#the bottom middle piece.. i only plained the people in the center and where they would sit.

[iliothermia]

Since you said we can ask, do you mind if I ask how you plan your backgrounds? They're so intricate and pretty

I just can't bring myself to draw anything that isn't contained within itself often. It's all about framing and containment for me.

Cultural references, important moments in a character's story, celebrating Tu Bishvat, flowers from my childhood attached to memories- framing is a great place to put things that aren't the focus of the piece but little supporting details about the subject, or you. Framing within framing is also helpful for me, to keep things detailed but also have a balance of not-overwhelming space too. Envisioning the space where things happens helps. After I figure out composition the unplanned rest of it can just fit in those planned spaces of busy-ness.

[starlightswitch]

The Only Way In

@flashfictionfridayofficial How about the power to turn your grandma's sequined pillow into something fantastical?

Nara had never planned on going to the Crescents, but the fact was she had nowhere else to go.

It was what her mother had wanted. The power the Crescents worked– that was what they called themselves, the Workers– ran in her mother’s family, so her mother had told her they would take her in. But the little Nara knew of the Crescents was that her mother hadn’t wanted to be ‘bound to that life’, whatever that meant, and if her mother hadn’t, Nara didn’t either.

 So she found a job, and the job was risky, yes, but she didn’t mind– it was exciting. But the kind of job that was risky and exciting was not necessarily the kind of job where the people in charge would help you if the risks came back to call, as Nara found out when the risks came back to call. Which was how she found herself with nowhere else to go.

“Yes?” said the woman who answered the door. She wore the plain colored long flowing dress all Crescents wore, hers in a rich blue that gave a striking contrast to the bright silver of the distinctive crescent necklace that gave them their nickname. Her voice and her attitude was brisk, like she had been interrupted in something important and was trying to dispense with the interruption as efficiently as possible.

Nara made sure not to hesitate. “Can I stay with you?”

The woman stood steadily blocking the doorway. “No one enters who can’t do the work.”

“I can,” said Nara, her gaze steady too. Her mother had told her they would take her in, so they would.

The woman raised her eyebrows, looked at her a long minute, then said, “Wait here.”

Nara waited, and the woman came back minutes later and let her in.

It was dark inside and it was a sunny day, so it took Nara a moment of blinking to realize that she’d been led into a room that could only be a tiny portion of the large building. Filling the center of the small room was a group of people, standing so they formed a rough circle. She could tell she was supposed to stand in the middle, so she did.

Someone handed her something. It was a piece of fabric with beads sown on it in an even layer. The beads were all one color and at a slight angle; they must be a different color on the other side and if she brushed them to turn them over the other color would show.

“Show us,” said the woman who had brought her in.

Show them what? Nara didn’t ask. She was supposed to know what to do with this. Was it like a password– they expected someone to have told her how to use it? They must have started this test too recently for her mother to know about it. She was going to have to figure it out, quickly and smoothly enough that they wouldn’t realize she didn’t know.

Showing that she knew the beads were a different color on the other side seemed too obvious, but she might as well try it instead of just sitting there. Casually she brushed her hand over the fabric, changing the color from black to a bright pinkish red that stood out in the darkness.

When she finished, she felt something nudging her hand.

No one was nudging her hand. No one was close enough. But she could feel the slightest nudge on her hand, guiding it to the top of the fabric.

Just a nudge. She could have resisted. But she let it guide her.

She traced the lines on the fabric, one straight down the middle top to bottom, then two off toward the right side, shorter, toward the top and the bottom of the fabric. Another two in between, their top and bottom almost lining up with the top and bottom of the ones to the right, these closer to meeting in the middle but still not quite. Then to the left, one long line, its top and bottom a little short of lining up with the others. And another to the left of that, again shorter to the top and bottom.

When she looked at it, aside from that center line running through, it made her think of a crescent.

“It speaks to you,” said the woman who had handed her the fabric. She reached for it to take it back, met Nara’s eyes over it, and said, “Welcome.”

Power, did she mean? A tiny nudge wasn’t at all what Nara had expected the power that the Crescents– the Workers?– to feel like. But it was something to know that she could feel it.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 2 Word Count: 3.5k

Read Part 1; Read Part 3

Autumn

A few days passed and the temperature had started dropping to one appropriate to fall. Each morning, Bucky had gotten up to exercise. And each morning, he opened his curtains to see that the house across from him remained unchanged. Lights that never turned off. No noise whatsoever. If it weren’t for your car in the driveway, he would’ve thought that no one lived there.

On his runs, he was able to see various things that needed fixing, like a fallen tree that was slightly in the way of a path or a pothole in the driveway he could patch. This morning though, instead of his run, he decided he was going to look around the back of the house, which was fenced off into a yard. From the gate, Bucky could see an old in-ground fire pit in the middle of the yard, closer to the screened in patio of the house than the far end of the yard, where the grass was overgrown- he would have to get on that.

The sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel driveway caught Bucky’s attention. He walked from the side gate to the front porch where a man in a postal worker’s uniform was straining to get a large box out of the truck. Jogging over, he helped the older man set it down on the ground.

“Phew, thank you kindly sir,” the older man huffed as he took his hat off and wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he walked around the side of the mail truck to grab a tablet from the front seat.

“Can you sign for this package?” He asked as he handed the tablet over to Bucky.

“Uh, sure.”

As he was signing, you came out the front door with a bottle of water in your hand. Bounding down the steps, you handed the cold water to the postal worker.

“Sorry, I would’ve been out earlier but I saw that you were working so hard, so I went back to grab a water for you.”

Bucky handed the tablet back as the older man thanked you.

“I appreciate it, ma’am. Do ya'll need help getting this inside?”

You looked at Bucky who shook his head.

“I think we’ve got it from here.” He said.

“Okay folks. Have a nice day.”

The postal worker turned around and got back in his truck. As the car started to roll forward, he lowered the window and waved while saying,

“It’s nice to see a kind young couple move into this area!”

With the truck halfway down the driveway, there was no chance to correct him. You looked at Bucky, mouth slightly ajar before shrugging it off with a small laugh. He chuckled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“He seems like a sweet guy.” You said as you watched the truck disappear behind the trees.

“Yeah.”

You stood there for a moment in silence before you spoke.

“So…”

“I’ll help you bring this in.”

“Okay, great, because there was no chance I was going to get this in by myself.”

You watched as Bucky lifted the large box with ease. As he went up the porch steps, you quickly passed him to hold the door open for him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my bed frame, so you can set it in the room at the end of the hall.”

He turned to head down the hall, being careful to not bump into any walls. Entering the open room, he saw a room with plain white walls and a light sand-colored hardwood floor. Delicate sage green curtains moved ever so slightly as the breeze brought fresh air into the room. There was a mirrored closet with clothes that was cracked open, a small white table close to the ground, some boxes stacked in the corner of the room, and in the middle of the floor was a mattress covered in sheets, blankets, pillows and a laptop paired to some over ear headphones. He set the box down leaning against the wall.

“Ah, sorry about the mess, I haven’t had a chance to really get anything set up.” You say as you pass him to open the curtains wider.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry you had to sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I still had the mattress so it wasn’t bad.”

Another pause. Bucky cleared his throat.

“Do you want help putting it together?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.

You sighed in response.

“Yeah, actually, I could. I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble.” He replied, seeing you smile tiredly from the corner of his eye.

You grabbed a pair of scissors sitting on the vanity and started opening the box. Once it was open, Bucky pulled out a large fabric cream colored headboard. You tried not to be too impressed at the fact that he pulled it out with one arm, flexing the muscles in ripples. It felt wrong to ogle so you shook your face slightly and dug into the box.

The material of the headboard was similar to canvas, reminiscent of the old cloth bags that flour used to come in when he was a child. As he set it down against the wall, he ran his right hand over the cloth one more time before letting his hand fall off.

The sound of you pulling out the metal parts to the actual bed frame snaps him out of his lull. Setting them down gently on the floor one by one, you attempt to make conversation.

“So, how’s the apartment? Is it okay? Do you need anything?” You asked, trying to hide how slightly out of breath that you were. Bucky walked over to grab the rest of the metal bars out of the box before you could try.

“Yeah, everything’s great. Thanks…”

There’s a lull as you fish the bag of screws and the instructions from the bottom of the box.

“Great. I couldn’t get down here soon enough to check everything myself. The real estate agent took pictures but it’s definitely not the same as laying your eyes on it in person.”

You open up the instructions and Bucky stands awkwardly before deciding to sit on the floor across from you. He leaned back onto his hands and enjoyed the fresh air circulating in the room. The slight chill was nothing compared to all the cold he had faced in his lifetime. That meant he could get by in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. You, however, were bundled up slightly more. Bucky’s eyes trailed over you slowly as you focused on the instructions. Your hair was tucked back behind your ears in an attempt to keep it out of your eyes as you read, forest green shirt was layered with a cozy open cardigan. The black slim-cut joggers had fuzzy mid-calf socks layered over them to keep any warmth from escaping. Bucky wondered how much more you could possibly layer when the Winter comes and the true cold settles in the area. Before he could think about that, you flip back to the front page of instructions and tentatively spoke.

“Okay, so I think I get it…”

---

The next hour or so consisted of you telling him what parts went together and him screwing them together. It settled into a good flow, with scattered conversation sprinkled in between.

“So, how’re you enjoying Louisiana?” you asked casually as you skimmed over the next set of instructions.

“I haven’t been here long. It’s… different than New York,” he said as he twisted the screw in. At his prompting, you handed him another one. “Everyone’s friendly. It seems like a tight-knit community.”

“They definitely are,” you mused. “Brooklyn, right?”

He looked up at you, causing you to blink and then avert your gaze.

“Sorry,” you started to explain. “I saw the Smithsonian gallery during my last visit to New York… Do you ever have people recognize you?”

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “When I do get recognized, it’s not usually the kind of people I’d want to recognize me.”

Bucky thought back to shortly ago in Madripoor. Definitely not the kind of people that he wanted to recognize him. He shook the thought out of his head and continued.

“It’s strange to think that all those people who pass by the exhibit just know me now.”

You reflected on when you saw the exhibit. Right in the middle was a cutout of Bucky Barnes: Captain America’s Right Hand Man. The few paragraphs that were featured at the exhibit did not seem to fully encapsulate the man sitting in front of you, carefully screwing the metal pieces together.

“I think they know about you, but they don’t know you. There has to be more to James Buchanan Barnes than three paragraphs written by someone who’s never actually met you.” You say, meeting his eyes and raising your eyebrows comically.

For some reason, hearing his full name unnerved him. It made him antsy. He didn’t have any experience with being the center of any positive attention, and all of a sudden, your focus on him was scorching. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He said gruffly.

You smiled gently before looking back down at the instructions to try to put him back at ease. It was funny, watching someone with such a hardened exterior be flustered so easily. There was definitely more to Bucky Barnes than meets the eye.

---

Bucky sat by himself, screwing the last piece in. You had left a few minutes ago to grab refreshments and hadn’t come back yet. He stood, dusting off his hands and pants before stretching his back and looking at the completed project. Picking up the mattress and all the blankets piled on it, he gently set it on the frame. Now it looked like you actually lived here. It was simple, but cozy.

The smell of butter and cheese wafted into the room, grabbing his attention. Looking up at the clock, Bucky realized it was almost noon. He followed the familiar smell to the kitchen where you were cooking, hair tied back and light-yellow apron. The delayed drinks were gathering condensation on the counter behind you. You looked over at him and slipped the apron over your head.

“Ah, sorry. I figured you could handle the last few screws so I started making lunch as well.” You said sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you. It’s all done.”

He watched as you took the spatula and lifted a sandwich onto a plate, golden brown from toasting in the butter, matching the plate next to it. You had made the both of you lunch. Taking a knife, you cut the sandwiches in half and hand him the plate with the warm one that had just come out of the pan.

“It’s a grilled ham and cheese. I hope it’s okay.”

“You didn’t have to.” He responded, watching the melted cheese drip down the sides.

You shrugged. “I wanted to. Thanks for the help.”

“Thanks for the food. Do you need help assembling anything else?”

Your gaze flicked to the boxes leaning against the hallway. He looked behind at them and back, raising an eyebrow. Sighing in defeat, you spoke.

“… Yeah. But Sam is actually coming over later to help so you don’t have to do it now. If you do still want to help, you could come over then. I’ll be ordering dinner so you don’t have to worry about cooking. Though, please don’t feel like you have to. You’ve already done so much today.”

Bucky hesitated. He didn’t want to invade your life too much. After all, you were a woman living alone in a new area, the last thing you probably wanted was a strange man turning a contract into a forced friendship because you were polite. But then again, you had just moved down here. Of course, you needed a lot of help in the beginning. Soon, things will settle back to normal and then you’ll be back to just being neighbors who see each other outside occasionally.

“Sure. I’ll be back later when I hear Sam pull up. He doesn’t follow directions anyway so you probably need someone to supervise him.” He joked.

You smiled up at him.

“Great. You must be tired. You can take lunch to go and bring the plate back later.”

You didn’t want to keep him. He wouldn’t have minded staying. But he was still new to being an actual person again. His social battery was a little drained, and he appreciated the easy out.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” He said, giving his classic low-key three finger salute.

“Bye,” you replied softly as you watched him open the screen door and walk down the porch steps. Lightly padding down the hallway, you peaked into your room, seeing the final product. It was sweet that he put the mattress down and you noticed he had also straightened out the blankets just a little. What a sweet gesture. He was a gentleman. Despite the gruff. You padded back down to the kitchen and sat at the counter to eat. It always felt wrong to make so much noise. You were just one person. One tiny insignificant useless person.

---

Bucky sat at his kitchen table, finishing the sandwich that he had started to eat on the way in. His attempt to eat it while it was still hot was so worth it, the bread still warm and comforting. As he took his last bite, he traced his finger on the little pattern of flowers and leaves on the border of the sage green ceramic plate. All of the little homey, slightly old-fashioned details were very reminiscent of home. Not his previous apartment in Brooklyn. But home back in the 1930’s when he was growing up. It was comforting. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, dreaming of a world that no longer existed.

---

Later, Sam knocked on the door way and shouted up the stairs through the screen door.

“Hey, anybody home?”

You bounded down the stairs and unlocked the screen door to let him in, giving him a hug in greeting.

“Woah, woah, don’t make me spill the goods,” he said with a laugh, holding the two cases of beer up.

“Good to see you too,” You joked.

Bucky saw the interaction from the garage window that faced your porch. He wondered if there was something between you two and quickly shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t jealous, just curious. It didn’t matter. After all, you were Sam’s friend first.

People can have friends, idiot. What does it matter to you? He thought to himself as he walked down the stairs to the garage.

Walking across the gravel to your front door, he knocked on the screen door as well.

“Come in!” You yelled from upstairs.

He opened the front door and walked up the stairs into the living room.

“Hey, Buck! How’re you settling in?” Sam said, giving him a hug as well.

“Good, it’s really nice out here.” He replied after they had separated.

“Good. I’m glad. You look like you finally got some rest.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, he was over early this morning, hauling around a bunch of heavy stuff and putting furniture together.” You interjected, bringing the bottle opener in from the kitchen.

“Let me guess, he completely messed it up? Turned your table into a chair or something like that?” Sam teased. Bucky slapped him upside his arm.

“Despite the picture you painted of him, he was extremely competent.” You said while trying not to laugh at Sam’s face of fake hurt. “Now come on, there’s a beer fee, you get one beer for every piece of furniture you put together.”

“I’m the one who brought the drinks though!” Sam protested, following you down the hall to the room where the boxes were.

Bucky smiled a bit as he listened to you both squabble. Friends or not, it was nice to have someone else to annoy Sam with.

---

“You sure you’re okay to go pick up the food?”

You looked up at Bucky from where you sitting on the floor, reading directions while Sam, who was ever so slightly tipsy, was trying to get a leg of a night stand to fit straight.

“Yeah, I’m good. He looks… busy. And it’s probably better for me to go out this late. You know, ‘cuz you’re a woman... lady.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Not to say that you’re not perfectly capable of handling yourself, I just mean… uh…”

“Pff-”

The laugh that Sam had been trying to hold back escaped from between his lips loudly as he covered his mouth. You rolled your eyes but regardless, a smile crept up on your face.

“Ignore him. I was just giving you a hard time. It’s very chivalrous.”

You paused thoughtfully.

“On a serious note, that’s very sweet of you. I appreciate it. You can just charge it to the card I gave you.”

He nodded and started walking down the stairs to the porch.

“Be safe!” He heard you call softly down the stairs.

“Will do.” Bucky instinctively responded.

The screen door shut behind him as he made his way across the driveway to where his own motorcycle was parked. A sleek modern black sports bike. Something he’d bought when he wasn’t ready to look at Steve’s old cruiser. He’d put the cruiser in the garage to work on and keep safe.

He mounted the bike and started it, the engine coming to life. He went to check what time it was on his phone when he realized he had left it inside. Swinging his leg over, he started to walk back up to the front door when he heard your conversation with Sam from the open living room window.

“Feeling at home?” Sam asked. There was a short silence before you answered hesitantly.

“Something like that.”

“How you holding up?”

“It’s been okay… lonely… I just can’t believe I let it go on for so long.”

Bucky hadn’t realized he had stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed as he listened.

“The people who are trapped in the abusive relationship themselves always have a harder time seeing it than anyone else.”

Bucky blinked in surprise as Sam continued.

“It’s like that thing they say when you’re cooking with frogs. If the water’s boiling when you first put them in, they’ll hop right out the pot. But if you put the frog in cool water and slowly heat it up, they’ll stay, no matter how hot it gets. The more gradual the process is, the less likely they are to realize that they’re in trouble before it’s too late.”

“Yeah…” Your voice sounded heavy. Burdened.

“He was nice at first, wasn’t he?” You asked rhetorically.

“He was.”

“Fooled me…”

“Fooled me too. I never would’ve introduced him to you if I had known that’s what he was like. I should’ve known there was something off about him. I should’ve sensed it during the support group he came to at the VA.” Sam said regretfully.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Sam.” You said, chastising him. “At some point, I knew that things were heading in the wrong direction. He got so angry. So spiteful. I knew I had stopped loving him and started being afraid of him. But then everyone was dusted, and I didn’t have anywhere else to be, anyone else to be with besides him. Being somewhere new by myself would bring struggles I couldn’t prepare for. At least with him, I knew what to be afraid of. Then everyone came back and he almost killed me. I guess I was just a poor little froggy.”

You tried to ease the heaviness of the conversation by being lighthearted with the last sentence. But there was still a sadness in your voice.

“Still. I wish I could’ve helped you when you broke your shoulder.”

“Don’t feel bad, Sammy. I ended up just fine. I’m here now. The only thing I regret is letting him trash my piano. It was old, but I grew up playing that thing.”

“I know how much it meant to you.”

“It’s okay, it's a new start. Besides, you were off fighting to be Captain America! Rightfully so. If this was the sacrifice I had to make for the right man to be able to take up the shield, I would’ve broken my other shoulder too!”

Sam must have given you a death glare because you laughed suddenly and your tone changed to defensive.

“Kidding! Kidding. Yeesh. But seriously, I’m proud of you. And thank you, for helping me start over.”

Bucky unclenched his hands. He hadn’t realized that he had gotten tense. Turning around, he headed back to the bike. He didn’t need his phone. He didn't want to let on that he overheard. Getting back on the bike, he waited until he heard laughter to sneak down the driveway, masking the fact that he was just now leaving.

Once he got out on the road, he sped up- letting the wind sting against his face and cool it down. The thought of a man using his own strength to hurt what was supposed to be his other half- it made him so mad. No wonder you were scrambling to get out here. He hoped that you never had to go through anything like that again.

Rest assured, if he can do anything to prevent that from happening, he will.

[animebaby00]

Early Morning Welcome: Soma Yukihira X Reader - One-shot

Summary: You've already been welcomed in as the newest member of the Polar Star Dormitory, but a certain redhead extends your welcome with a delicious morning breakfast. 

It wasn't your alarm clock that woke you up. 

It wasn't the early morning sunshine peeking in through your curtains or the faint chirping of birds from your closed window. 

It was your nose. 

Or rather the action of your nose inhaling so deeply that it had caused a new aroma to overcome you from the otherwise plain scent of your room and crumpled sheets that were covering nearly half of your face.

And it smelled...delicious. 

With your intrigue fully captured, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed, tossing the covers away into a crumpled heap at the base of the mattress. Feet sliding into your slippers, you stood, and shuffled out of your room. 

Once in the hall, you noticed how quiet it was. All doors were shut with no traces of your fellow dorm mates in sight. 

The smell was a little more powerful now, as it wafted through the air and entered your nostrils. You could only make sense that someone was cooking, and considering this was one of the  dorms to the greatest cooking schools in the world, it supposedly made sense to a certain extent. But still, this early in the morning?

With crossed arms, you slowly padded to the stairwell and took quiet steps to reach the bottom floor, turning to head towards the kitchen. 

Your ears then picked up the sound of clanging pans and the sizzling sound of something being cooked. You sniffed the air again. 

It smelled rich, hearty, and delightedly greasy.

Bacon perhaps? 

Your nose carried you further until finally, you reached the large kitchen of the Polar Star Dormitory. 

And you were right. 

Someone was up and cooking away without a care in the world. 

He was male, lean yet slightly muscular, the curvature of his biceps evident through his thin, blue shirt as he expertly whisked away at a substance heating in a pot over the stove. 

A strip of white fabric was tied around his forehead, contrasting against his slightly tanned skin and vibrant red hair. 

But even though he seemed heavily drawn in by his work, it didn't stop him from noticing your slightly hidden form from out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his head, causing you to stiffen as you met his friendly, golden gaze. His free hand flew up into a wave.

"Hey ! Mornin Y/N !" 

His greeting caught you off guard, especially since you weren't too familiar with your new dorm mates yet. They welcomed you humbly the night before and you could only recall a few of their names in full. 

Still, he had greeted you and you didn't want to be rude, but…

"G-Good morning. It's...Soma, right ? Sorry, I... don't remember your last name." You admitted shyly, "I would have addressed you as such but I didn't really get a chance to memorize the names of everyone here."

"Ah, don't worry about it," he shrugged off, "The formality isn't necessary. But you're okay with me calling you Y/N aren't ya?" He asked, flashing you a toothy grin.

You nodded, finding a strange, immediate comfort in his friendliness,"Yeah. Absolutely."

"Awesome!" he stood straighter, extending his right hand out while he continued whisking,  "I know last night was a little crazy so I'll go ahead and introduce myself fully. Soma Yukihira. It's nice to meetcha."

You smiled warmly, stepping fully into the kitchen and over to where he stood, reaching your hand out to grasp his in a shake.

"Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet you too."

He flashed another smile, before letting go of your hand and turned back to the stove. 

You tilted your head at him thoughtfully. 

Even though you just met, you were very intrigued by this boy and for some reason, you wanted to know more about him. 

But just as you opened your mouth to speak, he beat you to the point.

"Say, Y/N. Are ya hungry ?" 

You blinked. This boy certainly had his ways of catching people off guard, but you answered him nonetheless.

"Uhm...maybe a little. I guess."

"Perfect. Go and sit. I'll make you something."

"Uh, no it's okay !" You waved your hands in front of your face, "You don't have to."

"I've already kinda got a head start anyways. Go ahead and take a seat. It won't take long "

You held your breath, thinking that there wasn't any way to turn down his offer, mindlessly adding 'persistent' to the unknown list of traits you were giving him in your head. 

Soma turned away, going back to the stove as you made your way to one of the seats at the bar, pulling out the chair and situating yourself comfortably, a palm resting on your cheek while your arm propped itself up on the counter. 

There weren't any other sounds in the kitchen beside the occasional chop of a knife and the continued sizzle of food being cooked. And even though you practically had a front row seat of his actions, you had no idea what Soma was making. 

He was very quick and precise with his actions, his timing with everything near perfection and you were completely transfixed as he moved almost gracefully with nearly everything he did.

"Do you do this alot ?"

He looked up, "What ? Cook?" 

You shook your head, "No. I mean obviously you cook because why else would you be here." Your hand gestured to the clock on the wall, which currently read 6:15 AM, "I mean cook this early in the morning, and for other people so randomly like this."

"Well in a way," he started, cutting a lemon and squeezing the juice into a pot, "My dad and I own a family eatery and we opened pretty early in the morning. But most of the time, it's just to get in some early practice." 

"Practice ?" 

"Uh huh. I mean I won't get any better if I don't experiment and work with different things. And if I don't get better, then I'll never beat my old man." 

His words piqued your interest, "What do you mean 'beat him' ?" 

Soma looked up at the ceiling, "He and I battle in the kitchen sometimes, but I have yet to whip up something better than him." He clenched his fist, "He's one of the greatest chefs there is, and it's my goal to beat him one day along with being the best chef at this school so I'm good enough to run our eatery." 

You smiled, admiring his determination, "Guess that video means you weren't lying then." 

He tilted his head, "Video? What video?" 

"The girls showed me a recording of your speech at the entrance exam. I didn't get a chance to see it since I was late arriving here. You seemed really dead set and," Your hesitated, remembering the angled shot of the people in the crowd and how poisonous their features looked,"...A lot of people looked sort of mad at you."

"Did they? Huh. Guess I didn't notice."

You practically fell over. Of course he didn't. For someone to have such big aspirations and goals, he was kind of an airhead. 

But you honestly kind of appreciated it. For some people, it took a lot to ignore the negligent opinions of others, but Soma seemed to shrug any bad omen about him off completely. 

You sort of...envied him.

"All right, breakfast is served !" 

Your thought bubble popped once his voice breached the air, looking down at the plate he had placed in front of you.

And what you saw had your E/C irises snapping open in shock. 

