#there are just too many receipts of him giving off a 'no thanks' vibe to women who came on to him

[twopoppies]

.

[silversweetpea]

Love and Laughter

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Summary: You know his laugh, when it’s real, what it means, and when its not his at all. 

Warning: None that I can think of? 

WC: 1271

AN: I told myself that I couldn’t watch the new episode until i finished this one shot instead of just leaving it in my drafts. it’s not beta read, and might not even make sense, but ya know I think it’s more about vibes as far as manifesting that Steven catches a break and meets someone who’s nice to him. 

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀

Its one of the first things you notice about him, his laughs. Steven has so many, so similar but so telling about what he’s thinking behind that beautiful head of his.

There’s his nervous laugh, the one that most people associate with him, you’re sure. Its a default, the vocal equivalent of holding his hands up in front of himself to wave off suspicion that he means anything less than well in case the person in front of him is blind to the everything else about him. It goes well with your anxious smile, you think, as he hands you the receipt for your fridge magnet, trying not to think too hard about the brush of his fingers against yours. It sounds like a sputtering coffee machine in the morning, like a radio sparking to life. The promise of something more, something you’d like if you just wait around a moment for him to settle back into himself. 

There’s his excited laugh, the one that begs to be heard. You hear it the second time you go the museum to see him and it slips past him when you wave. It sounds like your best friend’s footsteps as they chased you when you were both kids and the rushing of cars moving past you on the street. It’s adventure, it’s joy, it’s adrenaline in your veins as you beeline to the gift shop. 

“You came back!” There’s a star struck tinge to his voice, eyes struggling to move between you and the counter top in front of him. You think it’s nerves, the way that he shifts in his spot, that he’s self conscious about his joy, but even that feels calming given your own jitters.

“Well, I didn’t get as good a look yesterday as I was hoping so I figured i’d just, make some more time for it. At the exhibit I mean.” Your cheeks hurt from trying hard not to smile too wide and Steven returns the gesture. Your throat feels dry as you swallow. You’ve never been great at flirting and it’s hitting you in this moment that it couldn’t have killed you to ask your friends for some tips on the ride over instead of playing mindless games to keep yourself occupied. “Did you maybe have a break sometime? You were telling me about that one display and I’m not sure where it is in there, ya know?”

“Oh i can just run to show you now if you’d like.” He’s already halfway around the barrier before you gather up the nerve to stop him. Steven’s offering you a way out even if he doesn’t know it and while it’s tempting, it’d be easy to fall into the clueless tourist that you feel you are, you didn’t want to put off asking too long.

“No, that’s okay you’re working. I don’t want to get you in trouble. Besides if you’re on break than maybe we could get a coffee or a tea or something afterwards?” You give your own awkward laugh. “As a thank you?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You wince, breath sticking to the insides of your lungs as you struggled to contain the shaking of your hands.

“If I say yes will you say yes?” Your voice isn’t quite a whisper, but you hate that its the closest descriptor you have. Still, you don’t have long to linger on that before Steven, stiff as a rod, eyes wide as the sun and twice as bright, answers. 

“Yes.” Your gaze settles back onto him more assuredly, looking him over for any sign of a prank or a setup but finding only Steven, curls askew like he rolled out of bed and let them decide how they were going to look. Your brain flashes forward to the end of the date, to brushing on from his eyes-

“Then yes, if that’s okay.” And he laughs again, somewhere between nervous and excited, a new sound to slip into the special box in your head that holds all your favorite records. 

There’s the tired laugh. The one you get on the phone when he won’t hang up first. It settles into your chest the same way that the base of your favorite song does, a lullaby just for you as you continue to tell him the story of the day. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up so late.” Steven says when the amicable silence settles over the line and you shake your head, even without him there to see it. You can almost feel him there next to you in bed, head heavy on your shoulder, fingers brushing light as feathers across your arm, as if scared to touch too much, scared to find you’re not really there.

“I could say the same about you. You’re always so tired, and here I am keeping you up with tales of missing paperwork.” There’s the sleepy laugh again and you want to bottle it up to carry around with you, or to stick it in a stuffed animal. Maybe a stuffed dog, something with the same big soft eyes that he has. 

“I’d listen to your paperwork over Gus’ blubbing anyday.” It’s meant as a good natured jab to his flatmate you’re sure, but the sentence is so doused in authentic care that it makes it hard to breathe right. 

“Hold on put Gus on the phone I want to tell him I love him.” He laughs again, and the breathing in the phone gets slower. Yours falls into the same rhythm eventually, and long after you’re sure he’s asleep you say goodnight, leaving the line on just in case. 

There’s the scared laugh that you hate to hear, that you can’t stop hearing. That laugh that rings in your ears as you sit on the floor with him, his face in his hands, and a goldfish in front of him that had two functioning fins. 

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” the laugh sounds like plates falling to ground and shattering. It’s high pitched and sharp and like picking it up is going to hurt you as much as him but you don’t have another choice, not when it’s Steven.

“You’re not going crazy, Steven. We’re going to figure this out, I promise,” You can feel the moment the thought comes to him before he voices it. His body goes stiff under your hand rubbing circles into his back and his shoulders rise to his ears, curling himself tighter inwards. 

“What if...what if i’m dangerous? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Steven Grant you listen to me,” you don’t mean to be so stern, not really, but it gets his attention back on you so you don’t change the tone. “You are many things, smart, kind, funny.” He opens his mouth to make some sort of smart remark but stops in his tracks at the hard set to your jaw. 

“But you are not dangerous, and regardless of what you’re going through I trust you. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

You know all of Steven’s laughs. 

But this man in front of you, the one who stands so confidently, eyes so far away even when he’s looking at you. The one who’s wearing Steven’s favorite sweater and his jeans and his face, his laugh is new to you. 

“Who the hell are you and where’s Steven,” your voice shakes and it reminds you that there’s another new thing in the space between you as the laugh drops and that scanning gaze turns back to you. 

Fear.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which a new relationship sparks up in the restaurant. 

a/n: hi loves! i’m back with a new story, and this is for nat’s @harrystylescherry​ playlist fic challenge! the song i chose is ‘say it’ by maggie rogers, which is one of my absolute favorite songs! hope you all like it, please reblog and leave feedback!

WORD COUNT: 13.8k words of waiter!harry x waitress!yn 

WARNINGS: angst and some smut 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SAY IT’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share <3

It was eleven in the morning when Harry walked through the back door of ‘Spring,’ ready to start his long day of being on his feet while waiting tables. 

He walked to the staff’s lounge that held their lockers and a bench before looking around to see if anyone else was in the locker room; he turned the dial of his lock pad to open his blue locker. His coworkers would always tease him about being so secretive when he knows that no one would actually steal from him, but better to be safe than sorry, and he couldn’t imagine how awkward that would be confronting one of his coworkers if they actually had stolen from him. 

He put his white canvas tote bag that was printed in a brown text that said ‘Celestial Natural Foods’—a store in Hawaii—in his locker and hanging it on one out of the two hooks before grabbing his black waist apron and tying it around his waist. 

The restaurant’s attire was a simple white or black button down with black trousers. The manager of the restaurant, Irene, told the staff that they could choose either color shirt whenever they pleased. As for jewelry, she didn’t mind when her waiters and waitresses wore jewelry, as long as it wasn’t interfering with how they held the plates of food, causing them to drop it. Harry was glad to hear that Irene allowed jewelry because his rings and necklaces made him Harry. Twisting his rings and fixing his necklaces, he took a quick glance at the small mirror that was stuck on the inside of the door with a magnet, and combed his hair back with his hands before closing his locker shut and locking it. 

He washed his hands at the sink next to the locker room, and he smiled at the commotion and noise from behind him that came from the kitchen crew. They were prepping for the dinner hour, chopping up various vegetables, making the restaurant’s famous dressing and sauces, and baking the side dishes that usually took a while in the oven. 

“Hey, Harry!” Jet, one of the sous chefs, greeted as he looked up at Harry with a big smile as he continued chopping up cabbage like the professional chef that he was. 

Harry chuckled, amazed at his knife skills. “Hey, Jet. How are you today?” He leaned against the stainless steel countertop as he talked to Jet through the open space of the shelves, where the food rested under the heated and dim light when it was ready to be served. 

“I’m doing great! How was your three day vacation?” 

“It was okay. It went by fast, but I missed it here anyways,” Harry responded with a smile. Jet laughed, nodding. 

“Well, we missed you too. Anyways, Irene told me to tell you that she’s looking for you.” Harry squinted his eyes slightly, not knowing whether Irene looking for him was a good or bad thing, and Jet seemed to notice what he was thinking. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing bad.” 

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. Jet was his closest friend at Spring, ever since Harry started working as a waiter three years ago. He desperately needed a job because being his own boss and freelancing as a photographer could be difficult sometimes; and building up a client list when he first started out was even harder. But three years later, he was able to get his name around through his clients, and he earned enough where he could technically quit his job at Spring and focused purely on photography; however, Harry liked the restaurant too much to just quit—he liked serving people, believe it or not. His charms go a long way for respectful and kind customers, and of course, a great tip. Most of his friends always worked here as well, as he didn’t have quite a lot of friends since he moved from London, but his coworkers had become his very own friends, and he loved them too much to leave. 

“Thanks, I’ll see you when we open!” Harry said as Jet waved to him, watching him walk around the counter to find Irene who was talking to a woman he’s never seen before. 

He’s always loved walking through the restaurant because it had such a friendly and open vibe with white painted walls, trees planted in a line in the middle of the floor, and a big glass ceiling for a solarium ambience. His favorite part was that there were no walls to separate the dining area from the kitchen, so customers could see straight through the kitchen and watch the chefs work on their food with just a turn of their heads. 

“Ah, there he is,” Irene said once Harry was close enough. “I’m glad you’re early.” 

“Irene, I’m always early, what do you mean?” Harry breathed out a chuckle. 

“I know you are. I’m just glad you’re extra early today because I need you to train this lovely woman next to me.” Irene stepped out of the way to reveal you to the waiter that was going to train you today. 

Harry looked at you, and immediately, his breath was caught in his throat. The light that was provided through the glass ceiling cast down at you, giving you a glow that was ethereal, and he mentally thanked the interior designer of the restaurant from so many years ago for insisting on putting a glass ceiling instead of a regular, covered one. There you were, standing in the open light as you flashed him a smile that almost made him collapse due to how weak his knees were, and he physically had to place a hand on the brown wooden table next to him to keep himself up. You were stunning, to say the least. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered him a hand, smiling softly at him. He shook your hand, feeling the softness of your small hand and how it contrasted to his large and somewhat rough hand. 

“I’m Harry. It’s lovely to meet you.” He smiled, two dimples indenting his cheeks. You noticed that his left dimple was more prominent than his right, but either way, you thought he was a gorgeous man. 

Yours and Harry’s eyes had lingered a bit longer, and once you had caught yourself staring, you forced yourself to take your eyes off him, even though it was difficult to. And that’s when you knew it was going to be a slight problem working around him. 

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Irene interrupted. She turned towards Harry. “Harry, this is our newest addition to our waiting staff. You’ve been here long enough and it seems like you’re here everyday, so I’m going to leave her with you to train.” Once she was down, Irene turned towards you. “Y/N, you’re going to train with Harry for the rest of the week. It’s usually two weeks that are required for training, but since you’ve had waiting experience before, I’ll knock it down to one, and by the end of the week, we’ll see how you’re doing and where you are with everything. Sounds good?” 

You nodded excitedly, giving her a bright smile before she clapped her hands and said ‘great.’ Harry looked at you the entire time, and he just knew that you were the type of person that could light up a room with your beautiful and bright smile. 

Irene turned towards Harry once more. “Show her the ropes, introduce her to people, and just make her comfortable, yeah?” Harry nodded, teasingly saluting at his boss as he earned a laugh from her. 

Irene left, leaving the two of you, but your attention was preoccupied with the restaurant as you eagerly looked around, getting familiar with the place you’d hoped to be stable at for a while. 

Harry cleared his throat, to which you immediately looked at him. He gave you a smile before he said, “So, ready for your first day?” 

“Ready!” You exclaimed, tone a bit too excited, making you slightly embarrassed, so you curled your lips into your mouth and looked around the restaurant again to hide your slight embarrassment. 

Harry giggled. “Don’t look around too much—you might get tired of this place before you even start,” he teased, completely forgetting how shy and embarrassed you looked. 

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” you confessed immediately, feeling a certain comfort once you walked into the restaurant. Hell, the moment you researched the restaurant, you loved the place. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Harry led you around the counter where customers could watch the chefs in action as they cooked their meals. “This is where you could get all the supplies needed—napkins, extra plates, utensils, place mats, everything should be here. If not, then it’ll usually be in the kitchen, right over here.” He walked over to the kitchen where there were more supplies under the table, and pointed below the table. “Here’s more if the ones behind the counter run out, and if they do run out and you just so happen to be there, please make sure to refill it.” You nodded understandingly. 

Harry walked you through the steps of how the system of the restaurants worked as he imputed a demo order into the system on the touchable screen. There were five order screens, one in each corner of the restaurant, one behind the counter, and one in the kitchen; there shouldn’t be any collision or anyone waiting for one of the severs to finish with the screen because there were only about four to five servers working every shift considering it was a small restaurant. Harry then walked you along on where to pick up the order as every dish had its receipt with the order printed on the paper along with the table number. He told you that the table numbers are in order of how the tables are set up—number one starts with the countertops since it’s closest to the entrance, following along the walls, and the tables in the middle were numbered last. 

You liked how easy their routine and system was that you were sure you’d have it down by the end of the week. Harry made sure to introduce you to the staff that you two passed by as he led you throughout the restaurant; he made you feel comfortable right from the bat, making sure to make a few jokes here and there that certainly released some tension in your shoulders from nerves. You were grateful that he made you laugh--you were worried that you wouldn’t like your coworkers or they would be mean and snarky because you’re the newbie, but with Harry, it seemed like you two were getting along quite well; he was polite, helpful, and kind. 

“So, that’s pretty much it.” He looked at the time on his Apple Watch, reading a quarter to six in the evening, 15 minutes until Spring opened for dinner. “Do you have any questions?” 

You tried thinking of anything that you could ask, but your mind seemed to have collected all the information Harry had told you and retained it quite well. “No, nothing I can think of at the moment.” 

“Great. For now, do you mind checking the placemats and the table decor for me?” You nodded helpfully. “And then if you have any remaining time left, just chill out and take a breather for a second, and then come find me when we open.” 

“Okay. Sounds good.” You smiled at him sweetly, making him smile back before he walked away and towards the kitchen. 

You headed towards the dining room, making sure the woven placements were symmetrical and even; you also straightened out the utensils that made their way out of line or off the tablemats. You did this for the rest of the ten minutes you had of peace before you made your way through the restaurant to find Harry. 

The entire time you were in the dining room, Harry was in the locker room, mindlessly on his phone to waste time. He was lucky that he didn’t have to do anything before the restaurant opened, so he had some spare time to relax for a bit. He tried cooling down to get the pink flush that painted his cheeks off, but that’s what happened when he was around you; immediately, you had already had this effect on him, making him blush and nervous around you, and he didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way you brightly smiled at him, practically gleaming; or the way you laughed at his jokes, which even he could admit are a bit corny and bad—a very dad-like joke, but you still laughed. 

Whatever it was, he knew that he was fucked. 

Dinner time was a rush. Spring was busy and full; the reservation booklet was booked with no space to cater to walk-ins. 

You were shadowing Harry as you followed him around like a lost puppy, watching him interact with the customers, occasionally pulling out his charm so he would get a big tip. You couldn’t imagine if you were a customer and Harry was your server because your face would heat up instantly, and it would be difficult to contain a smile on your face. He had such a natural charm to him, making him naturally flirty as he flashed customers his smile and laughing at their horribly made jokes. 

For half of the night, you simply followed him around, watched the paths he took when he got the customers’ food and his overall routine of things. With every table he got assigned to, he made sure to introduce you to the party, always glancing over at you once he said your name as you greeted the customers with a bright smile. Harry nearly had to stop every time he glanced over at you as it seemed like your beauty always distracted him. 

You helped him with dealing with the plates, beverages, and getting extra necessities such as cheese, hot sauce, or extra utensils and plates for the table. 

Once the restaurant died down a bit, you and Harry were able to walk a bit slower, relaxing each time a party leaves. When there was about an hour and a half left of your shift and till the restaurant closes, Harry asked you if you’d like to take orders, saying it’ll be best if he observed how you would talk and serve the customers, and you excitedly said ‘yes.’ Harry was only assigned to five to six tables during his shift, and since it was near closing time, there were only two that had just arrived. 

Harry politely introduced himself, telling the parties that you were new and shadowing him, but you were going to take over for the rest of their stay at Spring. He watched you kindly talk to them, occasionally making small talk as you laughed with them; you talked about your favorite items on the menu, along with your favorite selection of wine. This time, Harry helped you with your tasks that you had done before you two switched off, and he immediately admitted to himself that the two of you made such a great team. It was only your first day here, and he already saw how naturally the both of you moved around one another, along with communicating so well with each other. 

