinking about a room, alone, with Lydia, and all the things he could do to her. Or that she could do to him. Whatever she wants, really.

Lydia definitely doesn’t notice when their booth fills back up with their friends who have now caught them and fuck, they’re never gonna live this down. Lydia jumps a little when Margo runs up and starts wailing at them about PDA. She feels his forehead meet her shoulder and she can’t help but cradle the back of his head.

He stays there against her arm for a while like a shy child. Lydia plays with the collar of his shirt while half-watching another group sing We Are Family. She’s barely able to make it through the song without looking over and grinning at him like an idiot.

Lydia lets him keep his face pressed to the junction of her shoulder for the next few minutes while their friends chat, holler, and cheer for the group on stage. He likes it, being tangled up in her while her delicate fingers play with the collar of his shirt. His heart clenches.

Finally, the song ends and Lydia can’t take it anymore. She wriggles away from him and stands, addressing the table.

“It’s been fun, guys, but it’s past my bedtime. Margo, thank you for organizing. Uhm, so, bye.”

Before he can get too comfortable, however, Lydia extracts herself from him, slipping out of the booth as she stands up. He frowns, just for the briefest of moments, as he sits himself up and looks at her while she bids the group goodbye. It’s awkward and sudden and for a second he wonders what he did wrong.

Just to be safe, because he seems too sweet to catch her drift without her really throwing it at him, she fixes him with a look and even a little head jerk toward the door before she strides off.

But then she’s looking at him and jerking her head a little. It’s like, the kind of jerking nod that you give when you want someone to follow you. He kind of thinks he’s imagining it. She stalks away from them and disappears through the doors of the restaurant, leaving him to wonder if she really meant for him to follow or if he’s just desperate (re: drunk) enough to have hallucinated it.

He waits maybe 15 seconds before deciding to follow her, hallucination or not. He says a pathetically quick goodbye and practically runs out of the restaurant, scanning the sidewalk when he emerges outside.

Lydia doesn’t have to wait long for him but it is one of the longest minutes of her life. Because if he didn’t get it, she’s going to have to go in after him. Because she really, really wants to take him home.

But, thank god, he scrambles out the door looking for her. Her face bursts into an overeager smile and she gives him a little wave with one hand, Lyft app open on her phone in the other.

“Subtlety is not our strong suit, Mendes,” she teases, glancing around the sidewalk. No ones around because it’s late but she’s suspicious of camera phones anyway. She doesn’t really care but she figures he’d prefer a low profile going home with someone.

Because she’s taking him home. God, she can’t wait.

The Lyft arrives. She opens the door and climbs in, leaving it open. “Shall we?”

Taglist: @softboyshawn @marlahey @smallerinfinities @crapri @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @abigfatmess @sippingchai @lostinshawnslight

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes rpf #shawn mendes roleplay #shawn mendes imagine

496 notes · View notes

bethygauw · 6 years ago

Text

[1/2] Online B’s-Log Interview with Satoru Kuwabara

Update: - (2 Sep 2020) Correction “ When we started making the unit songs, we didn’t make hip hop songs, afraid that the female players may stab us” --> “When we started making the unit songs, we didn’t make hip hop songs, afraid that it wouldn’t resonate with the female players”

* * *

Released 4 June 2018

Original source Part 1 The original article has pictures that complement well so please check it out too.

B’s-Log started a new project, “Creator Touch”, an interview series with creators of popular series. The first person they interviewed was Satoru Kuwabara, the music producer of Ensemble Stars!.

In this first half of the interview, they asked about how Kuwabara started to get involved with Enstars unit songs. Kuwabara also talked about the points he focused on in the song series that have been released so far. (~2.8k words)

In the second half, they talked about song numbers that left the biggest impression on Kuwabara, the 3D live concert, the voice actor live concert and Enstage. (~2.2k words)

Some of the info has already been published somewhere before, so this may be a repetition to some. But otherwise, it can be a refresher as well. Enjoy!

Q: Kuwabara-san, you’re also Arte Refact’s representative. Could you tell us what your job entails?

K: As part of Arte Refact, my work revolves around anime and game music. It doesn’t mean that I’m not working with other genres at all, but Arte Refact is basically a company where people who love anime and games gather around. So we want to surround ourselves in that world and conform to it as much as we can.

Q: Could you tell us what started your involvement in Enstars unit songs?

K: Before the game release, a person I was indebted to gave me a tip, “There’s this game that’s coming up,” he said, and showed me the proposal and illustrations. I had a look at it and thought, “I really want to do this!” If I remember it correctly, it was around about the start of the preregistration period, so the only information I had in hand was that it had the high school idol theme and idol units. It also had a simple description of each character and a main theme song. I was sure that they would already have songs for the units prepared as well, so when I was given the chance to introduce myself to Happy Elements, I made some unit songs while expecting to be shot down. There were 8 announced units, so I visualized and prepared 2 songs for each unit and went to present.

Q: This was before the game even started… So you made these songs with so little information to go on with.

K: The unit that I misunderstood the most was fine. It’s pronounced like “fee-nay”, which is different from the English pronunciation of “fain”, right? I ended up making a song with lots of the “fain” version in the lyrics (laugh). Other than that, I thought the “bits” in Ra*bits referred to, say, 1bit, so I thought that maybe their songs have lots of pinging sounds like those in a game. Turns out I was completely wrong for both (laugh). On the contrary, Trickstar, UNDEAD, and Ryuseitai were easy to figure out and I remember that it was a smooth process.

Q: Among the songs that you presented, were there any that actually got released as unit songs?

K: I think it would be Knights’ Checkmate Knights and Ryuseitai’s The Unrivaled☆Meteoranger!. Although we remade those after receiving the units’ proper background setting.

Q: You have been playing the actual game. Can you tell us your first impression or what it is about the game that attracted you?

K: My true first impression would be during the pre-release, but I thought that their illustrations were nice, generally speaking. In general, the art in a female-oriented series has that touch that doesn’t sit too well with guys. But Enstars feels like anime and its head count for the character design is actually pretty close to that of a real person and without being deformed in any weird way. So it’s also easy for guys to accept. When I first saw the illustration, it gave me a gush of inspiration and I could keep churning out songs. But after the game got released and I started playing, my impression shifted to, “It’s this dark?” (laugh) If I had to choose, male-oriented series have a fundamentally happy atmosphere and not many would delve into the characters’ upbringing or pasts. Even if they do, they only do it lightly or they would only touch on some characters with a considerably rough past… just like that. But pretty much all Enstars characters have something that they’re worried about, right? That’s what makes female-oriented and male-oriented series different, and what I think makes Enstars attractive.