They were pancakes, thick and fluffy, cooked to a golden perfection while the middle remained a delightful off-white. There were two of them, stacked and topped off with pieces of crispy, pan fried bacon that stuck out delicately from their placement on top of the fluffy mounds. A deep yellow sauce cascaded from the top and over the edges, it's supposed thickness adding a strange elegance to the dish, making even the mediocre light in the kitchen glisten off of its polished finish. And the whole thing was garnished with a pinch of parsley. 

You were completely awestruck.

"Well ?" Soma inquired, that same grin plastered on its face, "Aren't you gonna try it?" 

You looked up at him, still totally bewildered, "I-Well, yes but it...it almost looks too beautiful to eat. Like I'd be destroying a piece of art or something." 

Soma laughed, "Well I'm definitely happy that it's pleasing to the eye. But good food is meant to be eaten so don't think you're ruining anything." He gave you a thumbs up, "Go ahead and enjoy !"

You smiled softly and picked up the fork and knife he had laid out next to the plate, preparing to cut off an edge of the pancake.

"Ah, wait !" 

You looked up, "What's wrong ?"

He folded his arms, "Cut it right down the middle."

"....Huh ?"

"Just trust me."

You blinked, your next words trailing out with confusion, "O….k…."

He gave you a wink and watched as you moved again to cut into the pancakes, but this time, right down the middle like Soma had told you. 

Your knife glided right through the top, piercing what you thought was the pancake. That is, until a rich, orangey-yellow substance burst out and flowed down the edge of your knife and soaked through the fluffy center of the pancakes while also mixing with the thickened sauce below. 

"Woah…" you breathed. 

"Doesn't take much to wow you, I see." Soma chuckled, "Now make sure to get everything together."

You nodded slowly, taking care to create what looked like a perfect bite of fluffy, rich, and crispy.

Lifting the fork to your mouth, your lips encompassed it fully before pulling it back out clean and your eyes widened again as your mouth went to work in letting everything glide over your taste buds. 

So much flavor and so many different textures. 

The pancake was just as soft as it looked. The bacon was still crispy, even as you noticed it's thicker cut in biting it with your teeth. The sauce was thick and absolutely divine, buttery with a hint of acidity.

Acidity.

The lemon you saw him squeezing earlier.

Its classic yellow color. 

Hollandaise sauce.

You inwardly gasped, now tasting and recognizing the other component of the dish that had burst out when you had cut into it.

It's smooth subtlety mixed perfectly with everything, the taste so familiar and oddly vibrant even though it was an extremely common breakfast food whether scrambled, boiled, fried, or in this case, poached.

"So what do you think ?"

You savored it for as long as you could before finally, you swallowed, refraining from taking another bite of what tasted like heaven on a plate so you could answer the red head.

"It's... incredible!" 

Soma grinned, watching as your eyes quite literally started to sparkle which each additional bite you took.

It didn't take long for you to finish, and when you did, you sat back happily, humming as you relished in your delightful fill.

Soma leaned over the counter, "I take it you liked it ?" 

You nodded eagerly, " Mmhm ! I've never had pancakes like this before. It was so unique! Everything fits so well together! The bacon, the Hollandaise sauce, and was that a-"

Soma snapped his fingers, "Egg ? Yep ! You're exactly right ! You definitely know your stuff ! What you had there were Souffle Pancakes Eggs Benedict style. Not a lot of restaurants serve it and it was my first time making it. Kinda risky but I wanted to welcome you somehow."

You tilted your head up with a smile, "Well...you definitely did. Thank you, Soma." 

He beamed, removing the strip of fabric from his forehead and tied it around his arm, "Your Welcome, Y/N." 

You weren't sure if it was from the meal you just had, but you felt full, especially when it crossed over on just how thoughtful Soma had been to you even though you just met.

Come to think of it, everyone had been thoughtful the night you had arrived. 

You had been so nervous to cook for Miss Fumio, but you proved all successful in the end after she had tasted your dish. Everyone had been eavesdropping to see how you would do and surrounded you with all the congratulations in the world once you passed. 

Everyone celebrated that night with a feast and you appreciated their kindness with every out of gratefulness you could muster. 

They accepted you and wanted you to succeed.

No one at this dorm was at each other's throats like other students you had seen, especially the ones you had seen on the video of Soma at the entrance ceremony. 

No, everyone here was considerate and friendly with a want for everyone to do their best even if they had powerful aspirations of third own.

Wholeheartedly, you did feel welcomed, and Soma's actions increased that feeling tenfold. 

[niphredil-14]

Homicidal Liu X Reader -- Stars

Hello again, darlings! I am writing another Creepypasta piece, and would love if you would send in some requests. As I am feeling very inspired for Creepypasta at the moment, CP related requests will take precedence. Please don’t send in anything other than platonic for Sally. I will not, under any circumstances, write pedophilia. 

WARNING: MANSION AU

Tagging: @creepy-babes

Homicidal Liu X Reader -- Stars

I have never been particularly good at sleeping. My nights have always consisted of me drifting in and out of consciousness, without ever really falling into a deep slumber. However, to further my dismay, on the few occasions that I do manage to fall asleep, I would be awoken by night terrors, which only prolonged my suffering through exhaustion. This caused not only a feeling of uneasiness and restlessness, but also newfound guilt after Slender had informed us that we were all to share a room with one other pasta, due to the fact that there were too many of us and not enough rooms. I felt bad that I might, even unintentionally, affect one of my friends. Not all of us get along very well, some of us are even out to kill one another, but for some odd reason, that didn’t prevent me from seeing the other residents as a family. An odd, mismatched, demented family, no doubt, but a family nonetheless.  My ceiling was looking particularly plain that night, and I had managed to time the drumming of my fingers on my stomach so that they each would have risen and fallen to tap my belly in-between each thrum of my heartbeat. My head lolled to the side, and my gaze fell across the room, landing on the figure soundly sleeping in the bed on the side of the room farthest from my own. Liu was always so kind to me, he was kind to everyone. All he ever wanted to do was help people, it was insane to me how he ended up how he did. With a soft sigh, my eyes fell closed for a mere moment before opening once more, and before I knew it, my feet were swinging over the edge of the bed and I was making my way towards the door. My journey, most likely to the kitchen or living room, was cut short as soon as I placed my hand upon the doorknob and heard a groggy voice call out my name. My body shifted to look behind me, where I found Liu gazing at me with half-closed eyes, propping himself up on one elbow, while his other arm was draped over his side. With the pale moonlight shining down on his tired face, it was easy to see just how perfectly and effortlessly his hair fell to frame his face, and how sharp his collarbone was when it was visible. The glow of the lights hanging in the dark sky above our window also revealed a beautifully soft, gentle dazzle in his emerald eyes; one that you wouldn’t expect from a killer. These observations, among many others, left me momentarily speechless; helpless to do anything but stare at the man before me. Liu gave me a small grin and asked, “Can’t sleep?” I exhaled quickly and shortly from my nose, a failed attempt at a chuckle, and slowly nodded.  “Yes, I rarely can.” The trace of a smile on the brunette’s face fell for a moment as he gazed at me in concern, before an ever brighter grin graced his stitched features. He threw the blanket off of him and stood up, joyfully telling me to, “Bundle up!” I tilted my head in confusion for a moment, watching as he pulled on pants atop his boxers, and began throwing on a shirt, before stopping to laugh in my direction. “Come on, hurry up!” He resumed getting dressed, sounding like a child who was going to sneak downstairs to wait for Santa Clause. Hesitantly, I followed his lead, pulling a sweatshirt over my head, and placing a light hat atop my head, successfully hiding my bedhead as well as warming myself. By the time I was putting my shoes on, Liu already had and was grabbing his monochromatic striped scarf from the post of his bed’s headboard. Once I stood up, he held a hand out to me. I looked at him quizzically, but found no trace of deception or trickery in his eyes, so hesitantly, I placed my hand in his, and though I may try to deny it, felt my face warm as his fingers laced with mine. The green-eyed man led me down the stairs, and past the kitchen, dining room, living room, and plenty of others as I was pulled through the foyer and outside of the manor.  “Liu?” I whispered into the crispy air. “Where are we going?” His pale face turned towards me, a glint in his eyes.  “You’ll see,” He whispered back. “It’s only a bit farther. We’re almost there.” His soothing voice provided me with as immeasurable an amount of reassurance as the warmth of his hand wrapped around my own.  The chirping of the cicadae mixed with the whispering of the wind against my reddened cheeks kept me alert despite the exhaustion that oppressed my body like weights. Even with the vulnerability of being out in the open, wild forest surrounding the manor, and the danger of whatever creatures may have been lurking in the darkness between the towering trees, I found myself unafraid. It puzzled me, my lack of fear, and as I was pulled along, I pondered it. Though I was unable to reach an answer before I felt myself bump into Liu’s back. I stumbled backwards, startled out of my thoughts, but was pulled back by Liu’s hand. “Careful,” he spoke softly, “There’s a root behind your foot.” Bashfully, I glanced back at my heel, only to realize that it was just barely touching a tree’s root, sprouting from the ground that would have easily tripped me in my daze. I let out a defeated hum and looked back at the man before me. His eyes captured mine for a moment before I looked over his shoulder to see that we had come to a clearing of trees on the arching side of a hill. The grass was tall, but not so much as to appear overgrown, and it was beautifully complimented by the flowers that sprouted throughout the field as well as the few tree stumps towards the edge, where the trees began to appear once more, almost like a wall. A beautiful, natural wall that encased a small slice of paradise. I had been unaware of the look of awe that graced my face at the gorgeous nighttime scene until Liu’s soft hand tapped the bottom of my chin and gently pushed upwards, closing my parted lips. “You’ll catch a fly if you keep gaping like that.” He said and pulled me along to the center of the field. Our footsteps slowed to a halt as we reached the middle of the glade. Liu lied down and beckoned for me to follow suit. I happily did, resting my body right beside his, mere centimeters of grass dividing us. I reached over and intertwined his fingers with my own. “It’s beautiful, Liu; thank you.” I whispered. He gave my hand a small squeeze and whispered back, “No problem. I always used to come out here when I couldn’t sleep or needed a quiet place to think. It’s nice to get to share it with you.” He turned his head to look at me, and I followed in suit, gazing into his green eyes. We stayed like that for a few moments; the silence, rather than being awkward, was serene and comfortable and before we knew it, our eyes were locked once again on the star-riddled sky. And like that we stayed until the horizon turned into a warm pink and we saw the sun rising up over the tree line.

[goldenagewebnovel]

Volume 1 Prologue

Virtual Reality. 

The ever sought after paradise for everyone who loves video games. 

The first virtual reality developments came in the beginning of the century, but they were all based on external hardware. Awkward remotes and gloves, bulky goggles. The hardware became smaller, sleeker, more immersive over time. But in the end, all they were was an entertaining trick — limited by what it could show and who could even physically use it. 

They brought the player closer to the screen then ever before. But they could never bridge the gap between the real world and the game. The true holy grail of gaming would lie in fully immersive virtual reality; that would take you to the very edge of the screen, and then pull you inside. To wake up inside your favorite game, whenever you wanted. It was the dream that could never be.

And then came the Digital Mind Project.

A private think tank based in the city of Seattle. They gathered the world’s best programers, neurologists, biologists, and psychologists. After working for over a decade, they did it. They mapped and named every possible neural pathway in the human brain and explained it’s function. They created the first complete, digital model of the mind, and it could think like one.

Overnight, the processing speed of all technology in the world skyrocketed. Data could be processed faster and more efficiently then ever imagined. Brain diseases that seemed incurable now had mapped explanations and accessible cures.

The digital and physical revolution that resulted led some people to question where the limit really was. If you can put the human mind in a machine, couldn’t it work the other way around?

Countries, governments, armies, corporations — they all fought to develop and control this untouched potential. But the leaders of the Digital Mind Project had decided to join the race, and, just like before, they won. They developed a full scanning pod, that only required a user to sit in it. The pod would sync to the electric signals of the nerves pathways and, upon triggering sleep, allowed the person to fully connect to the machine.

They sold the design for the pods to every business that could afford it, all at the same time. In the middle of the 21st century the age of Virtual Reality had truly begun.

The first games to come out were… disappointing, to say the least. Barely more then tech demos. Allowing the player to get a unique experience but hardly qualifying as a true game. A rushed attempt at formatting a classic MMORPG as the VR game, Fields of Fighting, was a disaster. It was riddled with horribly coded AI, clunky, unnatural movements, invisible walls everywhere that could physically trap players by accident. It was unplayable.

All the technology you could ever need for VR was available, but game designers were struggling to catch up. They had to learn to think and create in a whole new dimension. The old techniques wouldn’t cut it.

That learning curve led to a drought in Full VR games. Most companies stuck to their tried and true dimension of game design, and if people were lucky they might see a halfway decent Full VR game release once or twice a year.

Then, without any warning, two of the biggest games to hit the market were released in the same year.

The first was a sprawling, open world RPG called, Record of the Ancients. Set in the fantasy genre, this was a single player game that offered its players absolute freedom of choice to explore the world and affect it however they wanted. The game held its own share of bugs and the occasional empty plain or lack of detail, but there was nothing else like it.

The second game was a massive multiplayer sci-fi battle called, Solar Forge. Players could freely participate in large scale, solar system spanning battles. Anything from piloting a ship, to organizing a galactic cruiser, to dropping into and storming an enemy vessel with your squad. Two teams ranging anywhere from 50 to 300 participants all fighting a space war to decide a victor. The largest scale fights could even span days, and a lot of people became addicted to acting as a space marine.

These two games sold more then anyone dared to dream, proving just how unique Full VR gaming could really be. They also set the trend for how these games would be approached. Either broad, if shallow, experiences in a large environment or the chance for rich world building but in a very narrow and strict environment. No one would even attempt to make up for the failed promises made by the flopped Fields of Fighting experience.

Things stayed this way for over a decade. New games came and fell, but Record of the Ancients and Solar Forge remained on top. 

One day, without any big press releases or industry fanfare, a new game started putting up commercials and advertisement. It promised to revolutionize Full VR and offer an experience greater then any of it’s predecessors. Deeper, more detailed worlds. No restrictions on player freedom. An MMORPG that could support millions of players across the world, all at the same time. 

These claims were so preposterously huge that no one believed it. Especially because they were being made by a brand new games company called Aurum Productions, that no one had even heard of before.  

But the ads kept coming.

And once people started looking into the game, and more specifically, Aurum Productions, they learned that this new game had some shocking secret weapons going for it. The founder of Aurum Productions was a man named Mike Wirth, one of the former lead programers of the Digital Mind Project. He had brought a gift for this new game: a new piece of technology called, Player Perception Tuning (PPT). 

In order to allow the most robust, flexible, and realistic experience possible a machine alone couldn’t cut it. Instead, PPT allows the players own brain, already synced with their pod, to process the game’s data for them on the spot. 

Instead of having to code every aspect of the game to recreate reality, they instead offer the brain a very convincing framework of reality, and allow the individual brain to fill in all the pieces. Instead of realism, the programers were going for impressionism. 

What they got was more realistic then any game ever made before it. 

Since every player was acting as their own processor, it made it much easier to have everyone play at once. Since they only had to design the framework, the game team at Aurum had that much more freedom to create a real, enriched world.

In the summer of the year 2076, the groundbreaking Full VR, fantasy MMORPG, Golden Age, released.

__________________________________

In the void of space, above an endless fog, floats an island of gold and riches. There are artifacts, weapons, and sculptures — all crafted from precious metals and rare gems. Priceless artworks and fine clothing are lazily scattered about. The ground is made up of gold bars and golden coins. They drip from the bottom of the island into the void of the fog, but the island never grows smaller.

At the center of the island, purple strands of energy gather together to construct a humanoid wireframe. 

From nowhere and everywhere at once, the Overvoice of the game speaks.

Hello, would you like to customize your character, or would you like a randomly generated one?

A voice from the wireframe responds.

“I’d like to customize.”

Very well.

From all over the island, wisps of light gather together to form a giant ball of light in front of the wireframe.

First, please select what race you would like your character to be. You can chose from Human, Dwarf, Orc, or Elf. You may also choose a ratio, of two of the previously mentioned.

“Human.”

Very well.

Some of the light gets shaved away, scattering into space. The ball of light has now roughly taken the size and shape of a human.

Please select what sex you would like your character to be.

“Um, I’ll take male for me.”

Very well.

Barely any light is shaved away but the figure of light now resembles a blank human male. 

Please select your body type.

“How about we go with svelte but athletic. Like a martial artist kind of build, maybe?”

Very well.

This time, more light is shaved away and the figure now resembles a fit, athletic human man.

Would you like to move on to face sculpting, body sculpting, or voice sculpting next?

“You know what, just have everything else look like my real body.”

Very well.

Light flew away from the human figure in spirals of light until everything burst out. In the place of the light was a tan skinned, human man. The body was still athletic, decently tall, had long sideburns, stubble on it’s chin, gray eyes, and streaks of gray hair at the temples and the front. It had on a set of cotton pants and a cotton shirt, tied down by a coarse rope, and simple leather shoes. The body stared lifelessly at the wireframe in front of it.

In front of the wireframe, a hologram of a keyboard appeared.

Please spell the name of your character.

The wireframe reached out with a hand and pressed: D, 0, n. And hit enter.

Please pronounce how to say the name of your character.

“You pronounce it like you would for an Italian mob boss. Or like the dawn of a new day.”

Very well. Please step forward into your character to initiate syncing.

The wireframe took clumsy steps towards the human body in front of it. On contact, the purple lines of energy that made up the wireframe fused into the human body.

I could suddenly feel everything. The clothes against my skin. The shifting, hard coins that made up the ground under my feet. The cool breeze that started to blow across my face.

In front of my eyes I could see that the endless sky of space, littered with stars and streaks of purple throughout. Streams of the gold coins that made up the island were flowing off the edges. They were dispersing the fog.

In front of the island was a floating circular flat world. Absolutely huge, it took up my whole vision. There were three distinct continents in the center of the wide ocean. 

The one on the left was made of sweeping mountain ranges and floating islands, that looked like they were made of gemstones. 

The one on the bottom was a giant archipelago, made up of countless, rich islands.

The one on the right had sprawling green fields and verdant forests and crystal blue lakes. 

The edge of the world had a misty, thick fog all around it, but I could see waterfalls flowing into the void of space underneath. The sun was bright and lit up everything beautifully. I could hear rising orchestral music playing from somewhere. From nowhere and everywhere at once, the Overvoice of the game spoke to me.

Welcome, to the world of Golden Age, D0n.

I felt like I could stare at that sight forever.

But I didn’t have that chance. Suddenly the ground began to rumble under my feet. The streams of gold flowing off the side rushed forward, and huge swaths of the island began to break off. 

Eventually, the whole island destabilized, falling to the planet below. I went with it. As I was falling among columns of gold and treasure, I heard the Overvoice again. 

Due to your region of origin, you will be starting in the Plains Continent. Below, you will enter the Tutorial Village. There, we have provided class instructors, resources, and all the knowledge you will need to explore the game. Have fun.

The ground was getting closer and closer. I could no longer see the edge of the world. Below me was an impossibly thick cloud. 

All of the gold around me started to dissolve into particles of light. 

I was in the middle of an uncontrollable free fall. The wind was rushing past me so fast it was whipping at my clothes and shoving my hair away. My eyes were tearing up from the force of it.

I felt a wide smile, that showed all my teeth, spread across my face.

It was time to play the game.

[writing-is-hard-af]

Random Andreil One-Shot I wrote last night and attempted to edit this afternoon.

Basically, Neil has a nightmare. Mentions (or more descriptions I guess) of blood, injury, and torture. Pretty much just angst!

————————————————————

Rain poured down from the sky in sheets, soaking Neil to the bone as he stood in an alley behind a gas station in Seattle. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, his dyed blond hair plastered to his forehead, all curls flattened, water dripped from his fingertips, the bridge of his nose, and his chin. Shivers ran up his back as rain drops rolled down his spine and everything hurt, except he couldn’t focus on that, he didn’t have the time, not when he was surrounded by the unconscious, possibly dead, bodies of five of his father’s men, not when his father himself was nearby, was wherever his mother was, with an axe and possibly a gun. Distantly he could hear yelling, but the sound of the rain was too loud and overpowering for him to be able to tell who was yelling and what they were saying. He blinked rapidly, trying to see properly, but rain continued to run into his eyes, blurring his vision, making it impossible to see if his father was visible.

Neil hadn’t seen his father in person for nearly a year, since he’d found them in Göttingen, the only people that had caught up with them were his minions like Lola, who wasn’t anywhere in sight. Of course that didn’t technically mean anything, she could be lurking up on the roof or in a dark corner just waiting for Neil to let his guard down for one second so she could strike and slice him into ribbons. Another shudder went through Neil, his shoulder throbbing painfully in response. Someone must have managed to get a good hold on it at some point during the fight that had taken place and yanked it out of its socket, or at least almost out. Either way, he could deal with that later, he needed to find his mom, needed to make sure they both got out of this alive.

Pushing himself off the wall he had momentarily allowed himself to lean against, Neil nearly slipped on the slick ground. Water was puddled everywhere, running like small streams in the cracks in the pavement, red blood mixing with the water and swirling around like small pieces of thread. Neil’s side screamed in protest, the shift in his stance pulling at the deep gash he had from a knife that he’d only narrowly avoided being stabbed by, and his legs wobbled beneath him, blood slowly trickling down his left thigh from a shallow knife wound there. Ignore the pain, you’re fine, Neil snapped at himself and moved to follow after where he was sure he’d seen her disappear to.

Before he could even start walking however, Mary suddenly burst around the corner, running towards him. She grabbed hold of his arm, not even pausing in her sprint, and yanked him along after her. Her fingers dug into his arm, bruisingly tight, nails cutting into his skin. His arm felt like it was being yanked out of its socket all over again, fire spreading through his nerves across his shoulder blade and collar bone. He stumbled a few steps before managing to get a grip on himself again, speeding up so that he was running beside her instead of behind her.

They raced through back alleyways, unfamiliar by name yet nothing unusual about their appearance, turning corners seemingly at random until they burst out into a parking lot outside of a shopping mall. Brightly colored store signs glowed against the stone building, the only thing keeping the lot from being pitch black. Despite the late hour, dozens of cars were lined up in the lot, colors smudged together by the rain running into Neil’s eyes. His mother didn’t stop running when they came out of the alley, simply dragged him towards the nearest car--a dark grey truck of some sort, the brand ineligible with all the water and the lack of decent light.

It took her barely ten seconds to pick the lock on the driver’s door and she shoved Neil inside without any attempt at being gentle. The fall onto the leather seat sent a bolt of pain through his arm, and he just barely managed to not smash his face in the seat. Neil held back a flinch and quickly adjusted the way he was seated so that he was facing the wheel, trying to ignore the burning in his shoulder, the pain in his side, the blood soaked through his pant leg.

Suddenly, between one blink of an eye and the next, he was out on the street, rain still pounding down against the glass, but the tall business buildings of Seattle nowhere in sight. He was racing across a bridge of sorts over the highway leading out of the city, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see his mother curled up in the passenger seat, one hand pressed firmly to her abdomen, where her shirt was stained a dark, terrifying red. She was trembling slightly, though Neil doubted that had to do with cold and more to do with shock and blood loss from a wound he couldn’t see.

“Faster!” she hissed and he quickly turned his eyes back to the road, pressing down on the gas pedal a bit more, definitely going above the speed limit. His focus dwindled, grew all messed up, and things blurred together, something that could very well have been blamed on the rain, except instead of staying blurred everything dissolved around him, like his surroundings were made of dandelion fuzz being swept away from the stem by the wind.

Suddenly Neil was on his knees, sand surrounding him, hands buried in it, the smell of gasoline burning in his nose, smoke entering into his lungs with every breath he took and causing rough, dry coughs to escape him, eyes narrowed to slits to avoid them drying out from the heat of the fire that blazed in the tan car just fifteen meters from him. His whole body still hurt, no new injuries added to the few he gained in Seattle but not having dealt with those in the first place, and his head swam with dehydration and exhaustion. Some part of Neil’s mind supplied the information that his mother hadn’t let them stop once besides to switch cars three times until they were at least two states away from Seattle, but it was less something he remembered and more something he just knew.

Suddenly something around him shifted again, more a violent tug than everything dissolving like the previous time, and the ground beneath him turned from sand to cold, smooth cement, covered in old stains of dark rustic brown, obviously blood spilt at least a few months previously. Neil’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar floor, and his gaze snapped up to look around the basement of his childhood home. Immediately his eyes landed on the two people in the center, just a few feet from Neil, one sitting on top of the other. The one on the floor had striking golden blond hair, curled familiarly at his ears, except instead of it being pure gold it was spattered with red, slick with it in places. Neil’s father sat on top of Andrew instead of on top of Neil like he’s supposed to, a manic glint in his ice blue eyes that were so achingly similar to Neil’s as he traced a silver knife across his face, leaving gashes on all his prominent features.

Andrew’s blood covered the floor like paint, puddled like the rain in Seattle, and there was too much of it, way too much of it, and even though Neil knew subconsciously that this wasn’t real, a scream built up in his throat, ripping itself out of him.

“Stop! Please, stop, hurt me instead, please!” Nathan looked up at Neil, his knife stopping in the middle of one of its already drawn lines, and a cold smirk settled on his face. Neil’s breath caught again and his gaze drifted from his father’s back to Andrew, Andrew who was too still, Andrew who was too pale, Andrew whose hazel eyes were glassy and empty, Andrew who was covered in blood. A sob ripped its way out of Neil’s throat, murmuring Andrew’s name over and over again as his mind screamed your fault, your fault, all your fault.

He barely even realized it when he was shoved onto his back by a pointed leather boot and his father kneeled over him, knife and cleaver carving Neil into pieces as they had done years before. No pleas escaped his lips as felt himself be torn apart at the seams, he didn’t beg for Nathan to stop because he deserved it and there wasn’t a point anymore anyway, nothing mattered. Andrew was gone and it was all Neil’s fault and-

“Neil,” a voice, a familiar, calming voice, one that should be dead and silent if the body on the ground was real, whispered distantly, repeating the name one, two, three times before quickly switching to a different name. “Abram!”