You were bidding the last party in the restaurant goodbye with a wave and telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening before you grabbed the mason jar that held the bill, along with the tips. You walked over to the kitchen where Irene was counting all the money and placed the mason jar besides her, giving her a smile before walking over to the locker room. 

Harry was sitting on the bench with his phone in his hands, and looked up once you entered the room. 

“How was your first day?” He smiled. 

“It was actually really great. The energy here is amazing.” 

“Well, I’m glad. You’re a natural, and it helps both of us that you already have restaurant experience.” Harry completely put his phone away into his tote bag, giving you his attention, which you really admired. Some people would make small talk and quickly end the conversation to go back on their phones. “Where did you work before, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“I actually moved here from NorCal—San Francisco—just two weeks ago. But I worked at one of the restaurants at Pier 49. The restaurant was pretty small and we weren’t as busy as it was here, only on the weekends we would get a bit busy. So, this is definitely completely different than being outside and smelling the fresh ocean a few feet away,” you explained, chuckling. 

“Wow, SF, that’s quite the trip. But we’re glad to have you. I think you’re fitting right in.” 

“Thank you. I already like it here.” Harry gave you a warm smile, grateful that you had a great first day, and that Spring gave you a good first impression for you to stay. 

The two of you chatted a bit, talking about the customers you had and laughing at the jokes they made or the conversations they talked about. It was kind-hearted and fun, and a conversation that made you feel light; it wasn’t anything serious. It ended when it was time for closing, cleaning up and making sure everything was in order for tomorrow afternoon’s shift. 

Irene handed the staff their tips for the night, which you amounted for $120 for a Sunday night. It wasn’t bad for your first night of tips, and you knew you would be working a lot more since this was your only job and you weren’t doing anything else. 

As everyone walked outside into the staff parking lot, everyone said their goodbyes to one another, spreading apart and walking out to their vehicles. 

Once you opened your car door, Harry called out for you from the opposite side of where you parked. 

“Yeah?” You raised your brows. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He offered a smile before getting into his car and starting it, but he waited until you were safely inside of your car and out of the parking garage, and then he would leave. 

He couldn’t help but notice the smile that appeared onto your face before you got inside your car, and he couldn’t help but think about how incredibly beautiful you are. 

The entire week went on just like your first day. You were getting more comfortable with the flow of the restaurant, and where everything was. You continued shadowing Harry, but some days, he would let you serve your customers for the entire shift. 

Now that it was Friday evening, you couldn’t wait to relax the next day. You had told Irene that you were available all days of the week, and since you were new and still needed to complete training, she scheduled you for Sunday to Friday, getting Saturday off, which you appreciated. When you told yourself that you were able to work all day, you didn’t realize how exhausting and tiring that was until it came down to the end of the week as your feet ached, telling you to sit down for at least an entire day. 

Once it was closing time, you were finally able to catch a breath as you cleaned up part of the dining room. Chatter and laughter was heard from the kitchen quite loud as it echoed against the walls; you smiled, enjoying the sound of laughter, especially when it came from people you knew. 

As you were mindlessly wiping down tables, Harry walked up to you with two cocktails in his hands, smiling as he handed you one. You raised your brows, hesitant to take it from him as you wondered if it was allowed to drink since you were technically still on the clock. 

“Irene made them for us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said as if he read your mind. You breathed out a chuckle, taking a glass before thanking him and clinking your glass with his before taking a sip of the cold tequila drink. You sighed in relief, and Harry giggled. “Do you have any plans for tonight? I know it’s almost midnight, but I mean…you could still.” He felt his ears heat up, feeling a tad bit nervous when he was around you. 

“No, I don’t. I don’t really have any friends in SoCal, but I can't wait to go home and sleep.” 

“O-Oh okay, I was just gonna ask if you’d like to stay for a bit longer.” 

“Here? For what?” You asked curiously. 

“Well, the lot of us get together after night shifts to do a mini celebration at the end of the long and busy week. We only do it Fridays since that’s when most of us are working all together,” he said referring to the bunch laughing and talking in the kitchen. You did notice now that you had been working with the same group of people, and partially that was because you only mostly worked night shifts and so did the rest. “We usually stay for an hour—drink, eat, talk. It made us closer, actually, so I’d thought you might like to join since you’re new,” he invited.

You didn’t take long to think of an answer—to weigh out your choices of wanting to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable time or stay an extra hour and hang out with your coworkers. 

“I’d actually really love that, thank you,” you accepted his invitation with a sweet smile, making Harry’s heart pound just a tad bit harder against his chest. 

“Great! Well, come on into the kitchen when you’re done. The chefs are cooking up some food,” he said before he walked away, leaving you to finish up your tasks for the night, which didn’t take you any more than ten minutes to finish up. 

You walked into the kitchen and Harry immediately handed you a plate that you gladly took. Jet excitedly waved to you to go over to the stove so he could serve you. 

“Allergic to anything?” He asked to make sure you weren’t going into the emergency room tonight. 

“Uh, shellfish when it’s consumed. I’m okay to be around it, though.”

“Oh shit, this would not be good for you.” His eyes widened as he immediately dropped the large silver serving spoon of the lobster risotto; it looked absolutely delicious. “Good thing I’m prepared. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?” 

“Love.”

“Great!” He started plating your plate with the food before handing it back to you with an ‘enjoy!’ as you thanked him. 

Once everyone was satisfied, you all headed out to the dining table, settling on a large rectangle table comfortably. There were about twelve of you, and it seemed like everyone had assigned seats since they immediately went straight to their spot and placed their table or drink in front of it. 

You were a bit lost, not knowing where to sit, and the only person you’re reasonably close to was Harry, but it seemed like he was a bit preoccupied chatting with Quinn, another chef. 

“Y/N! Sit next to me, yeah?” Ivy, one of the waitresses called out for you. You smiled, thankful she was the one to ask you, and you gladly took a seat next to her. 

Harry took the seat in front of Ivy, diagonal from you, and he really wished he was the one sitting next to you. 

“Damn, I really should get a large circle table for all of us so we could see each other’s faces,” Irene suggested, and the group agreed, but everyone wondered where it would be placed since the restaurant had no space for another large table. 

Everyone broke out into their own conversations, chatting with one another freely and as loud as they wanted. 

“How was your first week here, Y/N?” Ivy asked. 

“It was great! I really love this place.” Harry looked at you as you talked with Ivy. He really could get lost just looking at your beauty, and sometimes, he would have to knock himself out of his glare to prevent him from getting caught. He was just so captivated by you, and it didn’t take a lot of effort for him to be so drawn to you. 

Ivy had definitely noticed Harry’s stare from the corner of her eye, and admittingly, she got jealous because she’s had a small crush on Harry ever since she started working at Spring four months ago. But it wasn’t like she was going to do anything about it because it seemed like he didn’t take interest in her, so she wasn’t going to force it. However, it didn’t slip past her that you occasionally glanced over at Harry as well—briefly averting your eyes towards him once he took a sip of his water or someone had pulled him out of his attention on you to make conversation. 

Gently pulling you by the arm, Ivy leaned over to whisper into your ear. “Harry’s totally crushing on you.” 

You pulled back, shocked. “What?” You mouthed. 

“He can’t stop looking at you—it’s so obvious.” You simply chuckled, shaking your head slightly as your cheeks felt warm, not from the alcohol or how close everyone was sitting, but because you couldn’t even believe that Harry would have a crush on you. Sure, you two had spent the entirety of your shifts together, but you didn’t think that he would have a crush on you. 

You tried not to think of Ivy’s words for the rest of the night, and you tried even harder to not look at Harry to catch it he was staring at you. Your thoughts seemed to make you more drunk when you were trying to sober up to drive back home. You only had three cocktails, which was quite mindless of you to be drinking when you had to drive home, but you simply wanted to have fun because you deserved it, and you were comfortable and making friends. And everyone seemed to be drinking as well as they were getting a ride from the more responsible ones who were driving and leaving their car in the parking garage during the night. 

Once everyone was all out of their social battery with their plates and glasses empty, you all started to clean up, helping one another to make the process of going home quicke; there were two people washing the dishes and two people drying as the rest put those dishes away and cleaned the table. 

Just like every single night, everyone said their goodbyes in the parking lot before going to their cars to head home for a good night's rest. 

You were sober, but you didn’t feel safe enough to drive, and you don’t know if that’s the alcohol or the thoughts of Harry making you dizzy. So, instead of walking to your car, you took out your phone and opened the Uber app, knowing you’d be able to get a ride home quickly since it was past midnight on a Friday night. 

“Hey, whatcha doing?” Harry asked, walking up to you once he noticed that you weren’t going to your car. He made it a habit to watch you get inside your car and leave the parking garage safely because anything could happen in the few minutes if he left before you. 

“I’m calling an Uber. I don’t wanna drive back…” you replied before looking down at your phone again.

“Oh, I could drive you home, if you’d like?” He offered politely. 

“Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. I would feel better knowing that I was the one that got you home safely.” The corners of your lips couldn’t help but turn up into a smile as your heart fluttered against your ribcage. 

“That’s really sweet, Harry, I’d like that,” you accepted. Harry grinned, leading you to his car as you followed; he walked over to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, which easily almost made your knees buckle in. How is he such a gentleman and so incredibly kind? You wondered, thinking about how rare it was to meet a man without anything leading to more than a conversation. 

You thanked him before getting into his car; his car was very clean and he had a Saturn air freshener that hung on his rearview mirror, admitting a fresh lemon scent throughout his vehicle. Harry got in, handing you his phone to play some music and to enter your address before starting the car and driving out of the parking garage. You played Daniel Caesar, which you thought was the perfect kind of music for a night drive since your place was fifteen minutes away from the restaurant. The two of you sang along to ‘Hold Me Down’ as he watched you from the corner of his eye, adorably swaying in your seat to the song as you muttered the lyrics. 

The sunroof cover was open, giving you an orange glow every time the car passed by a lamppost. Unconsciously, you both looked at one another every time the car stopped at a red light, both smiling at one another. You were thankful that it was dark out as it hid your big smile from how much you were giddy just looking at Harry. 

Once the navigation told him that your place was on the right, he parked against the curb in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled your seatbelt before turning towards him in your seat as he turned towards you as well. 

“Thank you for the ride, Harry. It was really kind of you to offer.” 

“Not a problem. Don’t be hesitant to ask again. I rarely drink when we have our after-hours dinners, so you’re free to drink all you want and I’ll be glad to take you home,” he told you, and you smiled, nodding your head. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. It’s just been a while since I drank and hung out with friends,” you explained. 

“No worries. I’m glad you had fun, I assumed?” 

“Yeah, lots of fun! I really like it there, and you made it bearable and fun as well as my trainer,” you admitted. Harry felt his cheeks slightly redden, and just as you were thinking, he was grateful it was dark out. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad. You’ll be on your own now. No need for me anymore since you’ve pretty much gotten everything done so quickly,” he chuckled, a dimple indenting his left cheek, making you hold in your breath. 

“Can I still ask you for help if I need you?” You asked innocently, leaning your elbow against the middle console as you rested your chin against your fist. Harry pursed in his lips as his mind focused on the last three words that slipped out of your mouth--I need you. It was merely an innocent question relating to work that he shouldn’t think too much about, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Of course. I’m always gonna be here if you need me,” he responded, keeping it friendly. At that, you smiled, nodding your head in acceptance. You gathered your belongings that rested at your feet before turning to face him again. Leaning forward, Harry thought you were leaning in to kiss him, which he wouldn’t mind whatsoever, but that dream was crushed when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, giving him a hug. He hugged you back, placing his hand against your back and slightly rubbing his hand up and down, hoping you couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest at the feel of your upper body slightly pressed against him. 

You pulled away, giving him a shy smile. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Drive safe, okay?” 

“Always do. Sleep well.” He bid you goodbye as you got out of his car, walking over to the entrance of your apartment complex. You turned around before you opened the door, waving at him before heading inside. 

Harry drove off to his place, the opposite direction of your apartment, passing Spring. He could’ve honestly been home already in the comfort of his bed, but he didn’t mind taking you home at all. That only meant he got to spend a bit of more time together, but he noticed that with every passing second, minute, and hour, he felt himself falling for you just a bit more. 

You’ve been at Spring for almost a month, and you couldn’t believe how fast the days went by. The more you worked, the more you started to feel a place at home with the restaurant. It was welcoming and fun, and all the credit was due to the people that you surrounded yourself with. You felt a difference in your attitude, your mood, and you liked the change that it brought you--you felt happy. 

Being in San Francisco your entire life was great up until it wasn’t. It was a toxic place for you simply because of the people that you were surrounded with. You noticed that you were always on fight-or-flight mode, ready for someone to make one comment at you so you could snap at them. You hated being and thinking like that, so the best thing you did for yourself was to move away from the toxicity of your hometown, and you were glad that you did. 

It was another usual Friday evening, after hours at Spring as you sat in your usual seat next to Ivy as the two of you and Harry were laughing about a story Ivy was telling about her ex-boyfriend in college. 

Harry looked over at you, heart swooning as he watched you laugh, wiping your under eyes from the tears that had slipped out. It was a beautiful sight, he’d say; you had such a beautiful smile and contagious laugh that he loved hearing, whether it’d be from the kitchen as he was in the dining room or in the locker room—wherever it was, he always smiled to himself when he heard it. 

The two of you had gotten quite close, making the work environment bearable and fun. When you would be in the same area at the same time, you had this thing where you would bump his hip with yours lightly, and he would bump yours right back—of course, when there weren’t any food or drink handling. There would always be light conversations within those hip bumps, comfortably getting to know one another, whether it would be asking quick-fire questions or a random story about one another’s lives that would come to mind. It wasn’t an ordinary setting or time to get to know each other, but it made things fun because the two of you would come up with more questions to come up with the next time he bumped into you. It was nice having a thing with you, he thought. 

There would be moments during those little meetings when your fingers would brush delicately against his, sending shivers to his body. It was simply overwhelming in the best way possible. 

Everyone called it a night, doing the nightly routine of tidying and cleaning everything up. Despite the long shift and being on your feet, you still had quite a bit of energy that you would like to use up so you could get a night’s rest. You looked at your friends, seeing if anyone was up for a late night adventure just based off of their posture and how often they yawned, and it seemed like everyone was exhausted, for obvious reasons. But you’d ask one person before you decide to go alone. 

Once everything was clean and ready for the Saturday’s brunch, everyone walked out of the restaurant, walking over to their cars. 

“Hey, Harry?” You called out, making him instantly turn around at the sound of your voice. 

“Yeah, love?” The pet name had merely slipped out, and you felt your face getting warm, shyly smiling. 

“Uh, you could totally say no and I would completely understand why because it’s Friday night, and we had a long shift, and you must be tired-”

“Y/N?” You stopped talking, raising your brows. “Breath, yeah? Take your time,” he interrupted the rambling that you hadn’t known you were doing. 

Nodding, you took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were nervous, but every time you were around Harry, he just made you feel a certain swarm of butterflies entering your stomach. 

“I’m not as tired as I thought, and I wanna end tonight with some sweets. So, would you like to come with me to get some dessert? Again, you could say no.” 

Harry smiled. “I’d love to,” he replied with no second thought. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course. Plus, we could finally talk properly. Hate always walking away from our unfinished conversations.” He breathed out a chuckle, running his clad ring hand through his curls. 

“Great! Oh, uh, do you mind if we take your car? I took an Uber here, but I’ll compensate with buying you cookies and paying for your gas,” you suggested, keeping your excitement at bay. 

“No worries, c’mon. But I might take you up on the cookie offer.” He smiled, opening your door for you, which never failed to make you swoon. 

As he started the car, warming up the engine and turning the heater on, you two debated on where to go. You suggested going to Insomnia Cookies in Santa Monica, which was a twenty minute drive from Downtown LA, and it closed at two In the morning, but only if he was down to drive the opposite direction of where you two lived. And luckily, he didn’t mind the drive because he was always down for a late night drive and adventure, especially if it was with you. 

The car speakers played Frank Ocean, he merged on the 101, tapping his fingers along with the beat against the steering wheel. You subtly studied him as he drove, just as you did when you would glance at him across the restaurant. He always mindlessly curled his pink lips into his mouth, a habit that he, assumingly, had for years. You noticed how he would always play with his rings; his thumb would reach over to his other fingers to play with the heavy, metal rings; not helping that your mind would instantly go to what else his hands could do, especially to you, to your body, but you had to immediately snap yourself out of your thoughts to prevent them from going any further. Not to mention, the way his eyes always lit up; they had a natural gleam to them, making them incredibly irresistible to not look in his green eyes. 

He was captivating in all the right ways, and you felt yourself falling for him quite quickly, making that fear inside of you light up, inflaming your body with anxiousness. 

Your thoughts soon vanished when Harry pulled into a parking space in front of your destination, and he turned off the car. He turned to look at you, giving you a small smile before getting out. You decided to buy Harry anything he’d like, which he got the same six pack of cookies as you. 