I think of them as idols and create.

Q: Can you tell us specifically how you make these songs?

K: All units have already had a few songs released by now, so I would start from thinking about what kind of songs a particular unit would need next, while also taking their previous songs into account. I have the image within my mind that these characters are alive. My way of thinking will also change depending on the unit and the CD’s month of release. Take Ryuseitai’s album as an example (released on 7 March 2018). It was released around the “Repayment Festival”, so it had a White Day theme. If there are songs made based on established event stories, there are also those made simply because we wanted to make this kind of songs—the origin may vary. But if I know a lyricist who fits the image of a particular song, the first thing I’ll do is to place an order with that said lyricist.

Q: How do these lyrics come about?

K: Our main lyricists are Youhei Matsui-san and Saori Kodama-san. Enstars had its 3rd anniversary and at this point, a lot of content has been fleshed out. We want someone who understands the story and won’t cause discrepancies in the lyrics, so in the end it’s difficult to ask someone who isn’t used to the series. If I do ask someone other than those two, it’s often the case that I think their usual writing style fits a particular unit.

Q: An example would be how Arika Takarano-san from ALI PROJECT worked on Valkyrie’s Bewitching Theater.

K: Exactly. I asked Takarano-san beforehand that we may cause her a lot of trouble and may ask her to retake so many times and if she was alright with that, but she still said that she was going to do it. And in actuality, it was accepted without any revision so it was really cool!

Q: I believe there would be a lot of fans out there who would listen to one song and think, “This is the feel that this unit has, huh!” and then would get surprised by the approach of another song. But it was actually just the perfect balance. How do the artists begin their work on the songs and the lyrics?

K: It goes without saying, but Matsui-san and Kodama-san play the game as well. There are times when they come up with a selection of scenes because they want to write about those parts. The lyricists rely heavily on the script, but on the other hand the composers have told me that they make progress when they are given visuals. It’s really easy to understand when you look at an illustration, "so this is going to be a song where this character sings with this kind of expression, huh.” I’ve heard that the event CGs are their most helpful reference.

Q: Rather than a 2-dimensional character, they imagine that it’s a real singing idol as they make the songs.

K: That’s what I do—I think of them as idols who really exist as I make the songs. I don’t even think of them as game characters anymore. I’d say things like, “Hey check this out, this kind of song is nice, don’t you think? What? The pitch is too high for you? Nah, I know you can do it. You can, can’t you?” (laugh)

The 3rd season’s theme is “Love”!

Q: So far, the series has released 3 seasons of CD singles and right now the album series is ongoing, with one album being released after another. Could you tell us their concepts and any fixation you had on each series? To start with, how was the first season?

K: The first season was something that we made with zero-based budgeting, so in that sense, it was probably where I participated like a music producer the most*. In the first season I was being rather pushy about my opinion on how this particular song would definitely suit this or that unit. It was also because Happy Elements was not used to music production, so if I was hesitating, they would too. I thought that it would be better to give out a clear-cut proposal, so I told myself to express my opinion properly while also offering some options.

*[T/L note] I wasn’t sure if this would make sense to the readers since I still translated it quite literally, but basically since the unit song series just started out they didn’t have much luxury to call out to other composers/lyricists like they do now, so they had to use the limited resources (and human resources) to the best they could. Please note that this is my interpretation since the whole original sentence looked pretty vague to me.

Q: I feel that the first season is filled with many songs that exude each unit’s character and public image.

K: Personally that’s my intention. That being said, to be honest we started making the songs when the game was not even out yet. We didn’t know how far we could experiment with these songs. We also didn’t know if there was going to be season 2. So, of course we wanted to make more, but if there was no second season, we decided to make songs that would make these units complete. We wanted these songs to be popular too, so we made a lot of up-tempo songs that have a good beat. But I also wanted to make some ballads, so I included Checkmate Knights for Knights and Love Letter of the Brilliance of Cherry Blossoms for Akatsuki.

Q: Now, onto the second season. Some units have songs with a different taste compared to those from the first season. Did you intend to show another side to them that you couldn’t in the first season?

K: Let’s see. Now that the fans are aware of these unit songs, we started the second season by creating songs meant to be something original and asking artists we would like to place an order with. I had the impression that my job was to materialize the unit image that Happy Elements had in mind. If they had artists whom they would like to work with, I’d go around making offers, become the middleman, and suggest to brush up some parts of a song as we record the music. That was the kind of job I did. But among that, I think I let myself loose quite a bit when making songs for Valkyrie and Switch, who joined from the second season.

Q: How about the third season?

K: After observing the audience reception until the second season and receiving fans’ responses, we made songs “that are needed” and “that it should be like this!” on top of putting the unit members into consideration. The hidden theme of the third season is “Love”. Basically, there’s “Love” on the A-side. It can be love for their fans, or for their friends—it varies. Even though the word “Love” itself is not used in the songs, they still have “Love” as their theme.

Q: This makes me want to listen to them once again to find some “Love”…! Then, what about the album series that are ongoing right now?

K: The theme for these albums are “Presents”. It’s a thanks to the fans of course, but it’s also a thanks to their supportive friends. I want to make something that everyone can enjoy, so basically there are a lot of songs with lyrics that are filled with gratitude. It also has something akin to the third season’s “Love”, but that’s what idols are! I think fans would be happier to receive love that’s almost excessive (laugh).

Q: The albums also include the idols’ solo songs.

K: To many of the voice actors in the first season, it was their first time recording a song, so we talked a lot before we began to record. There were 8 units at that time and I was talking with this kind of feeling, “I want to make something that can get each of the unit up on the Budokan stage for 8 days and on the last day I want to see everyone perform at Tokyo Dome together. So let’s make lots and lots of songs!” The voice actors were really happy about that and they sang for us. So to me it felt like it’s the long-awaited solo songs.

Q: Especially with these solo songs, I can feel that you understand a fan’s mentality and the characters really well!

K: It’s because I love everyone (laugh). I also think of them as real people while creating. I think I do as I please during the recording, like suggesting that we should change the lyrics because I don’t think he will say this kind of thing for example (laugh). I also dare to play around with the song and rip things apart. Although I would also record a few versions and present it to Happy Elements to see which they would prefer, like, “(I think this one here is better but) what do you think?” (laugh) Also, I wouldn’t change the rough outline of the songs I receive, but I often discuss with the composer to tweak the melody line or adjust the key to match with the character.