All Neil could do was stare at the dead body in the middle of the room, not caring that he was in pain, just wanting Andrew back. The knife retraced his past scars, opening them again and spilling blood onto the floor, spreading around him in a pool of scarlet red. The cleaver cut into his throat and legs, gouging into him, tearing his skin and muscles apart. Whimpers escaped him, involuntary tears slipped down the sides of his face into his bloodsoaked hair.

“Wake up, Abram!” the voice grew louder, no longer distant, no longer just in his head. “Wake up!”

Neil‘s eyes shot open and he inhaled a sharp and unsteady breath, nearly choking on it. His gaze darted around the dorm room for a brief, panicked second before landing on Andrew, who was sitting on Neil’s bed just barely a foot away, looking at him. His eyebrows were scrunched ever so slightly together, lips pressed together a little firmer than usual, hands clenched tightly in the plain white bed sheets at his sides. Neil felt a rush of relief at the sight of him alive, okay, and breathing, and a sob built up in his throat for the first time in years.

He sat up so quickly that he nearly banged his forehead into the bottom of the top bunk, and he turned away from Andrew, leaning his elbows against his knees and pressing his hands to his face. Tears welled up in his eyes but Neil forced them back like he had the sob. It was fake, most of it, and that which wasn’t happened over four years ago, he should be over it. He was fine. He couldn’t be any-

Suddenly Andrew was in front of him, looking up at him from where he had kneeled down on the floor right in front of him. “Neil?” he said in a softer voice than usual, but Neil didn‘t know what to say, his thoughts were too jumbled and confusing and - ”Yes or no?” Andrew’s voice was quiet as he said that and Neil finally glanced up at him, trembling way more than he liked or was now used to, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to shake the images of blood and water and fire from his mind. All he managed was a small nod and Andrew placed his hand on the back of his neck like he always did when Neil was falling down into the darkness. He pulled him down far enough to lean their foreheads together, gaze intently boring into Neil’s eyes.

“You are Neil Josten, you’re at Palmetto with me and the foxes, you’re safe, your father is dead,” Andrew said, repeating softly what he said every time Neil got panicked, and slowly Neil began to calm down as the familiar words washed over him. A bit of the tension bled out of his shoulders and his breathing evened out again, the tears disappearing from his eyes. They stayed that way for a few moments, leaning their foreheads together as Neil calmed down, before Andrew stood up. He offered him his hand, a silent invitation that he didn’t need to accept.

They both knew they wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore that night, they never could after nightmares, no matter how bad or who had them, and Neil let Andrew guide him into the kitchen, where he slumped down against the counter. His gaze tiredly followed Andrew as he poured coffee grounds into the machine along with water from the sink, not bothering to measure how much he put in before he turned it on and then went to grab two mugs from the lowest shelf in the cabinet, where they kept them because reaching anything above that was a bit of a challenge. Relief continued to course through Neil as he watched Andrew move around the kitchen, finally managing to fully convince himself the dream was fake--Andrew was alive, Nathan had never laid a hand on him.

The coffee machine beeped and Andrew swiftly filled both of the mugs he had grabbed, adding an abundance of milk and sugar to his own while he left Neil’s as it was. He set the mugs down on the kitchen island and pulled one of the tall wooden chairs they had there out, sitting down while Neil remained standing, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sit still if he sat down himself, wouldn’t be able to relax. Andrew didn’t say anything, just watched him as he pulled the coffee mug closer to himself, hands wrapping around it, letting the warmth chase away the rest of the chill he still felt from the rain in his dream. They never asked each other what their dreams were about, just let the other person talk if they needed or wanted to.

“At first it was my mom…” Neil said softly after a long moment, keeping his gaze on the dark contents of his mug. Even without looking up he knew that Andrew had a slight disapproving look on his face, the look he got whenever the topic of Neil’s mother came up, no matter the context. “But… it switched and-” he broke off, something he wasn’t quite used to, “and then I was back in Baltimore, except… except he had you instead of me and-”

Andrew put his mug down and moved closer to Neil, turning his head towards him in an almost gentle way. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly and Neil stared at him, the last remnants of fear and tension from the dreams finally dissipating.

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Chapter 13

We hope you all enjoy. We have a few more chapters coming tonight! ; - )

Present-day:

Scarlett stood in the ballroom of Dalmar’s house directing where the delivery men should hang some paintings Dalmar had ordered specially for the gala that evening.

“Where should we place this piece ma'am?” One of the delivery men asked as he held a portrait of Tigran Hakobyan, a famous Krudian general.

“Place the portrait on the right side of the fireplace.” She pointed in its direction.

“So is everything set for tonight.” She heard a male voice come from behind her.

Scarlett turned toward Dalmar. “Nearly done Dalmar. The works by Sargayan were just delivered.” 

“Excellent. I want everything to be perfect for tonight.”

“And it will be.” Scarlett stepped closer towards him. “I must say I have never felt such a great feeling of anticipation for anything before. To know that we are on the eve of a new Krudia, a different world. You can’t help but feel the excitement in the air.”

“I must confess that after all the time, energy, and resources I have put into this project, I find it hard to believe that I am so close to accomplishing my goal.”

“I’m just grateful to be by your side and to have played a small part in making your goal a reality. Your tuxedo is tailored, pressed, and ready for this evening. I laid it out on your bed.”

“Very good. I best get ready for the gala. See you later this evening.” Dalmar began walking to his bedroom.

“Of course.” As she saw Dalmar leave the room Scarlett smirked to herself. All the pieces of her plan were falling into place; it was just a matter of letting things naturally run their course. That was until it was time for her to interfere with that course. 

As Dalmar slipped on his shawl lapel tuxedo jacket he wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of the tiny voice-activated recorder carefully placed in the left pocket of his suit.

…..

Jason stood in front of the mirror in his hotel room, adjusting his bow tie. Once he was finished he picked up the diamond cufflinks he’d placed on a table by the dresser and attached them to the cuffs of his white dress shirt. He then slipped on his notch lapel tuxedo jacket and did up the front bottoms. He glanced down and up at his reflection, checking his entire outfit, and took a deep breath. Jason wasn’t one to be nervous but even he would admit that the thought of attending a Gala with a wanted criminal was jarring. He knew that the success of his and Tasha’s mission depended on the outcome of this evening. They needed to get the necessary information tonight, otherwise, most likely his first field mission would be a failure. After all the time he had waited to prove himself as an agent on the field, he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen. 

He heard a knock at his room door and walked over to open the door. He opened it and saw Tasha. Jason was taken aback by how gorgeous she looked. She was wearing a dark blue off-the-shoulder gown. The dress had a draped ruffle cascading down the left side. All over the gown was embellished and embroidered with sequins. Her shoes were dark blue suede pumps. Her hair was pulled back and twisted in a crown braid. She also wore a pair of diamond halo earrings and held a navy clutch. He always thought she was breathtakingly beautiful but her evening attire seemed to accentuate her stunning features even more. 

As Tasha looked at Jason standing in front of her she couldn’t help but think about how good he looked. He was wearing a black notch lapel tuxedo suit, emerald-cut white diamond octagon cufflinks, and black Oxford dress shoes. From the time they met she thought he was very handsome but now, standing there in his suit, she found him even more good-looking. Though of course, she’d never admit it. 

“Melinda, hey” 

“I thought I’d stop by, see if you were almost ready,” Tasha said as she entered the room.

“Funny, I was just about to go over to your place and make sure you were at least out of the shower” he teased.

“Well,” Tasha glanced down at her outfit “I’m not wearing a bathrobe” she playfully replied.

“No, you definitely aren't,”  Jason smiled, causing Tasha to smile as well. 

“Speaking of the shower, let’s go in there.”

“The…shower?” he asked, an expression of confusion on his face.

“The bathroom actually, just for a moment.”

“Okay.” he responded, still confused by Tasha’s statement. Jason followed Tasha into the bathroom. After they entered she quickly turned on the shower.

“I thought you already had one of these.” Jason joked.

“We need to talk.” Tasha responded, a serious look in her eyes

“Oh and to talk you need the shower on?”

“Unless you want to be covered with bugs.”

“Bugs?” Jason repeated, still confused. After a second it dawned on him what Tasha meant. “Oh bugs, right. Too bad I forgot to pack my insect repellent.” 

Tasha kiddingly rolled her eyes and gave a slight smile. “As I was trying to say, I know technically you’ve been undercover already since we’ve met Dalmar and secured the deal. But tonight is going to be—“

“Hard. Difficult. Demanding.” Jason crossed his arms.

“Let’s just say not a walk in the park.” Jason nodded his head. Tasha continued, “in my experience at these events, where you have to remain undercover for a long period of time, new agents tend to slip up or lose focus. We already have a good deal of intel on Dalmar. From what we’ve seen, with his massive base of followers and speech about radical change, I suspect he’s planning on staging a coup.”

“Either that or win power first by legitimate means and then seize control of the entire country.”

“The how doesn’t matter, we just have to ensure that he doesn’t take over this country. And the only way to do that is to find out where the weapons are located. As of now the only way we have of learning this information is from Dalmar directly.”

“And who knows if we’ll see him again before Wednesday, when the weapons are supposed to be delivered.”

“Exactly, which makes tonight our only shot at getting the information we need, which means that you and I have to bring our ‘A’ game.”

“Understood.” 

“Good.” Tasha smiled and turned off the shower. She then remembered something. “Oh, sorry I almost forgot but would you give me a hand with this necklace? For some reason, I can’t get it to clasp.” She held the sapphire bar drop necklace out to him that she’d been holding for the past few minutes. 

“Sure.” He took the necklace from her and clasped it around her neck.

“Thanks.”

“It sure is a beautiful necklace,” Jason remarked.

“Thank you. It belonged to my grandmother.”

“Well, it looks wonderful on you. You look great by the way.”

“Thanks. Though I’ve worn this dress to a million other parties.” Tasha laughed. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Why thank you. I try my best.”  Jason gave a boyish grin.

“Just don’t let it go to your head.” 

“Okey-dokey.” They both smiled again. 

“We’d best get downstairs. The last thing we need is to be late.” Tasha began to head for the door.

“Right behind you.”

…..

The older man reached for the microphone that was placed in the car and spoke into it. "This is White Falcon. The targets have just left The Chardell.”

Red Sparrow’s voice echoed in response through the car speaker system. “Affirmative. Do not take action. Stay in your current position until further notice.”

“Understood.”

…..

As Tasha and Jason made their way to Dalmar’s house they each noted the drastic change in scenery. The vehicle traveled through the sprawling city, a large grassy plain dotted by small farms and villages, and up a windy road on Mt. Karanaj. Finally, the BMW pulled up in front of a mansion which was located about halfway up the mountain in the middle of a forest. The house was four stories tall with a basement as well. The house was in the style of a modern mountain home as parts of its walls were made of redwoods with the other large sections being made out of stone as well as cutouts and windows of glass. It also had sloped and flat rooflines, timber and steel details, and a massive porch and deck situated in the front of the house.

A doorman walked up to the car and opened the right passenger door. Tasha and Jason each said “Thank you” to the gentleman as they exited the BMW and headed for the entrance to the house. They entered through the arched doorway into the entryway and were greeted with a crowd of people gathered in the house, the women dressed in the finest designer dresses and jewelry and the men wearing their best tuxedos.

The inside of Dalmar’s home was even more elaborate than the outside. It had high vaulted ceilings, redwood beams that stretched from one end of the room to the other, ornate gold and onyx carvings in the walls, murals, and paintings from world-renown artists hung on the walls. The floors were made of the finest marble and numerous crystal chandeliers hung throughout the mansion. 

Almost as soon as they entered the home Tasha and Jason were greeted by Tarek.

“Melinda, Edward. Welcome.”

“Hello Tarek” Tasha responded.

“It’s good to see you again,” Jason added.

“Dalmar’s been anticipating your arrival. I’ll take you to him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jason replied. Tarek led Tasha and Jason through the crowd to a gold-plated bifurcated staircase. They walked up a couple of flights of stairs and arrived at the second floor of the house. Tarek led them down a hall past several rooms and into a grand ballroom. The ceiling was adorned with frescoes that depicted famous moments in history. The walls and ceilings were overlaid with gold trimmings and carvings. A marble stone fireplace was in the center of the room and three gold and Swarovski clear crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The three of them made their way over to Dalmar who was standing by the fireplace, holding a glass of champagne in his hand. Tarek withdrew himself and headed downstairs to greet more arriving guests.

“Mr. Delucas, Ms. Tylerson” Dalmar greeted them.

“Dalmar”  Jason acknowledged him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Dalmar,” Tasha added.

“Davit. You can call me Davit” he smiled.

“Only if you call Melinda.”

“For you my dear, that I can do.” He outstretched his arms “So what do you think of the place?” 

“It’s amazing…Davit. Certainly one of the most elaborate and beautiful homes I’ve ever seen.”

“A man that can do this well for himself…it shows even more that we partnered with the right guy.”

Dalmar smirked and took a sip of his champagne. “Who am I to argue with that?”

Jason sensed an opportunity and spoke. “Speaking of our partnership. Melinda and I have been giving our deal a great amount of thought and we feel since we’ve supplied you with firepower we are entitled to be given some more information.”

“Information?” Dalmar furrowed his brow.

“Yes,” Tasha responded. “You’ve kept your plans for this operation rather close to the vest. Overall strategy. Location or locations of your armaments. We’re not in the habit of partnering in operations we know close to nothing about.”

“Trust me, for the sake of our success I can’t divulge much. My secrecy has been the only way I’ve gotten this far. What I will say is that you will be handsomely compensated. Whatever money you want. Whatever position you want. It will be yours” Dalmar took another swig from his glass.

“What do you mean by position?” Tasha pressed for more details. “A high position in society? To be honest we had our eye on a little more than that.” 

Dalmar chuckled to himself. “I must say Melinda you are quite—”

“Determined? Resolute?”

“Very persistent.”

“It’s how I’ve survived in this business as long as I have.”

“That I can respect. Likewise, I think you and your associate can understand my hesitancy to disclose sensitive information.”

Before either Tasha or Jason could respond Adrian came up to Dalmar and whispered in his ear. Dalmar whispered something to Adrian in reply and then turned back toward Tasha and Jason.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment there is an urgent matter I must attend to.”

“Of course,” Tasha replied. Dalmar exited the ballroom with Adrian by his side, leaving Tasha and Jason alone. Tasha slightly shook her head and sighed. “I should have known a man like Dalmar would try as far as possible to keep things close to his vest.”

“At least you tried.”

“Thankfully, we have the rest of the evening. Though I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long one.”

“I’m going to go get some sparkling water to drink. Do you want any?” 

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be right back.” Jason made his way out of the ballroom and down to the first floor of the house. He walked through several rooms trying to find the bar. He then heard a voice from behind him. “Lost?” He turned to see Scarlett.

“Is it that obvious?” Jason laughed.

“Don’t feel bad it happens all the time to first-time guests. It is a pretty big house.”

“I was just looking for the bar.”

“Walk to the entryway, pass the staircase and go all the way to the back of the house, turn left and you’ll find it next to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Ms…”

“Scarlett is fine.”

“Thanks, Scarlett.”

“Of course.”

Jason then left, followed Scarlett’s directions, and arrived at the bar. As he waited in line to get his drink something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Through a window in the back of the room, he spotted two of Dalmar’s security guards, talking to each other in hushed tones. Jason walked closer to the window to get a better look, careful not to draw any attention to himself. He saw the two guards talk for a few more moments before they started heading towards the woods. As they walked they stopped every so often to look back towards the mansion, He assumed to make sure no one was following them. Jason stood there going over in his mind what he should do. 

Tasha said we should get the info from Dalmar but so far he’s been nothing but…cagey. It’s not like we have a guarantee he’ll give us the necessary info. This could be our only opportunity to get the intel we need. I could also prove myself to Tasha, to Donovan, to the Agency. Show them I actually have what it takes as an agent. The last thing I want is my first mission to be a failure. Sure, it’s a bit risky, but this is a great opportunity. Who knows it might be our only chance of getting the information we need. 

Jason saw the two men walk farther and farther away in the distance and knew it was now or never. Pushing all remaining doubts out of his mind, Jason glanced around the room to make sure no one had noticed him watching the two guards. No one had. Jason quickly exited the room and walked back to the entryway. He discreetly slipped through the crowd and made his way outside. 

…..

Tasha leaned against the railing of the wooden deck, taking in the majestic view of the mountainside and night sky all around. The views reminded her of the times she and her parents used to go camping in the woods together when she was a little girl. They’d all snuggle up by the fire, tell scary stories, and roast marshmallows. At night she and her parents would lie on the ground and gaze at all the stars. Tasha would point out to them and name all the constellations and stars she knew, which was a significant amount. Her parents would laugh and joke that she spent all the time they stargazed talking her head off. Tasha smiled to herself as she thought of the memory. Suddenly, she saw two men walking in the distance near the edge of the woods. She then spotted another man sneaking behind them. Tasha recognized the outfit the first men were wearing as the uniform Dalmar’s security wore. The other man wasn’t wearing a uniform, rather a tuxedo. Tasha soon realized the man was Jason.

“Enjoying the view,” Dalmar remarked. Startled, Tasha quickly turned around and saw Dalmar standing on the deck. “Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tasha forced a smile. “No, it’s all right.” Dalmar walked closer to her. “The views here are…stunning,” she said as she looked over the landscape.

“Yes, they certainly are,” Dalmar replied, though Tasha noticed that he wasn't looking at the view but at her. 

“In the ballroom, I couldn’t help but admire the portrait of Tigran Hakobyan above the fireplace. It truly was a lovely piece of art.”

“General Hakobyan huh? So you know your Krudian History.”

“Some, though I’d be the first to admit that I’m no expert.” 

“That portrait is actually part of a collection by the famous Krudian artist Garine Sargayan that depicts famous Krudian generals and leaders. I just acquired the collection for tonight.”

“I would love it if you could show me the other portraits. You could tell me more about the men and women depicted. Their lives and conquests. I’ve always been fascinated by history. Besides I have no doubt that one day we’ll be adding your portrait to that collection.”

“I think I can manage that.” He offered her his arm. Tasha took it and the two of them began making their way back inside the ballroom.

As Tasha and Dalmar walked through the doorway she quickly glanced behind her and saw Jason disappear in the distance. She was relieved Dalmar hadn’t spotted him while on the balcony yet she still had an uneasy feeling she couldn’t shake. All she could do now was stick to her plan and hope for the best, though she expected the worst.

[jiminspjm]

Rock Hard + K. Seokjin

❋ “recreational activities make me hard”

⇢ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Oc

⇢ Genre: Slice of Life 

⇢ Fluff, Smut, Baby Angst, Humor

⇢ Rating: Explicit

⇢ Word count: 13.5k

⇢ Warnings: minor description of injury, oc isn’t rlly an outdoors person so gets hurt sometimes lol, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap ur willy), riding, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, nipple pay, slight spanking, cock warming, lazy sex at one point (idk), jin has a big dick (duh), cock worship, praise-kink, multiple orgasms, squirting, they have sex on a piano and against a window???, pet names, dirty talk, daddy is said once?? kinda rough sex.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

 “No.” you said, laying on your stomach flipping through your textbook. You blew a bubble with the once flavorful piece of gum in your mouth, a smooth deflating sound came out.

“Please!! ___, sweetheart.” You looked up at Namjoon, a pout prominent on his full lips. Rolling your eyes at the brunette haired man, you sat up pulling your glasses off.

“Why? You know I prefer to stay indoors, with air conditioning, and my book Joon. What’s in it for me?” you squinted at him as he sat on the floor across from the bed. Blinking at you, he looked at the ceiling. Confused, you looked up as well.

“I’ll buy you coffee and food this week,” he bargained. You tilted your head side to side, contemplating his offer.

“Nah, I can starve,” you shrugged getting up off the bed and walking out of the bedroom. You heard Namjoons deep groan behind you as you walked into the kitchen.

“Please, ___.” Joon said, leaning against the counter. Humming, you opened the fridge and tapped your fingers against the stainless steel door. Pulling out a carton of juice, you opened it drinking straight from the carton. Ah, the perks of living alone. Namjoon grimaced.

“That’s disgusting,” He said pointing at you. You rolled your eyes, pulling the carton from your mouth. Wiping your lips with your arm, you shrugged.

“I live alone Joonie, it’s fine.” you said, placing the juice back in the fridge. You heard Namjoon sigh, as he walked over to the couch and flopped onto it.

“Please.” he whined. Walking over to him, you tapped his butt lightly before walking back to your room.

“Outside has too many diseases.” You joked, sitting on your desk chair and spinning in circles. Namjoon walked into your room, placing his hands on the back of the chair. Tilting your head back, you looked at his disheveled platinum hair. Smiling, you pushed his circular frames up his nose.

“Seokjin is our instructor.” Namjoon said, a hard stare on his face. You immediately pulled your hand back, and clumsily got off the chair. Looking at him with wide eyes.

“That’s all the more reason not to go!” you cried, pulling at the roots of your hair. Namjoon smirked a bit, pulling his lanky body on your chair.

“I know you like him. And have since like, what? Middle of Sophomore year? You’re  23 now, __. You’ve only kissed a few guys, maybe gave a blowjob. And you had sex once and didn’t even cum, like,” Namjoon kept listing things, as you shake your head and cover your ears.

“I fucking know, Namjoon.” you hissed, stomping over to your bed and laying on it. He had a point though. Sighing, Namjoon swiveled on the chair to look at you.

“___, sweetheart I am not saying these things to be mean. I am just saying it because, I think you really have a chance with Jin. I’m not gonna force you to go, but think about it, please? I want you to date someone who cares. Not someone who will stick their dick in you and leave.” Namjoon said softly, looking at you.

You twiddled with the bottom of your cotton shorts, sighing inwardly. You knew he was right.

“I’ll go, I guess.” you said quietly. Namjoon spun in the chair enthusiastically, and then quickly pushed over to you. He poked your cheeks and took your hands in his larger ones.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, I promise you won’t regret it. “ He smiled, pressing a kiss to your hairline. Rolling your eyes and smacking him away, you laid down on your bed, starting at the ceiling fan. A faint buzz was heard next to you, rolling over you picked up your phone, Mia with the little fairy emoticon popped up on the screen.

“Hello?” you spoke.

“So have you proceeded to get Kim Seokjin’s dick wet yet?” Mia said into the receiver. You groaned, sliding your hand down your face.

“No, and I probably won’t,” you said. Mia barked a laugh over the phone.

“Bitch if you don’t, I’ll make you watch me suck Jimin’s dick,” Mia teased. Rolling your eyes, you sit up and lean against your headboard.

“Fine by me, his ass is nice.” You joked, picking at your nails.

“Damn straight, anyway you better talk to him! This week! Or your ass is mine,” She chastised. Rolling your eyes you told her a short ‘yeah, yeah’ before exchanging goodbyes and hanging up.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You sat in the car, an annoyed look on your face as you crossed your arms over your chest. Namjoon, hummed as he tapped the steering wheel along to the music. It was especially hot today, and the activity Joon graciously decided to attend was rock climbing. Yay. Sighing, you lean your elbow against the door and look out the window, the rocks whizz by as Joon pulls closer to the Park.

“I’m so excited,” Joon said, a dimpled smile coming across his face. You nodded, pulling your at your plain black muscle shirt. Namjoon glanced at you, poking a finger at your exposed ribcage which showed your grey sports bra.

“Wow, showing some skin for Jin aren’t we?” Namjoon teased. Glaring at Namjoon, you swatted his hand away and pinched his bicep.

“Ow, don’t be a brat. Brats don’t get dick.” Namjoon said, pulling into a parking spot. Rolling your eyes again, you picked at the loose threads of your tan shorts. You were nervous, not necessarily being an outdoor person due to experiences that happened in the past. But having a hyper-active best friend who is all about the outdoors, he always tried to get you outdoors. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even register Namjoon opening the trunk and coming around to your door.

Looking up at him, he gestured a hand for you to get out of the car. “Let’s go sweetheart, Jin is waiting.” Namjoon teased. Huffing you pulled at the bandana around your neck. Grabbing your water flask, you got out of the car. Your hiking boots scuffed across the dirt, as you and Namjoon walked through the park. Children pulling parents by their hands to look at activities in the rec center. Families sitting at picnic tables, and children swinging on a tire. Following closely behind Namjoon, you pushed your sunglasses up your face as you walked to where your group is meeting.

Looking up a bit, you noticed a group of people clustered in front of the information booth. They were all looking at pamphlets and talking among themselves.

“Hey Namjoon!” You immediately were met with a strong back stopping in front of you. Stumbling back a bit you glared a Namjoon who turned around to see who called his name. Craning your neck a bit, you looked up to see him pull his sunglasses down a bit. A wide smile graced his features, indents prominent on his cheeks.

“Seokjin! What’s up bro?” Namjoon said walking past you. You stood there, still not facing the other way. Gripping your water flask a bit tighter, you were about to slowly walk away when someone says your name.

“___?” You shut your eyes tightly. So close. Spinning around quickly, you came face to face with Kim Seokjin. Did he get more muscular. His lush black hair was pushed back from his strong face by his sunglasses. Plush, pink lips pulled up into a smirk. Due to the hot weather, he wore a purple tank top and black sweat shorts, showing off his toned thighs. Strong fingers grasped the straps of a large backpack, a vein leading up to the swell of his large biceps. You didn’t notice you were ogling until Namjoon snapped his fingers in your face.

“___!” Namjoon spoke loudly. Jumping a bit, you felt your face heat up even more, not just because of the weather. You blinked behind the tinted shades of your sunglasses. Waving nervously, you said a quiet hello Jin. Seokjin smiled, walking over to you. Leaning down he pressed a kiss to your cheek before walking towards the group of people. You swear you died right there. Touching your cheek lightly, you looked at Namjoon.

“Did he just-,” you stuttered. Namjoon nodded.