Harry suggested eating in his car, which you agreed. Although the cold in SoCal wasn’t the same coldness as it was in NorCal, you didn’t want to stand around and freeze. The two of you make light conversation, talking about social media and enjoying the warmth of the fresh baked cookies. You then realized that you hadn’t followed him on Instagram, so you asked for his username, which was just his first and last name. 

“Your pictures are amazing,” you complimented.

“Stalking me already?” He teased. A smirk on his face present, making you roll your eyes as you didn’t know if you wanted to slap or kiss the smirk off—always wanting to go for the latter. “But thank you. I, uh, I actually took those myself.” Your eyes brightened. The photographs posted on his Instagram were mostly portraits of beautiful people, some of them were landscapes of a field or the mountains, but most of them were portraits. You knew very little about photography, thanks to the ‘Beginning of Photography 1’ class that you took in college, but you could see the depth of the picture and the way they’re taken; the emotion was clearly there, making you feel intensity through the picture. 

“Wow, you’re really talented, Harry.”

He blushed, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking back up at you again. “Thank you so much. I’m a freelance photographer.”

“Do you plan on leaving Spring to focus solely on photography?” You asked curiously. He softly smiled; he could hear the genuine tone in your voice, and he really appreciated that. 

“I’m not sure. I’ll have an appointment, maybe, three or four times a month? But the restaurant brings in more money, especially the tips,” he explained. 

You nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re extremely talented, and one day, you’ll be at the place you want to be. Everything will work out.” Harry smiled in appreciation of your words, not saying anything else. 

Taking another bite of his cookie, he changed the subject. “So, do you miss any of your friends in SF?” 

You raised your brows, not expecting that question, but you answered honestly. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t. A month before moving here,” you began to open up vulnerably; you hadn’t spoken to anyone about this. “I got out of a long relationship—quite toxic, honestly,” you said, looking at him. He had this look on his face that was so comforting, not a word coming out of his mouth, asking for details; it didn’t tell you that he was nosy or pressing you to tell him more. It simply told you that he was there to listen, whenever you were ready to tell him, and you really appreciated that. 

You hadn’t realized how hard it was talking about your past relationship because it had been all bottled up until now.  A deep breath came out of your mouth, and Harry immediately realized that it must’ve been a hard subject to speak about. Unexpected to you, he reached over to grab your hand, holding it gently as his thumb caressed your skin. He hoped he masked his nervousness well, making the smallest physical touch with you when, really, his pulse was hammering against his veins, heart pounding through his chest as his breathing began to feel erratic, but outside he remained cool, calm, and collected as if the touch didn’t drive him insane. 

You tried not letting Harry’s thumb, caressing the back of your hand, affect your ability to speak a coherent sentence, so you continued. “Uh, my ex was cheating on me with someone in our friend group. He told me not to worry about her, but you know how that goes when you hear that phrase. It was with a girl that I used to date—my first relationship, actually. The worst part of it was when I found out, I took him back when he promised he wouldn’t do it again and claimed that he loved me, and then I took him back again, and again and again.” 

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to not let the hand holding yours squeeze tightly so the blood circulation cuts off because he felt angry. He was so mad because how could anyone do that to you? Sweet, kind, and lovely you? 

“When I told him I couldn’t handle it anymore—all the lies, cheating, and betrayal—I broke up with him. Our friend group turned against me, completely ignored me. Now that I think about it, I noticed they started to be cold and rude towards me once they started sneaking around, and I have no clue why because I didn’t do anything to them. Guess they were just covering up for them because everyone knew except me, and I just felt so stupid because I was so clueless to think he ever loved me to forgive him so many times.” 

You started to sniffle as the bad memories that you lived through for the few months of the betrayal started to come up again. You were doing a good job not thinking about it when you started working at the restaurant, and you didn’t plan on telling Harry tonight, but you trusted him to let go of all the agony that you bottled up inside your mind. 

“Hey, come here,” he said, opening his arms up. You gladly rested your head against his shoulders, wishing the middle console wasn’t there so you could press your body against his. He hands rubbed your back just as it did when you first hugged him, and to say that you hadn’t been craving for his touch was a complete lie. “You’re not stupid whatsoever. I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make you stupid. It makes them stupid for betraying your trust and forgiveness over and over again. You’re not in the wrong here nor was it your fault, love.” 

You nodded against his shoulder, and you felt him place the side of his face against the top of your head, cuddling up to you, which immediately put a smile on your face. Harry’s comfort had immediately made you feel better—it made you feel safe. You hadn’t felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms in a very long time, and considering that you’ve only known him for a month, you’d say it’s quite unbelievable how comfortable you are in his hold, especially opening up to him like you did. 

Pulling back from his hold, you looked up at him, giving him a smile. The weight on your shoulders suddenly felt lighter once you opened the bottle and poured out the contents in it. Talking to Harry was refreshing, a fresh breath of air, and you inhaled the crisp oxygen gratefully, knowing that being vulnerable and opening up had changed your friendship. 

It was Sunday evening, and you were cleaning up to prepare for closing. It had been a long day, even though you only worked for four hours; it just seemed that you were running around more than usual. 

But you were glad that the day was over, and you could take a long nice shower to end your night. Throughout cleaning, your coworkers had said goodbye, leaving through the back door, which you found odd because everyone usually heads out at the same time, but you didn’t think too much of it. 

Once you were done in the dining room, you looked around, finding the restaurant completely empty, but everything seemed to be in order, so you headed over to the locker room. 

When you rounded around the counter top and into the kitchen, Harry jumped up from his crouched position, startling you as you took a step back, gasping with your hand over your heart. 

“Holy shit, you scared me,” you said breathlessly. 

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I thought you still knew I was here.” 

“I thought I was completely alone, and hiding behind the counter doesn’t help.” You and Harry laughed. You hadn’t noticed the two plates of food and wine glasses that were filled with sparkling soda sitting next to him on the stainless steel counter, and you wondered for a moment if that was for you and him. “What’s that for?” 

“For us, if you’d like. I made it quickly once everything was slow and we were starting to close,” he said shyly, rubbing his tattooed forearm. 

Your brows raised, eyes widening slightly. “You made this? For us?”

“Yeah. Today marks one month being here, so I decided to make dinner to celebrate.” You were quite speechless at the thought; it was so incredibly sweet and thoughtful that Harry went through that trouble of making a meal to celebrate a somewhat significant date. Tears started to well up in your eyes, making the man in front of you blurry. “Oh, wait, no. Please don’t cry. You could definitely take this to-go, if you want! I know you’re probably tired, but-”

Harry was cut off by your arms wrapping around his shoulders. He was taken back at first from the impact of your body crashing against his, but once he regained his balance, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. 

Your scent was impeccable—quite alluring for running around for a few hours. He knew he smelled like food, the smoke from garlic and onions sautéing, and vegetables cooking. He buried his head into your shoulder, holding you close. This had been the first time you two were ever hugging outside of the comfort and safety of his car—no middle console to interfere, no awkwardness in trying to figure out how to give a proper hug in a confined space. He enjoyed it a lot—the way your body was pressed up against his. It made him happy, it made him feel safe. 

The intimate moment lasted for a few minutes, simply just hugging one another in relief in the kitchen, swaying slightly as complete silence surrounded the two of you. 

Once you were satisfied (although you think you would never be satisfied enough if you’re not in his arms), you pulled away, coming face-to-face with him. Your cheeks were slightly damped from the few tears that had fallen out, but weirdly, it gave you a natural and happy glow, and you were feeling exactly that. 

“Harry, thank you so much. This is the sweetest and most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me.” You looked up at him through your wet lashes, warmly smiling at him. 

“You’re welcome. Shall we eat?” You nodded, and he unwrapped his arms from around your waist, letting you go, which he wished he hadn’t. He grabbed the two heavy plates that were filled with honey garlic chicken with sautéed spinach and mushroom on a bed of rice, and you grabbed the glasses, reaching over to place them onto the countertop before the two of you walked around to sit on the high stools. 

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, and you thanked and complimented him for the lovely meal. There was light conversation, asking questions about each other’s childhood. Listening to Harry talk about his life in England was so fascinating to you, and you wished that you had grown up with him because he seemed like such a fun and kind kid to play with. You learned that his sister and mom were back home in London, and they visited every six months, and he would occasionally go back home as well, if the bills weren’t stacking up and he was good with money. His words and mind seemed to get the best of him, slipping out about how much they would love you and that he’ll invite you to lunch whenever they visit to meet them; and he hoped he didn’t freak you out. You simply blushed, nodding your head, and not saying anything else. 

The more you talked to him, the more you found yourself staring at him as you listened to what he had to say. You’d come to terms a few weeks ago that you really liked his eyes—how green they were, and how they stare into you, giving you his full attention. You liked his hands, his hair, his nose, his cheeks, and most of all, you liked his lips. You couldn’t blame alcohol for these thoughts because Harry replaced wine with sparkling soda, so these were completely sober thoughts racing your mind. His lips were something you glanced at often, trying not to glare at them too much as he talked as you didn’t want to get caught for admiring them. They were so pink, and he occasionally bit them and curled them into his mouth, making them pinker. You liked when he would take his fingers and pinch his bottom lip, a habit that he seemed to form throughout his life. You suddenly wanted to kiss him—really, really bad. 

You shook off the thought immediately, being completely sidetracked with your infatuation with Harry. Was it an infatuation? No, you knew the feelings you felt for him felt much stronger than a simple admiration for your coworker. 

Once the talking had died down and the plates were empty, you and Harry decided to clean up. You quickly took both of your plates, beating Harry to the sink to wash the dishes. He chuckled as he watched you fast walk towards the sink; he soon followed with the glasses, placing them carefully into the sink. He decided to dry the dishes, finding the dish rag on your right side. So, he leaned over, placing his left hand on your waist, chest slightly pressed against your back as he grabbed the rag. You turned your head to the right, dropping your shoulder to turn more of your body towards him. He was close and it made you feel flushed; you felt your  cheeks heating up once he looked down at you, faces inches away from each other. 

You turned back around, quickly placing the last dish on the counter before you turned off the water. Harry was still close in proximity, not making any effort to move away from you. Turning around, your back was now pressed up against the edge of the sink. Harry rested his hands against the edge, trapping you with his arms. Your breath began to deepen, heart beating quite harshly against your chest as Harry looked into your eyes, briefly glancing at your lips, and slowly trailing them back up into your eyes. He brought one hand to graze the side of your face gently, skin prickling with goosebumps. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented honestly. 

“Thank you, you are too.” 

“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Listen, I-I really like you, and we haven’t known each other for long but I just…can’t get enough of you,” You smiled, averting your eyes to his lips before looking back up; your cheeks and neck felt incredibly warm from his confession. Bodily, you placed your hands on his waist, pulling him towards you to close the gap between you two; Harry smirked at your action, liking the way your bodies were pressed up against each other. 

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” You raised your brows curiously. 

“What would you like me to do?” His hands were rubbing up and down your back soothingly. 

“Hmm…a few things actually,” you muttered—more to yourself but Harry definitely heard from how close you two physically were. Your fingertips were mindlessly drawing circles on his lower back where his slightly wrinkled white shirt was tucked into his black jeans. 

“Care to share?” 

You took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes that captivated you quite clearly. “Want you to kiss me.” 

The corner of his lip turned up as he curled his lips into his mouth. “Can I please? Been wanting to for so long.” 

“Tell me.” Harry raised his brows. “Tell me how long you’ve been wanting to kiss me.” 

He curled his lips into his mouth, looking down at your soft lips before back up at your eyes. “Ever since I saw you for the first time. So, please let me kiss you. Do you want me to?” 

Harry quite literally took your breath away, breath stuck in your throat before you cleared it. Nodding your head quite eagerly, you softly said, “Yeah, want you to.” 

With that, he trailed his hands from your waist, up your spine, to your shoulders, and up to your face where he placed his hands on both sides, gently holding your face delicately as if it were a piece of art that was crafted for months, years; he didn’t want to drop or break the precious masterpiece that he cradled with his hands. 

His thumb caressed your soft cheek, giving your lips one last look before he leaned in and connected your lips with his. You sighed deeply once you felt his soft lips touch yours, and your shoulder visibly relaxed, letting go of everyone that may have held you back. 

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him in closer. A spark ran through your body as your lips molded together so perfectly in sync, making the firework inside of you pop into a beautiful and magical scene. 

Whimpering against his mouth, you suddenly wanted more of him; he was, in all ways, addicting. You unconsciously lifted your right leg, bringing it up to his hip, making Harry press himself against your core, holding your thigh. He started to feel himself harden inside of his pants from the way you’re kissing him, the way your hands gripped his hair, and the way your tongue effortlessly swiveled against his. 

You pulled away from his lips quite breathlessly, lips swollen. “Want you.” 

“Me too—want you so bad.” He leaned forward to kiss you again, and once he did, you pulled away, only leaving him with a small kiss to his lips. Harry pouted, making you chuckle. 

“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” you confessed. 

Harry smirked. “Well, I’ll be glad to do it again.” 

“Wanna get out of here? C-Can we go to yours?” You asked shyly. 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “You sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

Harry gave you a smile and another kiss before he backed away, grabbing your hand to lead you to the locker room where the two of you grabbed your belongings from your lockers. Quickly after, you two were out the door of Spring; Harry locked up, and walked you two over to his car where he, yet again, opened the passenger door for you. 

The entire ten minute drive to his apartment, his hand never left yours. It delicately sat on your thigh with your hand on top of his, palm against the back of his hand as your fingers intertwined with his. Harry found it difficult to drive properly because all he ever wanted to do was either kiss you or look at you, and since it was just a bit after midnight, he hit all the green lights, so there was continuous driving and less kissing and looking. But that just made it quicker for him to get to his place. 

His apartment was on the second floor, which didn’t take long to get to, but catching up to Harry’s long strides as he practically dragged you up the stairs—no patience to wait for the elevator—was tiring you out. 

Once his front door closed, he immediately pushed you up against it, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you feverishly. You practically could feel him smiling into the kiss, happy to have his lips on yours, and it completely tied your stomach into knots as the familiar flutter you felt in your chest made itself present. 

You’d come to realize, in the kitchen, that kissing Harry was everything you ever imagined. His soft lips molding and connecting with yours so perfectly made all of your dreams and realities come true. He just had a way with how he worked his lips as well as where to put his hands. But you were eager to find out what else he could do. 

Harry was the one to pull away first, which he even surprised himself with, but he led you to his bedroom, which you were too excited about. He closed his bedroom door, taking your lips in with his again, backing you up against his bed as he gently placed you on top of it, hovering over you. 

His lips trailed to your cheek, your jaw, and down to your neck where he lightly nibbled and sucked on your soft skin. You felt him lick your skin, soothing out the small love bite that he left on your skin before he pulled his head from your neck. 

“You sure you want to do this? I’d be happy just kissing you.” 

You smiled. “I’m sure, wanna touch you. You’re sure too?” You asked consent from him as well, making his cock twitch in his pants. 

“Very sure, love. You have no idea.” He sat on his knees as you laid below him, and he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so beautiful as you do; he was completely enthralled by your beauty. “Can I take this off?” He referred to your shirt, playing with the buttons on the front. You nodded, biting your lip. 

He leaned his weight on one side of you, placing one arm behind your head as you rested against it. He took your mouth in with his as his other hand began unbuttoning your white shirt, impressively with one hand. Once he got to the bottom, he sat up again, as did you to take off your shirt and your sports bra. You didn’t wear anything sexy to work because you wanted to be comfortable while waiting tables. 

Harry looked at your bare torso, licking his lips before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking and licking the pebbled bud before switching to the other. His lips then placed small kisses down your body and to the hem of your pants, where he looked up to see you flushed from just his kisses. 

“Harry…” you whined. 

“What is it, beautiful?” He smirked. 

“Please, take it off.” 

“I’m getting there, love, don’t worry.” A breathy chuckle came out of his mouth before he unbuttoned your trousers. Your hips raised off the bed, and he swiftly took them off, leaving you in your nude seamless underwear. “Fuck, you’re so stunning, Y/N, I swear.” You looked at him and smiled; you were clearly at loss for words because of how Harry was looking at you. He wasn’t looking at you with complete admiration, like he was so lost in his daze of his sight. And that thought made you even more aroused. 

He gave you another kiss to your stomach before taking off your underwear, situating himself in between your legs, lying on his stomach. Harry looked up once more to find you staring at him, eager to watch what he’s about to do; he placed a kiss to your inner thighs, gently nibbling on your flesh, making you squirm. 

“Harry, please. Need to feel you,” you pleaded, brows crinkling. 

“Tell me what you need,” he teased, earning an impatient scoff from you, but Harry chuckled at your frustration. 

“Need your mouth on me. Please, want you to eat me out already.” 

Now, who was he to deny that request? So, that’s what he did—he slowly licked your clit multiple times before licking into your hole, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He used your wetness to lubricate your clit, completely assaulting your sensitive bud. Your back arched as the sensations ran through your body, hands gripping the sheets below you tightly that they practically wrinkled. Harry moaned against your clit, making you buck your hips into his face. 

“Fuck, Harry…” you dragged out, throwing your head back into the pillows. 

For a few minutes, Harry continued devouring your taste, not stopping until you came all over his mouth and you were completely shocked by his will to not stop until you’ve had your orgasm from his tongue. 