The teachers’ songs are Mr. Kuwabara’s long awaited production!

Q: Apart from songs by the students of Yumenosaki Academy, you have also released songs by the teachers and the rival unit, Eden. How did the teachers’ CD come about?

K: I had always wanted to make songs for the teachers! Even when I first introduced myself to Happy Elements, I asked them if the teachers would sing as well, and then they replied “I suppose not.” (laughed) I asked them the same thing a few times after that as well, and finally around about the 2nd anniversary of the game’s release they finally said, “We’d like to make songs for the teachers,” and I replied, “I’ve been waiting to hear those words!” (laugh) That’s how it started. I personally like Jin Sagami a lot and in the game I just keep entering the nurse’s office “by mistake” (laugh). My wish of making the teachers’ songs came true just before the third season. In Akira-san’s mind, apparently they’re idols who dance with roller skates.*

*[T/L note] A reference to an older generation idol, Hikaru Genji, who performed with roller skates in the 80s. [YouTube]

Q: It felt like we had moved back a generation or two…

K: Yes, I also stopped myself and thought that the teachers were probably around 30 years old (laugh). I chose the direction that would lean towards that age group as best as I could.

Q: The CD jacket and design labels made a big impact.

K: This is, well, a total grownups’ practical joke (laugh). Someone suggested to make it an 8cm CD, but going that far would be difficult after all.

Q: I also felt that the sound quality felt close to that of the CDs released some years ago.

K: True, we added a bit more echo than usual to get close to the era we were aiming for. But the art and craft of audio recording continues to evolve from day to day, so without dropping the sound quality down too much, we chose to focus on bringing out the intended atmosphere and made it into a 12cm CD to match with the current age. Likewise with the acoustic pressure—if we dropped it down too much, it would also not be a good thing to suddenly hear a drop like that in quality if the listeners chose to add the songs into a playlist.

Q: On the other hand, Eden’s CD also ended up with a different taste than that of Yumenosaki Academy’s units’.

K: Eden’s setting is that they’re a rival unit that stands up before Yumenosaki Academy’s representative, Trickstar, and block their way. So Eden’s song has to surpass Yumenosaki Academy’s unit songs like Trickstar, fine, and Akatsuki. We’ve always been serious about making these unit songs, so the moment I was told that, I didn’t know what to do (laugh). And then, I asked them to lift the ban on rap songs. In the end the song wasn’t a pure rap, but up until now I had been asked to avoid rap as much as I can.

Q: Is that Happy Elements’ request?

K: Yes. When we started making the unit songs, we didn’t make hip hop songs, afraid that it wouldn’t resonate with the female players… But various series have made a hit with the genre and maybe it’s now recognized, so I went to discuss about lifting the ban. I asked them like this, “When they fuse into Eden, please let me give them rap”.

Q: With a hip hop-like element included, it became a unit song that had a different orientation from Yumenosaki Academy idols.

K: Right. I think they managed to exude out a different kind of mature feel. Their CD booklet is amazing too, don’t you think? It used special paper, special printing, unusual cutting… (laugh)

Q: Was the packaging your idea too, Kuwabara-san?

K: No, it was Happy Elements’. They wanted to make it that way. Each piece’s lumber quality was just so extravagant. The third season had clear sheets as well, but Eden’s CD booklet was really a surprise (laugh).

Continued to the last half of the interview: song numbers that leave the biggest impression, 3D live concert, voice actor live concert and Enstage.

#ensemble stars #staff #satoru kuwabara #B's-log

18 notes · View notes

casuallydeliciousphilosopher · 7 years ago

Note

#50 :)

Prompt Number 50: “People are staring.” Requested by @burningupasunjusttosayhello aka @lux-i-fer ! Omg, I LOVED writing this! Just a warning, it’s so long it’s basically its own little fic. Sorry it took so long for me to write love! I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and if you’re one for listening to music while reading, this song is the one at the end of the fic. ;) You’ll know which one I’m talking about once you read this! Thanks so much for making this request!

Chloe glowered at the small invitation sitting on the top of her desk, silently willing it to burst into flames and vanish into a minuscule pile of ashes. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been expecting the annual LAPD ball, it was the same month each year; but rather, she had been expecting to already have a date to take to it. However, no such luck abounded. Marcus had decided to end their relatively short-lived relationship only a week ago, and to add insult to injury, rumor had it that he’d already asked the cute rookie to the ball. Perhaps she could ignore the ball this year, just as she had the year before; she could attempt to feign sickness at work the next day or make up a story about how she couldn’t find childcare for Trixie. She let out a grumpy harumph as she realized that a room full of cops and detectives would be able to see through her lies like they were nothing, and then the pitiful glances she’d been receiving lately would only increase tenfold; at least last year she had an actual, legitimate excuse for missing the event.

No. She was not going to make up some elaborate story that half the department would be able to see through. She was going to suck it up and go, regardless of how potentially awkward and uncomfortable the event could become considering her lack of a date. She didn’t have long to imagine all the ways that the night could go wrong before a bubbly, british accent cut over the soft drone of the precinct. “Detective!” Lucifer greeted her with an ungodly amount of enthusiasm that, of course, only he could muster up on a Monday before eight in the morning. He offered her one of his trademark smiles that was really more of a smirk as he placed a ceramic mug down right next to her keyboard. “I brought you coffee.” He explained needlessly, and Chloe couldn’t help but smile at the hazelnut colored beverage now sitting before her; if anything could fix her already lousy day then it was plenty of liquid caffeine.

“Thanks.” She mumbled softly as she reached out, latching onto the warm mug with both hands and taking small sips of the hot drink as she focused on the unread emails sitting in her inbox. She was only mildly aware that Lucifer had taken a seat in the chair sitting on the other side of her desk as she read through several pages of new department protocols and the results of a few of her recently closed cases. She’d read through nearly every piece of digital mail just before her inbox pinged with yet another e-mail to attend to. The moment she saw the subject though, a scowl crossed her face. Annual Police Charity Ball, was scrawled across her screen, and when she opened the e-mail a flyer with all the pertinent details was listed. Much to Chloe’s displeasure, she quickly noticed that she was on the docket as one of the departments honored guests; apparently the fact that she had the highest close rate in the department meant that she’d not only have to go, but she’d be forced to sit at the VIP table and give a speech. So much for making it through the night with minimal embarrassment. Everyone would be staring at the only open seat at the VIP table, the seat that she was supposed to give to her plus one.