“Yes, he did.” Namjoon smiled, patting your shoulder and walking past you. Smiling a bit, you touched your cheek one more time, before catching up to Namjoon.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

After about half an hour of instruction, and filling out death wavers, your group was on their merry way. Your safety gloves were itchy against your fingertips, as you walked through the canyon to the spot where you would climb. Namjoon basically abandoned you, walking closer to the front with Seokjin. What a filthy traitor you thought, as your group came to a stop in front of a waterhole with a small waterfall. You weren’t too deep in the canyon, maybe 3 miles iin. It was quite cool the lower you got, some of the rocks were slick due to the weather. Overall the canyon was nice, the rocks were definitely tall enough to scale. Lost in your thoughts, again you barely heard Seokjin hushing the group.

“Okay everyone! You are allowed to scale around this area, if you are more experienced then go ahead and start climbing near the water or in this general area. The climbing bolts are marked with chalk so you should be able to tell where to climb!” Seokjin said giving the more experienced climbers a thumbs up. “Also make sure the bolts are good and if not be sure to let me know,” Seokjin spoke with a smile. Namjoon walked towards you as Jin kept talking.

“Come with me small child, I will help thee.” Namjoon spoke, puffing out his chest and saluting you. Snorting you punched him in the arm as you followed him toward the area to climb. Namjoon walked towards the water, wading into it. It only reached his knees, confused you looked at him.

“Just in case you fall and like you know die, the water will help a bit so maybe instead of dying you will just break your back.” Namjoon said giving you a thumbs up. Blinking at him, you were tempted to dumb your chalk bag all over his stupid tanned face.

“Hey don’t look at me like that, either break your back falling, or break your back when Jin is blowing out-,” You felt your face heat up as you quickly ran over to him, drenching your bottom half in the process. Namjoon laughed as you punched him repeatedly in the chest.

“I hate you,” you hissed turning away from the lanky man. Namjoons laughter died down a bit as he poked your cheek.

“I love you too sweetheart,” Namjoon said, pulling the straps of his harness tighter. Sighing, you pushed your hair from your face wishing you tied it back. Pulling at your wrist for a scrunchie, you realized you left your fanny pack on the shuttle with everyone else’s things.

“You look distraught, kitten.” A low voice chuckled behind you. Cheeks heating up at the pet name, you turned to see Seokjin standing in the water as well. His fingers looped in the straps of his harness, strong biceps bulging. His hair was now pushed back by a red bandana, exposing his forehead. The water barely reached his knees, while it went well to your waist.

“You know it’s not a good idea to have your hair not pulled back,” Jin spoke, a teasing grin on his face. Your face burned, as you fiddled with your shirt.

“I uh, don’t have a hair tie or anything.” you spoke, looking at your distorted reflection in the water. Seokjin hummed, as he dug his hand in his pockets. Looking up at him, he presented a dark green scrunchie. Trudging over to you, he pulled his gloves off. Sticking your hand out, he smiled placing them in your hands.

Gesturing you to turn around, you did, the water swishing with your movements. Meticulous fingers carded through your hair, pulling it loosely into a french braid. About two minutes passed when Jin pulled the end through the hair tie.

“And, done!” He spoke, taking you by the shoulders and turning you around. Bringing your hand up to your hair, he actually didn’t do a half bad job from what you could feel. A small grin came across your face as you handed him his gloves back.

“Thanks Jinnie,” you smiled. Winking, Seokjin waded past you to look up at Namjoon hanging off his rope.

“Look at me I’m Spiderman!” Namjoon bellowed above you. Rolling your eyes, you took a step back to look at rock wall, it wasn’t too tall but tall enough to kill you if you fell. How reassuring.

“Okay, so since this is your first time I decided to come help you, one on one,” Jin smiled, clasping his hands together. You nodded, a grin still plastered on your face.

“I’m just gonna make sure everything on your harness is good and then we can get going, sound good?” He asked. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. Jin got a bit closer to you, he was a good foot taller than you, wide shoulders not helping. Bringing his hands out, he pulled roughly on your harness resulting in your being yanked forward as well. Steadying your hands on his chest, you felt the water slosh between your bodies. Jins hands steadied your waist as he tightened the harness. You felt your eyes widen as your palms laid against his strong pecs. You had the urge to poke them.

“Okay, everything seems good. Are you ready to get started?” Jin said stepping back and looking at you. Quickly dropping your hands you nodded, a smile on your face. “Great, okay so those bolts in the rock?” Jin said gesturing to one a few feet above you, “Your gonna make a knot with your rope, I suggest the figure eight it’s good for beginners; and then attach the rope to your carabiner.” Jin spoke, pointing to the assorted carabiners hanging on your harness. “Then you will hook the carabiner on the bolt and free climb. If you fall don’t worry, the last spot you attached the carabiner will stop you.” Jin spoke with a smile. You felt your eyes widen a bit at the thought of falling, Joon would kill you if you died.

“I um, dunno Jin.” You spoke, rubbing your hand against your neck looking up at the other people rock climbing. Jin placed a hand on your shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let you fall. This rock is pretty short compared to the bigger ones, so let’s do this one then you can decide if you wanna do the bigger ones. Sound good?” He asked, looking at you. Making eye contact you nodded at him, giving a small smile. Jin winked patting your shoulder once more and walking closer to the rock.

“Okay, so you know how to the proper knot right?” Jin asked, untying his rope from his harness. You nodded doing the same and grabbing a carabiner from your waist. You stuck your ungloved hand in the chalk bag, making sure your grip was good. Quickly you knotted a figure eight through the carabiner, before turning back to Jin.

He was already done and gestured you to hand him your carabiner. “I’m going to hook this for you, then we can get climbing.” Jin said, placing the carabiner between his teeth. You looked at him with wide eyes, he was going to just scale the damn rock? Jin chalked his hands, clapping them together causing some salt to disperse. You watched as he put his foot into a hole, placing his hands on the rock and began to climb. You probably looked like an idiot, with your mouth wide open as you watched Jin climbed. His ass is nice. You thought, as you watched his biceps ripple as he pulled himself up. His calf muscles strained as he scaled the rock to reach the bolt. Jin hooked your carabiner into the bolt, then hooked his in a spot that was a bit higher. Letting his weight fall back a bit, he pushed off the rock going down a few feet.

Sitting in his harness, he hung in the same spot letting his feet rest off the rock.

“Okay, now just climb. Let yourself get a good grip on the rock, it’s basically just rock climbing like you would a wall.” Jin spoke above you. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. You felt the tug of your rope above you due to the carabiner being hooked. Gripping your hands in a slot of the rock, you grunted as you began to climb. Surprisingly it was easier than you thought, Jin was right. It was exactly like the rock walls you climb at the park. In less than five minutes you made to the spot your carabiner was bolted. Huffing a bit, you slacked your rope so you could lean back like Jin. Wiping the sweat from your nose, you looked over at Jin who had an encouraging smile on his face.

“Well done darling,” Jin said, swinging in his harness. You felt your face warm, not just because of the heat, you smiled at Jin and punched him in the arm. Chuckling, Jin looked up and around the canyon. “Alright, you go ahead of me so I can make sure you don’t fall,” He said, grabbing another one of his carabiners.

You snorted, doing the same. “You just wanna look at my ass, don’t lie.” You teased, leaning back a bit to see where to climb.

“You act like I wasn’t doing it already,” Jin said, smirking at how your cheeks heated up. Shaking your head, you stuck your hand in the chalk bag, slapping the access on your thighs. Letting go of your rope one hand at a time, you gripped the rock and began your climb once again. You felt your thighs and biceps begin to burn as you slowly climbed towards the next bolt. This one was much higher than the last one so it took some effort. You felt sweat trail down the nape of your neck as you strained your arms to reach higher. The next bolt was only a few more feet above you, but as you reached for the indent of the rock you mistepped and the gravel below your foot gave out. You gasped as you lost your footing for a moment, only hanging by your hands.

“Shit, ___ are you okay?” Seokjin asked rushing his climbing to catch up with you. You groaned, feeling the burn of your arms as you held up your body.

“I am fucking peachy, Jin thanks for asking.” you hissed, finally getting your footing. Shuffling your feet up a bit, as you heard Jin above you. Looking up, Jin hooked his carabiner on the bolt and then let some slack go on his rope as he scaled down to you. Your face was almost squished into the rock as you tilted your head to look at you.

“Would you like some help kitten?” Jin asked, a teasing smile on his face. Sticking your tongue out at him, you leaned your head against the bedrock as Jin leaned back in his harness. After a few moments, you heard a movement as Jin swung over to you. Hooking a carabiner on the front of your harness.

“C’mon, I will help you to the top. If we are hooked together I can support your weight.” Jin said, ghosting a hand on the small of your back. You nodded, wiping sweat from your upper lip as you allowed him to help you to the top of the rock. Sighing, you unclipped you leaned back as you felt the front of your harness tighten as Jin began to ascend the rock again. You began mumbling to yourself as you felt climbed behind Jin.

“Stupid Namjoon for dragging me on this stupid rock climbing bull crap.” you mumbled below your breath, or so you thought. “Stupid Seokjin, with his stupidly attractive face and plush lips, and god-like body. How could you be so dumb, ___ , thinking Jin would like you and your introverted ass.” you chastised yourself as you watched Jin climb ahead of you.

“Kitten, as much as your compliments fuel my ego immensely, you need to pick up the pace if we wanna get back before the sun sets.” Jin jokes, a small grunt coming from his mouth as he hooked another carabiner on the bolt. You stuck your tongue out at the older man, as you tried to pick up the pace. Looking up, you saw Namjoons legs hanging off the bedrock, kicking them back and forth as he downed a water bottle. Bastard. You thought, as your arms burned in retaliation. You sighed, knowing damn well Jin was probably irritated with your helpless state. Sighing once again, you were frustrated with yourself, and also you were contemplating on how you were gonna kill Namjoon.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Long story short, Jin ended up piggy-backing you up the mountain, and you almost threw Namjoon off the mountain. You probably apologized to Jin a thousand times, but him being him said it was no big deal and was honored to feel your ‘tits’ against his back. You angrily scribbled notes onto the music sheet recalling the events of last week.

“Sweetheart, I am really sorry,” Namjoon said, leaning against the sleek, maroon, grand piano. Luckily the shared condo between you and Joon was large enough to house the instrument, considering it was the only talent you think you had. You glared at Namjoon over your reading glasses, the abnormally large frames covering your scowl. It has been a week since you and Namjoon went rock climbing, and you barely spoken a word to him.

“Yeah sure you are, you know I wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t make me go in the first place,” you spoke calmly, tapping a few notes on the piano, the smooth sound resonating through the living room. Namjoon groaned, walking over to the large floor to ceiling windows, which gave you a view of the city. He banged his head against the glass, squishing his cheek into it.

You hummed along to the melody, as you tapped the keys of the piano. Namjoon looked over at you, watching you nod your head along to the notes.

“Is that new? What your working on,” he asked, walking over to you. You nodded, anger slowly dissipating as Namjoon looked over your shoulder at the music sheet. Him majoring in music at uni, made you both very compatible as best friends and roommates.

“Clean the window nerd, your face marks are all over it,” you said, a teasing tone in your voice. You felt Namjoon wrap his long arms around your form, pressing a kiss onto your cheek. Swatting his hands away, you picked up your pencil noting down the change in pitch. “I’m still mad, you can only make it up to me if you buy me coffee for the next week and buy that poetry book I have been wanting.” You said, turning around to raise an eyebrow at him. Namjoon snorted from the kitchen, a rag and window cleaner in his hands.

“Deal, as long as you aren’t mad at me princess.” Namjoon said, waltzing over the window and spraying the cleaning solution. Humming, you got up from the cushioned bench and stretched your limbs. Walking through the kitchen to find a snack, you heard the ping of a phone. Looking through the cupboard, you shouted for Namjoon.

“Was that me or you,” you shouted, reaching for a box of granola. You heard footsteps pad on the wood flooring and into the kitchen.

“It was me, and it was Jimin who texted me.” Namjoon said, putting the cleaning stuff away. Shutting the cupboard, box of granola in hand you leaned against the marble counter.

“What does he want?” you asked, stuffing the snack in your mouth. Namjoon looked down at his phone, tapping the message app open.

“He asked if me and you wanted to go to the beach tomorrow,”  he said carefully looking over the text. Chewing on the granola, you watched him push his fingers through his dark locks.

Swallowing, you responded, “You know I can’t swim.” Namjoon looked up at you, giving you a dimpled smile.

“I know, so you don’t have to go,” Namjoon replied, beginning to type back to Jimin. You slowed your chewing as you stared at him. Thinking for a moment you asked, “Well, who is going?” Namjoon stopped his typing and then looked back at you.  

“Well Jimin obviously, his girlfriend, Hobi, Guk and Tae, I think Tae is bringing Yeontan.” Namjoon said looking down at his phone again, he waited a moment, “Oh also Yoongi is as well,” Namjoon finished looking back up at you, waiting for your response. Tilting your head side to side, you chewed thoughtfully before swallowing.

“I guess I will go, Jin isn’t there so it’s not like I can embarrass myself, also it will give me a chance to work on my music and read.” you shrugged. Namjoon smiled and nodded at you, typing back to Jimin most likely. You inhaled, curling your toes against the floor.

No Jin, no problem. Right?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You rolled your eyes as Taehyung and Jungkook belted out the lyrics of “Do you wanna build a snowman.” Looking over the lens of your sunglasses in the rear view mirror, you eyed the red haired and brunette man.

“I swear you guys are five year olds,” Mia mumbled next to you in the driver's seat. You chuckled, as you scribbled down another note onto the music sheet. Nodding to yourself, and tapping your pencil against your thigh, you didn’t notice Taehyung looking over your shoulder. Before you could even shuffle the papers back into your notebook, Taehyung’s large hand swiped over the seat and grabbed the music sheet. Flipping your sunglasses onto your head, you whipped around in your seat to see Taehyung and Jungkook looking at the paper.

“Give it back you brats,” you whined, grabbing at the paper. Taehyung slapped your hand away, eyes flitting between the notes.

“Hey, this is actually really awesome.” Jungkook beamed at you. A small smile made its way on your face at the praise.

“Thanks Guk, but it’s not done yet so, give it back,” you sternly said, twisting your body in the seat. Taehyung ignored your protests and passed the paper back to Yoongi who asked what all the ruckus was about.

“I think you have some competition Yoongi,” Taehyung teased to the older man, who grabbed the music sheet. Yoongi’s feline eyes moved along the lines of notes, lips parting as he read them. You felt your eyes bulge out of their sockets as Yoongi read along the lines, he has always been a mentor for your music so you looked up to him.

“Change this measure to 6/8 beats, and add a dotted half note where you erased,” Yoongi spoke, handing the sheet back to Guk who handed it back to you. You nodded, a smile coming across your face.

“Thanks Yoongi, I have been stuck on this measure for a few days now,” you smiled to yourself. Yoongi felt his cheeks warm at the compliment, mumbling a ‘no problem’ as Jimin began to tease him.

“Alright you hooligans, we are here.” Mia said turning the key out of the ignition. Quickly noting the change Yoongi said to make to your music, you shuffled the papers into the leather bound folder and shoved it into your backpack. Everyone quickly got out of the car and unloaded everything. Taking in a deep breath, you let the sun warm your skin as you carried the picnic basket. Walking alongside Mia, you two looked for a spot as the 6 men behind you argued over the pool noodles. The sand was warm underneath your feet, as you removed your sandals.

“Let’s set up here,” Mia said, spreading out a blanket. Nodding, you set the picnic basket down and your backpack to help Jimin set up the shader. After a few minutes of getting situated, you flopped onto the chair, stretching your body out. You watched as some of the boys threw a football around, or others were dunking each other in the ocean. The beach wasn’t too busy today, but you could still make out the laughs of children and teens around. Playing with the sleeves of your oversized shirt, well Namjoons shirt, you watched as Jimin rubbed sunblock on Mia. Pulling your glasses over your head, you contemplated whether you should or not.

“Hey princess did you want some sunblock on?” Namjoon said running up to you, water running in rivulets down his toned chest. You grimaced, poking him in the stomach.

“Ew, no you are all wet,” you teased. Namjoon shook his wet hair back and forth, like a dog onto your body. Shrieking, you kicked sand at him causing him to laugh and run away. Grinning, you relaxed into the chair once more. Mia laid a few feet away from you on a towel, kicking her legs back and forth as she laid on her stomach.

“___, come lay with me!” Mia said, gesturing you over. You looked up from your backpack, that you were currently digging through looking for your book.

“Mia, that would involve me taking my shirt off and exposing my baby fat,” you joked. The truth was, you left your one pieces at your parents house and still have yet to retrieve them. So of course you dug up the white, triangle top bikini that was in the depths of your dresser. Mia gave you stink eye, getting up from her towel and ducking under the shade.

“Please,” she asked, poking you. Sighing, you decided to just do it because she wouldn’t leave you alone otherwise.

“Fine,” you grumbled under your breath. Mia clapped, as you began to lift the shirt over your head. Just as you were about to pull the shirt completely over your head, you heard Jungkook shouting.

“Jin!” Jungkook yelled, football in hand. You stopped, as the shirt was above your neck and looked toward where Jungkook was looking. You have got to be kidding me, you thought. There was Kim Seokjin, running across the sand like he is in Baywatch or some shit. But dear god, did it look like it. His black hair was curled around his strong face, plush lips pulled into a smile as he ran up to Jungkook. You swear you choked on air when you saw he was shirtless, tanned chest on display. Now, he wasn’t ripped like Jungkook, but soft indents of muscle were present. Deep muscles ran upwards by his hips, peeking out from under his swim trunks. You mouth watered as you saw his wide shoulders stretch forward to give a hug to Jungkook, the muscles clenching along his back.

You still haven’t completely pulled your shirt off, but thank god for Mia, right? She didn’t even witness you thirsting as she yanked the shirt over your head, causing your sunglasses to fall on your lap. Shrieking, you crossed your arms over your supple hips, trying to conceal the skin. Mia’s eyes widened as she took in your slightly tanned skin. You definitely weren’t fit, fit flat model like but you thought you were decent. Although your chest was smaller than most girls, you’d say your backside made up for it.

“Damn, if I wasn’t dating Jimin,” Mia teased, poking at your thigh. You felt your cheeks heat up, and not from the heat. Huffing, you allowed her to pull you up from your seat to go under the sun.

“Mia, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” you mumbled, as she dragged you out from under the shade. Ignoring you she looked back at you, flipping her shades on top of her head.

“What are you talking-” her sentence was cut short when, you saw Jungkook toss the football to Hoseok who wasn’t paying attention. Your eyes widened as Jungkook yelled a quick ‘look out!’ as the ball flew towards you and Mia. Shoving Mia out of the way, the ball missed her but bounced off the side of your head with such force it made you fall onto the sand. Groaning, as you laid on your back you squinted into the sun. Guess you will have to kill Jungkook as well, you thought.

“___! Are you okay?” Mia asked, her face came into view, blocking the sun. You rubbed the side of your head, flinching a bit at the tender spot. Mia helped you sit up on your elbows as she rubbed your arm.

“That shit hurted,” you whined. A few moments later the boys were all running up to you.

“___, I am so, so sorry!” Jungkook said dropping to his knees in the sand, and looking at you. You rolled your eyes, patting the boys head.

“Jesus Guk, why do you have to be so strong,” you joked as you sat up all the way. Jungkook, looked up at you for the first time, not noticing your.. Attire.

“I, uh,” Jungkook’s words came out garbled as his eyes, not to subtly, raked your form. Sand stuck onto your tanned and sweaty skin, making you shift uncomfortably.

“Jungkook, her eyes aren’t on her chest.” Mia snorted next to you. Slapping her in the arm, Jungkook blushed, rising from the sand and offering a hand up. Wobbling slightly, you stood up eyeing the boys who either looked at you with concern, or at your ass.

“Can you guys like not look at her like that, or at least not make it obvious,” Namjoon snapped, slapping Hoseok on the back of the head. A chorus of ‘what’ and ‘her ass is nice’ came from the group. Blushing, you turned away from them and began to walk back to the shade.

“Are you alright, kitten?” a low voice spoke behind you. Whipping around, you saw Jin saunter up behind you, a frown on his face. You felt yourself cross your arms over yourself. Nodding a bit, you smiled at him.

“Yeah! I am good, just a little dizzy. I’m just gonna take some aspirin and lay down in the sun!” Seokjin walked closer to you, looking up at him, he took your jaw gently in his grasp. His hand was slightly cool, warming your heated face. Tilting your head to the side, he examined your injury.

“Hmm, you should be fine darling. It probably will be sore.” Jin mused, releasing your jaw. You snorted.

“What are you? A doctor?” you spoke, dropping your hands from your body and placing a hand on your hip. Jins eyes raked down your form once more, jaw clenching slightly as he eyed your muscular thighs and soft stomach. His tongue dampened his lips as he shook his head.

“No, but I am a lifeguard.” he winked, walking back to his post. Your jaw dropped slightly, as he sauntered away. Sighing, you walked back to the shade and flopped on the chair. Slipping your sunglasses back on your face, you closed your eyes praying your headache would go away and the certain thoughts of a man who made your swimsuit bottoms wet.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Is she awake?”

“No, dumbass she sees with her eyes closed.”

You don’t register that Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok are looking at your sleeping body splayed out on the chair.

“Do you think Namjoon will kill me if I grab her ass?”

“Uh, not if she doesn’t kill you first. Seriously why are her tits small but her ass isn’t? That’s not how math works!”

Hoseok smacks the back of Jungkook’s head.

“Okay pick her up slowly,” Jungkook nods leaning down and hooking his arms under your legs and back, slowly lifting you out of the chair. Your body shifts for a moment, stomach contracting before you still. The three boys let out a breath, as Taehyung removes your sunglasses and places them on the chair.

“Oh my gosh her stomach looks so soft let me kiss it.” Taehyung comments, cooing at the supple skin.

“No you idiot! You know damn well Jin will have your dick served to the wolves.” Taehyung grimaces at Jungkook’s comment as they walk towards the ocean. Mia and Jimin are nowhere to be found, and Namjoon was in the restroom. Yoongi just didn’t care. The plan was to throw you, you wake up and then they run away before you kill them. Jungkook walks into the water, the waves almost knocking his form over.  

“Do you think this is a good idea? The waves are kind of rough today.” Hoseok comments, as he steadies the floatation toy. Jungkook waves him off, and carefully places your body on the toy.

“Nah, she’ll be fine, I’m sure she will wake up before soon,” Jungkook comments pushing the toy out into the water.

“She’s gonna kill us, you know that.” Taehyung comments watching your body float away.

“I know!” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together and turning back to walk out of the water. You don’t float too fat out, but far out enough that your feet can no longer touch the floor of the ocean. You stir on the floatie when you begin to feel abnormally warm and you feel like you're sinking? Rubbing your eyes, you blink a few times before you feel water seep into your swim bottoms.

Sitting up abruptly, the only things you register are the fact that you are in the middle of the ocean, the floatie you are on is deflating, and a giant wave is about to knock you out. Oh, and the cherry on top?

You never learned how to swim.

Thanks mom and dad.

You don’t even have time to scream when the wave engulfs your form and you are being swallowed roughly by the salty water. You grab onto nothing as you are thrown around, water filling your lungs and nose. Violently you are jerked up by another wave that pushes you closer to shore. You begin to feel yourself choking, trying to will your legs to move somehow to keep you upright and out of the water.

“Where’s___?” Namjoon asks, returning from the other side of the beach where he was looking for crabs. He found a pretty purple one with a blue spot on its back, he named it Johnson.

Jungkook bites into a peach, kicking the soccer ball with Mia and Jimin.

“In the ocean.” He said through a mouthful of the fruit. Namjoon stills for a minute, registering what Jungkook said.

“What do you mean, in the ocean.” Namjoon asks, voice alarmingly calm.

“We pushed her in, on the floatie like 10 minutes ago?” Jungkook responds. Before he can register what’s happening, Namjoon is throwing him on the sand and screaming in his face.

“You fucking idiot! Jungkook! ____ can’t swim!” Namjoon screams. A look of guilt seeps across Jungkook’s face as he looks over at Taehyung and Hoseok.

“Fuck,” Namjoon curses getting off Jungkook, and running towards the water.

“You idiots!” Mia says, running towards the water as well. Namjoon desperately pulls at his hair, looking for you in the water, wading out far enough to where it drops off.

“Shit, shit,” Namjoon curses, eyes welling up with frustrated tears. Looking left and right down the beach, he can’t seem to find you.

“Namjoon!” He hears Mia call from the sand. He whips around to see Seokjin, cradling your body in his hold. He holds his breath still as he approaches the shore.

Seokjin lays you on the sand as cough, lungs and eyes burning from the water. Your blink a few times, holding your chest as you lean over in the sand. Seokjin rubs your back as you eventually calm down, swallowing a few times.

“Shit,___ are you okay?” Namjoon practically skids through the sand next to your body. He moves his hand to push your wet hair from your face, as you rub sand from your eyes. “Jin you're a damn lifeguard, do something!” Namjoon yells, throwing his hands in the air. Your lungs continue to burn as you cough, barely being able to speak. Before you know it, large hands grip your waist and flip you on your back. Blinking a few times, Jins face comes into view and before you can protest he is placing his plush lips on yours.

Jin doesn’t even blow into your mouth, just presses his mouth gently on yours and puckers his lips. After a few moments you reciprocate, letting the warmth of his mouth envelope you. You feel Jins tongue begin to prod at the seams of your lips gently, teasing the skin. You are about to give him access, when he pulls away, a string of saliva follows him as he sits back up.

Gasping, for dramatic effect, you sit up. Coughing a few times, you make a grab for the water bottle Mia hands you. Chugging the water down, until the plastic deflated in your hands.

“Woah, Jin buddy, thank you for saving my life,” you said, an over dramatic tone in your words. Seokjin’s cheeks were a light shade of red, as he wiped the saliva from his face and gave you a nod.