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly entering your wet hole as he fingered you. You moaned louder; the tips of his fingers curling up to meet the softness of your upper walls. His unoccupied thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles, something that he noticed you really liked based on your hips thrusting upwards and your hand gripping his hair harder that it felt like you were going to rip out his locks. 

“So pretty, love. So wet for me.” The simplicity of his words had made you feel the familiar bubble in your lower stomach, and you wanted to release it so bad. 

“Harry, I’m gonna…cum,” you groaned out, biting your lips. 

He continued his pace on your clit, but added a tad bit more pressure, causing you to jolt a little. His fingers that were inside of you repeatedly brushed your g-spot, making you close your legs, but Harry pried them open, encouraging you to release. 

“C’mon, baby. Want you—need you to cum for me. Can you do that? Can you give me what I want?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, mouth ajar as your voice was hitched in your throat. A few more thrust and rubs from his fingers, and you hit your high, releasing around his long fingers as he slowed his movements, riding out your orgasm while praising you for your peak. 

“That’s it. There you go.” One of his hands rubbed your stomach, calming you down while the other hand gently played and cupped your pussy as you unconsciously and slightly thrusted your hips into his hand. 

Once you had relaxed, you opened your eyes; Harry was kissing up your body before he kissed your lips so sweetly. 

“Hmm, you’re so good at that.” He smiled, kissing your neck as he started to rut his hips on your thigh. You felt his hard on through his pants, and you knew that wasn’t comfortable whatsoever. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He pulled his head from your neck, facing you as he was about to say it was completely fine if you didn’t, but you spoke up first. “That can’t be comfortable, and I wanna touch you—if you’d let me.” You were looking at him with innocent eyes, even though he knew what you were about to do was going against anything innocent. Plus, the way you were looking at him only made him more aroused.

“Course, let me just get out of these.” He got off the bed, but stayed closed; he was about to unbutton his shirt, but you stopped him quickly, replacing his hands with yours. Harry dropped his arms to his side once your lips were attached to his neck, giving him a small hickey on the underside of his jaw. The feel of just your lips on his skin made him bite his lips as a chill ran through him. You sat on your knees and started unbuttoning his white shirt, and with every button you undid, you gave him a kiss to every bit of his skin that was left exposed until you reached the hem of his pants. 

You looked up at him on all fours, and he watched you press another kiss to his tattooed torso. “Mind if I take these off?” You toyed with the hem of his pants. 

“No, please, don’t mind at all.” You smiled, looking back at his bulge, which outlined through the fabric of his pants. You palmed him, making him hiss through his teeth. He hadn’t felt another person’s touch in so long, so your lips and touch felt overwhelming in the best way. 

You unbuttoned his pants, which he was fast to get out of, leaving him in his black briefs. You positioned yourself to lay flat on your stomach, thankful that Harry’s bed was the perfect height to where you don’t have to strain your neck to suck on him. Kissing down his happy trail, you left a prominent love bite in between his tattooed leaves that were so perfectly inked on his lower abdomen. You then kissed his hard length through his briefs, making Harry breathe heavily. He’s never felt so teased in his life, but you were making it all worth it because nobody had ever made him feel so aroused. 

Finally, your fingers gripped the hem of his briefs and tugged them down so his cock could departure from the strained material. He was big, and you knew that from when he was driving to his place earlier as his cock was pushing against his pants, making you excited and eager. But seeing it right in front of you made you salivate. 

“Holy shit, you’re so big.” All he did was smirk at your words, knowing that fact quite clearly. You grabbed a hold of him as you held his dick upwards before you licked the underside from base to tip. Harry breathed in through his nose once he felt the smallest bit of contact from your mouth. 

Your mouth began to work on his tip, sucking and licking up the precum that had spilled out of his tip before you started to take more and more of him in your mouth. It was Harry’s turn to fill the room with his raspy and deep moan, and the noise he was making was triggering your arousal. Harry had a full view of your mouth on him as well as a great view of your entire backside, not missing the way he noticed how you started to subtly move your hips into the sheets. 

As you sucked on him, taking him further into your mouth, Harry dragged his fingers from your shoulders, down your spine, and to your ass that was out in the open with no shame whatsoever. His hands kneaded your flesh before slapping on cheek, which made you moan around him. 

“Like that?” He went back to his standing position, leaning back a tad bit to get a good look at you. “Tell me, do you like that?” You looked up at him, making direct eye contact with him as your cheeks hollowed and you sucked hard around him before letting out a ‘mhm.’ Your mouth was working wonders on him while your hand was fondling and playing with his balls, making him throw his head back and accidentally bucking his hips up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, sorry, baby.” He moved your hair to check up on you, but all you did was place your hands on his ass and pulled him towards you until your nose touched his pubic bone. Harry let out a throaty moan, and your hands pushed and pulled his lower body until he understood what you were doing. 

So, he took control, holding your head steady before he slowly started to thrust into your mouth; the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat. There was a string of spit that was dangling from your mouth and connecting to his balls—a sight so filthy but helped him get right on the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum. Love your mouth so much. So beautiful for me, so perfect.” Harry’s hips began to jerk sloppily, indicating that he was close. With just a few more thrusts into your perfect mouth, he spilled down your throat as he stopped thrusting, keeping you halfway on him. A series of curses and your name came from his lips as he shut his eyes. You took every drop that he offered, trying to swallow every bit of content as best as you could, but some of it had spilled out of your mouth due to how much he overfilled your mouth with his cum. 

Harry seemed to be in the middle of calming down from his intense orgasm, so you took the time to clean up. Pulling back, you wiped your mouth and licked your fingers as well as cleaning his cock with your mouth. What you didn’t notice was that Harry was watching you the entire time; he lowered his head, neck straining from looking up too much, and saw you eagerly cleaning and licking every last drop that had fallen from your pretty lips. The sight was enough to make him hard again if he wasn’t too spent. 

He collapsed on his bed next to you, his head was next to your ass, to which he pressed a small kiss to your hip in gratitude. You moved to lay your head on his stomach, looking at him and giving him a small smile. 

“Come here. What are you looking at me like that for?” He reached out for you, and you moved again, resting your elbow next to his head before giving him a kiss. The kiss didn’t deepen any further, just molding your lips with one another as he tasted himself on your tongue. 

“Nothing. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself.” 

“Very much did, thank you. Did you? You could be honest with me.” 

You giggled. “Honestly…I had a really great time. You made me feel really good. The best I’ve felt in a really long time,” you told him honestly, and Harry smiled at that. 

“Do you want to stay the night? I’m always in a cuddly mood after anything sexual—well, I’m always in a cuddly mood, period.” You laughed, nodding your head before kissing his cheek. 

“I’d love to. Can I use your restroom, and do you have a spare toothbrush?” 

Harry nodded, getting off the bed before leading you to his bathroom where he gave you a toothbrush and some of his face wash. He left you to do your business and told you that he would have a change of clothes. 

Once you were done, you walked out of his bathroom, still naked, and was met with Harry in a pair of gray briefs and a change of his clothes in his hands, handing them to you. He gave you a kiss to your forehead before going off to the bathroom and leaving you to change. 

You replayed the evening in your mind over and over again as you changed—you really enjoyed his company and him as a person. Harry was a more than nice guy, who seemed to like you for whatever reason, and you liked him too. Maybe a bit too much, and you felt like you liked him more than you projected—dare, you say that you were falling in love. But you couldn’t let yourself feel that way; you were beating yourself up for it. In all honesty, you were scared, so you had a habit of not portraying the entirety of your feelings out on the table so people could perceive it. 

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts in your head, repeating and spitting out every insecurity that your previous ‘friends’ had told you in the past—calling you a slut and how you couldn’t keep anyone around because they both ended up cheating on you. Your head was telling you Harry would do the same, and as hard as you were trying to deny that because Harry was the kindest person you’ve ever met, it was all you could hear. You couldn’t do this, no, you couldn’t feel like this, you thought. You felt like you needed to protect yourself before you were in too deep. 

Without even knowing, you were frantically grabbing your clothes and shoes that were all thrown across Harry’s floor. Your heart was racing, mind telling you to ‘leave’ and that ‘nobody is going to love you,’ so that’s what you were doing, leaving. 

You made it out of his bedroom, so close to the front door until you realized you had forgotten your purse. Turning around to go back, you were met with Harry leaning against the frame of the hallway entry, holding your purse in his hands. 

“Not planning on saying goodbye?” His voice sounded defeated, the complete opposite as to what it was prior. He looked down at his feet, not even able to make eye contact with you when he was always keen on making direct eye contact when talking to someone, but seeing you walk out his bedroom door when you were supposed to be waiting for him in his bed to cuddle was heartbreaking. 

“Harry…”

“That’s all it was to you, I’m guessing? You know you could’ve said no to staying the night, I would’ve understood. But to say yes after we’ve been intimate, and getting my hopes up? I-I thought you liked me, that’s all, and I’m stupid for falling for it,” he ended with a scoff. He felt extremely vulnerable; he laid his feelings out on the table, let you see his body, and it seemed like you just picked and chose your cards straight from the deck to only have Harry fold. 

“No, that’s not it-”

“Then please tell me what it is before I drive myself into the wall thinking what I’ve done wrong!” He raised his voice—not too loud where it startled you, but enough to where he simply let out his frustrations. 

“I like you, Harry, I do. But we can’t be together.” You didn’t know how to put it into words, so that was the best you could come up with. 

“And why’s that?” He furrowed his brows, walking towards you, but keeping a safe distance. “Give me a good reason why, and I’ll let you go—I’ll leave you alone. We’ll simply be coworkers who don’t talk to each other. I’ll-”

“I’m scared, okay! I’m scared because I cannot fall in love with you, even though I’m already in too deep. I’ve done it once and i-it hurt me.” You were on the verge of bawling, maintaining your emotions. “I-I cannot feel this way so soon—fresh out of a relationship…I’ve only known you for, what? A month? We barely even know each other, Harry-”

“See, now, that’s where you’re wrong. You think I don’t know you, but I bet that you know I know you quite well. Probably more than all of your bitchy friends back home who you’ve known for years.” You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond, but he was right, he did know you better than anyone you knew back in SF. “If I didn’t know you then I wouldn’t know that your favorite thing to eat while you were growing up was chocolate croissants. Your favorite color often switches every few days, but some of them are, and specifically: maroon, evergreen, mustard yellow, burnt orange, and beige. You love watching kids cooking competitions in your free time and often root for the one who is doing miserably and knows who won’t make it to the next round. You’re learning how to bake, which is what you said that you’ve always wanted to learn out to make proper pastries, and based on what you bring to work for us to try, you’re on the right path to being a baker.” 

“I’m…” you were at a loss for words, tears lining your eyes. All of the questions and playful conversation you and Harry had during work had come around in his words; it showed that Harry really listened, and when he did, he didn’t forget every detail you’ve told him. Your heart felt like it was in your stomach, making your stomach flutter in giddiness and shock. 

“I could go on, honestly, but it would be an entire list of things that I’ve remembered about you.” Harry softly smiled down at his feet. “All I’m saying is this: I like to think I know the basics of you, and I still have a lot to learn about you. But don’t run away from me, please. If you want to and you don’t want anything to do with me, that’s fine, but I can’t let you walk out without trying not to stop you.” He sighed, completely putting himself out there as he was practically begging you to stay. “I really like you, Y/N, I mean it. I don’t care if we’ve only known each other for a month. I don’t care that you just got out of a relationship. I mean if you’re still in love with him or have a bit of interest in him still, then that’s different-”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, shaking your head no. It was the truth; you hadn’t felt love for your ex in a really long time, and you simply stayed with him and kept forgiving him just because it was comfortable. 

“Okay…” 

“It’s just…I don’t want people to think I’m some kind of person who moves on from relationships so quickly. I-I mean, I didn’t come here just to find myself in another relationship, y’know?” Your tone was concerning, like all of your worries were piling up into one big stack that made your head hurt from thinking too much. 

“No one’s gonna think that—I don’t think that. Besides, it isn’t any of their business.” Harry walked even closer to you, inches away as his hands grazed your upper arms. “Let me ask you something, does this feel right? Being with me?” You nodded with no hesitation. “Say it,” he instructed, wanting to hear the words come out of your mouth. 

“This feels right.” 

Harry smiled at you comfortingly. “Okay, then let it be right.” 

“I’m scared,” you admitted, looking down. He lifted your chin up with the soft touch of his fingertips, goosebumps littered your skin with just his simple touch. 

“Me too, but I’m doing surprisingly well at hiding it. We’ll go slow, okay? No pressure into labeling; let’s just go with the flow, alright?” He suggested, and you softly muttered an ‘okay,’ reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, giving him a warm and grateful hug. 

“I’m so sorry-” you said into his shoulder, but he quickly cut you off. 

“No need to be sorry, I understand.” His understanding makes you even more soft as you hugged him tighter; a few tears slipped your eyes, streaming down Harry’s shoulder. 

After a moment, the two of you pulled away, feeling so much relief from the hug and conversation. 

“Is your offer on staying the night still up?” You asked hesitantly.

He smiled. “Yeah, it always is. C’mon.” He took you by the hand, leading you to his room and into his bed—not for the actions of pleasure, but for a nice and comforting cuddle. 

You situated yourself on his chest, comfortably trailing your fingers up and down his skin as his arm was wrapped around your shoulder. 

Lifting your head up to meet his face, he smiled at you before you gave him a sweet kiss to his lips. It didn’t lead to anything, it didn’t even deepen; just the feel of his soft, pink lips on yours was enough to make you feel bliss. 

You pulled away. “Slow?” Harry chuckled, nodding his head. 

“Slow.” 

Your face warmed up as you smiled, cheeks aching; you positioned yourself back onto his chest for the night, taking up all of his space on the bed when your side was completely empty as you held him close. Even though you’ve only known him for a month, you felt yourself falling; because ultimately, it felt right. 

please come into my inbox and tell me your thoughts, feelings, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3

[realcube]

Shopping headcanons w/ BNHA  🛍

Momo x Reader 

Iida x Reader 

Todoroki x Reader

tw// intense money spending 😎, cussing, reader wears a dress-

Momo Yaoyorozu x Reader

Prom in your school was coming up and Momo appeared to be fully booked that day and she felt horrible about it as she really wanted to be the one in all the pictures but..hey, what can you do?

She felt like the only way to make it up to you was by buying your dress and since you hadn’t even started looking yet, she decided to made it a date!

She took you to a designer outlet in hopes of finding you the prom dress of your dreams so that when she sees the pictures of you at prom, she can at least feel like she did something

There were only 5 dress places in the whole outlet though and one of them was for wedding dresses and in all honesty, you didn’t plan on showing up to prom in a gown and veil

However, there were lots of women’s fashion shops so there were a fair selection of dresses in each of those but most of those were party dresses and they were cute but not the sort of vibe you were going for.

Momo didn’t let you look at any shoes though until you found your dress - it was probably for the best though because she said that ( from experience ) the worst situation is when you fall in love with a pair of shoes but can’t find a matching dress; she does want you to suffer the same way she did 

You both popped into every store that sold dresses you cam across and Yaoyorozu made you try on every dress you even spared a glance to and then you’d put on a little fashion show for in every shop

Not that you minded though, you actually thought it was quite fun 

You also found her little cheers for you absolutely adorable, because every time you’d exit the changing room she’d be like 

“Yessss, (Y/N)! That dress is so gorgeous - or that might just be you but that colour really brings out you eyes.”

“Nooo, you can’t wear that to prom. You’ll make all the other ladies jealous!”

“Oh my lord above, that dress makes you look like prince(ss)! I love it! What do you think?” Momo inquired, covering her agape mouth with her perfectly manicured fingers. 

You twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the dress from every angle, “I mean, I adore it but..”

“But what, my love?”

You don’t know why you even bothered mentioning it as you already knew what Momo was gonna respond with but you said it anyway;

“It is too expensive.”

Yaoyorozu gasped, taking your hand and looking you dead in the eyes, “My love, don’t worry about it! I doesn’t matter how much it costs, money is but a number. All that matters is that you strut into prom feeling comfortable and beautiful - and you don’t need an expensive dress to look beautiful but it helps.” She giggled, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder.

She always knows what to say- 

She ended up buying the dress for you and of course you wore it to prom with the matching shoes, brooch and tiara she bought for you as well. 

She’s honestly so extra but that’s one of the many reasons why you love her

Tenya Iida x Reader 

I am a firm believer that this man’s love language is receiving/giving gifts

So obviously he needs someone who is on the same wavelength as him..and that’s you!

Every time he goes out shopping with his pals or just by himself - even if it is just to the supermarket - he will die and be resurrected before he leaves the place without a gift for you

Like it can simply be him going out to get groceries and coming back with a bar of your favourite chocolate

Or it can be him going to a designer outlet looking for a tuxedo and coming back with a Pandora bracelet for you 

And obviously, you do the same for him so whenever you are on one of your all-expenses-paid vacations with your mother, you are sure to bring back a souvenir for Iida

( sometimes you even forget to buy something for yourself because the first person on your mind is always Tenya )

Now, it was your birthday

And considering he’s already set the bar so high and the next step up from the stuff he had already bought you would be a diamond ring - he was pretty stumped for ideas.