As if on cue Lucifer’s phone chose that exact moment to ping loudly, the sound drawing Chloe’s attention over to him as he pulled the tiny device from his breast pocket. The thought that maybe Lucifer could go with her ran through her mind unbidden, he certainly already had the attire he’d have to wear to attend, and it would make sense for her to bring her partner; after all, he was part of the reason why she had such a high close rate. Would he just make a scene out of it though? Would he be able to act respectable for a few hours in front of her peers and not wind up making a fool out of her? If he stepped out of line would it be more or less embarrassing than just going alone in the first place? Chloe mulled over those questions for a few moments, and even though part of her was screaming ‘abort mission, abort mission’, she wound up going against her better judgment.

“The LAPD throws a charity ball every year, and it’s coming up again in a month, and I was wondering if you would maybe want to go to it with me?” Chloe asked, her words slipping from her mouth so quickly that she was nearly tripping over them. When Lucifer glanced over at her with a puzzled expression she’d half expected him to ask her to repeat herself at a slower, more comprehensible speed; but then a wide grin split across his face and he leaned in closer to her, resting his forearms on her desk as a mischievous twinkle lit up his eyes.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Lucifer questioned just before he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and gave her a smirk. Chloe drew her attention away from her consultant as she silently cursed him for always going out of his way to tease her, he damn well knew what he was doing to her.

“No. It’s not…uh…” Chloe trailed off, shaking her head softly as she stared down at her desk for a moment as she ignored the unwanted fluttering feeling in her chest. Lucifer was her work partner, nothing more, she wasn’t going to make the mistake of getting too close to him again. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” He questioned playfully, his eyebrows lifting as he tilted his head slightly.

Chloe simply rolled her eyes, lifting her cup to her lips and taking another long sip before she replied, “No. I mean, maybe there was a time when it could have been like a date, but no…”. Chloe let out a long breath as she trailed off, silence brewing between the two for a long moment. “Not after…everything,” Chloe added, pausing slightly in the middle of the statement as she tried not to remember how much it hurt every time she was forced to watch Candy cling to Lucifer’s arm. “Look, I just…” Chloe trailed off once more as she tried to think of the best way to word her sentence to make her situation sound less pitiful. “You know that Marcus and I split up -”

“I know that he ruthlessly dumped you,” Lucifer cut her off before she could finish speaking, and the way that he made the cutting statement so nonchalantly immediately set Chloe on edge.

“Not helping.” She growled, her voice holding a hint of danger as she set her coffee mug down on her desk with much more force than was necessary. However, a moment later it seemed as though most of her wrath faded, she drew in a deep breath as she mindlessly traced her finger over the rim of her glass. “He’s taking someone way younger and way prettier to the ball and I don’t want everyone to give me pity glances all day after the event.” She explained almost robotically, her voice lacking any emotion as she stared down into the milky depths of her coffee. When Lucifer didn’t respond in a timely manner she glanced back up at him only to find him staring at her unnervingly; his lips pursed into a thin line, his eyebrows drawn together and the muscle in his jaw ticking. “What?” Chloe questioned as she tried to understand where her partner’s sudden change of mood came from.

“I seriously doubt that anyone could be ‘way prettier’ than you are, darling,” Lucifer replied, lifting his hands and making air quotes as he spoke. His expression softened slightly after he made that statement, a roguish grin lighting up his face as he leaned back into his chair. “And to answer your question, I would be honored to be your date.” He finally answered, and Chloe immediately felt a surge of relief flow through her. “Why didn’t you ask me to it last year?” Lucifer questioned curiously as he reached across her desk, pulling Chloe’s coffee mug out from under her hands before lifting it to his lips and taking a long sip.

The Detective pursed her lips into a thin line, mildly miffed that Lucifer stole the drink that he’d just offered her a few minutes ago. “I didn’t go last year,” Chloe explained simply, offering her partner a shrug as he returned her mug to its rightful spot beside her keyboard. “Between Palmetto and everything else that’d happened I decided that Trixie needed me at home with her more than the department needed me at some silly dance.” She added a moment later as she wrapped her hands around her coffee and pulled it closer to herself, lest Lucifer steal it from her again.

Lucifer drummed his fingertips softly against the top of her desk as he made a quiet humming sound, he could understand that her spawn might need the reassurance of her presence after the trauma of being kidnapped, but even now the Detective seemed to loathe the prospect of a charity ball. There had to be some deeper reason that she didn’t want to go. There was no way that she could possibly have trouble finding a date; she was beautiful, strong, and intelligent. Who wouldn’t want to spend their evening with her? Perhaps she’d had a bad experience in prior years? Or maybe she just didn’t know how to properly enjoy herself at a ball, after all, they weren’t exactly the go-to festivities for humans these days. “Do you know how to ballroom dance, Detective?” He questioned curiously as his eyes flicked up to meet her own wide, aqua orbs.

“Of course not,” Chloe scoffed slightly before immediately continuing, “Only like three people in the whole department do.”. She didn’t really see why her formal dancing skills mattered, hardly anyone ever danced at that thing anyway, most people just stood around chatting each other up and helping themselves to the snack buffet that was rolled out the moment dinner ended. Apparently Lucifer expected something different from the event, because the moment she answered he made a soft, almost discontented humming sound.

“Well, that certainly won’t do,” Lucifer muttered, and Chloe only raised her eyebrows as she stared him down and took a long sip of her coffee.“You can’t enjoy yourself at a dance if you’re not dancing!” He exclaimed a moment later, his voice loud enough to draw an annoyed glare from the Detective sitting at the desk nearest to Chloe’s. Before she could even begin to reprimand him for not using his inside voice he was speaking up again, “I’ll give you some lessons.”.

Chloe’s reprimand died in her throat at the offer, surprise rushing through her as she stared at Lucifer through slightly narrowed eyes. “Oh, and suddenly you know how to ballroom dance?” She questioned, the skepticism lacing her voice nearly palatable.

Lucifer only chuckled at her question, a small, amused smile crossing his face for a moment. “I’ve known how to for a very long time.” He explained, leaning forward in his seat and resting his forearms on the top of her desk as his grin grew more mischievous. “We can set up a day for you to drop by Lux and I’ll teach you everything you need to know to make Marcus eat his heart out,” Lucifer offered, and Chloe had to admit that the thought of making Marcus regret his actions satisfied some small, dark part of her. “Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan, partner,” Chloe answered after only a half-second of deliberation. Besides, it was just a dance lesson.