“I uh, sure no problem darling. I would do it for anybody.” He said winking at you. But the reality was, if it was anyone else he would make the other lifeguards take care of it. The reality was, you are the only person Jin has ever done mouth to mouth with in his two years of being a lifeguard.

Jin is in his own world as he watches Mia and Jimin walk you back to where your stuff, your hips sway slightly, the smooth tan skin littered with grains of sand. He feels his swim trunks begin to harden, as Mia swipes the sand off your body. Your thighs and ass moving as she goes down your body. Jin would like nothing more than to sink his dick into-

“Seokjin I owe you one, bro. Come back tonight for dinner? I am staying with ___ this week, you can spend the night since you don’t have to work tomorrow.” Namjoon brings Jin out of his perverted thoughts, as he pats him on the shoulder. Seokjin blinks a few times, looking at his friend who stands above him in the sand.

“Yeah sure, sounds like fun dude.” Seokjin smiles at him, accepting Namjoons outstretched hand to help him up. Namjoon gives him a dimpled smile as he walks back to their friends. Seokjin can’t help but glance over at you, who is looking down at the three culprits currently on their knees begging for forgiveness. Seokjin finds himself grinning a bit as you look down at them, lips pulled into a frown and hands on hips. He doesn’t miss you glancing at him for a brief moment, and he thinks he saw you pull a small smile.

You did.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You ignore Hobi, Jungkook and Tae the whole way home. They whine and poke at your cheek, even as you exit the car to go up to your condo, the three bouncing men pull at your hair and pinch you. You already yelled at them, calling them a bunch of colorful words they didn’t understand.

“We said we are sorry! What is it gonna take for you to not be mad!” Jungkook whined as your group entered the elevator. You pretended to ignore him as you busied yourself with your phone, pretending to text. Namjoon snorted loudly behind you, ruffling your hair.

“Buy her coffee for a month and that new Nintendo game she’s been wanting,” Namjoon said, eyeing you. You raised your eyebrows above your head, insinuating that he was right.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll do it,” Hoseok groaned, “But you two have to help as well,” he said, flicking the two younger boys in the ear. You hummed, a smile on your face as a quiet ding sounded through the elevator, insinuating you made it to your floor.

“Oh,___ I invited Seokjin over for dinner.” Namjoon said, a smirk on his face as he walked past your frozen figure. You fingers stilled on your screen as Namjoon swung his keys on his lanyard, whistling to himself as him and everyone exited the elevator. You didn’t even register the elevators closing and taking you back down to the first floor.

“Shit,” you groaned, pressing your floor button again as you went down to the first level. As the doors were about to close a voice halted you.

“Wait! Please hold the door!” Quickly springing forward and shoving your hand in between the stainless steel doors, causing them to stop and reopen. Of course it has to be Kim fucking Seokjin.

A smirk falls onto his face, as you shove yourself in the corner of the elevator.

“Hello Kitten,” Jin drawls, leaning on the rail opposite of you.

“Hello Jinnie,” you mock him, knowing he hates the nickname. He rolls his eyes at you, the smirk turning into a soft grin. The elevator stops, you look at what floor you are on, 3 it reads.

The door slides open and a few people pile in, causing Jin to move over to where you are standing. He keeps his front to you, bracing the rail and caging your body against the wall. A few business people enter and a pregnant woman. The doors close again, you hold a breath as you feel Jin breath against your head. The faint smell of sea salt and mint makes its way to your nose, as Jin’s chest rises and falls as you try and look anywhere but his face.

The elevator stops once more, this time a delivery man with a cart and packages enter. The people around you shuffle to make room, causing Jin to let go of the bar and grip your waist instead. Your eyes widen as your arms are stuck between your chest and his. Looking up at him, he raises a teasing brow as his hands skim across your bare waist. You regret not putting your coverup, feeling his warm hands against you is torture. Finally, you make it to your floor. Jin steps away from you, as he pushes past the people in the cramped space mumbling an excuse me. You let out a sigh of relief as you two make way to your condo, digging through your bag to find the keys. Standing in front of the oak door, you fumble with the lock with warm cheeks. You couldn’t forget how Jin’s hands felt on your bare skin. Before Jin could say a word, the lock clicked and you practically threw yourself in.

“Kim Namjoon!” you screamed, tossing your stuff on the table in the foyer. Jin chuckled, shutting the door behind him as you stomped down the hallway. Pounding on the bathroom door, you waited a few seconds until a very wet Namjoon opened the door.

You didn’t even bat an eyelash at his bare chest, and bright pink towel wrapped around his waist. Lean chest exposed, as rivulets of water ran down his chest. Dark hair flat against his head, as he leaned against the door way, phone in hand.

“One sec,” he spoke into the device. “Yes sweetheart?” He asked, throwing a dimpled smirk at your fuming stature. You slapped him across the chest, and walked away to your room. “Ow! What was that for?” Namjoon cried, rubbing the sore skin. Walking into your room and closing the door, you began to pull at your damp swimsuit. Right as you dropped your bikini bottoms, you heard Seokjin yelling something and before you could register what was happening, your door was being thrown open.

“...room am I staying-,” Seokjin's words went quiet as he stood in the door frame. “In,” he finished. Plush lips parted slightly, you swear you saw his cheeks turned a shade darker. You felt your cheeks heat up by a hundred degrees, as you covered your modesty; well attempted to. Before you could scream and throw whatever was in the vicinity at his stupid, attractive face, he mumbled an apology and gently closed the door. Quickly walking to the door, you locked it and lightly banged your head against the wood.

“Stupid, stupid! First you can barely rock climb,” you mumble to yourself, walking over to your vanity and pulling on underwear, the deep red silk ones that your shitty ex got you. “You almost drown, and Seokjin has to give you mouth to mouth, when in reality, he kissed you!” You continue to chastise yourself as you pull on a hoodie and some cotton shorts. “He saw you naked!” You groaned, slamming your sock drawer closed and pulling on your favorite baby pink socks, with little sheep on them. Huffing, you flopped onto your bed and buried your face in the sheets. Not even a minute later, there was a knock at your door.

“Sweetheart, I’m ordering take out! Do you want your usual?” Namjoons low voice spoke through the door. You groaned into the pillow, bringing your face up for a moment.

“I’m not hungry Joon, can you please leave my bag outside my door? It’s on the table by the foyer,” you said. You heard him sigh.

“I am still ordering you food, ___. But, yeah I will grab it. Is everything okay?” Namjoon asks. Taking a deep breath, your eyes follow the motion of your ceiling fan.

“Yeah Joon, just tired. You and Jin can play video games or something,” you said. You didn’t hear another response as Namjoon walked away from your door.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You haven't left your room since the evening, and it was now dark outside. The lights of skyscrapers left a soft glow in your room. Leaning against the long windows, you looked at the moon. The waning crescent winked at you, as you looked through your music sheets. You chewed on the rubber end of your pencil as you edited the piece you’ve been working on for weeks. Sighing, you rubbed your eyes under your glasses, pacing back and forth around your room. You figured that Namjoon and Seokjin were long asleep, due to the lack of screams over Minecraft have now ceased. Walking over to your bed, sheets of music littered the comforter as you shuffled through the papers. In the few hours of locking yourself in your room you ate the food Namjoon left outside of your door, counted to one hundred twenty-six, waxed your legs, and cried about how much of a fool you are in front of Seokjin. You couldn’t even face him, let alone have a coherent conversation with him. He was just so, him. And you were just so, you.

Frustrated with your own self-deprecating thoughts,  you dropped the stack of music sheets on the bed. The papers slapped gently onto the comforter, as you walked around the bed and picked up your empty take out. Yawning, you pulled your glasses off and set them on the nightstand before proceeding to walk to the kitchen. The condo was dark, besides the glow from the city lights below you. Walking quietly out into the kitchen, you threw your trash out.

“What are you doing awake?” a low voice asked behind you. Whipping around, you placed your hand on your chest.

“God, don’t scare me like that.” you spoke to Seokjin. Squinting in the dark you made out his form, a very shirtless one at that. He didn’t say anything as you leaned against the marble counter.

“Okay goodnight,” you said, quickly rushing to leave the kitchen. Before you could make it past the living room, he caught your wrist in his grasp. Stopping, you turned to look at him.

Seokjin's’ eyes flitted towards the piano in the corner of the room.

“You play?” he asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. You nodded wordlessly.

“A little bit,” you shyly spoke. Seokjin released your wrist, and walked over to the piano. You watched as the moon illuminated his strong chest and shoulders. His black sweatpants hung low on his hips, exposing the band of his Armani boxers. Seokjins’ fingers grazed the glossy keys, tapping one of them gently. The soft sounds resonated through the quiet room.

He looked at you, who stood in the same position.

“Play something for me?” He asked, nodding his head towards you. Flitting your eyes between him and the Piano, you nodded, hesitantly, and walked over to the piano. Seokjin pulled out the bench for you, as you sat down on the padded cushion. You felt goosebumps form on your legs, as you stretched your feet out to put pressure on the pedals. Taking a deep breath, you placed your hands on the keys. Tapping one softly a few times, you began to play a song you memorized from one of your favorite movies, Pride and Prejudice. The song was called ‘Liz on top of the World.’ Your fingers gently tapped the keys, as you left your fingertips glide across the smooth keys. You let yourself get absorbed, playing the song and letting out all your frustrations of the week. Playing the piano was the only time you felt confident in yourself, something you could actually do without making a fool of yourself. You hit the keys a bit harder than usual, not caring if you woke up Namjoon or the whole damn complex. So invested playing, you didn’t realize that Seokjin was staring at you, a dark look in his eyes as he watched you play with such emotion, such fire in your eyes.

You didn’t even hit the final note of the song, because Seokjin was closing the cover of the piano keys and grasping you by the chin, and kissing you. You gasped into his mouth, as he kneeled onto the bench, placing his knee between your thighs. Seokjin sighed into your mouth, putting pressure onto your chin. Your mind was in a haze as Seokjin's hand grazed down your chin and neck, leading it down between the valley of your breasts. You groaned against him, as you felt the warmth of his hand squeeze your breast through the material of your shirt. Seokjin's tongue grazed against the seams of your lips, as he teased your pert nipple. Opening your mouth fully, you allowed his tongue to slide into your mouth, tangling with yours.

“Fuck,” Seokjin muttered against your mouth. Pulling back, Seokjin got up from the bench and clicked on the lamp next to the Piano. You felt yourself suck in a breath, as you raked your eyes down his tan chest. His plush lips were slick with your saliva, eyes holding a deep, carnal lust.

“Stand up.” Seokjin said. It was a demand, not a question. Slowly rising from the bench, you pushed it under the piano. Seokjin closed the distance between you two, as he locked your mouth into another heated kiss. Immediately, you brought your hands up to his hair, pulling at the nape of his neck. Seokjin’s hands grazed the back of your thighs, patting them, you hooked them around his waist. You groaned as you felt his erection begin to grow in his pants, tilting your head back, you rutted against him. Seokjin sponged kisses against your exposed neck, splotching bruises of purple and red on the skin.

“You drive me insane, kitten.” Seokjin groaned against your neck. You moaned as he continued to kiss your neck. Jin walked over to the couch, laying down under you and allowing you to straddle him. His hands never left your waist, as you leaned over him. “Do you know how hard it was today at the beach, to see you in that swimsuit? I wanted to bend you over and fuck your tight, little cunt , in front of all those boys, to show that you are mine.” You felt yourself whine as he began to move you back and forth on his clothed erection.

“You know I really like you, ___.” Jin confessed, groaning as you slowed down your pace. You looked down at him, his eyes were heavy, his plush bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“R-really?” You asked, placing your hands on his chest. Jin nodded, allowing his hands to graze your bottom, before slapping it. Moaning, you grinded faster, allowing your needy pants to echo in the room. Jin’s hand began to move up your shirt, feeling the warm skin. You wasted no time allowing your hands to grasp the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Jin cursed as he saw your chest and pert nipples, now exposed to him. Bringing his hand up, he swiped his thumb over the bud. You held back a moan as he slowly rubbed the skin of your nipple, back and forth between his fingers.

“Fuck you are so sensitive,” Jin groaned, fondling your other breast. You found yourself beginning to move against him again, rubbing your clothed center against his. Jin continued his assault on your nipple. Bringing his head up, he puckered kisses along your breast before taking it into his mouth, licking across the skin. Groaning loudly, you fell against him and pulled his head closer to you. Jin’s hands trailed down your body to grab onto your bottom, rutting you against him harder. “C’mon, give it to me,” Jin growled against your skin, taking your nipple into his mouth. You felt gripped onto his hair, whining at the pressure being placed on your clit. Feeling the coil begin to form, it was quickly gone as you felt yourself collapse. Calling out Jin’s name in whiny pants as he suckles on your bud harder. The movement of your hips slow, as Jin hands rub up your hips to pull you up. Looking down at him, his lips are parted, harsh breaths escape the reddened skin. Jin pulls himself up from under you, flipping you on your back. Huffing as your body drops on the couch, you look up at him as a small smirk overtakes his face. A bead of sweat trails down the front of his chest, spots of perspiration dotting his smooth skin.

“Kitten,” Jins low voice drawls, “...didn’t your mommy and daddy,” he says slowly, dragging his lips down your neck, “..teach you that it’s not nice,” his lips trail further down to the ribbon of your cotton shorts, “...to stare?” He finishes pulling the ribbon loose of your shorts. Your breath stutters a bit, as he pulls at the band of your shorts, slowly peeling the clothing down your legs and creating a trail of goosebumps. You watched Jin toss the shorts behind him, now face to face with your white, lace panties. You could feel your arousal seeping out of you, holding a breath as Jin held your thighs apart. Bringing his face closer to your center, he licked a stripe up the lace of your underwear. Digging your hands into the pillow behind you, your hips jutted up as a moan wracked through you. Jin watched as you tilted your head back, exposing the splotches of purples and reds he left. Trailing his hands up your thighs, his fingers skimmed the band of your underwear, snapping the elastic against your thighs.

“Please, J-Jin,” you whined, moving your hips. Jin held your body down with his hands, looking up at you.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Jin asked, digging his fingers into your hips. You whined as he teased the skin of your thighs.

“Yes, Jin please.” You groaned, pulling the skin of your bottom lip between your teeth. It was silent for a moment, until Jin began to shuffle his body under yours, pulling you on top to straddle his waist. Confused, you looked down at his face as he guided your clothed center over his face. You felt your cheeks warm, as you looked down at him. “J-Jin this really isn’t a good-!” Your sentence was cut short when Jin moved your underwear to the side, and pulling you down onto his face.

You swear you screamed, back arching as your hips raised off Jin’s face. Jin held a firm grip on your hips as he took your clit in between his lips, and sucked. Rolling the bud between his lips, you fell forward, caging his head between your shaky arms. “Jin, p-please,” you whined, grinding harder against his face. Jin’s grip got tighter on your hips, as he moved you back and forth, slicking your sopping center on his face. Jin could feel his cock throbbing in the confinements of his pants.

You could hear the wet, slurping sounds of your center as Jin licked around your tight hole. Your arms were about to give out, and you could feel the tension begins to build around your stomach. Moving your hips against his face, you leaned up on your arms. “W-wanna feel you too,” you slurred, prying his hands off your hips and turning around. Jin licked your wetness from his lips, looking at your bottom he felt you begin to pull of the band of his sweats. Gripping your hips behind you, Jin groaned as he felt you palm him through his briefs.

“Kitten, what are you d-doing?” Jin asked, his voice turning into a groan. You felt yourself grin, as you looked down at the outline of his dick. You felt your eyes widen, as you palmed him, feeling the hot skin sear through the fabric. Licking his lips, Jin gripped your hips and pulled you toward his face again. Jin groaned, tasting the sweet slick of your center. Getting lost in the bliss for a moment, you began to sneak your hand under Jin’s briefs, finally coming to contact with his throbbing cock. Jin’s hips tighten against you, as you drag a finger up his length. You feel your mouth water as you fully pull out his cock. In the dim lighting you make out that he is well… endowed. The tip is a rosy pink, a sheen of cum already on the tip. A thick vein trails up the length, leading down to a neatly trimmed tuft of hair. 

You slide a finger down his shaft, licking your lips as it twitches. “You have such a pretty cock, Jinnie,” you tease, wiggling your hips harder against his face. “I wonder what it will look like, in my mouth…” you said, finally taking his cock into your mouth. You suckle on the tip lightly, before taking his length, well what you could, into your mouth. You felt Jin groan against your center, causing vibrations to shake your center. He mumbled something against your center, causing him to pull back for a moment.

“___, shit, k-keep doing that, choke on my fat cock like a good girl.” Jin said, slapping the skin of your bare bottom. Slurping on Jin’s dick, you jerked the area’s you couldn’t reach. Licking down the vein, you took his heavy ball sack in your fingers. Jin dug his large palms into your hips, slapping the skin lightly. Bobbing your head up and down, you swirl your tongue on his tip, tasting his release. Pulling yourself up from his cock, you jerked his cock in your hand.

“Mmm, taste so good, will you come for me Jinnie?” You teased, kissing his tip. Jin groaned, jutting his hips upwards. Bringing your mouth down again, you allowed him to thrust his hips into your mouth. Your spit slicked his cock, running down your mouth. Jin continued his ministrations against your center, the coil almost snapping. Jin stopped his thrusting, causing him to pull out of your mouth. Before you could bring your mouth back down, Jin pulled you off his dick a lewd wet pop echoing in the room. Confused, you placed your hands on his thighs, as he brought your center over his slick cock. You both groaned simultaneously when your sexes rubbed against one another, your wet cunt sucking in the length of his cock.You had to find the will in you to hold yourself up as Jin guided your pussy, back and forth on his bare cock. Your arms gave out, as you laid in between Jins’ legs, he took his cock in his hand and rubbed his bulbous tip on your clit. You choked against the blanket on the couch, as you felt him circle your aching bud. 

“Give it to me, I know you want to kitten,” Jin spoke lowly, slapping his hard cock against your bare center. You arched your back as you felt your cunt clench, before you felt the coil finally snap, as you released all over Jin’s cock. 

“F-fuck! Jin! Jin, Nggh,” your cries were muffled in the couch as Jin smeared your arousal all over his cock. 

“That’s right kitten, squirt all over my cock. Can’t wait to fill you up and shoot my hot cum in your tight hole.” Jin growled, digging his hands into your ass. You felt Jin’s sweats dampen under you, as he slowed his assault. With shaky hands, you began to pull of the drenched material of Jin’s sweatpants, pulling them below his knees. Jin’s hands grazed up your bare sides and turned you to face him. Placing your hands on his chest, he looked up at you. Pupils wide, and dark he brought his thumb up to your swollen lips, rubbing them in between his fingers. “Are you sure you want this, darling?” He asked, eyes softening at the smile on your face. 

You smiled, scratching your nails lightly on his chest. “Always the worried one Jinnie.” You teased, laughing when his hand lightly spanked your bottom. Your laughter died down as you look at his strong face in the soft glow of the lamp, you dragged your fingers through the damp pieces of his dark hair. “Yes, Seokjin, I want this. I want you, more than anything.” You spoke softly, watching the grin appear on his face. Jin kept a hand on your back, as he pushed you down to meet his lips. His plush lips swallowed you, as he fervently pecked kisses on your lips. Pulling his plump bottom lip between your teeth, you sucked on the skin, allowing your tongue to slip in his mouth. Jin’s hold tightened on your back, eventually sliding his hands down to your ass and giving the globes a harsh squeeze. Your tongue’s tangled, allowing one another to suck on the muscle inside each others mouths. You felt the heat emitting from Jin’s erection, that laid heavily on his taut stomach. You felt your arousal begin to leak from your center, as you moved your hips once more. Pulling back from Jin, you looked down at his wet lips, breathing heavily.

“Can I, please?” you asked, shifting your hips against him. Jin groaned, tilting his head back on the couch cushion. Gripping your hips tighter he looked at you. 

“Fuck, yes- shit- please kitten, be a good girl and sit on daddy’s cock?” he asked. You nodded, finding his length and grabbing it between your fingers. Rubbing the tip and slicking it with his precum, you teased him against your wet heat, both of your groaned simultaneously as you finally slid down on his cock. 

“Oh my, god-!” you couldn’t even get a sentence out as you sank slowly onto his thick girth. You had to place your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Not even halfway down, you had to stop, sweat began to slick your body as you threw your head back. “Dammit Jin, why do you have to have a fat cock-!” Your words were thrown out the window as Jin fully seated you down on his cock, earning a groan from both of you. 

“Why do you have to have such a tight cunt, kitten?” Jin teased, cursing when you clenched around him. Whining, you placed your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily and trying to get accustomed to his length. Jin ran his hand up and down your back, fighting the urge to fuck you sideways. After a few moments, you slowly began to move your hips up and down. 

“Ah, fuck.” You mumbled, feeling your arousal seep down his cock. You didn’t waste any time, moving your hips rapidly, slicking your wetness down his length. Skin slapped against skin loudly, as you moved your hips around him. You felt his tip prodding at your cervix as you went all the way down. 

“J-Jin, I feel so full,” you whined, throwing your head back in ecstasy. Jin looked up at you, pure, unadulterated lust seeping into his pupils. You kept having to slow your hips, due to the fact Jin’s cock kept slipping out of your wet hole. 

“Slow down kitten, my cock can’t fill your tight hole if it keeps slipping out. God you are so wet, your cunt is dripping all over me,” Jin hissed, digging his blunt nails in your hips. You nodded, not processing his words as you clenched around him endlessly. You felt your thighs begin to burn, eyes welling with tears from the pleasure.

“J-Jinnie,” you whined, slowing down a bit. Jin hushed you, pressing a kiss to your chest. Still inside of you, Jin laid you down on your back, deciding to take over. Caging his arms over your head, he slowly thrusted into you, allowing his cock to hit your cervix. You closed your eyes, raking your nails down Jin’s strong back. 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill up your tight hole with my seed, and let it spill out of your tight hole,” Jin spoke against your neck, rutting against you. You whined, digging your nails into his back as he thrusted harder. 

“Faster Jin, please, fuck me.” You whispered into his ear. Jin growled into your skin, thrusting into your heat faster, harder. You gasped as the couch began to shake slightly. Half of your body hung off the couch, the only leverage was you holding onto Jin’s back. You were honestly surprised Namjoon hasn’t woken up. Jin huffed, thrusting so hard into you, your bodies tumbled off the couch. A shriek fell past your lips, as Jin flipped your bodies so he would catch most of the fall. Jin grunted as his body met the fluffy rug below him, your weight on top of him. A moan fell past your lips as you felt Jin’s cock still seated inside of you as you came down on him hard rutting against him. You didn’t waste anytime, lifting your hips and slamming down on him. Cursing under his breath, Jin gripped the corner of the couch pulling him up with you in his hold. You whined as he walked towards the piano, causing you to stop bouncing on him. 

Gasping as your back met the cold piano, you looked at Jin who held a smirk on his face. 

“Seriously?” you laughed, raising an eyebrow at him. Jin giggled, placing his hands next to your head on the piano. “This shit didn’t come cheap Seokjin,” you whined, gesturing to the instrument. Jin kissed your nose, adjusting his cock inside you.

“I know, so that’s why you need to hurry up and come so that it doesn't break,” Jin spoke, his tone turning dark again. You nodded, groaning when Jin took your nipple into his mouth and thrusting into you. Good thing Jin was tall, or his dick wouldn’t be nowhere near as seated inside you as it is right now. You felt a shudder wrack through your body as Jin swirled his tongue around your bud, and thrusted into you fast and hard.

“Jin,” you choked. 

“I know baby, come on, I’m close too,” Jin spoke, taking his mouth off your pert bud. You nodded, wanting a release so bad. You clenched around Jin endlessly. You felt his cock begin to throb, as he thrusted into you. Your tits bounced rapidly, as Jin thrusted harder and harder into your wet hole, making the knot in your belly swell as you felt the rope begin to snap.

“Oh fuck! Jin!” You screamed, throwing your head back against the cold piano. Jin thrusted harder and harder, as you felt yourself come undone around him. Shortly after, you felt Jin release inside you, his warm seed spurting inside you. You clenched around him, wanting every drop inside you. Jin thrusted inside you a bit more, shaking the piano slightly. You whined, and clenched around him due to the sensitivity. “Ah, Jin give me a second.” You whined, gripping his forearms. Jin gripped your arms, pulling you up, dick still seated inside you. Breathing heavily you looked at Jin with a pout on your lips. He laughed, pecking your mouth a few times. 

“One more baby, please?” Jin asked, sponging kisses on your neck. You nodded, tilting your head back as you enjoyed his plush lips kissing the sweaty skin of your neck. You felt goosebumps trail onto your body, as Jin scooted you body off the Piano and hooking your legs around him. You felt his cock begin to harden again inside you, making you raise an eyebrow at him, a grin spreading over your face. 

“You horny bitch,” you teased, reaching down to pinch his bare ass. Jin yelped, gripping your ass tightly and slapping the bare skin. He walked over to the tall windows that surrounded your apartment, you could feel his seed begin to get cold and drip down your thighs as Jin pushed your body against the cold glass. A huff left your lips as Jin, a bit roughly, held your body up against the glass. You made out the smirk on his face, as he gripped your thighs and leaned his face close to you. You breathed in heavily, as he began to jutt his hips into yours. You held your lip between your teeth, as your sweaty body moved up and down the glass. Jin breathed heavily, placing both his hands on the glass next to your head as he began to thrust harder, but still painstakingly slow. Jin’s chest rubbed against yours, spreading perspiration across your nipples. 

“Jin- ahh- please, faster,” you begged, trying to push his body into yours. Jin grunted, moving his hands from beside your head and pulling your thighs from his waist. Confused, Jin pulled out, making you cry from the loss of his throbbing cock inside you. 