He hated to be unimaginative but it’s not like he had many other options at this point so he settled on taking you shopping for your birthday; at a designer outlet, of course. 

It was pretty weird though because him buying you stuff from the love in his heart was different to you asking for him to buy you something - which is what this little shopping trip felt like 

Also, it was very awkward just having him follow you around the shops and stuff - like he didn’t even go on his phone or anything, he just followed you and watched you shift through the clothes like 👀

But you couldn’t get mad at him though because every so often he would go off on his own and come back holding a random article of clothing that he thought ‘would look cute on you’ and you found that absolutely adorable. 

Especially because 9 times out of 10 it was a very dainty piece and he’d hold it up to himself to demonstrate, as if you were built like him at all. 

“I have no idea what these little spaghetti bits are for but I think it is supposed to be worn like this.”

And then he proceeds to wear a thong as shoulder pads 

Shoto Todoroki x Reader 

he texts you in the middle of the night like ‘hi’

‘hi, Shoto! why are you up so late?’

‘i know the PIN for my father’s credit card’

‘ok-’

‘meet me @ the mall tomorrow @ 1pm 

‘why?’

‘we’re going shopping and i will buy that dress you wanted’

usually, you never bought anything. the only time you’d get new clothes was when you got your cheque from your job and most of the time, you’d never accept any gifts or let anyone buy for you

but this was an exception..

of course you agreed, i mean, why would you pass on the opportunity to exploit your boyfriend’s father’s credit card i mean- it’s not like he was tight on funds

so you met up with Todoroki the next day in your usual meeting spot and you showed him the dress you were talking about and he bought it on his father’s card 

he told you to go crazy so you figured while you were at it, you may as well get a pair of shoes to match - so you did!

After you had finished up your little shopping spree, Todoroki took you out for lunch at you favourite restaurant

As the day came to an end, you were sitting on a bench in the park with Shoto, eating ice-cream when he turned to you and said, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you--wait!”

He chuckled, a rare occurrence but the perfect gift for your birthday. “Your a smart girl, I’m sure you’ve figured it out already.”

“DID YOU TRICK ME INTO LETTING YOU BUY ME STUFF BY TELLING ME IT WAS ON ENDEVOUR’S CARD?!”

“Yes.”

“Good thing I still have the receipt then.”

“Don’t you dare.”

[star-killer-md]

Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that. 

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for. 

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.” 

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff. 

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair. 

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.” 

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.” 

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing. 

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.” 

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same. 

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob. 

Definitely not.  

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things. 

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed. 

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway. 

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you. 

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early. 

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily. 

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges. 

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font. 

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied. 

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence. 

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient. 

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms. 

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.  

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.” 

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway. 

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before. 

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall. 

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him. 

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in. 

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey. 

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook. 

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side. 

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—” 

“She’ll be busy.” 

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.” 

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.  

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth. 

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience. 

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened. 

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious. 

And left you seething nonetheless. 

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it. 

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was. 

The quiet before the storm and all that. 

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.” 

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted. 

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape. 

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers. 

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle. 

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket. 

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time. 

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped. 

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies. 

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren. 

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh. 

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—” 

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.” 

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers 

biting into your jaw. 

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them. 

“Answer.” 

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control. 

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear. 

“Swallow.” 

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice. 

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement. 

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin. 

But it was very clear to you what he really meant. 

Remember who you belong to. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet. 

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.” 

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him. 

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there. 

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock. 

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either. 

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure. 

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.” 

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside. 

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you. 

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.” 

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire. 

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length. 

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours. 

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock. 

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”  

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him. 

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt. 

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth. 

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him. 

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure. 

Oh you were so royally fucked. 

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you. 

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore. 

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.” 

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length. 

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it. 

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was. 

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose. 

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door. 

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence. 

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.” 

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after. 

Maybe it didn’t matter. 

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day. 

Maybe that didn’t matter either. 

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it. 

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #11

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Delicious Recipe

I would soon be at an age where I could envision my 50’s. My only daughter was a college student. I didn’t think of myself as too much of a passionate clerk, but I was fond of my current job at a mass retailer. Said shop was on the line of so-called “luxury supermarkets” in a way, so it had many products that weren’t available at supermarkets in my neighborhood, which meant stocking shelves was a hassle, but it was fun to look around. It had things such as assortments of high-quality cheeses or pouches of cold soup called vichyssoise. Since the shop was within walking distance of one of the largest stations in Tokyo, its clientele was diverse and there were many first-time customers, but on the other hand, that was exactly why it was so easy to remember the face of repeating customers.

“Hmmm...”

The young man glaring at the syrup shelf for a while now, who seemed old enough to be a university student, was actually a regular customer as well. Said regular – who stood out like a sore thumb in this shop, which had an overwhelming elderly customer base – always asked for simplified receipts. The name on them was “Jewelry Etranger”. Must be from a jewelry store. I believed him to be about as old as my daughter.

He was pacing back and forth in front of the shelf. Even though he usually came to buy snacks such as youkan and cookies, he was groaning in front of the cocktail syrup shelf today. Was it for private use instead of an errand? While I was staring at him, our eyes met, and with an apologetic face, he came over to my counter. There were no other customers.

“Hum, excuse me.”

As I welcomed him with a “yes, what might it be?”, he asked for a strange piece of advice.

“I want to make melon soda.”

“Haa.”

“The kind that you can quickly make into cream soda, with vanilla ice cream floating on top...”

“Haa.”

Then wouldn’t it be all right if he just bought the melon-flavored shaved ice syrup and carbonated water over there and mixed them in the appropriate proportions?

Before I could say this, he cut off, a crease rippling between his brows as he furrowed them, “I want it to be tasty. Very tasty.”

“Haa.”

A tasty melon soda. A very tasty one, no less. What kind of melon soda would that be?

I fumbled around my memory for the latest experience I had with a melon soda. The last time I had gone to a fast food was when my daughter was about ten years old. It had already been quite a long time. But I didn’t think there were any revolutionary changes in taste since then. It was carbonated, green and simply sweet. It didn’t have the same variety as tea or coffee. As if pressed with a stamp, melon soda was just melon soda. It was different from those confusing flavored-tea leaves.

He had actually already bought the melon syrup, he told me. But no matter how he changed the proportion of carbonated water, it didn’t have enough of a punch to it.

“I did some research at bars about how different the taste was from the melon sodas that we drink out there, but I kind of couldn’t tell... I think it might be best if I mix it with something. That’s why I’m looking for syrup, hmmm...”

With the exception of standard syrups for shaved ice, all syrups we handled were meant for cocktails. Bottles of vivid colors, in flavors such as apricot and mint, were lined up there. But I didn’t know whether any of them could be the secret ingredient for melon soda. The prospects were dim.

For starters, why had he decided to make something so troublesome by hand? To the point he was thinking of purchasing a bottle of syrup that was by no means cheap.

Of course, I didn’t say such things in front of the customer, but as if seeing through my hesitation, he smiled, as though a bit embarrassed. “No, hum, I have a friend who likes cream soda. She will be coming to the shop I work at one of these days... so I wanted to surprise her. Ehehe,” he laughed, looking happy.

I would guess that I did nothing but blink silently for a moment. It was an astonishingly good motive. I didn’t know what kind of friend she was or what kind of shop she would be visiting, but if nothing else, she seemed to be someone important to him.

If it were me, that would probably become a memory to last a lifetime.

A secret ingredient for a sweet juice. What suddenly crossed my mind was a time when my daughter was still little. A time when she caught a cold. I once made her a sweet juice when she didn’t want to take her medicine. I had a memory of being troubled as she was reluctant to drink water, saying it was painful. This had happened either in September or October, so there was still some leftover shaved ice syrup from the summer in our fridge. Making sugared water using it as colorant apparently gave it a special vibe, so she cheered up and drank it. Was it just sugared water? Hmm, if I wasn’t mistaken, in order for it to feel refreshing in the mouth, I had added—

“Ah, lemon juice.”

“Eh?”

“Mr. Customer, I’m not a bartender or anything, so I might be giving a wrong guess, but...”

Lemon went surprisingly well with sugared water.

As many cocktail recipes had lemon juice in them, I believed it strained the flavor that tended to unilaterally turn into “sweetness”. I didn’t think there was freshly squeezed lemon in the melon sodas of fast food shops, but if he was in pursuit of tastiness, wasn’t it a possibility?

When I told him this, he looked at me with a happy face, bowing his head with a “thank you very much”. And so, when he was about to leave the store without buying anything, he came back as if remembering something, lining up in front of the register and buying a package of specialty cookies from a certain place. When I was about to make the receipt, he told me he didn’t need it today, so I could tell it was his own pocket money.

“Really, thank you so much,” he said with an uplifting face, and this time, he exited the shop for good.

I didn’t think the suggestion I gave him warranted such consideration, and yet, what a proper child he was. His mother certainly must be happy to have a son like that, I thought, but afterward, I changed my mind, as he might surprisingly not be like that at home. My daughter, too, was an unfettered general at home, but the boyfriend that she discreetly brought over at the end of the previous year said some dreadful things about her, such as that she was a “refined young lady”. I thought they wouldn’t last for long, but it seemed they were still dating. It might be that people possessed many sides, just like those stylistic syrup bottles. Like the gemstones sold in jewelry shop. And he had showed me a wonderful, brightly shining side of his.

As a clerk, I wished from the bottom of my heart that his peculiar act of hospitality would go well.

   On Thursday morning, while I was extremely busy with stocking items, someone called to me with an “excuse me”. Even though I wished people wouldn’t talk to me at times like these, I couldn’t let it show on my face. When I turned around with a “yes, what might it be?”, my facial expression froze up. A blond, blue-eyed man was standing there. He was such a beautiful man that you’d end up asking yourself if it was okay to be breathing the same air as him. My face stiffened. He was speaking in fluent Japanese.

“Do you have canned cherries?”

“Eh, hah—aah, cherries?”

“Cherries. I need them urgently,” he said with a sour face.

Whatever might be the situation that required such a pretty young man, who looked like he had fallen from Heaven, to purchase canned cherries, it was beyond me. Anyway, with a manner of walking that looked like a frantic penguin, I guided him to the canned fruits corner and bowed with an “it’s this way”. He smiled as if relieved, leaving me floored.

“Much obliged.”

You’d think of it as an ordinary expression, but it was difficult to describe this with any word other than “bombshell”. His smile was like the glowing summer wind. As a result, you’d find yourself wondering about even unnecessary things, such as if this person had lived a life full of hardships. Was he an actor? Could be a model. His beauty was so removed from this transient realm, so I couldn’t think he was someone from the same world as myself. If a person like him were playing the hero in a tragic drama, I had the feeling that the audience would be a bit turned-off. As in, wouldn’t the role of charismatic villain suit him better? After a brief moment of escapism from reality, I came back to my senses and returned to stocking the items.

Once the checkout of the canned cherries was finished at the register, the elegant man left the shop while cursing someone’s carelessness with an “honestly, that heedless guy,” using a word that even a Japanese person seldom would.

At that moment, for some reason, the figure of that regular customer boy suddenly surfaced in my brain. The one who had told me he wanted to make melon soda. The kind that could quickly be made into cream soda, with vanilla ice cream floating on top. Melon-flavored soda aside, if you wanted to make a cream soda, the cherry was the last thing you should forget - that was what I had always been thinking, but unfortunately, he hadn’t showed up in the shop yet ever since then. Well, someone who had been so obsessed with the melon flavor probably wouldn’t do something like forget about the cherry, but there were instances such as the blond Onii-san of today. If he ever showed up again, I would make sure to mention the cherries.

On that day’s afternoon, I finally gave it a thought, and just as I was going home, I went into a family restaurant for the first time in ten years, and while tasting an awkward embarrassment, I ordered a cream soda. I had actually been wanting to drink it all this time ever since I saw him. My first cream soda in a while had the painfully sweet flavor of childhood.

[ddaehyeon]

something new; koo jungmo + reader

pairing: koo jungmo + gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.2k words

summary: you weren't a regular customer, in fact, you only go to jungmo's store once a year. his curiosity about your yearly action sure had gotten the best of him when he finally decided to ask you why you'd always buy the same thing every year.​

taglist: @bunnyseongmin​, @lovevity​, @marigolddss, @starrycrvty​

a/n: a little late but !! happy jungmo day :> i suck at titles,,, this was supposed to be a short drabble

not requested! ☆  cravity masterlist ;  taglist form

a month left before flowers start blooming again. you tucked your hand in the pockets of your coat, the warmth of the hot packs spreading into your body. usually, you’d stay in your unit for the whole day, drown yourself in activities you weren’t sure you actually enjoyed.

however, today was different. it was the only day in the year you’d put an effort to dress up and wander around the city.

you looked at the paper bag that held two cat plushies you had bought out of impulse. a strategy fooling you into buying a buy one take one stuffed toy you simply found cute. you don’t normally spend money on such a thing, but giving in to such little temptations once in a while shouldn’t be so bad, no?

a smile on your lips, there was only one more location left. your every year’s final stop. a cakery.

the heavy traffic of customers was set to occur in a few days with valentine’s day approaching. despite that, today wasn’t as condensed. a few customers would go every now and then to get either a birthday cake or just to indulge in buying their favorite slice.it was just a small shop, having too many flowers on its display that would at first make you mistaken it for a flower shop. a wide variety of cakes along with some muffins and sponges were on display.

never did it fail to give you such a welcoming vibe whenever the bell rings above your head. a cheerful greeting following it thereafter.

“the same cake?” jungmo, as his nametag read, asked and you nodded.

you only go there once a year. same day, around the same time. an hour before their closing time. and every single year, this guy seemed to be the one to handle your order.

“oh and—”

“the ‘happy birthday to me’ icing, noted.” there was a smile on his lips when he pulled your favorite cake out of the showcase. a small gesture that made you smile. he remembered.

“thank you.” you watched him turn his back to you to work on your cake. as you wait, you walked around the shop where you ended up settling in front of a bundle of tulips, still fresh. curious, a question slipped out of your lips. “you buy flowers every day?”

jungmo just finished packing your cake when he turned to you and answered, “not really.” his hand moved to place your order on a plastic where the shop’s logo was imprinted in such a whimsical font. “only during this date.”

you raised a brow at his response, going back to the counter to pay for your item. “it’s lovely.”

“it is.” the sound coming from the receipt being printed filled the room for a moment, giving any awkward silence no space to linger. jungmo attached the receipt on the plastic, placing it down on the counter for you to receive. “by the way, why do you always buy your cake for yourself?"

it was a question you didn’t expect to hear, but you took pleasure in answering. "for self-love.” you shrugged, a smile reappearing in your brim. “no one celebrates it with me, so i'll celebrate it myself."

no, it wasn’t as pitiful as it sounded. it was just… sometimes, your best company for such a special day would be yourself. and yourself alone.

“is that so?” a hint of surprise was painted on his expression. though it gradually melted when he locked his eyes on you. ever so nonchalantly, he asked, "then can i celebrate your birthday with you?"

“wouldn’t it be weird to spend your birthday with a stranger?” regardless of your words, you’d mentally agreed to do it. you simply wanted to see how he would react, trying to find some kind of entertainment in the situation.

and he sure was able to amuse you with his reply. “am i still really a stranger when you’ve bought the same cake from me every single year for the fourth time now?”

you chuckled at his response. “well, i guess not?”

jungmo smugly hunched his shoulder up as if he was able to win some kind of debate. it was something that made you laugh once more.

“after your shift then,” you said. there was only less than an hour left anyway, you can wait.

but maybe jungmo can’t.

“great.” he placed his nametag down, checking the balance of the cash register and locking it after. without wasting any second, he went to the signboard, flipping it to indicate that the shop was already closed. yet again another curve appeared on his brim. “it’s over now.”

to be outside during the evening of your birthday wasn’t a part of your plan. neither was being inside a cake shop after its closing time nor celebrating your birthday with the son of the store owner was in your checklist.

the two of you settled on one of the tables allotted for customers who would want to enjoy their cakes inside the shop. after his gleeful singing of a happy birthday song, you blew the candle and made a wish.

it was your first time to hold an actual conversation with jungmo. the chat going smoothly as if you’d known each other for years. well, in fact, you do, just not in this way. his background coming known to you; his parents owned the shop and he simply enjoyed being there at least thrice a week.

“so… you said you buy flowers during this date only,” you began, looking at jungmo as he brought a portion of his slice to his mouth. “why so?”

jungmo hummed at first, looking at the displayed flowers as he swallowed. his lips forming a thin line while he stared at the tulips you were adoring earlier. “it’s actually my birthday today as well.”

“oh, it is?” you weren’t able to mask the surprised look you had on your visage. what a coincidence.