Chloe pushed open the front door to the club and stepped inside slowly, part of her on edge over the fact that the place was so deserted. It was already dark outside and it was a very rare occasion when Lux didn’t have a line stretching around the building at this time in the evening, yet there wasn’t a single soul in sight. She made her way to the staircase leading down into the club silently, looking out over the dancefloor to see it completely deserted except for Lucifer and one of his bartenders perched on barstools at the far end of the room. ��I was expecting it to be a little more busy in here,” Chloe spoke up, her voice ringing through the empty room with ease and immediately gaining the attention of both men.

Lucifer offered her a toothy grin as he watched her descend the stairs into Lux. “I decided to close the club for the night.” He explained simply as he stood up, grabbing his glass off the bar as he turned to face the Detective. “How in the world would I be able to teach you how to dance properly if someone was bumping into you every time you took a step?” Lucifer asked as Chloe closed the last of the distance between the two of them.

“Lucifer, you didn’t have to shut down for the whole night just for a silly dance lesson,” Chloe replied, her voice soft. She didn’t even want to imagine how much money he was losing by closing shop, this place would have already been packed to the brim with partygoers if he’d just opened his doors.

Lucifer simply chuckled at her words before immediately replying, “I never have to do anything. I wanted to.”. Chloe stood there in shocked silence for a moment as she silently reminded herself not to take his words the wrong way. She shifted awkwardly as she struggled to think of how to reply to that in a professional manner when Lucifer’s voice was breaking the silence once more, “Do you want a drink before we start?”.

Chloe shook her head the second Lucifer held the glass in his hand out towards her, earning a slightly puzzled look from the suit-clad man. “No thanks. Trust me, your feet will thank me later.” She explained, drawing a quiet chuckle from Lucifer just before he brought the glass to his lips and tipped back the contents in one fluid motion.

“So, I take it you’ve never had a dance lesson before,” Lucifer stated, setting his empty glass down on the bartop before shedding his jacket and resting it on his abandoned stool. Chloe shook her head in response, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Well don’t look so distraught, it’s not that hard,” Lucifer reassured her as he stepped forward, wrapping an arm around the Detective’s shoulders before pulling her with him into the center of the club.

As soon as Lucifer pulled his arm away Chloe took a few steps back, purposely putting a little bit of space between the two of them. She was just glad that Lucifer thought that she was worried about the dancing itself, if he knew what she was actually worried about he’d never let her live it down. “So where do we start?” Chloe asked as she looked around the club in an attempt to ignore the fact that she definitely had a thing for Lucifer in vests.

“You’re a beginner, so I think it’s safe to say that the Foxtrot would probably be a good place to start,” Lucifer answered, seemingly unaware of the tension Chloe could feel in the air. Or maybe that tension just didn’t exist for him, after all, he clearly never liked her that much to just forget about her like last night’s leftovers right after she nearly died.

“Okay.” She replied lamely, still attempting to avoid his gaze as she silently scolded herself for ever thinking that having Lucifer teach her how to ballroom dance would be a good idea. It was obvious that she hadn’t been thinking clearly two weeks ago when she’d agreed to this.

“You’re going to have to get a bit closer than that,” Lucifer chuckled, gesturing to the gap between them with an open hand and a toothy grin. Chloe finally resigned herself to meet his gaze, swallowing heavily as she prayed that the hint of humor in his eyes wasn’t there because he’d realized that her real trepidation wasn’t over the dancing itself, but rather her partner. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” Chloe rolled her eyes at the joke, a small smile gracing her face as she shook her head and stepped forward, effectively closing the bulk of the gap between the two of them. “I mean, unless you have a thing for that,” Lucifer added a second later, and Chloe let out a noise that was half scoff, half chuckle as she playfully slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. Lucifer’s grin only grew at her reaction, and silence brewed between the two of them for a moment before Chloe cleared her throat quite pointedly. Lucifer pulled himself back together quickly, reaching out and grabbing Chloe’s left hand, apparently startling her slightly, judging by the slight flinch at his touch. He quickly lifted her arm, resting her hand on his left shoulder blade. “Your hand goes right up here.” He said softly as he pulled his hand from hers, reaching out once again to grab Chloe’s other hand.

“And we hold hands like this,” Lucifer explained as he wrapped his fingers around Chloe’s hand, and she swallowed as she tried to ignore how much larger his palm was, and the way his fingers wrapped elegantly around hers, and the slight callouses that she assumed had to be from his piano. “Music please, Patrick,” Lucifer requested a moment before upbeat piano notes cut through the silence, the speakers spilling them out at a low enough volume that she was still able to hear her partner speak with ease. “Now, it’s quite simple. It’s one long slow step, followed by two shorter quick steps, and then a slight turn.” He explained patiently, and Chloe tried to ignore the nearly palatable tension that she could feel growing between them. She nodded simply, earning a slight smile from the tall man who simply added, “Just follow my lead.”. She nearly tripped the second Lucifer stepped forward, not expecting him to start so suddenly. Lucifer let out a soft half-chuckle at her reaction, only serving to make Chloe narrow her eyes in slight annoyance as he stepped forward once again, and this time she managed to move less robotically, anticipating his moves as she recalled the steps he’d explained to her. She quickly looked down at the floor, wanting the reassurance of knowing exactly where she was stepping, and knowing that with her luck she’d still manage to step on Lucifer’s feet even though she was the one stepping backward.

“Don’t watch your feet,” Lucifer reprimanded her as soon as he realized what she was doing, he full well knew that if he didn’t break that bad habit now it would be hell to fix it later. “Look at me.” He instructed a half-second later, offering the Detective a half-smile as her gaze drifted upwards to meet his. “That’s it.” He reassured her as he turned them slightly before stepping forward again. Chloe moved awkwardly at first, but she quickly got the hang of it and her movements became more fluid. It was easier than he’d like to admit to lose himself in the aqua depths of her eyes, and part of him wished he hadn’t botched things as badly as he did with her, especially now that he’d learned that she truly did have free will and the ability to pick whomever she pleased as a romantic partner. But still, part of him was glad that she’d moved on; after all, she truly did deserve someone better than him, and better than that pillock Lieutenant. Still, though, a man could dream.