“Turn around,” Jin spoke, looking down at you. Tilting your head to the side, you did as he said and turned your body to face the window. You looked down at the lights from skyscrapers and billboards, illuminating the already dimly lit room. Jin looked at, you gripping your hips and pressing your body into the glass. Gasping when the cold window made your nipples perk up, you breathed out heavily, watching the glass fog up. Jin ran his hands down the length of your exposed body. You tilted your head back on his chest, as he lazily ran his hand down your tits, pinching your nipples. 

“You are absolutely exquisite, darling.” Jin murmured, pressing a kiss on your damp hairline. Jin’s hand began to trail lower, eventually coming in contact with your slick heat. Lazily teasing his finger on your clit, he dipped his finger into your wet hole. “Oh fuck, your soaked kitten. I bet I could fit my whole hand inside there.” Jin groaned. You choked back a moan as Jin began to rub his erection on your back. 

“Please Jin, stop teasing me. Want your cock,” you mumbled, clenching around his finger. Jin hummed, pulling his finger from your hole. Jerking his cock a few times, he then guided it to your wet cunt, thrusting it in quickly. You groaned as your body was pushed against the glass once more, breath visible as Jin thrusted into you fast and hard. Jin stuttered out a curse, as your wet heat enveloped his cock. Slapping skin echoed in the large room, heavy pants from you and Jin against one another's skin. 

“So, fucking, pretty. Your cunt was made for me, practically- fuck- sucking me in.” Jin grunted against your neck. A moan made its way from your mouth, as your breasts pressed against the glass. You couldn’t form coherent words, as Jin kept thrusting over and over into you. You whined when his tip prodded your cervix, making you feel full. It wasn’t long before you felt your center begin to tingle, and you jutted back against Jin; meeting his thrusts. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Jin, fuck me!” You screamed, moaning when Jin went faster. 

“Ah fuck, Kitten, come, come for me,” Jin said, bringing his finger to rub your clit. Not even a few seconds after, you felt yourself releasing on Jin’s cock. “F-fuck, look at that Kitten. Squirting again all over my cock, such a good girl.” Jin moaned, slapping your ass gently as you rode out your high. You were sobbing at this point, as Jin rubbed your clit. You could feel your arousal dripping from your thighs, wetting your sweaty skin even more. 

“Jinnie, w-wanna feel you come,” you slurred, finding his heavy sack between your bodies. Jin grunted as you pinched the skin, fondling his sack. 

“Fuck,” Jin groaned, as you clenched around him. You moaned as Jin released inside you once more. 

“Yes, Jin fuck.” You whined, squeezing around his cock to release more of his seed. Jin slowed his thrusts a bit more, until his dick softened and he pulled out from your abused hole. Jin groaned when he saw your mixed arousals drip down your thighs. You leaned your tired body against the glass, the cool material aiding your sweaty body. You felt your legs about to give out, until Jin leaned down, hooking his arms under your body.

“You did so well baby, I’m so proud of you,” Jin murmured, pressing kisses to your scalp. You nodded, a smile seeping onto your face as your eyes started to droop. Jin laughed at your fucked out state, walking into your room and placing you on the bed. You allowed your body to melt into the sheets, as Jin turned on the bedside lamp. Your eyes were dropping in and out of sleep, as Jin went to the bathroom to get a rag. You heard the water run, and footsteps pad back into the room. Taking the damp rag, Jin wiped your release from your thighs and bottom. Once he was done he tossed the towel into your hamper, and walked back over to you. Through bleary eyes, you smiled at him as he ran his hand through his messy hair. Jin smiled at you, pearly whites still visible even in the dim lighting. Leaning down, he sponged kisses all along your face, making you giggle. Taking your face in his hands, he rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks. 

“Get some sleep, baby.” Jin gently spoke, tapping your nose. You nodded, pulling him down with you. 

“Not without you though, right?” You asked, gripping onto his arm. A smile crossed Jin’s features as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Right.” Jin whispered, kissing you on the mouth.

-

-

Bonus +

Namjoon rubbed his hand over his face, hearing Jin’s low grunts and your breathy moans. He looked up at the ceiling, staring at his unmoving ceiling fan. Leaning over to grab his phone from the bedside table, he opened the messaging app, and going into a group chat between Him and his friends. 

Squinting at the bright screen, he typed out a message.

1:46am [namjoon]: you guys all owe me and yoongi 20 bucks lol. 

Namjoon pressed the voice recording button, making the speaker face his door. After 30 seconds, he ended it and pressed send. 

1:50am [mia]: dammit! now i have to suck jimin’s dick >:(

1:51am [jimin]: hey! I'm right next to you, first of all and second of all you act like its a bad thing you nerd

1:51am [guk]: damn does that mean i can’t look at y/n’s ass anymore :( also don’t get a boner from listening joon l o l

1:51am [namjoon]: fuck you lol

1:52am [yoongs]: go to bed fuckers

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A big thank you to @cherrynochu and @seokstrivia ;-; they really helped me get through this haha, i love you guys! I hope you enjoy also fyi I start my classes soon, soo i will try and get up my hoseok or tae fic soon, if not i will try during my schedule, i have half the classes i had last year so i should have more time hopefully and if not, im sorry, i have sports and stuff as well oof, but if i like go MIA my mutuals can ask for my discord or kkt, hehe i will keep you all updated. xX

[fxkthatdairy]

PANIC ROOM CHAPTER EIGHT: HERE WITHOUT YOU~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: In the year 2020, to solve the problem of overpopulation. Selected few are thrown into the PANIC ROOM simulation. If the person finds their soulmate in the simulator and manages to survive, they are able to rejoin the rest of the population. If they fail they will become a victim of the PANIC ROOM. What happens when (Y/N) gets thrown in the PANIC ROOM? Will she survive? Or will she fall victim to the simulation?

Warnings: Mentions of death, depression, mentions of suicide, ANGST

The doors opened leading into a large dark room. (Y/N) took Grayson’s hand as he led them into the room. As soon as they got in the room the doors slammed shut, trapping them within the room. The floor started to shift beneath them causing them to drop each other’s hands and then a bright white light filled the room as the two stared at each other. A wall comes up from the floor and began to separate the two.

“Gray, what’s happening?” (Y/N) said as she tried using her strength to pull herself over the wall but as soon as she touches the wall it shocked her sending her flying back on the floor wincing in pain.

“I don’t know babe, I will find you though, I swear to god I will find you,” he yelled as the wall connected at the top, officially separating the two.

Grayson’s POV

My knees gave out beneath me as the wall separated me from the love of my life. I punched the floor beneath me cursing underneath my breath. My lungs felt as if they were going to collapse and my heart broke into a million pieces. How the hell did I let this happen?

“Grayson Bailey Dolan,” A voice rang out through the empty white room.

“What the fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I stood up, “Who the fuck said that?”

“Welcome to the second part of the Panic Room simulation that tests the individual strengthens against troubling times. You will be put through some of your biggest fears and saddest memories to see if you can overcome them. If you pass this test, you will be released into a waiting room to see if your partner can make it through as well, if they do you shall be released back to the public but if you shall fail, you will be murdered or you shall become part of the simulation. Outside this room, your darkest fears and follies will push you to your limits. Good luck and God bless America,” the voice echoed off and a door opens to the side of the room.

So this wasn’t the end. I stood up and grabbed my bag and took a deep breath. I will make it through this for (Y/N). We will see each other on the other side, we will get out of here, I’ll fucking propose to her and we’ll get married and have a family. I just have to make it out of here.

“Let’s do this,” I say to myself and walk down the black empty hall.

The hallway seemed to lead to somewhere so I just kept following the hallway, the end seemed to get farther and farther away as I walked closer to it. I didn’t realize that the hallway began to close in on me. My heart rate began to race and I began to run now to try and reach the end of the hallway. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse and my knees were going to give out on me but I kept running. I pushed down the feeling that I was dying down and I just kept thinking about (Y/N). I thought about the way her (e/c) eyes look when she looks in my eyes, how her (h/l) (h/c) hair flows in the wind, how her smile makes anything better, how when she laughs so hard she snorts, how she will snuggle up to me any time because she says she’s always cold, how with a single word she can make all my anxieties and worries disappear, and how her voice sounds when she just wakes up or when she’s going to sleep and the first and last thing she says is “I Love you.”

I didn’t realize at this point I was out of the hallway and I seemed to be standing in a familiar room. I placed my hands on my knees as I tried to regain my breath. I finally stood up and caught my breath. The white paint of the room, the smell of sterilization, the sense of helplessness all rushed back to me. A single hospital bed sat in the middle of the room and a whiteboard was hung on the wall next to the solid brown wooden door with the silver push handle. I took a deep breath and walked closer to the whiteboard. It read

Name: Sean Dolan                  Date: November 1st, 2016 Pain Level: 8                      Doctor: Dr. Jones Things to know about me: I love my family with my whole heart and they do not know yet so give me a chance to tell them, please.

On the bottom of the whiteboard read the dreaded place that has been stuck in my head for the past four years: New Jersey Cancer Research Center. I closed my eyes and placed my hand on the wall to regain my balance. I heard the bathroom door open and I snapped my head around and there stood him. The man that taught me everything I know, the man I looked up to my whole life, the man I try to make proud of everything I do, the man who I lost last year that left me in such an array of emotions that I didn’t know how to fell. My father walked back to the hospital bed and sat down. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and a plain white shirt, he had an IV catheter in his hand and a white hospital band around his wrist. My heart dropped to my stomach.

“Dad?” my voice cracked as I walked over to him. He didn’t seem to notice me so I placed my hand on his shoulder and he just shivered.

“Dad, I’m right here,” I said waving my hand in front of my face but he didn’t seem to notice. I sighed and sat down in the chair beside his bed taking in all of his features that I missed every day.

His cell phone began to ring so he reached over and picked it up. “Hey honey, yeah I’m good, you can bring the boys and Cam up here, I think it’s time they know,” My dad said through the phone presumably talking to my mother.

He hung up and ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. That’s when the memory of this day came back, a day that would be etched in my mind forever, the day where I’ve never been so helpless in my life, the day I started shutting my emotions in. My thoughts were interrupted by a light knocking on the door.

“Hey honey, It’s me,” my mothers’ voice rang through the room. I saw her face and I ran to her and hugged her. I haven’t seen her in a month and I missed her so much. Her whole body shivered and she brought her jacket closer to her body.

“I’m going to get a nurse to turn up the thermostat in your room. It’s really chilly in here.” My mom said as she walked in.

Following behind her came in my sister who I also ran up and hugged and Ethan who I think I hugged the longest. I knew at this point that they couldn’t see me and the only thing that they felt was a cold rush of air as if I were a ghost but I didn’t care. I’ve missed them so much this past month, especially Ethan, it was like our twin bond grew stronger and the separation anxiety hit harder. Then I saw myself, the 16-year old version of myself stood in front of me with a look of confusion and innocence. I remember my first thoughts from when I walked in: Why are we in this hospital? What’s going on?.

“Hey, kiddos’, “ my dads’ voice rang through the room as the younger versions of myself and my siblings gave my dad a hug. I stood off to the side watching the scene unfold in front of me.

“We need to have a talk,” My mom said softly but her tone cracked lightly as she spoke.

“Something serious has come up, I’m not going to be as energetic as I once was because I’m sick, the doctors say its cancer. They say I only have a year left but fuck that, I decide when I go. But I don’t want that to get to you guys. I’m still the same dad I was last week and will continue to be that way. This cancer might take my body but it’ll never take my personality and my soul.” My dad said and took a deep breath and look to watch our reactions. Small tears fell down Cameron’s face and I could see the tears and feel them well up in my own eyes as well as Ethans. My dad got up and hugged them and my mom wrapped herself around them.

My head and emotions began to spin back into this moment and the next two and a half years that would follow that. My head spun as all of the negative thoughts began pouring back in my head. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on the side of my head to try and center myself. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the hospital room. I was in a darkly lit room staring straight into a mirror but my reflection was off. My eyes were almost completely solid black. A knife sat on the counter of the bathroom sink that was attached to the mirror. The dark thoughts flooded my head.

“Come on, Just do it, you’ll be able to see him again, you won’t have the constant pain around anymore, you’ll finally be at peace. All you have to do is pick up the knife,” The dark voice inside my head spoke as subconsciously my hand started to reach for the knife.

“No, that’s not an option. I’ve got people who care. I am happy, fuck off,” I told the dark parts of my thoughts, pushing the knife away from me.

“Like who? Your brother, your friends, (Y/N), they don’t care. It would just be easier if you ended it. Then you could talk with your dad again.” The voice spoke getting more angrier as I fought against it. This time I fully grabbed the knife and brought it close to my wrists.

I started to think about a conversation that (Y/N) and I had night while we were laying under the stars.

“Sometimes, our inner demons come out and try to convince us that we have nobody and It would be better if we just gave in and end it all but their liers. We all have people that love us and that we love. Like I love you and you love me. My mom loves me and I love her as well. Your family loves you and you love them. We have people who care even if we can’t see it in physical ways. Even those who have passed, look down on us and leave little reminders that they care. Sometimes I find spare change in the most random places and I know it’s my dad because I remember he would always collect change and give it to me so that I could buy things at the dollar tree. So when I feel like my demons are beginning to win, I think back to my happiest moment and the people I love the most and I remember that I belong here for a reason.” she said as she played with my fingers

Her voice repeated over and over in my head, and I remember all the people who love me in my life and who I love. I remembered my promise to (Y/N), I remembered my promise to my mom and to Ethan, and I remembered my dad who I knew was watching over me and I took back control over my body, throwing the knife at the mirror, completely shattering it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and when I opened them, I was in a similar room as when I started. A door opened revealing a room full of chairs and a door on the opposite side of that room.

“Congratulations, Grayson Bailey Dolan, you have survived the Panic Room Simulation, shortly you will find out if (Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) has also survived the Panic Room Simulation,” The voice echoed through the room and I sat down in one of the waiting room chairs and interlocked my fingers and rested my forehead against my thumbs and began to pray to whoever would listen, my angels, God, or my dad.

Please let her make it out of this, I need her to live. Give her all the strength plus more just please let her make it.

———————————————————————

Chapter eight is done! I hope you guys enjoy this series as much as I enjoy writing it. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on how the series is going so far. As always let me know if you have any requests, concepts, or blurbs. Chapter nine will probably be up in the next few days. Part nine of The Principals Office should be up within the next couple of days as well. Love you guys 🥺😊💛

Tags: @dolanshellyes @graysavant @graydolan12 @flowery-dolan @dolan-bliss @justordinaryjen @dickdowndolan @dolans4lyfe @lanelessdolan @pineappledols @reblogserpent @frickin-bats @cautiouscalum @grays-laugh @youtuberimagines12 @minecraftgamerr @wrcn9fvlcver @buildermangray @highoffdolan @beautorigin

[gerbiloftriumph]

So you wanna be a king (pt4)

orrrr mayyyybe juuust cosplay one since that’s way less responsibilities

(incidentally, the fabbo shirt’s from redbubble, https://www.redbubble.com/people/midorilied/works/29739636-do-it-for-him-white-text, if @midorilied​ doesn’t mind me showing it off)

If you’ve followed along thus far then you should have a cloak, jerkin, pants and boots. A fully wearable Graham perfect for romping around the countryside. But it feels incomplete without the accessories, so let’s give those a try.

Part 4: Pouches n Bracers

(Again, these are all just suggestions and a How I Did It from a very novice cosplayer. Disregard all points, or take the ones you like. improvise adapt overcome)

Perhaps the best part about adventure games is the stuff. The bottomless inventory, a random assortment of strange things that all Do A Thing. Graham carries everything from money to badgers to literal humans in his pockets (presumably his mother is a seamstress trained by the gods). 

This...won’t be you. Sorry.

Now, to be fair, I saw a Graham cosplay on tumblr (I’m so sorry, I don’t remember who--does anyone know?) who sewed pockets into their cloak, which is delightful and a very sweet idea! 

However, I prefer the swoosh and snap of my cloak, and heavy things like cell phones in your cloak will alter the weight. Something to keep in mind as you decide how to manage your outfit.

(forgive the blur--I haven’t been able to get a still of what it looks like when swooshing. Perhaps now I’ve got real boots I’ll do another gifset of it)

Thus, all my phone, money, keys, and backup freckles (e.g., liquid eyeliner) must live in Graham’s belt pouches instead of cloak pockets. Lord knows what Graham actually keeps in his pouches, game-wise. Squirrel snacks, maybe, to avoid repeating the fiasco from Tourney Day?

This time I followed a pattern. I know, weird, right?

I wanted functionality, but I wanted them to be slim and simple, too. I found a guy on YouTube, and he comes with a .pdf template pattern in his video description! It’s super detailed, easy to follow, and better than me rambling. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPhQlaI_UX4

Three years later, they’re starting to look a touch tired. I used a plain dark brown fabric (was it broadcloth?). Half a yard is plenty. If it’s semi-close in color your your belt, ideal. I made two sizes, two large for phone and makeup for touchups, and one small for keys and money. The large ones are 3″ wide and 5.5″ tall, and the small one is 2.5″ by 4.5″, but size them to whatever important things must be on your body at all time.

I added snap clasps to keep them shut (never know when you’ll be pounced by goblins, or trip over a crack in the sidewalk), and I found some plain silver buttons to sew over where the snaps sit--added bonus, hides my sloppy stitchwork. I took some of the leftover suede rope from the jerkin for the front--my ugliest secret is that it’s really horrible looking super glue dribbled everywhere. Hasn’t moved in 3 years, tho. /victory fist bump

I turned the corners of the front flaps so I wouldn’t have square tops. I didn’t trim off the excess fabric since I thought keeping extra weight in the corners would help keep the flaps down. You could always sew in another layer of something sturdier if you didn’t want the flaps to curl over time--it’s probably worth it. It does make a difference. 

So, in doing this half-tutorial, I’ve just realized that Graham’s actual model has three pouches of various sizes on his left side only which means I’ve been wearing and drawing him wrong since day one. So. That’s cool. themoreyouknow.gif

(still not changing anything tho; I like keeping my phone on my right side)

Bracers!

Graham’s an archer. So, he’s got bracers on his forearms to protect himself. (presumably his rippling muscles are protection enough since he stops wearing them between his 30s and 70s.)

We have the same problem here as with the jerkin: the bracers seem practically sewn onto his arm. And that’s maybe doable, but I’m mortal, not digital, and I want this to be comfortable and also easy to remove. Now, unfortunately, my method loses the black bands he has on his bracer underbellies--they don’t seem to fit. If you have a nice solution, let me know.

Get yourself a ruler, paper, a scrap of elastic band, a sheet or two of stiff felt (probably like this stuff: https://www.amazon.com/Darice-Stiff-inches-5-Pack-FLT-0331/dp/B00KNAKJH6), and all the leftovers from your jerkin.

Measure around your wrist--mine’s 6″, so we’ll use that. Draw a 6″ line on a piece of paper, find the center of the line, mark it. Measure how long down your arm you want the bracer to go. I like 8 and a quarter inches myself (make it as long as you can without the bracer edge rubbing your inner elbow because that gets real old real fast). From the center mark of your wrist line, make a straight line down (a grid is helpful here to keep it straight). At the point where your bracer stops, measure around your arm: I got 9″. Find the halfway mark of your base arm line, add that to the paper. Connect the corners. It should look approximately something like this:

Cut out and test your design to make sure it’s comfortable (you want to forget you’re wearing these. keep them away from your elbow. f’reals). Cut the shape out of your stiff felt, and cut out your brown fabric leftover from your jerkin, with a margin all around so you can fold it over and sew (I did an inch I think, because I’m a coward). For the hand guard, I did half my wrist (3″), then measured my hand to see how high it had to be to just scrape the knuckle. For my hand, that’s about 3″, give or take. Curve it, test it, cut it out of felt and brown alike, and cut out some extra brown to cover the inside of the hand guard too, as you don’t want to see any white against your hand.

Fold the loose edges over the felt and sew it down along the marked places:

Make little snips in the hem of the hand guard hem as you go to achieve that tight curve. 

I was nervous about combining the two pieces as I needed easy wrist flexibility. The two lines that aren’t hemmed I left “raw” and sewed the brown edges together as was, so that there’s no stiff felt against the wrist at all. 

Another secret: my bracer grommets aren’t the same as my jerkin grommets--they’re much smaller, like 7mm, because I’d planned on making my jerkin with this smaller size earlier to replicate Graham’s tighter lacing but it didn’t work out--the larger ones from your jerkin work fine. 

It’s the same process as the jerkin, too. Every inch from the wrist to the elbow gets a grommet, plus its corresponding partner. A-likea so:

The next part might be optional. I cut another piece of brown about the same size as the bracer body again, and sewed the edges along the inside, just past the grommets, so that when you wear the bracer, you don’t see the shirt beneath your laces. It also gives you a place to hide the loose ends of your suede rope once it’s tied into place. Probably optional. 

Graham’s bracers have definition near the elbow, and I was annoyed that I couldn’t find a way to fit in the large black bands without messing up the simplicity of my pull on/pull off system, so to reference it I found thin black trim and sewed it along the bottom hem, just below the last grommet. 

Okay, lace it with the suede rope and try it for fit. You may notice the hand guard is a bit unwilling to stay attached. Get the super glue, and--

no wait please don’t do that

let’s just make an elastic ring instead

My elastic was white: I colored it with a brown marker so it wasn’t as jarring if anyone caught sight of it. Sew it into your existing hemline, wherever it feels natural to wear it as a ring on your middle finger. A strip of fabric or trim might work as well, but the elastic makes it easy to pull on. 

I desperately need to update my gray wristbands with real rope. This is trim, and I do not like it. But it was free, at the bottom of my cosplay bin, and I’m so tired of spending money on this costume.........anyway, loop the rope of choice three times around your wrist, sew it into a closed loop to avoid dealing with knots and bows, and tug the whole thing on and off over your hand. pls do not make it too tight.

And that’s looking like a proper cosplay. Just a few more accessories and also the hat. I assume everyone just wants the adventuring hat, but if there’s any interest in the crown, I could toss that in too, maaaayyyybbeeee?

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Bloom From Nowhere

The town that contained them for 21 years had become too small for them. When they'd graduated high school, arms linked in promise, they told everyone they were getting out of this one-story town. They feared, after a few years of working and saving up as much as they could, that maybe they had been lying; really, they were just waiting for the perfect, hurried moment. Nothing was more motivating than procrastination. It was about time they moved on.

Rosenda packed in a flurry, excitement and anxiety beating wildly in her chest as she threw necessities into a positively ancient suitcase she found at the bottom of the hall closet. She carefully folded and packed her favorite shirts: a green and blue striped top that fell from her shoulders toward the center of her chest, a crimson rayon top with ruffles from the neck to the bottom of her bust and a keyhole opening that showed off her modest cleavage, as well as her beloved Lord of the Rings quote t-shirt and a modified tie-dye t-shirt she got from Forever 21 that read “California Dreamin'” in a stitched Coca-Cola-style font. She added her comfiest pairs of jeans (two – light wash and black), a pair of brown capris, and a pair of denim cut-offs. A dress made it in there, too – a flowy turquoise summer dress that she saw on sale last summer and had to resist wearing it every day – and some jewelry, makeup, socks and underwear and a pair of tan-colored flip flops. If she needed anything else, she figured, she'd ask her mother to send it along once she was settled somewhere – after her mother started speaking to her again, of course.

Only a few hours earlier they'd determined that they would leave, so with what little time was left, she drove straight to the bank and withdrew all of her savings. The weight of the cash in her wallet that would only fit in her back pocket seemed heavier than she’d been expecting as she walked to her car, her phone in hand. She seemed to be waiting for a call, but why, she couldn’t tell – her plans with Gal were made already and they agreed to pack separately and meet up later. As she got into her silver 2004 Honda Civic (a car that she inherited from her mother, and besides that felt history, would not miss) and dropped her phone into the empty passenger seat, she felt the semblance of safety fall away. Every familiar red light she met on her way home looked like the call she was inexplicably waiting for, but once she pulled into the driveway, the expectation seemed far away.

Back in her room, she picked through her desk drawers for things she thought she might miss – photobooth strips of her with Gal and a couple of her high school friends, a lucky blue mechanical pencil she lost in high school more times than she could count that always managed to find its way back to her, a few small journals, and a homemade deck of Lord of the Rings themed playing cards that her middle school friend Liza made her one year for Christmas. She packed them, along with electronics and appropriate chargers and wires, into an extra travel bag where she packed the last important pieces of her future: drawing utensils, her most-used box of oil pastels, a newer set of paints, and three pads of drawing paper. Then, sitting on the edge of her bed leaning over her nightstand, she scribbled a note to her mother.

It’s been time for a while, hasn’t it? Even though I know how much you worry about me, I know you just want me to be happy. Bueno, gracias por eso. But take care of yourself, sí? Tú también mereces la felicidad. I'll be with Galia (who else?), so try not to worry about me too much. I know you trust her even though you'd like her to think you don't. We know you do, though. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I get somewhere new and beautiful. You understand, ¿a que sí? Te quiero tanto — Rosenda

Once she smoothed down her blankets again, she propped the note up against her pillow and stared at it for a few minutes. The blank edges of the note gave her something to focus on beyond everything that she was leaving behind in her childhood bedroom. When her eyes accidentally flicked upward, her gaze fell upon the yellow and black flag hanging above her bed that she’d rested her post-high school dreams on. She quickly looked away and sighed. 'Perhaps hope only blooms from out of nowhere and doesn’t grow from whatever you hang on the wall,' she deduced as her phone lit up with a text from Gal. I’m outside. That was why she’d never hung any photos of her with Gal on the wall. She wanted the unknown future to stay unknown for as long as possible.

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

As soon as she throws her suitcase and bag into the trunk of the navy 2008 Subaru Outback and hops into the passenger seat, she looks over at Gal in the driver’s seat and finds herself staring.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” she finally says.

Gal scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She picks at the thin threads holding on at the edge of a hole in the left knee of her jeans. “I just thought…like, it’d be a bigger deal or something.”