“yes,” he said with a nod. “and i also do the thing you do. the cake that says ‘happy birthday to me’ i mean.”

that one didn’t come off as a shock to you. with how he mentioned that his family was busy most of the time, he’d probably have it the same with you. without much thought, you reached for the paper bag that contained the plushies you’ve bought earlier. you pulled one of it out and handed it over to him. “happy birthday, jungmo.”

an adorable pout decorated his lips after you gave him a ‘gift’ as though he was sulking upon receiving it. “that’s unfair, i don’t even have a gift for you.”  

you simply smiled. little did he know that his company was enough as a birthday present. “it’s not. thank you, jungmo.”

before parting ways, jungmo made sure to get you another cake that had the same note as the icing. he thought that maybe even after celebrating it with him, you’d want to still do it alone. the tulips and some other flowers wrapped to craft a bouquet was also given to you. you never imagined this would be how your birthday end. no complaints though, it was the best birthday you had by far.

and it was probably the best one jungmo ever had as well.

[zevlors-tail]

Shinsou x Reader x Deku Zoo HC’s

Pairing: Poly ShinDeku x Reader/Shinsou x Reader x Izuku

Description: A day trip to the zoo with Reader!

Warnings: Established poly relationship, otherwise none. Maybe tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: First and foremost! Both boys and the Reader are in an established poly relationship, are Pro!Heroes, and are aged 21+. Bet y’all can’t guess where I went today lol. Today had hella Shinsou vibes, and of course I will forever love the green ball of sunshine that is Izuku Midoriya, so this happened. Enjoy!

A Day At The Zoo

-It’s so rare that the three of you ever end up with the same day off together, so most of the time you have to plan ahead if you want to have outings or adventures, the zoo included!

-It was Deku’s idea first. Well, not idea per se; he just suggested it in passing and you hopped on that train of thought so freaking fast! A whole day spent looking at cute animals with your cute boyfriends? Um, yes please!

-Shinsou had never been to the zoo before, so he didn’t really understand the hype at first. What exactly was the point in visiting animals other than cats? Especially when you can’t pet or hold them? But if it made you and Izuku happy, then who was he to say no?

-Izuku recommended a zoo that was a little bit farther away than your local one, but it had so much more than the typical barnyard animals at yours. He’d gone a few times himself for fundraisers and meetings but you and Shinsou had never been there before.

-So the three of you planned out a day in advance, took the day off from your respective places of work, and thus, the adventure began!

-You talked about it for weeks beforehand, right up until you were parked at the front gates. “Are you guys excited? Because I am SO excited! I’m gonna pet the goats, and the stingrays, and the sharks, and look at all the birds, and take so many pictures-!”

-The first thing you spot is the giant monarch butterfly chilling on the flowers outside of the front gates, so you already know it’s gonna be a good day. You already have your camera whipped out to take a pic.

-Izuku thinks it’s the cutest thing, and Shinsou is literally taking a picture of you taking a photo of the butterfly. The butterfly might be photogenic, but honestly, he thinks you’re the real work of art here.

-The three of you pay and no sooner than when the receipt was in Shinsou’s hand were you running off to the first exhibit, both boys trying to keep up with your pace so they didn’t lose you.

-The first exhibit had some arctic animals like polar bears and seals, which you watched for a while with a content smile on your face. The bears were up and playing around with a dented bucket and a huge rubber ball, and you got some really cool pictures of them. Izuku even managed to get a video of a seal gliding through their underwater tunnel.

-Once again Shinsou is taking pictures of you taking pictures of the animals, because he thinks it’s absolutely adorable. He has this little smirk on his face as he watches you from the camera lens. Although he has to admit, the polar bears are super cute. 

-You keep bouncing around from exhibit to exhibit. One moment the boys are watching the wolves with you, and the next, you’ve wandered over to the giraffes by yourself. Shinsou briefly wonders if they should invest in one of those backpacks with a leash for you.

-Eh, they can just use Izuku’s arms instead. At some point in the day, you’re not really sure when, Izuku just resulted in wrapping his arms around you and holding you while you’re looking at exhibits to keep you from running off. He likes to rest his chin on your head and listen to you gush about how cute the animals are.

-And when you’re walking from place to place, you can bet he’s immediately reaching for your hand to lace his fingers in yours. You end up in between him and Shinsou who also wants to hold hands with you.

-You point out all the animals, even the ones that aren’t a part of the zoo, and the boys think it’s endearing. “Awe, look at this dove over here in it’s nest! Isn’t it so cute!?”

-”Y/N, I don’t think-” He’s being good-natured about it and laughing because he finds it sweet, but Izuku can’t finish his sentence because Hitoshi is slapping a hand over his mouth.

-”Just let them be. It’s precious.”

-”Hello, Mr. Squirrel!” You probably name all of the local ducks and geese walking around, too.

-Eventually you guys make it to the aviary, and you start to explore all the bird exhibits.

-Shinsou, immediately: “It’s so loud in here.”

-Izuku seems to know little random bits of information on the birds, and really enjoys watching them fly around.

-”Shinsou,” you beg him, “can you take my picture next to this giant bird!?”

-He perks up a little after that. Also, he already took your picture. He’s super sneaky and really good at taking pics while you’re not looking. Some of the best photos he has of you and Izuku are candids he took without you knowing. Nothing terrible; they’re all literally still shots of your smiles, your eyes, or just of the two of you doing routine things. His whole camera roll is full of you and Izuku.

-After the birds, you come to the penguin exhibit.

-Penguins just so happen to be Izuku’s favorite animal at the zoo. He loves how they waddle around without a care in the world, and he thinks their black and white patterns are just so unique!

-Definitely embarrasses Shinsou by imitating the penguin walk. He’s a goofball with the two of you, you know he would! And you’re right there with him, following him around with your hands at your sides as you waddle behind him. 

-”I don’t know them,” Shinsou jokes with the people next to you. But he loves you both, you can tell by the way he’s smiling. He thinks it’s cute how the two of you act like this together...in a dorky way, but still.

-Finally, you guys get to the aquarium. The moment you step through the door, Shinsou is practically mesmerized by the fish. He’s never seen so many before; there’s so many colors and shapes and sizes...

-He feels peaceful while he’s watching them swim around.

-You like all the really weird fish. Izuku likes the tropical ones with all the crazy colors, and Shinsou...

-He loves the moon jellies. The second he stepped in front of that tank, he was gone. You and Izuku just watch him for a moment as he relaxes his shoulders and stares into purple tinted waters, totally serene and carefree.

-Izuku takes a 2 minute long video of him bc the moment is just so precious. RIP anyone else who wanted to look at the jellyfish today, bc Shinsou’s literally been there for like 10 minutes now

-Shinsou decides he really likes the zoo after that. Every other exhibit is much more enjoyable and he’s in such a better mood. Not that he was in a bad mood when he first got there, it’s just that he didn’t see the point in all of it at first. 

-Izuku also spends a while looking at the sea turtles, which happen to be his second favorite animal.

-You guys spent the most amount of time in the aquarium no thanks to Hitoshi, but you did manage to make it to the museum before it closed for the afternoon as well.

-Izu reads all the plaques out loud to the two of you and tells you all about the animals and displays. Some of them are interactive, and you can’t help yourself from pressing every single button and listening to the noises and information it gives you.

-There’s a section in the museum where you can pet stingrays. You had never done something like that before, and neither had the boys, so the three of you decided to give it a go.

-It was so soft.

-Stingrays feel like wet velvet, almost. 

-Izuku decides he’s done so he just ends up taking pictures of you and Shinsou. But soon you’re done too so you grab Hitoshi to leave, however-

-You and Izuku are walking away and suddenly: “Uh, Y/N? Wasn’t Shinsou with you?” “No, I thought he was with you?” “Where’s our boyfriend!?”

-You turn back around and he’s still there petting the stingrays. He’s SO fascinated, please don’t make him leave. He’s having the time of his life! It melts both of your rapidly beating hearts (you know, from the mini heart attack you had bc your other third was missing for a second).

-You both let him stay there for however long he wants, and when he reluctantly leaves (finally), you make your way to the giant gift shop at the end of the zoo.

-You guys buy so much stuff it’s not even funny. Partly because as Pros, you have the money to spend, and partly because you want to support the zoo so you can come back. They always appreciate business and donations.

-Speaking of donations, Izuku whips out his checkbook and makes a huge donation to a cause for sea turtles. The zoo is super thankful and you couldn’t be more proud. 

-You’re sure that if there was fund for jellyfish, Shinsou would be donating too.

-You all end up buying each other a plush of your fav animals; Izu gets a penguin, Shinsou gets a jellyfish, and you get your favorite animal too.

-You may or may not have bought a shirt as well... It has the zoo’s museum name on it along with some really cute animals.

-All in all a really great day! 

Bonus Content:

-Shinsou wants to book another trip as soon as you all are back home. He loves the zoo now and he wants to go, like, all of the time.

-You and Izu have caught him watching jellyfish videos on youtube on more than one occasion. He finds them relaxing and can’t wait to go see the real thing again.

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, ep 12-16 thoughts! these episodes, in comparison to the first 10 or so, felt way more laid back and low-stakes, which I appreciate sometimes. I didn't appreciate how lazy jack's halfa design was in masters of time, it made me so annoyed I redesigned it. 👎🏻 u_u

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-'picking a fight with me and my upgraded form!' 'you upgraded to a mullet?' DANNNNY. YOU CANT SAY THAT TO TECHNUS. YOUVE HAD A MULLET TWICE NOW ('fun' split danny, and evil future danny BOTH HAD THEM). I HAVE THE RECEIPTS.

-danny seeing technus hurting valerie and yelling I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF. SAMEEEE <3

-axion labs is now a part of vladco. FUCK YOU VLAD. hes not even really IN this episode, but just thought I'd throw out a nice fuck you anyway.

-'capable of blasting a single person into space in (2) minutes!' tucker. that would kill someone. i mean yeah they might get to space, but theres NO WAY THEY WOULDNT CATCH FIRE, OR THEIR ORGANS WOULDNT LIQUIFY BECAUSE OF THE STRAIN. THEY'D PROBABLY PASS OUT BEFORE THEN, BUT. ...no, okay, I get why vlad bought this company. this is RIGHT up his alley.

-danny KNOWS VAL DIDNT DO THIS, THAT SOMEONE STOLE THE SUIT. AND SPENDING ALL NIGHT CHATTING WITH HER. <3 and val is a 9TH DEGREE BLACKBELT?? danny's mom is, too!! omg and she hunts ghosts, his parents would love her. and her fav fruit is kumquat bc its a funny word. im so with danny val is amazing. I love her and I Do Not Want To Hear It From Sam.

-I knew danny wanted to be an astronaut, but the bowling tidbit is like. yes give me more useless info abt these characters, I love tiny details that make them feel more human, and im glad hes got hobbies aside from ghost stuff, we dont really see a lot of that!!! (I mean, we knew 'fun' danny from when he split himself in half liked bowling, so obv it makes sense he LIKES it, but hes very GOOD at it. so proud of him, bowling king) val calling him neil armstrong and them teasing each other. LOVE THAT.

-technus you are my favorite grandpa for setting this up. SAM WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CREEPY BE HAPPY FOR YOUR FRIEND!!! STOP SPYING ON THEM!!! who actually cares if technus did 'set them up' together, theyre having fun and enjoy each others company!!! 'you think the universe wants you two to be together?' 'i dunno, but maybe /I/ do!' EXACTLY DANNY!!! SOO TRUE.

-and valerie being happy sam said she wants to try and be happy for them and make room at the lunch table for them. and hugging sam over it. VAL NEEDS MORE FRIENDS.

-VAL GOING AFTER TECHNUS IN HER SUIT WITH (1) MILK, AND (1) TREE BRANCH AND KEYS!!!. I LOVE YOUUUU BEST GIRL. her new suit kicks ass

-dannys like 'HEY IM AN ASTRONAUT :D' AW. ...HES IN SPACE... the fact he's actually intending to give her the ring. with SAMS NAME ON IT?? IM CRINGING DANNY NO. YOU CANT DO THAT...thank god he didnt. thank god valerie cut it off and said they can just stay friends for now. tbh, they both have a lot on their plates!! they obv both still like each other...it can be a future thing!! when she knows about phantom! youre 14 theres no need to rush. I just want her to have friends and be happy :(

-...danny struggles to do (1) pull up. SAME. but all the ghost fighting in phantom form REALLY doesnt carry over at ALL? that sucks

-sam being as fit as she is, is not just a goth. shes a goth jock.

-honey I Shrank Our Kid, One of his Enemies, and his Bully: the episode

-dash's crush on phantom is So Obvious. fitness buddies :) watching them interact always makes me laugh. also, phantom, with PANTS. 'how many costume changes you gonna go through, what is this, vegas??' DASSH DJKSFHASKDF

-MADDIE GOING AFTER THE MOUSE WITH A BROOM, WHAT THE FUCK. AAAH. JUST BUY SOME KIND OF MOUSE TRAP.

-danny likes lime and vinegar chips. which sound very good.

-'our boy finally has the physical prowess of a 60 year old president!' ...poor danny LMAO

-'what's wrong with beauty pageants' oh tucker you sweet naïve child. what ISNT wrong with them. who approved this for a high school?? (I mean, yes. unfortunately child pageants exist, but...) also danny and tucker once again treating the pretty girls like objects. I need to meet the grown man who wrote this, I just want to talk...

-prince aragon's dragon form reminds me of maleficent (color scheme wise) which is always a bonus. considering the episode is called beauty marked, I feel like the sleeping beauty references are deliberate

-sam with the fake fangs. once again her accessories never miss. hate the 'not like other girls, girls who get sucked into this kind of thing are all shallow and all want to be carbon copies' bs tho.

-sam trying to be the Worst Bride, being rude as shit. DORA IS GOING TO GET KILLED. DID YOU MISS THE PART WHERE SHE SAID THE PRINCE WILL HAVE HER HEAD IF YOU ARENT THE IDEAL BRIDE. YOU /KNOW/ DANNY WILL COME SAVE YOU. JUST ACT CHILL UNTIL THEN. even if you were doing fine to get him to take off the crown, consider maybe not letting his poor sister get punished also?? sure, she could also take off the crown and has dragon powers, but did you know that for sure?? dora didnt even really realize it until you guys talked!! (or at least, she was scared to stand up to him. you had no guarantee she would...) but. good for dora. ANOTHER friendly ghost to add to the List :)

-tucker is so under appreciated in his time. if he was doing a tech-based campaign today he'd have a better shot. people in 2004 had NO IDEA how much tech would be a part of our day-to-day lives...altho. tbh if you're going to be running for student council president, maybe you should..focus on things to actually improve the school? since he's going for a tech angle, he could say like, he would be running fundraisers for the schools computers to be upgraded, etc? we've already SEEN he can be good at money-making entrepreneur type stuff!!

-oh my god wait. this episode is JUST YUGIOH?????! A REBORN PHAROH USING A TEENAGER AS A VESSEL?? YESSSSSS

-tucker using his new minion to feed him grapes and carry him. AND LOCUSTS ONTO THE BULLIES. I love how when he's possessed, he gains winged eyeliner.

-this episode is giving me big 'plankton makes everyone in bikini bottom his slaves and build monuments of him from the spongebob movie' vibes. and the pharaoh has a traitor who works for him? VERY big yugioh vibes. aknadin confirmed

-I like that danny is still completely exhausted after using ghostly wail. (still patiently waiting on him to get duplication)

-LOVE the fenton's 80s outfits. I get hes 14 and embarrassed by everything they do because theyre his parents, but. cmon, this is one objectively cool thing theyve done. love 80s fashion.

-...was vlad just standing on that streetlight waiting for danny to come out? how'd he know they'd be coming out the back? how long has he been up there???

-oh, wait, his ecto-acne has flareups? that SUCKS. danny was...well I dont want to say he was LUCKY HE HALF-DIED, but he was lucky his was pretty instant (I'm assuming that had to do with the power/scale of the portals being different?) I remember in the ep we met him, vlad made a point of saying he was stuck in a hospital for a long time, so. that really actually sucks and I feel bad. not that it excuses anything he's done...but like. it does suck.

-vlad being so sure danny wouldnt help him he made it somehow contagious to his friends to make sure he'd get help? danny is a nice boy, he wouldve helped if it was anyone else. the only reason he wouldn't have is because of the shit vlad did to him, on purpose. vlad 100% dug his own grave by being the biggest asshole, so it is very hard to feel bad for him.

-clockwork is back!!! and making danny learn lessons The Hard Way. Uhhh, okay. I kind of get Danny’s logic, that time traveling this far back would prevent vlad from becoming a halfa also, ergo no arch nemesis or ectoacne to worry about. But the fact that was basically the first solution Danny came up with to solve this problem is actually so funny. It’s so extreme

-APPRICIATION FOR THESE 80S LESBIAN BG CHARACTERS.

-vlad telling maddie in the lab (in the 80s) he has something he's wanted to tell her 'for a long time'...how long have they known each other? I assumed they met in college, since jack always calls vlad his college buddy/roommate, so jack and vlad for sure met in college, but did vlad know maddie longer? thats surprising if so. Tho we don’t know what year of college they’re in so they could mean they met as freshmen and a few years have past…speaking of maddie shes crushing the 80s look.