Chloe leaned against the bartop, she was breathing heavily and sweat was making her shirt stick to her skin uncomfortably, but despite her current state, she couldn’t wipe the mile-wide smile from her face as she grabbed a lowball glass and filled it with some unmarked amber liquid. “I’m exhausted,” Chloe breathed when Lucifer leaned on the bar beside her, looking no worse for wear, the damn man. The foxtrot hadn’t been particularly hard for Chloe to master, the waltz had been harder to get down, there were so many steps to remember and it was easy to forget when to move which way, and Lucifer’s Italian loafers had suffered dearly. But the real challenge had been the tango, it was complex, confusing, fast-paced; not to mention that she had to trust Lucifer to pick her up several times, but she knew that it wasn’t trusting him that had bothered her, she already trusted him. What bothered her was that she had to let him so close, but what bothered her more was that she secretly relished in every look, every touch, every breath that mingled unnecessarily. Why did she have to have some stupid, pitiful crush on a man who’d already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything she had to offer?

“Too tired for sex then?” Lucifer asked, a playful glint in his eye as he took the decanter from her and poured himself a glass of spirits to match hers. Chloe snorted at his joke, rolling her eyes as she lifted her glass to her lips and took a long sip of what she quickly identified as whiskey, trying not to cough at the burn that followed. Lucifer chuckled softly at her response, setting the decanter down on the bartop before lifting his glass, but he was quickly stopped when Chloe rested her free hand on his forearm lightly. He quickly looked up at her with a befuddled expression, and Chloe smiled softly at the sight.

“Thank you, for everything.” She said quietly as she removed her hand from his person. She knew that Lucifer didn’t have to take time out of his day to teach her how to ballroom dance for the event, and she knew that he’d taken a bit of a loss by not turning any profits tonight. And despite his usual Luciferness, he’d been quite gentlemanly, and he’d had much more patience with her than she would have had with him if their roles had been reversed. If anything, this night had only served to remind her that no matter how much she tried to deny it, that there was some small part of her that might never stop longing for him to be more than a work partner or good friend.

“It was my pleasure, Detective,” Lucifer replied, an almost melancholy smile gracing his features as he held his glass out towards her, and she smiled softly as she lifted her glass and clinked it against his gently. The ringing sound of glass echoing through the empty club as the two stood side by side under the warm heat of the golden lights shining down on them.

Chloe ran her hands against the smooth red satin of her dress nervously as she sat at the crowded VIP table, Lucifer was sitting beside her in a tuxedo that she may have stared at for just a little too long when he’d picked her up from her house. The beginning of the event had gone much better than she’d anticipated, but now she was going to be called next to give her speech, and she was silently praying to whatever God would listen that she wouldn’t mess up the lines she’d been rehearsing all week. Almost as though he could sense her nervous energy Lucifer bumped his knee against hers under the table, immediately gaining her attention as she glanced over at him to find him giving her a reassuring smile, and she could practically hear him telling her to relax in that perfect british accent of his. She’d just returned his smile when her attention was drawn away by the feminine voice spilling out of the speakers, “And now, a word from our top performing Detective of the year, Chloe Decker.”.

A chorus of applause filled the room, and Chloe swallowed nervously as she forced herself to stand up and make her way over to the podium sitting proudly at the very front of the reception hall. She tried to ignore the weight of everyone’s gazes on her as she carefully walked up the few steps before shaking hands with the Mayor of the city who quickly relinquished the microphone to her. Chloe cleared her throat as she turned to face the expectant faces that were all staring at her curiously as they awaited her speech, and for a moment she felt the overwhelming feeling of stage fright overcome her before she found Lucifer’s gaze in the crowd and he sent her a playful wink. She smiled and shook her head softly at him as she lifted the microphone so she could speak into it, drawing in a deep breath as she returned her gaze to the crown of people seated before her.

“Thank you,” Chloe began simply, smiling at the crowd before immediately adding, “I’m honored to stand before you all tonight and speak, but the truth is that I would never be standing up here if it wasn’t for the help and support of so many of my colleagues.”. Her voice shook slightly as she began, but she quickly reigned it in as she summoned all of her rusty acting skills. “Every officer, detective, and forensic scientist in the LAPD deserves the highest praise.” She stopped just long enough to draw in a breath before continuing, “I, personally, have to thank Detective Espinoza,” Chloe paused as she gestured towards her ex-husband with an open palm, and everyone’s gaze quickly turned to him as he stood up from his seat at the acknowledgment. “For always helping me with the paper trail that accompanies cases,” Chloe explained, earning a humble smile from him as he bowed his head in respect before retaking his seat.

“Crime scene technician Ella Lopez,” Chloe focused her gaze on the stunning young woman dressed in a sequined black gown as she stood up at Chloe’s recognition. “For being one of the brightest young women I’ve ever met, and for her positivity even in the face of grisly crime scenes.” Ella’s face lit up with a bright smile and she quickly wiped away a tear before sending an air kiss Chloe’s way. The blonde laughed at the gesture, shaking her head as she smiled at her friend as she reassumed her seat. Chloe quickly turned her gaze back to the VIP table as she quickly regained her professional composure. “Lieutenant Marcus Pierce,” Chloe spoke up, proud of the momentary look of surprise that crossed her ex-boyfriend’s face as she stood, and the look of envy that his cute rookie date sent her way. “For saving my life once, I hope that I’ll be able to repay you for your act of selflessness and bravery someday.” She stated, her voice all business and no emotion, very much unlike her two previous mentions.

Marcus simply nodded once before sitting down, and Chloe quickly turned her attention to another man sitting at the VIP table. “And last, but most certainly not least, I need to thank my civilian consultant and partner, Lucifer Morningstar.” Lucifer sent her a beaming smile as he stood up, quickly smoothing his hands over the lines of his perfectly tailored tuxedo as he looked up at her with something close to reverence in his warm gaze. Chloe couldn’t help but return the over-enthusiastic smile naturally before she continued, “Lucifer, like any two people who work in close quarters, we’ve been through good times and bad times together; and I know that the future will continue to bring both times of trial and times of peace. But I also know, that as long as I have you working beside me, I’ll be able to face whatever storms may come,” Chloe spoke, her voice solemn as she watched Lucifer’s cheerful expression soften into something more tender that she tried not to read into too much. “You’ve saved my life, time, and time…and time again.” A small chorus of laughter filled the room, and she figured that most people assumed that she was exaggerating. Chloe paused just long enough for the sound to die down before she continued, “You’ve saved my daughter’s life, and you’ve gotten us out of more close call situations than I care to count.” She added seriously, and she immediately noticed the slight shift in the atmosphere around her as everyone seemed to sober up at her words.