“Oh, this isn’t a big enough deal for you? Want me to honk the horn as I drive down the street, make people come out and see what all the fuss is about as we wave at them like princesses?”

“No!” she cries, and then immediately laughs. “I just meant…I don’t know. Does it feel like a big deal to you?”

Gal shrugs.

“Sort of.” In Gal-speak, Rose knows that means, Yes, absolutely, and I’m terrified and I’m not going to talk about it.

She glances at the phone in Gal’s hand, the bright screen glowing in the dimming cab as the outside light swiftly grows darker.

“I made a road trip playlist before I left, though.”

“Oooooh,” Rose says with genuine interest.

“Fuck yeah. We’re ready, babe.”

As they pull away from the curb of her childhood home, she chews on her lip. Passing by the quiet houses that line her block, lingering on the illuminated outdoor lights hanging beside front doors, she tries not to think about how they will change, how neighbors will move away and be replaced by new ones that her mother will have to adjust to or try hard to ignore. She looks over at Gal whose pale face is cast in a garish orange glow by the overhead street lights and she wonders, but doesn’t want to know yet, how they will change.

After a few hours of idle chatting – nothing deeper than what they did earlier today – and singing along loudly to their playlist, they pull into a quiet AM-PM gas station. As she watches Gal, standing tall with her eyes forward but her gaze faraway, fill the gas tank, she suddenly realizes what would make this seem more important. She pops the trunk and scrambles out of the car. Gal looks at her with furrowed eyebrows but says nothing, and Rose offers no verbal explanation as she grabs her suitcase and opens it, sifting through the clothes she hastily packed. Finally, she finds what she thought was a random dress she’d stuffed into the slightly emptier side of the suitcase and places it carefully over her left arm. Closing the suitcase and then shutting the trunk door, she gives Gal a smile and tells her that she’s going to the bathroom and will be back in a minute. Gal raises an eyebrow at the garment slung over her arm but nods and goes back to the arduous task of pumping gas and sort-of-not-really paying attention to her surroundings – they’re alone in the station, but who knows for how long.

When she walks into the store, she offers the too-tired-or-too-awake white cashier a smile and asks for the bathroom key. The strawberry blond man who looks to be in his 30s sighs and picks the key up off a tack in the wall at the end of the counter and hands it to her, gesturing toward the back of the store. She marches through the side aisle and then down a small hallway that ends with the plain-looking hefty green bathroom door. Once she opens the door, she wrinkles her nose at the soapy smell that seems to be trying to mask the torrent of years-old scents of bodily functions. The brown tile floor looks clean enough, but the once-white walls seem suspiciously grey, and she tries to ignore anything that looks remotely like a stain smeared on the wall.

Closing the door and placing the key on the edge of the sink, she drapes the dress over her shoulders and slips off a boot to remove her jeans. She’s barefoot, but they should stop into a hotel at some point later so they can shower. Removing her other boot, she then shimmies out of her jeans, conscious of the sound of denim sliding together down her legs and bunching around her ankles. She pulls them off and folds them up, setting them on the edge of the sink. Next, she pulls her shirt off over head and folds it and places it on top of her jeans, then steps into the dress and pulls it up to her chest and shoves her arms into the straps. After adjusting her bra not to poke out so noticeably above the cups of the dress, she finally looks in the mirror and notices the way the bust of the dress seems to stretch and she raises her eyebrows – her boobs have grown since she last wore this dress. She half turns and notices the way the gown’s soft polyester material curves over her rear and cascades down past her calves – at least it seems to fit better than the last time she wore it. When she turns around again and looks at her reflection straight-on, she sighs and suddenly feels shy. She remembers she has to walk back to the front of the store and return the bathroom key to the cashier, and what if there are other customers wandering around, just waiting to judge the other oddballs stopping in at gas stations at 1 o’clock in the morning?

Suddenly, she hears Gal’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Hey Rose, can you hurry it up in there? I wanna get back on the road.”

She pauses, looking at herself anxiously in the mirror and makes sure her mascara hasn’t run to her knees, and then begins to gather up her clothes.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m done.” She grabs the key off the edge of the sink and opens the door quickly to see Gal standing in front of her, waiting. When Gal notices the change in attire, her eyes widen.

“Is this what you meant by ‘a big deal’?” she asks.

Rose blushes.

“I feel silly, actually.” She’s still standing on the ground in her bare feet and she just remembers to grab her boots as well.

“Well…you look-” Gal pauses, apparently searching for some grand adjective to describe the woman before her, of Rose’s tan skin flushing under her stare and limber body draped in a vermilion gown, “-amazing.”

The word isn’t enough, but Rose recognizes the breathless way Gal ends her sentence and knows what she means. She smiles and hands Gal the key and adjusts her clothes in her arms and carefully holds her boots between her fingers on one hand.

They stand there for a minute, Gal admiring her, before Rose clears her throat and shifts her feet.

“Ready?”

Gal shakes her head, as though shaking herself out of a trance, and nods. Before turning around to leave the store, she smiles at Rose who returns the gesture.

As the two walk together through the store, Rose feels all anxiety regarding the trip fall away. Even as she walks barefoot in an evening gown through a random AM-PM store at 1AM clutching her discarded outfit, the presence of Gal beside her makes her feel light. She smiles again at the cashier as Gal drops the key onto the counter and nods goodbye to him and they leave the store, walking across the gas station parking lot to the Subaru on the other side of the gas pumps.

Gal rushes over to the driver’s side of the car so she can unlock the door for them, and as soon as she presses the button on the inside of the door, Rose reaches the passenger side door and pulls it open, a faint smile still present at the corners of her lips. She throws her discarded outfit and boots into the backseat and steps into the car, the material of her dress gathered by hand and tucked under her thighs. Once she closes the door, she looks over at Gal who is staring at her.

“What?” she asks self-consciously.

Gal keeps staring for a few seconds before she looks away into her lap.

“Nothing.” When she looks up again at Rose who is now staring at her, she laughs and shakes her head, grinning.

“You’re just-”

“’Too much’?” Rose asks, quoting her from years of knowing each other.

Gal pauses and her smile slackens a little bit.

“No. You’re beautiful and I just feel too lucky to be here with you right now.”

Rose feels her blood thrum quicker in her veins and she glances at their surroundings for a second.

“In this gas station?”

Gal laughs, and she watches the way Gal’s roomy mouth opens wide at the corners and reveals all the gaps between her straight teeth. She remembers when Gal confided in her that she hated her teeth, though she recognized how privileged she was that her teeth were taken such good care of in the first place. They were too straight, according to Gal – ‘Totally unlike me,’ as she’d put it with a wry smile. Rose meant to bat her on the arm for saying that, but instead she’d grazed her skin with her fingertips and watched the goosebumps rise on Gal’s arm in their wake. She enjoyed that reaction as much as she enjoys Gal’s laugh, so she smiles even as Gal’s laughter fades.

“I love you,” Gal says after a few seconds of silence, wearing a matching smile.

Rose reaches over to tuck Gal’s short dark hair behind her ear.

“That’s why I’m here,” she says. They stare at each other for a minute, Gal blinking in gratitude or awe, and then Rose eventually seems to zone out, away from them as they sit there though her eyes remain glued to a small, unassuming mole resting on Gal’s chin.

Even once Gal finally looks away and turns the key in the ignition, Rose continues to stare, only now at Gal’s cheek where a few more small, inconspicuous brown dots adorn her skin. Perhaps there is nothing more she wants to know then what is already there. Still, as Gal guides the Subaru away from the gas station and back onto the road, they move on.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Nine

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 9: Drunk Buddy

Chapter Summary: Emotions suck. But it’s nice to have someone willing to stick around despite them.

Chapter Word Count: 3370

A/N: Warning for intentional typos, drunkenness, POV being slightly down/self-deprecating in parts. I wish I had more to say but uh, new Fire Emblem game is really good and all my braincells are going towards romancing and teaching and stabbing. Please enjoy!

    I was drunk. Just the right amount– I felt pretty pleasant, light and comfortable, but I wasn’t out of it. Or so I thought, until I stumbled outside and suddenly I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember how I had decided I was going to get home.

Oops.

My phone buzzed and I displayed excellent dexterity by catching it just as it slipped out of my hand. So I wasn’t that drunk and I would remember…eventually. After a brief dip into whatever nonsense Steve was sending me in the middle of the night.

Steve: Help Steve: I need a good excuse to leave a party

I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing.

Me: Does anything need saaving? Steve: It’s Tony’s party Me: Hmmmm

I tried to think, but it was hard.

Me: Sorry Steve: It’s okay Steve: What are you up to? Me: Just leaving club Me: Stopping to try to rememember Me: How I was going to get home tonight Me: I think subw Me: ay? Me: But Me: Wait Me: Wht time is it?

I squinted at the clock. Okay, slightly-more-than-midnight.

Me: Okay guess i’m not Me: doing that Steve: You were going to take the subway Steve: At this time of night Steve: While drunk?

I stuck out my tongue.

Me: Stop it Me: I can feel the look you’re making Me: Also I dint know it was so late Me: Also also: I’m not as drunk as I look in texting. A little yes but i’m more lazy than out of it Steve: Regardless Steve: Do you need a ride home?

I smirked.

Me: I guess if I can’t think of an excuse I can be one Steve: Exactly!

That was nice. I hadn’t seen him in a few days. I missed him.

Me: Ooooooooo Me: Are you hungry? Me: There’s a dumb trendy pizza place Me: That’ll probably close within a couple months Me: But it’s actually really tasty Me: Wanna meet? Me: There? Steve: I’d rather make sure you stay safe Me: It’s like a block away Me: Or smth

I made an executive decision and sent him the name of the place and the one street name I could remember.

Me: I’ll save us a table, pls don’t come in a suit Steve: It’s a little dressy for a pizza date Me: And I look cute for once Me: You will not Me: outdress me Steve: Noted Steve: Should I wear my workout gear?

I failed to see how that would make me look decent by comparison.

Me: Stop texting and get ready Me: Or unready Me: Whatever Steve: I can multitask

Wait a minute.

Me: Are you on your way????

He did not respond. I started walking. However for me, at the moment, multitasking was a touch more difficult.

Me: You are such a dick Me: I’ll see you there Steve: Wait! Steve: I’m almost there!

When my fingers failed to hit the right buttons thanks to righteous indignation and adrenaline, I stopped again.

Me: I didn’t say I was on the same street

“It’s not hard to narrow it down.”

I jumped and my phone flew into the air. I tried to reach for it but a hand came from over and behind me and caught it before it could be dashed against the unforgiving concrete. I held my chest while my heart recovered and I turned to give Steve the dirtiest look I could muster.

“Sorry,” he said. Smiling.

“You have never been sorry for anything in your life ever,” I said and put my phone in my purse. “How did you get here so fast?”

“Well, I was close,” he said. His hair looked good and he smelled nice, but he otherwise wore his standard jacket and jeans. “Also, your texting is…really slowed down.”

“Hm.” I really didn’t think I was that drunk so much as he was just that desperate to get out of an uncomfortable social situation, but I could sympathize with that to extremes so I didn’t push it. “Come on; I need food.”

“To soak up the alcohol?”

I dragged him by his jacket sleeve. Except, when we were just about there I realized I was less ‘dragging’ and more ‘leaning on’ him. I felt the creeping tendrils of ‘shit, this is a bad idea,’ but it felt like it was too late. It was too late and I didn’t want to tell him to fuck off because I suddenly couldn’t deal. If I was sober enough to realize the ways this night could go poorly, then I was sober enough to deal with it. I hoped.

“Are you going to be sick?” Steve asked and put his hand on my back. It should have been a nice, centering, kind thing, but at the moment it just felt heavy.

“Nope; just thinking about what I’m going to order,” I said and slipped away from him to get the door. He was quicker, though, and pulled it open for me from over my head just as I went for the handle. That made it slip out of my hand and I fell forward a bit, but I caught myself rather well, in my own opinion. I shot him a dirty look and he shrugged with a sheepish smile. Since he was apologetic, at least, I went forward to stand in line.

The place was fairly busy for what time it was, but I wasn’t the only drunk person there. Nor was I the drunkest, which was nice, though they were annoyingly loud, which sucked. I focused on the menu, and scanned it for things Steve might like. “Do you trust me?” I asked and looked at him.

He was frowning at the board and his “Mostly?” was the most unconvincing thing I’d ever heard.

The look on his face made me smile. “Let me guess: you’ve never had pizza outside of pepperoni or plain cheese?”

“And supreme,” was his defense. But I could understand; some of the pizza toppings here were just plain weird, to the point where even I hadn’t yet tried them.

“Okay, hear me out,” I said. “The pizzas aren’t personal but they also aren’t that big, so I’m going to order four that I know I like and that I think you’ll like, and then we’ll get one ‘Boring’ for you to snack on just in case. Sound good?”

He nodded but looked at me with some exasperation. “You got something against just cheese and pepperoni?”

I didn’t even try to hide my glee at I pointed to the area on the menu where it listed, in a wholly appropriate font, ‘Boring.’ It was just a typical cheese pizza but Steve’s look of annoyance was worth everything. Suddenly, inviting him out was a great idea– the best I’d ever had.

“Do you secretly own this place?” he asked as we waited for the gaggle in front of us to grab their cups and go.

“If I owned a pizza place I’d be bankrupt and easily mistaken for a parade float,” I said and stepped forward to order. I got my wallet open as I spoke but when I finished telling the cashier what I wanted, Steve still managed to hold his card out before me.

“Hey; you paid last time,” I said.

“And I can pay thi–”

He jolted when I smacked his hand and his card flew to the floor. I gave the bewildered woman my card before he could recover. “I give the better tip,” I said as she swiped it.

“That’s a lie,” he said as he came back up.

I shrugged and pointed at the tip jar. “Put up or shut up.”

He looked right at me while he opened up his wallet and counted out one twenty, and another, and…

My eyes widened at the end amount he dumped in the jar and when I stole a look at the girl behind the register she was straight up gawking. “You’re such a fucking show-off,” I said and signed the receipt (after adding my suddenly-so-much-less-impressive tip).

“I am so okay with that,” she blurted out.

I laughed as he ducked his head and stole away with the number and his cup. “Sorry; I concede defeat,” I told her.

“Yeah, no problem,” she said like she didn’t even hear me and she stared at the tip jar even as I went to get my drink. Then I joined Steve in the corner, where he fidgeted while we waited. When we got the pizzas and I dished out some slices, he didn’t look upon them any more kindly than he had the descriptions.

“Here,” I said and pushed one of the plates over to him. Then I stacked the boxes so the plain one was at the bottom. “Try these first. If you don’t like them then you can have the cheese all to yourself.”

He sighed and looked at each piece. “It seems like such a possible waste. What if I can’t do more than one bite?”

I rolled my eyes. “Then I’ll cut off where your icky diseased lips touched and eat it myself. Fuck, man, weren't you in the army?”

He ducked his head but he was smiling. “Sorry; you’re right, this isn’t any worse than–”

“Eat or die,” I said and threw a packet of parmesan at his face.

Thankfully he knew better than to test the strength of even a lightly-drunk woman’s stomach and he ate. And if the noise of surprise he made didn’t show how he felt about the food, the way he plowed through the rest of it clearly did. I managed to snake a few more pieces and I was still getting through them when he neared the end of his.

And yet in between inhales he still found the time to be really annoying.

“So, tonight…did you go with a date?”

There were a lot of things I could have said to that, but all of them were terrible, and none of them made me feel better, so I shook my head. “Just by myself; to get out.” He was staring at me, and I wanted him to stop. “I’ve been a little…down, I guess.”

“Hm,” he said, not stopping his steady look. “Is that why you’ve looked like you’re about to cry all week?”

I shrugged and took a bite. It was still good, but my throat had closed up, so I had to chew for a while. Steve stared at me until I swallowed. “What?” I said.

“I can be patient,” he said, smiling slightly, like this was a light thing.

I tried to act like it was. I rolled my eyes. “Keep holding your breath and I’m gonna eat your pizza.”

He relented then, thank goodness, and chowed down on the last of the food in front of him. When he sat back then, it was a lot more natural. “I can’t believe I let you pay for all that and I ate most of it,” he said.

I snorted and kept picking at my last piece. As much as I wanted to finish, my stomach wanted me to curl up in bed and forget it existed for a while. “If you admit I was right I’ll consider it paid in full.”

“You were right; that was delicious,” he said. He looked me over. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Sleepy,” I said and stopped playing with my food. “Do you want this? I only took a little bit.”

“Well, I guess so. Since I was in the army and all.” He took the slice and smiled mischievously at me.

“You think you can handle my poison lips?” I asked.

“For good pizza, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, so fucking deadly serious that I fell apart into helpless laughter. Then he took a bite and his eyes bulged and he grabbed his throat and my heart skipped several beats. I was almost out of my chair to try and give him the Heimlich when I realized the bastard was just playing and I punched his shoulder hard enough to hurt. Well, me, but at least he must have felt it.

“You're an asshole,” I grumbled and shook out my hand.

He swallowed and took a moment to laugh. “I can’t wait to tell Sam. He says I can’t act to save my life.”

“I don’t think it’s real brag-worthy to get one over on a drunk girl,” I muttered and rested my head on my arms.

He turned serious all of a sudden. “Shit, I forgot–” He dug through his little backpack and pulled out painkillers and a bottle of water like a proud kid showing off his potato lamp at a science fair. “I’m sorry; I can’t believe I almost forgot these.”

“You brought this for me?” I asked. I opened the pill bottle and it still had the foil and cotton, and the water bottle seal was still uncracked. He hadn’t just brought it for me, he had bought it for me. That was…so sweet, and while I took a couple of pills and drank some of the water, he cleaned up the table.

“Come on.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take you home.”

The journey was a little fuzzy. All I could think about was that he had known I was drunk and instead of taking that as a sign to stay at his boring party, he’d left to hang out. With me. And instead of just dumping me in a cab after it all, he was coming with me. To make sure I got home safe. Because he cared that much.

Familiar melancholy rose back up in me like frothing bile, and as he helped me into my apartment I felt like I was going to burst. “Th-thank you,” I said. “I can’t– I can’t believe you brought me home.”

“I’m just doing what a friend does,” he said as he helped me to my room.

“Thank you. You're a good friend,” I said as I sat down and shut my eyes. It was going to hurt so bad when he eventually got sick of me. But it was okay. I had to make sure he knew it was okay. “I’m gonna– I’m gonna miss you when you go.”

He stopped whatever he was doing at the side table, and weight settled on the bed next to me. “When I go tonight?”

“When you get tired of me, and go,” I said and leaned my head against my pillow. I sighed. It was so much comfier.

“Why do you think I’m going to do that?” he asked quietly.

“It’s okay,” I said, because he sounded hurt. “Everyone does. It’s me; I’m…I’m no good. I’m bad at staying in touch; I flake out if I can’t handle shit. I say the wrong things. I’ve had good friends but I’ve never been one. So it’s– it’s okay. When you want to go, just know it’s oka–”

~

I woke up with distant dreams of fluffy pancakes, a minor headache, and a vague feeling of unease. I shut my eyes tight and loosened up when that just hurt. Why did I feel so weird? I had been a little miserable and so I had gone out. I’d gotten a little drunk. I’d texted Ste– oh no. But, wait, no, it wasn’t that bad. We had hung out, had dinner, and I’d come home. He had helped me home. And then…

I sat up and wanted to vomit for reasons other than a hangover. Because I had basically done that to Steve the night before, only worse. Normal vomit you could clean up, but what could you do about emotional vo–

Okay. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I really needed to stop thinking about being sick or I was going to get real literal about it. I took a deep breath, got out of bed, and shuffled towards my door. Physically I wasn’t actually so bad off– thanks Steve– but mentally I was spiraling– thanks Steve.

No. I gripped my head. No, that wasn’t fair; I was the one in a bad place and made it Steve’s problem. Shit. I didn’t know if this was something he would be willing to pretend never happened or if this was the beginning of the end.

I took a few seconds to control my breathing and beat back the tears. One thing at a time. First: coffee. And painkillers. And maybe some pancakes. Then I could text Steve and apologize and…go from there. Whatever that meant.

When I stepped out of my room though I lost my breath entirely.

Steve. Was on my couch. Sleeping.

Steve was sleeping on my couch.

I flailed like a weirdo and forced some control while my body wanted to flee my own damn home. What had I said that he felt he had to stay? That was worrisome, but…whatever was happening, a: I had no clue, and b: he still deserved an apology. So I went about The Plan, but I made a pot of coffee and decided to dump all the blueberry pancake mix I had into my biggest bowl.

I was getting the batter just right when I heard the couch springs shift. I put all my focus into making sure the powder-to-milk ratio was perfect and then started stirring. It was very quiet, so I took a quick peek and saw him standing right behind me. “Oh. Hey.” I faced forward and started stirring in earnest. “I was dreaming about pancakes, so I hope you like ‘em. You look like a guy who can eat a lot of pancakes; I’m–”

Steve draped his arms over my shoulders in the most relaxed hug ever. Inexplicably, my head actually felt better. “How’s the hangover?” he asked.

“Uh…” I took stock. “Not bad.” I didn’t know what to say. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

If he wanted to pretend it never happened, that was one thing, but this question was not that, and I peered over my shoulder to squint at him. “Do I have to say it?”

He stood up and shrugged. “I don’t know what you have to apologize for.”

“Puking emotion all over you?”

“That’s…evocative,” he said, wincing momentarily. “And I’m pretty sure I puked emotion all over you first.” He gave me a look with meaning. Man I hated those. “Closeted bi besties, remember?”

“What’s going to happen when you’re not closeted anymore?”

He looked like he was thinking about it. “Disaster bi besties?”

“You need to get off the internet,” I said. “But…accurate.”

“Are we okay?” he asked earnestly.

“I hope so,” I said, just as sincere.

He smiled and smoothed down his few fly-aways. “Sorry,” he said and glanced up like he could glare his hair into behaving.

I couldn’t help myself. “Oh thank God,” I said. “You were so hideous before; now I can actually look at you.”

He snorted. “You don’t share your feelings often, do you?”

“Did the teeth chattering give it away?”

“Knee-knocking, actually.” He leaned back against the counter. “So…are there going to be pancakes this year, or should we go out?”

My jaw dropped and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Asshole,” I said and buttered up a pan. “I did not mix a whole box of my best stuff for you to abandon me for IHOP. You're going to eat these pancakes or else.”

“Or else what?” he asked as I ladled some batter in.

“Or else you get no coffee,” I said and pointed at the pot. He made a sound like he quietly suffered an injury and went to pour himself a cup in the mug I had set out for him. I sipped my own while I made breakfast and smiled sweetly in return for the glare he aimed at me. As I made a breakfast for me and a human trash compactor, my headache started lifting really fast, and my body settled into a relaxed feeling suitable for a Sunday morning. Thank god for coffee.

And Steve Rogers was pretty okay too.

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[mysticmylifeisamess-enger]

As Regular As Clockwork

Pairing: Jumin/Reader

Word count: 3,365

Summary: Jumin is a man of many talents. Though saying no to you wasn't one of them.

A/N: So here was an art trade for someone since they mentioned on twitter wanting a fic of MC teasing Jumin with the cameras in his penthouse bc there’s plenty for Seven but not enough for him and my horny ass jumped at the opportunity because who am I if not a slut for Jumin Han

It should also be worth mentioning that this would be a good example of what you’d be receiving if you commission me ^^ here’s the info on that

Not safe for kiddos below the cut

When it came to work, Jumin was much like a clock. Precise in every action and gesture, punctual to any meeting he attended, and methodical, as if his every movement was timed. He’s often compared to a robot, but not even a robot, no matter how advanced it is, could be as meticulous as him.

He was also predictable to those that would observe closely. Anyone that sat down and watched long enough would pick up on just how he worked. Though there were very few people in his life who took the time to truly understand this pattern; a less than handful amount that truly understood the way he worked in, and even out, the office.

You, on the other hand, not only took the time to observe, but to even put to memory these patterns. He welcomed you into every aspect of his life and you took this as an opportunity to get know him beyond the things even he wouldn’t notice. At any given moment of the day, you could tell anyone what Jumin must be doing with almost perfect accuracy. Though the moments that always intrigued you were the ones where his attention was turned somewhere else.

From your observations, he’d look over the documents on his desk, mark down any revisions, place it in the outbox on the corner of his desk, and repeat the process for a few hours. At exactly 2:32 pm, in the midst of his work and 13 minutes short of his scheduled daily meeting, his eyes would glance over the monitor on his desk— open to the CCTV in his penthouse— and smile to himself to see the white coat of his beloved pet before he continued onto his pile.

It made you wonder just how he looked at the screen when you weren’t around and instead on the other side of it. Did his gaze linger just a bit longer? Was his smile just a bit wider at the thought of seeing his loving partner? Or would he even look at all, considering the original intent of this camera was to watch after Elizabeth? But what you really wanted to know was whether you could use it to break that precious, commendable concentration of his.

His greatest gift, what truly made him the heir extraordinaire that he is, was how steady his focus could be. It was a little shaken up at your arrival, but he was able to manage after a while, finding you to be the new center of his focal point. You always admired this about him, a trait that he fully used to learn everything about you in no time, especially when it only seemed to heighten once you two became intimate.

But to find a weak spot, a vulnerability in his everyday flow that you could easily pervade proved to be your hardest task as a spouse yet. Weeks on end and you had yet to see an opportunity.

Until one morning. One morning that you woke up to find his grasp on you just a bit tighter than usual. His every word as you two had breakfast together had an underlying need to it. And the usual goodbye kiss you sent him out the door with seemed much more covetous, tugging at your bottom lip as he pulled away and leaving you weak in the knees at his departure.

‘Bingo,’ you thought to yourself, biting back the devious smile that threatened to spread.

~

The end of his pen tapped against the desk incessantly, fidgeting with it between his fingers every once in a while before they signed away at a document and repeating the process. It was unlike him to be so restless, as if his hands couldn’t stay still and needed to find some sort of occupancy to them.