-vlad blames jack, but. maybe dont stick your face 2 inches from the portal??! THIS FEELS LIKE LAB SAFETY BASICS. IF SOMETHING HAS POTENTIAL TO BE DANGEROUS, DONT GET NEAR IT. WITH YOUR FACE UNPROTECTED IN ANY WAY. (altho jack didnt really give a Big Warning besides screaming BONZAI. so. also that, but cmon.) also, they need gloves, goggles, and to pull all of their hair back tbh. but fuck lab safety, I guess!

-cryyyyinnng at how lazy they were with jack's ghost form design, its just plasmius' design on jack!!! you couldve given him his own design!!

-there. I did that in about 10 minutes and its somehow less lazy than what made it into the show. embarrassing! better yet, I think the episode would've been better if maddie would've gotten the ectoacne. or maybe its just me, wanting to see her design! anyway. I'm sure people have already done redesigns of them both as halfas. I have to go look after I finish this watch through. Also mildly frustrated jacks resentment and bitterness is basically also a copy paste of vlads backstory. They’re different characters, I really don’t think jack would stew in bitterness and jealousy the same way vlad would!! I also don’t think he’d give up after one time of trying to hunt ghosts and getting laughed at. Our canon timeline says different…I dunno, I get it was for laughs, but I’m annoyed because the POTENTIAL this plot has…

-did vlad really wear a stupid cheese hat to his wedding. ok actually that kinda rules. and the cheese door knocker. the dairy-only buffet table. vlad still got rich, just on being the New Dairy King. (Assuming that means he owns a lot of dairy businesses?) ok! this actually is great. hope maddie isn't lactose intolerant!

-'no matter how hard I tried, I could never get rid of my ghost half, the half I knew Maddie could never accept' ohh, ouch, what a horrible thing to say to her HALF GHOST SON. 'YOUR MOM WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU' BASICALLY.

-maddie strapping danny to the table with a lazer pointed at him in a secret lab she keeps from vlad that she makes a point of saying is sound proof so he can scream all he wants...CHRIST. DANNYS POOR PYSCHE.

-also, not to feel bad for alternate vlad (because, he did lie to maddie saying jack blames her and never wants to see her again...) but. being married to a woman 20+ years and she immediately goes back to jack? if she didnt love vlad and feels like she had to hide shit from him, and says she wasted her best years with him, WHY MARRY HIM. it feels like leading him on!!! cannot believe im feeling bad for vlad, but. this alternate timeline vlad is significantly Less Horrible than Our Vlad. did she not think she'd get funding for her ghost stuff? (which, fair assumption since they're considered 'ghost fanatics/nuts in canon...but...) why did she think jack or vlad would be her ONLY OPTIONS? be like your sister. be single. Actually, this au could’ve been really interesting if after the accident, vlad lied to her and said jack never wanted to see her again, but she stays single. Imagine how much that would bug vlad… like, in her mind, it was never a competition it was jack or no one type situation…

-danny being like 'leave him ALONE' this jack is a HOMEWRECKER, DANNY. let them go to court and settle this at the least. ...or just throw vlad into the portal. (100% human, defenseless vlad) CHRIST, MADDIE THATS BRUTAL. THATS MURDER.

-danny seeing his mom immediately accepting him and his dad being half ghosts in this universe, if I was him this would be a great sign that his universe's maddie would also.

-*maddie voice* "clockwork will help!" *2 seconds later, with clockwork* "I will Not Help." TOUGH LOVE KING. YES LET DANNY SEE THE SODA HIMSELF AND DEVOLP BETTER OBSERVATION SKILLS.

-when clockwork ""reset time to the way it was"" just before danny "meddled"" ...did he really erase a whole alternate timeline? ...damn. because maddie and danny both called it an alternate timeline by name, it splitting when the college incident went different, so it wouldnt have really mattered if he reset it, right. like because danny's timeline is on a different stream? why didnt clockwork just. show danny a replay and not Reset That Timeline. wh...I wonder how many people that Erased From Existence. Anyway! once again stating clockwork is casually terrifying!

[rieson]

Midnight Espresso

Pairing : Portgas D. Ace ✗ Reader

Characters : Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy, Sabo, Makino, Red Haired Shanks, others soon to be added.

Contains : Fluff, Humor, Social Media AU, Cafe AU, College!Ace, YouTuber!Reader, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting (No powers)

Word Count : 1596

─ace stumbles across a youtube channel that he finds absolutely entertaining. he's never realized just how much positive impact you've made on his life just by simply existing and making videos. that is, until you decide to take a small hiatus. though, fate or not, during your break, ace finds you entering the cafe he works at.

chapter zero; prologue.

A break.

That was what you needed.

Let's be real, Being a Youtuber is cool and all. I mean, working from home while still doing whatever the hell you want and making money off of it?? An absolute dream.

But sometimes, It gets really frustrating and overwhelming from all the snarky remarks people leave in your comment section on every single one of your videos they can get their hands on.

Waking up and checking your comments? The first thing you see is a hate comment. Followed by other hate comments under it.

You get a rare comment from a fan that actually comments a heart-warming motivation? The replies under the said comment were harsh. Like, real harsh.

It's just, hate. Hate everywhere.

You don’t even know why they kept coming.

You didn’t do anything wrong nor said anything offensive.

Hence, that's why you decided to take a time off of social media for a bit. (Youtube included)

You uploaded a video explaining that you would be in a small hiatus until the situation calms down a bit.

The comment section was oddly not filled with any hate comments.

Which made you more suspicious.

But you still take a break anyways.

You really needed it.

──────

Unbeknownst to you, somewhere in the world, a certain freckled, raven haired, film major college student was bummed out when he heard you were taking a break.

He loved your videos.

The humor in it was always hilarious that he often rewatches your videos whenever he feels down. In other words, For comfort.

Hell, he even showed his brothers your videos and they ended up liking your content too, leading to a “(Your Channel Name) Saturday Binge watch episode” as Luffy, (his little brother), would call it.

Like the name, Every saturday, the self-proclaimed siblings would binge watch your videos in the living room until midnight. Or in some cases, even way later than that. (Ahem, cue the sibling bonding 101)

But it’s okay.

He understands why you needed to take a break.

Social media can be a bit overwhelming sometimes.

God who knows how many times Ace has gotten into an online verbal fight when he finds hate comments in your videos.

He went all out.

Thanks to his oh so ‘colorful’ vocabulary he learned a while back when he was still in an orphanage that was owned by Curly Dadan, he managed to fire them back with the same sarcasticness that made them shut up.

Ace felt g o o d .

Like, real good.

Though, he needs to watch out for the time though. He slept at 2 AM that day and almost missed his class.

But it was worth it. (Atleast to him)

Ace works at a cafe near his college, as a barista. Nothing too special but hey, he needed to pay for his college funds somehow.

A normal day at work for Ace was always very uneventful.

Hence, that's why he did n o t expect you.

YOU, his favorite youtuber to enter the cafe he was working a shift at.

Hellooo?? Was he dreaming?? Is that really you?? IN THE FLESH?!?@R$*#RY@*

He stood there.

Completely frozen.

Oblivious to everything but you.

Time seemed to freeze for him when you walked inside.

All he could focus on was how your (h/l) (h/c) hair bounced when you walked, your (e/c) orbs glistening under the sunlight that went through the windows, and just how you walked in with a posture that gives off a strict but relaxed vibe.

He could not stop looking at you, yea you were pretty but that was when he saw you on the screen.

He thought a person couldn't get prettier but oh that idea was thrown out the window when you walked in.

How can?? Someone be more gorgeous in the flesh hello??

Was this allowed??

Ace thought he was about to get a heart attack from you.

Oh god just how can one be so pretty??

He doesn't believe in gods but thank heavens to the gods up there that made you, because oh my god you were just a sight for sore eyes for him.

He also probably looked hella creepy just standing there in front of his register, gawking at you.

Ace doesn't notice you already being in front of the register he was standing in before you said something along the lines of :

“━You there━?”

Huh?

Oh.

O H

Ohmygodwhatdohedoyou’rerightthereinfrontofhimandtalking

Wait.

No.

He needed to get himself together.

He knows you hate it when people treat you like some sort of celebrity and you just want your fans to treat you like any other human beings.

So he’s going to do just that.

Ace assumes you’re on your break at the moment so he will not make you feel uncomfortable in any way shape or form.

He’s going to treat you like any other customers.

Just.. with a bit more enthusiasm (I mean c'mon man)

“Ah! Sorry there, pardon me for my rudeness ma’am. Welcome to Ivory Blue Cafe! How may I assist a beautiful lady like you this lovely evening?”

SHIT

HE ACCIDENTALLY FLIRTED WITH YOU

OHMYGODNOOO

Pleasedontthinki’macreeppleasedontthi━

A laugh.

He heard a laugh.

Your laugh to be specific.

“OH!━Pfft━aha━” You cleared your throat.

“S-Sorry about that! I didn't mean to lau━”

“Nonono! It's alright, no need to apologize. Actually, I think I need to thank the heavens for that one because oh boy i’ve been blessed by your laughter” Ace responds, cutting through your apology while he gives you a sheepish smile.

This time, it was your turn to gawk at him.

It wasn't very long til heat makes its way over to your cheeks, lightly blushing at Ace’s words but smoothly brushing it off with a light chuckle.

“━Good lord i did NOT expect that━Pfft!━ Sorry sorry. Why thank you, i’m flattered you think my laughter is a blessing” You responded as a small smile forms on your face.

Ace blushed, making his freckles on his cheeks very visible.

He did not think of anything when he said any of that to you, it was like.. The words just seem to unconsciously escape his mouth.

He was embarrassed, sure, but he made you laugh.

So that was good.

“Well, that aside. What can i get you madam?” Ace smoothly says.

“Ah!━About that, hold on… I haven't decided yet..” You mumbled but it was loud enough for Ace to hear. You unconsciously make a pouting face while you speed-read over the menus above.

God you were so cute.

Ace just wanted to squish your cheeks right there and the━

NO! He needs to be professional for now, Ace cant afford to embarrass himself (as if he didn't already do that) in front of his favorite youtuber.

Shaking his head softly, he patiently waits for your order.

“I’d like an Espresso Macchiato please.” You smiled.

“You got it! Please wait patiently as I make your order!~” Ace says as he prints your receipt, smoothly handing it over to you.

“Here’s your receipt. Please hold on to it til I'm done making your order and call your name.”

“Ah wait, speaking of name’s. May I know yours? I’ll be calling the said name when the drink is done so you can go grab it and pay at the front register.” Ace says as he smiles reassuringly at you.

“...(Y/N). Please note it as (Y/N)!” You smiled back at him.

Oh god he was about to faint right there, but NO. He needs to do this, he's a man. He can handle this.

“Alright Lady (Y/N) please take a seat anywhere and make yourself comfortable as i make your order! I’ll be right back madam”

And with that, Ace ZOOMS to the brewing area, making an attempt to calm his racing heart down but failing miserably.

He watches you from the side of his eyes as you take a seat near one of the windows, waiting patiently for your drink to be done.

Realizing something, Ace forgot to ask whether you want it to go or to drink here.

SHIT

But,,, Judging by your appearance, you’d probably want it to go so he’ll take that chance.

5 minutes go by and he’s done with your drink.

Slowly walking up to the register, Ace says your name.

“Espresso Macchiato for Lady (Y/N)?” He half-yelled.

“Here!━ Thank you so much!” You say as you reached your hand over to grab your drink.

“No problem! Here you go madam”

“Oh! How’d you know I wanted it to go?”

“Instincts i guess, i was right, weren't i?” Ace grinned

“Well then, you have very accurate instincts Mr…”

“Oh! Ace. The name’s Ace.”

“Mr. Ace” You smiled, grabbing your wallet and pulling a 50 dollar bill, handing it over to him to take.

“Wha━ Nono! That's way too much!” Ace widen his eyes

“Take it as a tip for being welcoming and friendly haha!” You chuckle, shoving the bill to his chest and letting it go once you see his hands coming to grab it.

“Have a good evening Ace-san! Thank you for your assistance!” You grinned.

And with that, you were gone.

Out the door like a flash.

Ace stood there, once again shocked.

Not noticing, his face formed a shit eating grin. No. A Wide grin.

He’s going to remember this day for the rest of his life, no doubt about it.

Shaking his head, still smiling, he gathers himself back as he takes the next customer’s orders.

prologue end.

Masterlist

[vegetalass]

RDR2 Boys as Sugar Daddies

This is so nasty don’t read it 👀

18+!!! 

Basically just don’t tell the lawmen I wrote it

Arthur 

His main goal is for you to look nice by his side and for people to be jealous

To say he wants an absolute doll would be an understatement

This man wants a quiet sugar baby who does whatever he wants

And that’s not to say that means someone submissive, just that he wants someone who is open to anything and doesn’t question his requests 

Honestly, just let him choose what you wear

Model everything for him in the dressing room so he can decide if things are a yes or no 

He always says yes, but it’s a process that you cannot skip 

He also likes a sugar baby who’s happy to see him 

The more excited and grateful and kissy you are when you’re around him, the better

Totally milks you for kisses any chance he gets

Specifically, cheek kisses (in public) 

“All I get is a thank you?” or “I’m not so sure, I’m gonna need some more convincing” 

Initiate sex in his car, you won’t regret it 

Also, go with him when he’s shopping for himself... 

The flex rates will be off the charts

Gets you one of those lil necklaces with his initials on it

Please wear his Vineyard Vines flannels 

It’s instant boner material 

John 

Bad at being a sugar daddy, but he gets the job done 

Basically just gets you a credit card attached to his account and leaves it at that

But he loves seeing the your style morph as you buy new clothes and jewelry 

And loves seeing the designer tags and receipts that get left around his house 

Spends a lot more time trying to do stuff with you rather than buy you things 

He’s the one who takes vacations and yacht trips (and whatever else rich people do idfk) because he doesn’t know how else to spoil you 

He’s also the one who wears $500 sweatpants and Gucci slippers all the time 

He’s a bad father not because he doesn’t care about Abigail and Jack, but he takes you to Jack’s sports games and performances (ouch) 

He’s not doing it to be malicious though, he just likes to take his sugar baby along with him when he goes places

And honestly it’s fine because Abigail makes his pockets hurt too 

If you try to take him clothing or jewelry shopping with you, he gets so confused 

You could be trying on the ugliest, most expensive outfit and he’d be like “Yes, looks great, I love it” or could be trying to choose between two pairs of diamond earrings and he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart

TBH, has a private chef

Charles

All about the subtleties 

Expensive flowers and wine delivered to your door

Has custom bracelets and rings made to give you

Picks you up from work in his expensive ass car

Doesn’t care if you’re walking around barefaced in pajamas as long as you’re wearing the gold necklace he got you

He doesn’t really care for doing the shopping with you, but he does want you to be happy

If you ask for anything, he just hands you his credit card and car keys

And then expects you to show (*cough* model) it all to him later, of course

Expect to go out to expensive dinners CONSTANTLY

Also to do other fun things, like go to ballgames, concerts, and etc. 

Probably has a membership at every single private club and store in the area

Loves a good designer, pink sheer bathrobe and matching fuzzy slippers vibe

Also… lipstick stains 

He will walk around all day with them on his face on purpose

If someone points it out, he smiles and ignores them 

Posts pictures of you guys together on social media and doesn’t respond to comments

Buys you all the latest technology the day it comes out

New phone, new headphones, new vacuum cleaner, and anything at all

Basically what I’m saying is: marry him 

Micah 

Since we’re already being nasty, he’s probably just in it for the sex

He wants you to look nice too, but for him, it’s more about the reward he gets from it at the end 

AKA: Taking it off of you 

He’s a freak of nature, so his favorite thing is seeing his sugar baby in pretty heavy makeup 

Mostly because he likes seeing it run and smear over time

Gets off to you telling other people how much you love him and showing off everything he’s bought you

He’s also willing to spend more on you if you brag

Like Arthur, he likes to have a deciding vote on everything you buy, but he actually takes it seriously and comments on how things look

Probably ends up complaining if you want to buy things that aren’t meant to impress him (see: pajamas, expensive snacks, furniture, etc. )

If you beg hard enough though, he’ll just sigh and give in 

“I work so hard for you and give you so much and this is how you treat me?” 

Sugar baby: “Yes.”

Expects nudes in the underwear he ships to your house 

They’re all G-strings, see through, or latex 

Kieran 

One of those sugar daddies who mostly just wants the emotional connection 

But that’s okay because he’s a sweetie and we love him

Enjoys it when his sugar baby gets a little bratty 

He’s not into the punishing aspect of it, but loves feeling needed and useful

Basically just boss him around a little bit

Has all your clothes tailored specifically for you

Likes to hold all your shopping bags at the mall while you run around buying things

If you genuinely ask him for advice, suggestions, or thoughts on anything you want to get, he immediately has to get it for you… Doesn’t matter what it is or if it’s ugly, them’s the rules 

He’s mostly just so touched that you care what he thinks 

Please introduce him to your coworkers so he can flex 

He’s pretty humble about it, but it’s still fun 

Probably owns some super large ranch out in the country that you both vacation at a lot

The one social media post he makes of you is a picture of you riding a fancy horse there

It’s blurry, but it’s the thought (and the flex) that counts

Wear anything with his name on it and he has to pass away immediately 

Javier

As long as you’re in expensive clothes and makeup, he doesn’t really care about much else 

And not just any expensive clothes, the expensive clothes that HE picked out

Usually they match his

You can suggest things for him to buy, but overall he likes to pick things out

The intent of making you look nice is so that he looks better

Enjoys it when you hang on his arm and dote on him 

Be taller than him. 