“You test my patience, but you also make me a better Detective.” Lucifer chuckled at the statement, his voice breaking the thick silence with ease, and Chloe couldn’t help it when a small laugh of her own followed his. They both knew that the first half of her sentence was a bit of an understatement. She swallowed thickly as Lucifer’s smile softened, and before she could think any better of it, her next words were leaving her mouth before her mind could catch up with them, “And honestly, there have been days that the only reason I wanted to go to work was because I knew you’d be waiting there for me with a coffee, and a smile, and some mildly inappropriate joke on the tip of your tongue.”. The subdued mood covering the crowd seemingly dissipated at her statement, the sound of laughter filling the room once again; but Chloe hardly even recognized it as she stared at her partner, his mouth falling agape slightly as he stared up at her with an expression that was somehow mournful and hopeful at the same time. Chloe quickly realized that they’d been staring at each other for slightly longer than it was socially acceptable when the crowd’s laughter died down, and her eyes quickly flicked down to the pedestal before her as she drew in a long breath before looking back over at her partner. “So, Lucifer, thank you,” Chloe breathed as she offered her partner a small, hopefully professional looking smile.

Lucifer stood there in silence for a brief moment before quickly pulling himself back together, his mouth snapping shut as he offered her one of his trademark smiles. “You’re welcome, Detective.” He replied, his voice ringing through the silent reception hall with ease despite his lack of a microphone. He sat back down a moment later, and Chloe tried to ignore the quiet hum of a few whispers that broke the silence as she refocused her gaze on the crowd seated before her.

“And thank you to every officer who puts their life on the line daily to keep this city safe,” Chloe went on with ease, the rest of her speech coming naturally to her as she tried to ignore the familiar swirl of emotions that she always had to force away when she thought of her civilian consultant. “And thank you for each and every one of you who donate to the LAPD, your contributions help us, and help the citizens of this city more than we could ever explain.” She finished eloquently, immediately earning a roar of applause from the crowd as she stepped back from the pedestal, turning towards the Mayor who quickly came forward and took the microphone from her before shaking her hand. Chloe made her way down the stairs quickly, and she was already re-taking her seat when the Mayor’s bubbly voice cut over the drone of noise filling the hall.

“Wow. What a heartfelt speech from Detective Decker!” The crowd applauded her one last time as she settled back down into her seat, trying, and failing to ignore the obvious weight of Lucifer’s gaze on her. She only lasted a few short moments before she caved and glanced over at him, his dark eyes held a sort of almost uncharacteristic seriousness, and the hint of a smile that was just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth made him look almost sentimental. Chloe opened her mouth to ask him why he was staring, but before she could get a word out the speakers were cutting through the silence,“Now, would you please welcome Lieutenant Marcus Pierce to the stage.”. Both Chloe and Lucifer immediately returned their attention to the stage as Marcus strode forward before taking the microphone from the Mayor and turning towards the crowd.

“I have a great group of hardworking people under my command. They all deserve more recognition than they get,” Marcus stated, his voice gruff and monotone as he quickly glanced around the large room. “Thank you, to all of my officers.” He stated, earning a few nods of approval from a couple of the officers littered around the room. “And thank you, to our contributors.” Marcus stepped back from the podium as soon as he finished, ending his speech a bit prematurely in Chloe’s opinion; but she knew that he wasn’t exactly a man of many words, even back when they’d been dating and he’d opened up a bit he wasn’t exactly a big talker.

The Mayor seemed surprised when Marcus quickly handed her the microphone before making his way offstage, but she quickly composed herself as she stepped up to the podium with a wide smile on her face. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” She spoke before clapping politely, drawing applause from the crowd who also seemed a little off-put by the Lieutenant’s speech, or rather, lack thereof. “Well then, without further ado, let the festivities begin.” The Mayor said with a wide smile, earning a roar of applause from the crowd moments before the band started playing some upbeat jazzy tune. Chloe felt Lucifer’s hand brush against her bare shoulder and she quickly glanced over at him, watching as he opened his mouth to say something a moment before she felt another warm hand rest on her other shoulder. She quickly turned to look over her other shoulder, an older man who’d been sitting at the VIP table across from her gave her a gentle smile as he pulled his hand away.

“May I have the pleasure?” He asked politely, holding his hand out towards her as he nodded in the direction of the spacious dancefloor taking up the middle of the reception hall.

“Of course,” Chloe replied, plastering a smile on her face as she immediately realized that any civilian that’d been seated at the VIP table was a top contributor to the department, it would be in poor taste to tell one of their top donators no. Chloe wrapped her hand around his as she stood up, quickly glancing over at Lucifer and mouthing the words ‘I’ll be back’ as the man began to lead her away from her partner. Lucifer only chuckled under his breath, lifting his champagne glass to his lips and taking a long sip as she departed.

As soon as they reached the dance floor they began swaying softly to the music, and Chloe couldn’t help but smile as she remembered when Lucifer told her that ‘people who aren’t classically trained typically consider acceptable ballroom dancing to simply be swaying to the music’. She certainly didn’t mind though, and most of the other couples on the dance floor were doing exactly the same thing. As the night dragged on Chloe found someone new asking her to dance every time her latest dancing partner relinquished her company. She wasn’t sure how many people she’d chatted with while swaying to the music, or how long she’d even been out on the dance floor, but Lucifer’s dance lessons came in handy on a few occasions when she found herself paired with a more experienced partner. There were a few times when she wondered why she was suddenly so popular this year, and she quickly assumed that it was because she’d been thrown in the spotlight as the LAPD’s top performing Detective, an honor that she’d never been given in prior years.

When Chloe finally found herself without a partner once again she was grateful that she finally had a moment to take a breather, but it didn’t last long before yet another person was seeking her company. “Would you indulge me this next dance?” She smiled as soon as she heard Lucifer’s rumbling british accent. She quickly turned to face him and found him leaning nonchalantly against the table behind him, his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Of course.” She answered as Lucifer righted himself, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around her waist as the two ambled into the center of the mostly empty dance floor. The first few chords of some dark sounding, jazzy rock song struck up as Lucifer released his grip around her waist, stepping in front of her so that she was facing his back. She immediately recognized the starting position for the tango that Lucifer had taught her a week ago, and she couldn’t help but smirk, of course he’d choose to dance with her when the song that was playing was perfect for a tango.