His usual three-piece suit felt much more restricting than usual, shifting uncomfortably in his seat every so often. His hand constantly found its way to the tie around his neck, loosening it just a bit every time. It made him wonder whether they were dry-cleaned correctly or if he had hit some sudden growth spurt at 28.

Every sound behind the closed doors of his office seemed much louder than they actually were, testing at his patience at every little tick. In particular, the wall clock that hung above the door sounded as if it was right in his ear, ticking continuously with no end in sight.

And in all these subtle nuances, you happened to sit on the forefront of his mind. With every thought, every scenario his imagination would drift into, and every bit of semblance he’d fixate on, his restlessness would only get worse.

It started innocently, wishing he could have convinced you to come along for the day. Your presence sitting patiently on his office couch, getting up occasionally to plop on his lap and give him a quick kiss. Your fingers carding through his locks as they always did. Lips moving from his to the corner of his mouth, pressing along his cheek slowly until it was just under his jawline. Lingering for a second until your tongue darted out to press a wet kiss on his neck, shifting to straddle him between your legs.

The pen in his hand snapped in half, bringing him out of his thoughts. Luckily, it was a simple bik pen— plastic and disposable compared to the others that sat on his desk. A frustrated sigh passed his lips, throwing the pen away as he noticed the time on the clock. 2:31 pm, 14 minutes before his scheduled group meeting and right on time to glancing at the CCTV for a quick revival in energy.

Sure enough, he saw his lovely cat perched on the cat-tree and sleeping soundly, smiling softly at the sight. His eyes then went to scanning the rest of the room for your presence only to see nothing, demeanor falling just a bit at that. He had hoped to see you, to sate this need of his with simply knowing that you were home and waiting for him.

Just as he was about to close it, he saw you walk into sight. Slow, precise steps as you walked through the space, silk robe lazily draped over your figure and coming off your shoulder. Intrigued, he continued to eye you as you sat yourself on the living room couch, getting comfortable right within view. Your hands went to the tie around your waist, undoing it to reveal the lingerie you had on underneath— a lacy two piece he carefully chose for you— and he felt his breathing hitch at the sight.

He pondered whether he should be spying on you like this, but his eyes just couldn’t seem to tear from the screen; absolutely enamored by every curve and dip of your skin he could see. Before he could even think to close out, your legs spread apart in plain sight of the lens and your eyes flicked between the phone on your side and up to meet his own.

Your hand slid between your thighs and rubbed tight circles over your panties, the other hand coming up to your chest and pinching the pert bud over your lacy fabric. You were clearly moaning, head thrown back in pleasure. He could only imagine the sounds you were making, his hand moving down to palm over his pants at the growing erection.

His other hand moved to the phone on his desk, quickly dialing your number and pressing it to his ear. Leaning back in his seat, he could see your phone light up and the small smile on your features as you went to pick it up.

“Hi honey,” your voice answered on the other side, punctuating your words with a breathy moan. He could see the sly grin on your face deepen as your hands still clearly rubbed over your panties, biting your lip before you continued, “Weird of you to call in the middle of work, what’s going on?”

He knew your teasing tone all too well, smirking to himself at your faux innocence. It was endearing to see you act so ingenue when your actions were so contradictory. Though he decided to play along, wondering just how long you could keep up this front.

“I thought I’d check up on my dearest,” his voice low and sultry “Make sure that you’re behaving.”

“Well,” you paused, emphasizing the silence with a drawn out gasp as he watched your fingers drag over your sensitive nub, “I can assure you that I’m being very good.”

“Is that so?” he asked, though you could hear the upturn of his lip, “And what exactly are you doing?”

“Thinking about you.”

At that, he couldn’t fight the low, breathy chuckle that reverberated in his chest, his hand moving from his clothed shaft to the buckle on his belt. Just as he tugged on it, a knock at the door startled him up straight, coughing between a ‘yes?’ to hide his previous tone. To hear how flustered he was only encouraged you to moan against his ear throughout.

He quickly composed himself, putting on a poker face as the door opened slightly only for Jaehee to pop her head in. The only evidence of his previous actions was a flushed face that only grew deeper to hear your lewd sounds on the other side.

“Mr. Han, I apologize for interrupting, but you have a meeting in 10 minutes.”

“Assistant Kang,” he started, steely gaze moving between the monitor and door, “I’m taking care of an urgent matter at the moment. If I’m not out in time, apologize on my behalf and assure them that I’ll be there soon.”

From his peripheral, he could see you stripping the layer you had, baring yourself to the camera as you continued your ministrations. His cheeks deepened in color at this dirty little secret and he was thankful that only he could see.

“Alright, I will, just please don’t keep them waiting long,” she said simply before closing the door behind her.

“Yeah Mr. Han, don’t keep them waiting,” you teased, drawing out your words and eliciting a low groan from him.

“Then you’re going to have to do exactly as I say,” his voice as commanding as it was deep, hand moving to undo his belt in one fluid motion.

“Oh,” you mused, “And who said you could take the lead on this?”

He let out another small laugh, amused at this change in character.

“Am I supposed to ask for permission?” his words sturdy in their silent demand, but hitching as his member met the cool air. You couldn’t see it, but you could imagine the smug smile on his face.

“Well no, but I thought it’d be nice to have the upper hand for once,” he could see the pouty expression on your lips and he couldn’t resist, not when you looked so enticing.

“Alright,” he finally said, “Whatever it is you desire of me, I will gladly do it.”

“Good,” you said just above a whisper, watching as your expression shifted to a sly smile, “Take a picture for me.”

“A picture? Of what exactly?” he questioned, obviously baiting for a specific response.

“Well I don’t think it’s fair that you can see all of me so clearly,” you continued, emphasizing your words with a drag of your fingers over your thigh, “Shouldn’t I get a peak too?”

“If that’s truly what you want,” his grin deepening, “Then your wish is my command.”

To see your simper smile and body writhe slightly at his words made him bold. He found it all too entertaining, not only that you were able to get him to do something so lewd and so out of his character, but that he would hand the world over to you on a silver platter if he could and that this was what you wanted. You wanted to see him, to have an intimate reminder of just what you do to him. And he was more than happy to indulge you.

He moved the phone against his ear to navigate to his camera, pointing it towards his view. One hand holding the base of his shaft while the other snapped a picture and sent it your way. The tinge of embarrassment would have taken over had he not heard your impressed gasp, seeing you smile as you gazed at your phone.

The picture itself wasn’t entirely steady in true Jumin fashion, but you could see every little detail that practically made you water at the mouth. The precum glistening and dripping from his tip, plump and reddened head you knew had to be sensitive to the touch, and every ridge and vein taut and outlined perfectly. Though the most impressive had to be his length— long, thick, and sturdy as it stood fully erect. Your digits truly couldn’t compare, thrusting them into yourself as you imagined his cock in its place.

“I’ll assume you’re pleased with the photo,” he said watching you closely, though you could pick up the hint of smugness in his tone. To see you trying to find purchase, uttering his name between gasps, he felt a bit of pride swell in his chest. The hand around his base gripped and slowly stroked, letting out a low moan to let you know exactly what he was doing.

“Very,” you teased back, “You have a lot to be proud of, Mr. Director.”

“Really?” he purred, thumb circling his tip and spreading his precum, “I could say the same about you.”

“The only thing I’m truly proud of is how hard I’ve made you,” your words practically dripped like honey as he hung on to every syllable, languid strokes timed with your own movements.

“Are you touching yourself right now?” you asked, catching him off guard, but that didn’t stop him. You could hear his labored breathing, the small moans that rippled out at your words, followed by a small, confident chuckle.

“And if I was?”

His words almost seemed like a challenge. A test to see how long you could keep up this act, to see how long it would take until you handed control back over to him as he desired. But that wasn’t something you could easily give up, especially not now and especially not when you practically had him at the palm of your hand.

“Well I just didn’t take you for someone that would do that in your own office,” you offered, a faux shock in your words.

“It just makes me wonder what you would do if I was there. If I just happened to be under that desk right now.”

At your words, his mind quickly went to the vision of you on your knees below his desk. Letting out a low groan, he couldn’t help but imagine your hand taking his place. And to hear your name under his breath had you biting back a wide grin.

“If only I could be right there, between your legs,” your words egging him on to increase his pace, breathy moans accentuating your pauses, “Tasting every bit of your cock, tongue sliding up from base to head until I’m taking it all in, gagging at your every thrust. And lapping up every bit of your cum once you finish.”

His head lulled back at your graphic descriptions, relishing in every little detail with a low groan. You truly had a talent for riling him up like you were and using something as simple as his imagination to drive him wild.

“But what I truly want is to be sprawled on your desk, completely on display for you. Having your way with me the way you always do, my nails raking down your back as you thrust into me over and over,” your eyes closing shut as if you were just imagining it, “Your hands pinning me down in place until I’m begging to touch you again.”

The pumping of his hand increased to a brutal pace, hips jerking up meet it. He tried to suppress his moans, but it was no use, letting them slip much like his restraint.

“And to call out your name, loud enough for the entire office to hear so they know just who is pleasing me so well, who I truly belong to,” you half-whispered, following it with a small laugh to hear just how ready he was to collapse with every gasp he sucked in through gritted teeth.

All the images you painted in his mind had him reeling, thinking of how truly unfair this current situation was. He could only watch as you touched yourself from afar, unable to provide the touch and feel he was longing for. And all while your voice teased him from the opposite end of the line. When agreeing to this, he gave you an inch and you took a mile before he could even realize.

“MC, you’re walking a fine line,” he cautioned, though the broken moans that followed his words had made you dauntless. You knew exactly what he meant by that, but it didn’t stop your almost taunting demeanor.

“And here I thought that you’d do anything I desired,” you pouted, feigning an innocence he could see right through. He knew you had a point, he did hand power over to you, but he didn’t realize just what it would do to him. How incessantly you planned to bait him or how badly he wanted to see you wriggle under his own control.

But he couldn’t quite deny how much he loved it. And all he wanted right now was a release; entirely deprived of your touch but needing just that bit of release.

And there was something incredibly pleasing about hearing just how desperate he was for you. The coveted heir-to-be on the other line—  a successful, educated, and completely composed man who is constantly commended for his strong will and unwavering focus— was a complete moaning mess that found himself aroused with your every word and every action. He was practically subservient to anything you asked of him and you wanted nothing more than to give into just what he wanted, knowing he was so close.

“Come for me,” your words just above a whisper, but firm in their command.

His eyes squeezed shut, feeling the coil in him tighten with every unrelenting stroke. His body jerked forward a bit at the oncoming release, writhing in pleasure as he called your name breathlessly. The internal clock he solely depended on had practically stopped without a care, instead focusing wholly on you.

It didn’t take long for him to unravel, letting out a strangled moan as the warmth in the pit of his stomach burst. His cum spilling and collecting in his hand, body in tremors as he came down from his high and leaving him a disheveled mess. His shallow, ragged breathing the only sound between you two.

Your own movements had slowed down, almost coming to a halt as soon as you noticed that he had reached his breaking point. Looking back up at the monitor, he could see the sly smile form on your face before you broke the silence.

“Look at that, 2:44. Right on time for your meeting, looks like I’ll have to leave you here. Good luck dear, I love you,” you practically chimed, a complete 180 from the previous few minutes. And before he could find the words to respond, you quickly hung up. From the camera, he could see you throw your robe back on, blow a kiss to the camera, and saunter off and out of sight.

He sat at his desk, completely dumbfounded and mouth hanging in confusion. You had practically left him a mess, both physically and mentally, and he loved every second of it. Though it left him completely depraved without truly sating his previous need for you. In fact, it made him much more worked up. And the only thought running through his mind was just how he was going to punish you for this as soon as he gets home.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi dolls! I’m still feasting on all the Rolling Stone goodness! We have been well fed! They say it’s feast or famine in the fandom( I say), so I’m adding something else to the menu!

Here is a new chapter for “the cult fic”! Enjoy! Thanks to @emulateharry for the looksie and to @dirtystyles & @bleedinglove4h for listening to me and indulging me! It looks like Harry May give us an excuse to hold each other soon!! Get excited Harries!!

Summer’s Child- Hazy Shade Of Winter

On Christmas Eve, when they were 8, Harry and Jillian exchanged gifts in the treehouse in his backyard. It was his treehouse, but it didn't feel like his. He and his father didn't build it. Edward Styles wasn't handy. His dad could do basic things with a hammer, but didn't have time or inclination to build even this basic shelter. He could tell you how an engine run, but he wouldn't do much more than change the oil. So, the treehouse felt like it belonged to the house, until it belonged to him and Jillian. Which started their first December.

It was during better days, so Jillian's dad was picking her up, Harry vaguely remembered that her family may have even been going to a relative's house the next day to celebrate. Edward Styles had invited them over for Christmas ham as well, back when he tried to make overtures to not just Jillian but her family.

It wasn't charity, the reason they claimed they declined over and over. It was symbiotic, the invitation, because it meant he and Harry wouldn't be alone like they usually were on holidays. Occasionally, a colleague would invite them to a Thanksgiving feast. Harry swore it was just to make England sucks jokes.

That first holiday, after Harry and Jillian had become inseparable, they were trying to prolong their time together, and they'd gone to his treehouse to hide. It was cold, and much less comfortable than it had been those first September weeks of friendship. They'd played all day up there then.

It was Jillian's idea. "Let's hide in the treehouse! Besides, I have a present for you!" Her eyes had glinted with her secret, before mischievousness became dangerous.

He'd nearly ripped his good trousers going up the wood slats after her. She moved quicker in her dress and tights than he expected.

He got his second foot off the ladder and was trying to find his center of gravity when Jillian thrust a round object from her pocket under his nose. He grabbed the trap door to keep from breaking a leg.

"Here!" She trilled and then clapped her hands in front of her.

"Careful!" He yelped. "I nearly fell."

"Sorry, I'm excited, that's all." Shed folded her hands and looked down.

Harry didn't like that. So he reached out and touched her elbow to rewind the moment. "What is it?"

Her eyes flashed up and she grinned, handed him an object with the face she'd shared when she'd snuck two pieces of candy from the front bins at the five and dime."

"It's a rock." He didn't mean to sound so flat, like the plains of Kansas they had just learned about in social studies. He wasn't sure what he thought she'd be getting him. They were both kids and though they collected change and did lemonade stands, neither of them even had a paper route. But a rock? Why was she so excited? Candy was way better.

"It's a rock!" Her eyes were lit up. She took the rock from him and pulled a tube sock with a red stripe at the top from her pocket. He had a suspicion she'd found the sock in his room. His eyes got bigger than the lenses of his glasses when she dropped the rock down the tube of the sock and whipped it at the corner of the floor. She felt around the clearly rounded shape at the bottom of the sock, screwed up her eyebrows and whacked it again. She smiled when she felt it that time.

Jillian upturned the sock.

Crystals! And the back porch light hit them just right. They shown, some made rainbows.

She'd brought him science, she was the best friend ever. "Oh! I thought it was just a rock!" The structures Inside had been a revelation. He was pretty sure his seven dwarves present paled in comparison. Though they could make up a story to play to. The dwarves could mine the rocks.

And they did. But the geode always stood out in his mind. The first gift she ever gave him.

The geode was just the start. They kept up the treehouse tradition, and every year, Jillian gave him amazing gifts. That wasn't the only time he was fooled by a thing's outer appearance. She seemed to have a knack for that, both gift giving and seeing the middle of things, the heart.

Harry wrapped his pea coat closer around him. He wasn't sure she was coming. She'd been, well, busy. He knew she still worked at Dairy Barn, because he'd given her a ride recently. It was a Friday, and Will, her new ride, boyfriend, hadn't been able to pick her up.

She hadn't dropped Harry entirely, he reminded himself. Jillian just had somebody new to share her time with. She still made time for him. They still chatted at school, she'd eat lunch with him in the library sometimes, he'd drive her to school and pick her up occasionally.  Rarely, she would wake him up with pebbles at his window like the night of the dance, and he'd drift back off with her smell in his head, dreaming of beaches and piña coladas. Though the only beaches he had ever been to were more white cliff than white sand. They'd eat breakfast, she'd make tea, and then be gone, and it'd be a while  before they saw each other again. Like they used to.

They hadn't talked about Christmas Eve, but they had never missed it, not in 10 years. So Harry sat there with The Beach Boys concert tickets he had saved his money for.

He had a plan. They'd drive to Syracuse and take the train into New York for the night. Early June and beachy tunes, they'd say goodbye to their young home in style and he'd have hours in the truck and on the train to plan for California with her. He'd tell her then, if he hadn't already. If he didn't have the bravery is what he thought when he'd come up with the idea. Now, time with her might be the inhibitor. This would give him a chance, perhaps a last chance, to tell her his announcement. To show herZ

He had that to gift her too, news, but they were also presents to himself, his acceptance letters. He'd responded to UC Berkeley and Stanford. USF cost the most, but had the best location. He wanted Berkeley. His dad had a colleague there who'd offered a room. But he and Jillian would need their own space. Harry hadn't said no, it seemed rude. And it had been so kind of his dad to look into it for him. Especially after Harry had broken his heart, or at least his expectations.

His dad's face had dropped to sea level when Harry had said it. Lower than it was when he explained about Oxford. When he'd said, please say thank you, but I think we will need more space.

"Harry...." He'd sighed. "I haven't seen Jillian around much. You sure it's wise to pin your hopes on her?" Harry'd cringed as soon as the next words left his mouth. "Maybe she's moved on?"

"No, we'll be best friends forever." That's what he repeated to himself when she didn't come to his window and when he wondered where she was sleeping for safety. He'd heard something in the locker room that made him have to ice his hand after he punched a locker. That was better than where he would have needed the ice if he'd punched Will's face ,like he wanted to.

"Son," Oh, that was an unfortunate tone. Now his dad was gonna say something wise and sharp, proverbial, "sometimes people grow apart."

That's what Harry was trying to not think about while he waited. But he was out of the mulled wine his Da let him have on Christmas Eve. He felt unnaturally warm and wondered if he would ever love anybody the way he did Jillian. She made him warm all over too, without the sour stomach, though still the light head.

It looked like his dad was right. Though he thought people growing apart was too nice a way to say some people get left behind.

At midnight, he decided to go down, he was just about to rip up the tickets, was gonna open the trap door and throw down the confetti like snow, let the paper disintegrate and rot while the snow blackened over the coming weeks.

Jillian was on the bottom rung.

"Oh good!" Her cheeks were red, as were the white of her blue eyes. "You're still here. I got stuck at Will's."

"Did he bring you here?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"No, to the Kellerman's." That was a house halfway to her place out of town. They were an old couple, childless, sweet as could be. Always gave the kids water when they biked to Jillian's in late summer, or watermelon, once pie. It was the best apple pie Harry ever had.

"Why there?" Harry asked.

She just tilted her head and shrugged.

His brow furrowed until he puzzled it out. She didn't want Will to see her real house. He was about to get brave and ask about it when Jillian diverted his train of thought.

"I have your present." She changed the subject.

He let her. "I have yours too." He chugged down memory lane. All the gifts passed and wanted a new memory: It may have been selfish, but he couldn't wait to see her face when she realized all of it. She'd know, about the drive and the overnight. All the time they'd get to reclaim. The taste of freedom and the outside world it would give them. A hint of things to come. He felt smug with his gift. He'd made a good job of it.

Also, he felt that way about Will. Will didn't really know her, only what she had decided to share. An abridged Jillian.

Harry knew everything, even things he'd rather forget.

He'd handed her the envelope. He wasn't good at wrapping, usually their gifts to each other spoke for themselves.

"The beach boys!" She squealed. These days she was probably more into the Mamas and the Papas, but some loves linger. The first ones. She threw her body at him and it was like his cousin's baby that one time. She'd only been about a year, Alice, but she'd taken to Harry quick and thrown herself into his arms over and over the last time they visited England. Complete trust that he would catch her on her way down.

He turned his head to smell her hair and realized she was crying.

"Are you, are you crying Jillian?" He'd held her in bouts of tears before, but those times, it was easy to understand her sadness. He had no idea why his gift would cause this.

"Yeah, yeah." She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the long cuff of her jacket and sniffed inelegantly. "I'm ok. It's just such a great present. So much better than..."  she shook her head. "I can't wait! Six months and New York City!" She'd never been to the city. She'd not really been anywhere. Her eyes misted again and she mopped them up. He was about to ask her something, but she shot out "Now you!"before he could get himself back on track.

Her eyes flashed. Her excitement and emotion were contagious. The three hours in the cold alone were forgotten. Three hours would pale in comparison to being with her for 10 minutes. He was still warm from her hugs, could still smell her shampoo.

He read the tickets and looked up awed. "All day?" It was two tickets to the drive-in in Syracuse for a science fiction marathon.

"More like all night, kinda. I thought we could bring blankets and make a bed in your truck and bring sandwiches and hot chocolate in your thermos. We can hang out! And you can explain all the gnarly parts and how they are kinda possible and then all the ways they are impossible because the physics or chemistry is wrong!" She chugged along, her breath puffing out in the cold air. And he wanted to take the trip to Happy town with her, but he had questions.

It came out before he could put a dam between his teeth. "Is your boyfriend gonna be OK with you going to the drive-in with another guy?" Her face fell, went from totally animated and open to shuttered up, a house before a hurricane.

In a flat voice, the one he heard her use with Tom once when he was asking her if Harry was her boyfriend with wagging eyebrows and wiggling hips, she said, "If it was just you, he wouldn't be worried. Why should he be?"

His face fell through the trapdoor like the confetti tickets he imagined. He was suddenly sorry he didn't destroy them. Just him. That felt like a slap, to the face, to his ego, and a kick between the legs. No reason to worry about just him, totally unthreatening, asexual Harry.

Her mouth quirked, puckered with her eyebrows. He wondered how low his face was to draw her sympathetic brow. Apparently he should be surprised he couldn't taste the cold snow. "We wouldn't have to tell him, Harry." She sighed and he might have seen her tears if not for the jagged feeling in his own eyes. "I miss you. We haven't hung out—"

"Why's that? Do you suppose?" Harry felt his tears edge over the line from sad to angry. "Could it be you had a chance at being popular, hanging out with those tossers who throw me into lockers and spit on me, but you get to ride around in a new truck and on some better guy's arm-"

"Better than who?" She cut him off. "Better than you?"

He couldn't answer that, of course he meant better than him. Didn't take much. He was a four eyed, big brained, piece of shit. Was told often enough. Never by Will, who seemed like an OK guy. Which sucked. If it was Steven, he could hate him cuz he was a dickhead, not because he had Jillian.

He could hate him. He did. Himself too.

He just raised his eyes from the timber house and shrugged.

"Harry, I didn't chose him over you." She cocked her head at him. "I didn't know you were a choice." She turned to go, and was halfway down the ladder when he heard her voice drift up. "I was always thankful you didn't pressure me. That you weren't a choice. And I like him, I do. I'm sorry if that hurts you. Merry Christmas."

And then she left. He couldn't find it in himself to stop her. He had questions, but didn't know how to voice them. Wasn't sure he really wanted the answers. Why did she like Will? What did he have to offer? And why was she keeping secrets from him if she liked him so much? And why did Will like her? Besides the obvious surface reasons? How would he feel if he really knew her, the secret parts she was hiding? Did he even feel a fraction of what Harry did for her?

But mostly, he wondered where she would eat Christmas dinner. Her mom and her had kinda stopped doing it a couple years ago, and she'd been coming to his. It wasn't a plan. She was just always welcome, and there already, and the more the merrier. Especially merry when her cheeks got red after two glasses of mulled wine last year.

She'd kissed his cheek. He could still feel it.

That answered his other question. That's what she meant, about him not being a choice. Harry had never made a move, or told her his feelings, his desires. That must have been such a relief for her. He saw the way it was, with Mark Martin, her mom's beau's, Steven Adler.

He'd prided himself on being different.

So he'd hidden his interest. Jillian hadn't suspected. And because he'd lied, pretended his love was platonic, there was no pressure. Jillian had thought Harry was her best friend and the only guy in her life not trying to screw her. Except, he wanted to. Not screw her, but love her. Maybe screw her. Though those weren't the words he used in his head.

Maybe the distinction wasn't so strong, the line between. And now he was just another line on the list of guys not to be trusted with her heart because they wanted her body.

He was Tom, and Dick.

Another Harry, like all the others.

He let her go, she deserved to go. Though he hoped she'd come back.

But she wouldn't. Not to him. Harry had crossed a line, straight into oncoming traffic, he feared.

He was roadkill it seemed.

After that, he didn't see much of Jillian. It was a school holiday, so his incidental exposure to her was limited. There was no glimpse of her gold in the hallway, or trill of her laugh in class.

He felt the absence more acutely because usually she spent long hours at his house, day and night, when there was no school. He worried over his mishap like a bite inside his cheek. It hurt more because he saw the wound as self inflicted.

Harry hoped it would heal, if he could just stop tonguing it.

He wasn't sure how large their rift was until he packed up his truck bed with blankets and pillows and packed a picnic.

The first stop was her house.

"She's not here I guess." Her mom tilted her bleary head to the side. "Off with that Will, I suppose." She chuckled and her breath was 80 proof, "Guess she traded up, huh?"

He didn't respond to that, "Thanks Mrs. Eggert." He enjoyed the quick square of her jaw at the use of her married name.

He drove by the Dairy Barn, slowed down to see through the windows.  Saw steam, smoke but no fire.

He was burning with shame though.

Then he drove to Syracuse, full of false hope. She wasn't at the entrance, and he doubted she would be inside, she didn't have a car.

By the second movie he knew she wasn't coming. He fell asleep during Fahrenheit 451. He woke up when they were starting Planet of The Apes. The last film.

He drove out as the Statue of Liberty was revealed.

He couldn't decide if she was half exposed or half buried.

Jillian would say half free. 

Free of what? He'd have to ask.

Free of him.