As soon as the singer began Chloe ran her hand under Lucifer’s arm and slowly trailed it up his chest teasingly, just as she’d been taught. Lucifer lifted his hand a moment later, resting it on top of hers lightly just as she began to slowly draw away. Her smile only grew as she quickly recognized the lyrics to the song that was playing, and for a second she wondered why she expected anything less of Lucifer. She slowly trailed her hand across the panes of his back as she stepped around him, one of his hands resting lightly on her waist as she moved in front of him before slowly twirling into the firm embrace of his arms; allowing him to support her weight as his other arm wrapped around her back. One of his hands rested on her hip while his other trailed slowly up her ribcage, stopping just under the curve of her chest as he bent down just enough to teasingly skim the tip of his nose up from her cheekbone to her temple.

“You planned this on purpose didn’t you,” Chloe whispered just loudly enough for Lucifer to hear, and she could feel him smirk against her hair as a soft huff of breath that she was fairly certain was a chuckle escaped him. Lucifer stepped forward, leading her into a twirl that forced the two of them chest to chest. On cue, Chloe wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, her fingers burying themselves in the short hairs at his nape as her other hand wrapped around his bicep. Lucifer lowered his head at her touch, their noses brushing together as he gave her one of her trademark smirks and she scolded herself for the butterflies that quickly formed in her stomach.

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled softly, his voice deeper and breathier than she’d been expecting, which only made another swarm of unwanted emotions flutter through her. She tried to ignore them as she slowly ran her hand down the length of his arm while Lucifer slowly turned them around and around again in a series of steps that Chloe was grateful that she managed to keep up with. When Lucifer led her into yet another twirl she spun into it gracefully, stopping when he wrapped an arm around her waist steadily, his other hand ever so lightly brushing against the curve of her ribs and he led the both of them forward a few steps before drawing Chloe’s chest against his once more.

Chloe’s breath caught in her throat as he lowered his head until their lips were mere millimeters from touching, and some part of her desperately wished that he’d just close that last tiny gap. “If I trip and make a fool of myself I’m going to blame you.” She breathed shakily, and Lucifer smiled softly at her quiet words as he ever so slowly ran his hand up her side.

“Oh come now, we both know I’d never allow that.” He replied, sounding just as affected as she did much to her surprise. She didn’t have long to mull over the way his voice sounded as he slowly ran his hand up under her arm, lifting it in the air with ease as she tried not to think about how absolutely sinful his warm hands felt trailing against her bare skin. He opened his hand for her as he reached her palm, and she slowly wrapped her fingers around it. Before she knew it Lucifer was stepping forward, making her walk backward and she quickly glanced around the room as she tried to focus on not missing a step or ruining another pair of Lucifer’s shoes. But glancing around quickly proved itself a mistake as she realized that they were quite literally the only couple on the dance floor, and that there was an uncomfortably large amount of people staring at the two of them as they stepped to the music. Chloe swallowed nervously as she forced herself to return her attention to Lucifer, putting as much focus as she could summon into attempting to remember where to step next. Her efforts seemed to pay off, she managed to keep up with him gracefully enough despite the nerves from being watched by such a large crowd, and the fluttering feeling in her chest from Lucifer being so close and being so…well, him.

Chloe drew in a sharp breath when Lucifer picked her up with ease, spinning them both in a circle before placing her back down on her feet a moment later. And the moment she managed to regain her bearing and return her hands where they belonged Lucifer was stepping forward again, and Chloe was beginning to curse herself for saying yes to this dance. Her nerves had been worked up enough when it had just been the two of them twirling together on the dancefloor in Lux; but here, with a crowd full of onlookers, a crowd partially comprised of her coworkers and friends, she simultaneously found herself wanting to melt through the floor and wanting Lucifer to drag her back to Lux and show her that his best moves weren’t ones that he could show her on the dancefloor. When Lucifer suddenly tipped her backward, one of his arms behind her back as he supported her and his other hand nestled in the crook of her knee as he lifted her leg in the air, she made a small, muffled sound of surprise before quickly whispering, “Lucifer, people are staring.”.

She watched his eyes flick around the room quickly before he gave her one of his roguish grins as he pulled her upright so she could stand on her own two feet once more. “Ignore them. Just focus on me.” He replied as though it was the simplest answer in the world, and maybe it was; it wasn’t like she was exactly thinking clearly when her heart was racing with nerves, and the only thing she could smell was his spicy cologne, and his hands were drawing goosebumps on her skin everywhere that he touched. He stepped around her as she drew in a long breath in an attempt to clear her mind, his chest brushing against her back as his hands ran slowly down her arms and his hot breath tickled the shell of her ear. Part of her was glad for the space when he stepped back a bit and led her into a twirl, but the other part of her immediately regretted the loss of his touch. Thankfully she didn’t have to miss the feeling of his hands roaming across her back for long as he stepped forward, wrapping both of his arms around her waist and drawing them together as he stopped her mid-spin.

Chloe drew in a long, shaking breath as Lucifer lowered his head so their noses were brushing once again, and Chloe wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she felt his warm breath fanning against her face, her fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as though they had a mind of their own, and maybe they did, she couldn’t be so sure anymore. She knew that Lucifer was going to step away any second so he could continue their dance; but there was part of her that just wouldn’t allow the loss of his touch, part of her that needed to know what this tension between them could morph into if she just gave it a chance to grow. As she stared into her partner’s dark eyes she knew that she was probably going to regret this the next morning, but damn it all if she denied herself the chance to indulge at least once.

Chloe leaned up onto the very tips of her toes as she closed that last gap of distance separating them, and then Lucifer’s lips were on her’s, just like she remembered from that day on the beach; soft, and gentle, and a hint of stubble scratching deliciously against her chin and the tip of her nose. She barely even registered the small, muffled noise that Lucifer made in the back of his throat as one of his hands traveled up her back and buried itself in her free-flowing tresses. She pulled away when her lungs started to protest the lack of oxygen, panting softly as she stared up at her partner as he stared down at her with shock and awe etched into his features. “Lux?” Chloe breathed softly, and Lucifer swallowed heavily at the implications of her request before letting out a shuddering breath of his own.

“With pleasure, darling.” He murmured quietly, pulling away just far enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders and start to drag her towards the exit, his strides so long that Chloe struggled to keep up with him. She didn’t know exactly where the night was headed, but when she caught a glimpse of Ella giving her a double thumbs up and a huge smile she quickly decided that she’d be damned if it didn’t end with the feeling of black silk sheets brushing against her bare skin.

#lux-i-fer #burningupasunjusttosayhello #prompt fic #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer ff #deckerstar #lucifer on fox #Lucifer Morningstar #chloe decker #i finally got another one done!#hooray!#i think we all know exactly where this is headed ;)#maybe I'll extend this a little more later when I have the time #chlucifer #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar ff

290 notes · View notes