Even if it takes heels, do it

Posts pictures of his sugar baby on social media

Lowkey his entire feed is just you in a different outfit in every single photo

The captions are all like “Had fun today” or “👍”

Hair and nails always done 24/7

He makes the appointments for you 

If you let him choose the color and style, you will be rewarded 

Hires a limo for every occasion 

And yes, he has a private driver 

As long as he’s flexing with you, he’s happy 

Sean

Anything you want, you have to ask for

Not because he doesn’t want to get it for you, but because he wants to hear you beg for it (and whine) 

Literally just wants to show his sugar baby off 

All he does at parties is talk about you 

How you met, how sweet you’ve been, how pretty you are, etc. 

Constantly bringing you flowers

So many flowers that they’re practically just laying around your house 

Sex in dressing rooms

No, he’s not afraid to give you oral in them

And yes, it’s obvious 

Slips the attendant some cash on the way out because you feel so bad for them

Probably has tabs open at most shops and clubs, so paying isn’t a problem after he introduces you to staff

Pays for a private booth at a nightclub vibes

Sit on his lap to make the other boys jealous 

[connordavidscamera]

Party Invites and Coffee Companions | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is for the absolutely wonderful @queenmendes​ who just needed some frat boy!connor. Also, Connor was supposed to be an asshole and then as I wrote it, he just wasn’t? Don’t know what happened there lol, I’m sorry. And it’s based off this photo:

Summary: Connor invites you to a party, but things get a little heated when one of his frat brothers starts hitting on you. (College!au)

Warnings: unforgivably beautiful frat boy!Connor is a warning in itself. Also jealous/protective!connor also I guess this could be considered angst? But like… not really? But it’s not really fluff either? Honestly it’s just a mess like the rest of my life, what else is new?

Word count: 3.3k

***

“Y/n, hey, wait up!” A familiar voice says from behind me and I stop just outside the door of the lecture hall. “Hi,” he says softly when he’s finally beside me.

“Hi,” I say back softly, starting to walk again.

“Where you headed?”

“Coffee shop. Need an afternoon pick me up.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, hands in his pockets.

“Not at all.” I swallow the nervousness that’s threatening to build – just like it does every time I’m with Connor.

It’s no secret that’s notoriously gorgeous. Eyes this beautiful shade of blue-green that can change from the lighting or depending on what color he’s wearing. Today they’re bluer because of the royal blue button up he has over a plain white shirt. His hair looks messed up – but in an attractive way, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Which he has because I could see him, out of the corner of my eye, doing it every few minutes in class.

“So,” I say to fill the silence because with me in the conversation, any silence is awkward and I am determined to not do that now. “What did you think of lecture today?” Wow, stupid question, y/n, way to fucking go.

He chuckles and like, did I just feel my legs buckle? “You want the truth or a lie?”

I hum, “A lie.”

“I was rivetted,” he answers casually, opening the door to the university center, gesturing for me to go in before him.

“Oh, thanks.” I look down, walking in front of him.

“What about you? What’d you think of it?”

“Honestly? I found it hard to focus.” Which is true. Because how can anyone focus when a literal Greek God sits in the seat diagonal from you? You can’t, okay? Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s impossible. Half of my notes consist of his name written in various different fonts across the page.

He nods, “His voice is so monotonous, right?” he says before reaching the front of the line and turning his attention to the menu just above the barista, who is absolutely blushing because of the man in front of him. Not that I blame her.

“What can I – I get for you, sir?”

“Large coffee, black. And whatever she’s getting,” Connor nudges his head toward me, pulling out his wallet.

I shake my head, “No, Connor, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just order, please?” he pleads and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his features quite this soft. So of course I cave in and order.

I try to protest again when he hands the girl his card, still paying no mind to her blushing, flustered state. but he just shrugs me off with a smirk, taking his card back.

“Do you need a receipt?” she asks, her voice a little less timid than it was a second ago.

“No,” He waves a dismissive hand to her and walks over to the side to wait for our drinks. I thank her again before following him. “Do you have another class today?” he questions, hands back in his pockets.

“Um, no. I was actually planning to go to the library to try and finish up my English essay. It’s much easier to get things done in there than at my dorm.”

“Roommate problems?” he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“No, it’s not that. She and I are actually really close. We’ve been friends for years. That’s the problem. She’s very much a distraction.”

He nods understandingly. “I get it. I can never work at the house. The guys fuck around too much for me to get anything done.”

“You don’t live on campus?”

“Large black coffee. Regular vanilla latte,” the barista calls out and we both move forward to reach for our drinks. But Connor reaches for both and our fingers brush against each other when we touch my cold cup. It’s a struggle not to flinch against his touch.

“Um, I live just off campus. In the Omega Sigma frat house.”

“Oh, you’re in a frat,” I say, actually a little shocked. He didn’t give off the frat vibe. But then again, what do I know? We’ve only had a handful of conversations. In fact, this is the longest we’ve ever been together without being in class.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckles, handing me a straw.

“No, I didn’t – sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m kidding,” he cuts me off and I’m oddly grateful for it. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d join one either. But it’s not too bad.” He clears his throat. “Hey, I know you said you were going to the library, but do you think we could sit for a minute?”

Well how can I say no when he just bought me coffee? “Sure.”

“The corner table good?”

I nod, “Yeah, perfect.”

He leads the way, sitting in the actual corner seat. I sit in front of him and stir my coffee a little with my straw. This should be weird, sitting with him like this when we’ve never been together like this before. But it’s oddly comfortable. Although, a part of me is still wondering why he even wants me to sit with him. I mean, it’s not like I’m a dazzling conversationalist.

We just sit in silence for a minute and I’m internally screaming as he takes the lid of his drink and just takes a sip of his plain, black, hot coffee. And he doesn’t even blink an eye. Who does that?!

“Do you have pla –”

“Brashier!” Someone calls from behind me and I try not to jump at the loud voice.

He forms a close-lipped smile and nods in the voice’s direction, “Sup, Craigen.”

“I need your notes for psych. I missed the first thirty minutes.”

“It’s a fifty minute class,” he points out.

“Yeah, that’s why I need your notes.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But then his attention is on me. “Shit, where are my manners. Hi, I’m Brian,” he extends his hand to me with a wide smile. “I’m Connor’s roommate and best friend.”

“Best friend is a little bit of a stretch,” Connor says.

I take Brian’s hand to shake and give a polite smile, “Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I take my hand back.

“Brash, did you invite her to the party?”

“Party?” I look back to Connor with a raised eyebrow.

He glares at Brian. “I was about to.”

Brian cowers back, holding up his hands. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you have a class you need to get to?” Connor asks, running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

Brian checks his watch. “Fuck, yeah I do. But seriously, Brash. Those notes?”

“They’re in the room. I’ll give them to you when I get back to the house.”

“You’re a fucking angel. I gotta run. It was nice meeting you, y/n. I hope to see you around soon.” He says before rushing off, not even giving me a chance to respond.

“He’s friendly.”

“He’s annoying,” Connor says back.

“So… a party?”

He sucks in a breath, “Yeah. The house is throwing this party on Friday. It’ll be really casual. Just a punch people looking to get drunk and destress since midterms are coming up. And it probably doesn’t sound that appealing when I say it like that, but it really will be fun. And I don’t really know if parties are your thing but I’d really enjoy it if you came.”

I nod. He’s right though, parties aren’t really my thing. I mean, I’ve been to a few, but I was never the type to go and get drunk. But maybe it would be a good idea – to destress, like he said. And I mean, if he’s gonna be there, I wouldn’t totally mind spending a little more time with him.

“So, would you like to come? It-s – it’s totally up to you, though. You don’t have to. You probably already have plans, so if you can’t, don’t worry about it. I just thought I’d ask.”

“I’d love to come,” I say finally, taking a sip of my drink.

“Really?” he clears his throat, “I mean, yeah. Cool. Um, if you want to give me your number, I can send you the address.”

“Okay.” I don’t tell him that he could just write it down for me, even though he absolutely could. He hands me his phone with a sheepish – if I’m reading him correctly – smile. I type in my name and number and hand it back to him. “I should, I should get to the library,” I say after another couple minutes of silence. “Wanna find a comfortable place to sit. I might be there for a while.”

He nods, “Yeah, no of course. I’m keeping you from your studies,” he stands. “Um, I could – I could walk you there, if you’d like? I parked close anyway.

He still wants to spend time with me? What is his deal? But then again, who am I to deny the company of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on? “Well… if you’re going the same way, I don’t see why not,” I say nonchalantly. Even though on the inside my stomach is doing backflips.

---

I’m brushing out my hair when my phone dings with a message.

Hey it’s Connor! :)

I smile to myself and finish brushing out my hair before texting him back, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to him.

Hi! I type back simply.

It doesn’t takes long to respond again.

I have the address for you.

Friday night comes faster than expected – and after another impromptu coffee “date” with Connor after lecture. And even though Connor said it was casual, and I know I could have stayed in my outfit from earlier. But I change at least three times.

“Okay, what do you think?” I ask my roommate.

“It’s cute. But I’ve also said that about the last two outfits were cute. So who’s the boy? Why are you getting so dressed up?”

“It’s not dressed up, is it? Should I change the cardigan?”

“No, I mean why have you changed so many times? Who is he?”

I sigh, “Okay. You know, Connor Brashier? He’s in my Tuesday/Thursday lecture. I’ve told you about him once or twice.”

“He’s friends with Shawn, right?”

I shrug, “I think so.”

She smiles, “He’s a cutie. Good choice. You planning on doing anything with him?”

“I’m just going to a party.”

“Yeah, to see him.”

“No. He just invited me. He said it would be a good way to destress.”

“But you like him.”

“Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll text you when I get there.”

“Have fun, be safe. Call me if you need a ride back.”

---

I’ve barely been in the house for two minutes when I hear my name being called. “Y/n! You came!”

“Oh, Brian. Hey!”

“I’m so glad you could make it. Connor’s gonna be so excited to see you. Can I get you a drink?”

“Um, sure, yeah.”

“Follow me,” he holds his hand out for me and I take it, walking closely behind him. He’s in the middle of pouring my drink when Connor finds his way over to us.

“Hey, you came,” he says to me, placing his hand on the small of my back and I think my heart stopped beating for a moment.

“Yeah, I did,” I smile and turn to look at him. He’s wearing a black hoodie and olive green pants with a backwards baseball cap. I didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more beautiful. But god he does. His eyes are greener today. I don’t know if it’s because of the pants or because of the awful lighting in the room, but they’re green and he looks so good. His hair flips out a little under his cap and it’s so fluffy. It looks like it would be so nice to run my fingers through. And I wonder what it feels like to do it. His face, it’s more open today. Softer, maybe. His freckles stick out a little bit more, especially one right by his nose and one on his cheek.

“You look pretty,” he compliments when I take my drink from Brian.

“Thank you,” I say, to both of them.

“I’ll leave you two alone, but I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Brian says, pushing just past Connor.

“It’s kind of loud in here, you want to head outside?”

I nod, “Sure!”

We make our way outside, it’s a little less loud, but there’s still a lot of people out here.

“Pretty good turnout, huh?”

“It’s actually kinda small compared to our usual parties.”

I stare, wide eyed at him. “You mean they get bigger?”

He takes a sip from his cup with a certain nod, “Oh yeah. Last month, we got the cops called because it got so big.”

I laugh, “I heard about that. My roommate was at that one, actually.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, she came for Shawn.”

He chuckles, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Shawn bring a lot of girls back?”

“I wouldn’t say he brings a lot back. But they definitely attach themselves to him. He plays music when the bar down the street does open mic night. Girls love musicians.”

“And what about you?”

“What? Do I love musicians?” he jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

“No,” I say back. “I mean, what do you do? What makes girls attach themselves to you?” Besides your gorgeous face and fluffy hair.

“Girls aren’t exactly beating down my door,” he says softly.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Okay,” he takes in a breath. “I do photography. Film, mostly.”

“What kind of film?”

“Anything. I started with skimboarding, and just progressed from there. Sometimes I film the parties – the guys just fucking around in the house. Compile it all together just for fun.”

“Can I see some of what you’ve done?” I ask, genuinely interested in this boy and his hobbies.

“Um… yeah.” He pats his pockets and curses. “Fuck, I left my phone in my room. Give me second?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, just… wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Now what is a pretty girl like you doing standing out here alone?” A voice says from my left where the door to the kitchen is. I startle a little before forcing a tight smile.

“Um, I’m waiting for someone. He’ll be right back.”

“Well, I’ll keep you company until he comes back. Does that sound okay?”

I want to say no because I don’t really like the way he’s looking me up and down. But I go against my better judgement and allow him to stay. “I guess that’s okay.”

“I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name,” he takes a swig of his beer, looking me up and down again before taking a step closer, to which I take a subtle step away.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Don’t really come to a lot of parties.”

“Well I assumed. I definitely would have remembered you if you had.”

I want to roll my eyes.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I hold my cup up for him to see. “Already got one, but thanks.” I look around the backyard at all the people talking and laughing and I hope Connor comes back soon. Because Tim’s just taken another step closer to me and I’m really not –

“Little close there, aren’t you, Tim?” Connor’s voice sounds from behind the tall guy and I feel myself let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Just making small talk, Brashier. No big deal.”

“Right,” Connor says, squeezing between us, his hand gently grazing my thigh as he pushes me behind him. My breath hitches but I don’t thing either of them notice. And if they do, they ignore it. “I think you should go find someone else to talk to.”

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make. That should be up to y/n. What, do you make her decisions for her? Because she’s her own person and she can make her own decisions.”

“I know she can. But I’m this close,” he pinches his fingers together, “to punching you for getting too close to my girl. So let’s make a good choice, Tim, because it’s not looking too good for you if you keep on the path you’re on.”

I try not to let it get to me that he just called me his girl. He’s doing it for Tim’s benefit, I tell myself. He’s just trying to get him off my back.

Tim laughs, like actually laughs. “God, Connor. It’s a party, man. You need to loosen up. Maybe y/n can help you with that. She looks like a screamer. Could be good for your ego,” he says earning a hard shove at his chest from Connor.

“Con, no. Stop,” I reach for his arm, and I know this is serious and I shouldn’t be thinking it, but… how his muscles feel really nice. Even when they’re covered by his thick hoodie.

“Yeah, Con, stop,” Tim mocks. “Listen to your little girlfriend.”

“Tim, fuck off. I swear to god, I will punch you.”

“You’re gonna risk getting kicked out of the frat for a stupid girl?”

“Watch it,” he warns, taking a step closer to Tim who has somehow stepped farther from this scene that’s developed. I yank on his arm, my chest pressed firmly against his back.

“Connor, calm down. It’s okay.”

He turns his head toward me, the bill of his cap barely missing my face. His jaw is clenched tight, but his eyes show nothing but compassion. “Do you want to get out of here?”

I nod, “Please.”

“Let’s go,” his hand is back around my waist as he leads me the opposite way of Tim. He rounds the corner and we leave out the side gate. Only once we’re far enough for the bass of the music to not shake the ground we’re walking on does he take his first full breath. I do too, relieved that he’s no longer heaving. “I’m sorry,” he says finally and stops walking, his hands in his jacket pocket. “For what happened back there. I just – Tim’s not a great guy. And I know, I know it’s not my place to tell you or anyone else who you can and can’t talk to, but just know that I was doing it to prot-”

I cut him off with a soft kiss on the cheek, and we’re both blushing when I pull away. “Thank you.”

He clears his throat and looks at the ground, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “Oh, um… you’re welcome.”

I check the time on my phone, “Do you want to go somewhere?” I ask.

“Sure, where?”

“I don’t know. We could go get coffee at the diner downtown. They don’t close until one.”

He smiles despite the tense situation we were just in, and I smile back. “Is coffee gonna be our thing?”

I shrug, “That depends… do you want us to have a thing?”

He swallows and nods, fixing his cap on his head and pushing his hair behind his ears. And oh my goodness this man has the cutest ears. “I want us to have a lot of things… I mean, only if you want to, of course. I just – I don’t know, maybe we could hang out a little more. Preferably away from the frat house.” Away from Tim, he wants to say. “I want to get to know you. As more than just a classmate, or coffee companion.”

I can’t help but laugh as I take his hand, leading him in the way of my car. “I don’t know, coffee companion sounds like a pretty good gig.”

“What about a coffee date?” he asks with a smirk.

“Well… I think that sounds even better.”

***

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[etherealwaifgoddess]

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.2

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Steve takes a risk and the guys go out on a “date”. Master list HERE

Content Warning: first “date” cuteness, making out 

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Today is one of those days where I am eternally grateful for having a “draft” option. Because honestly, ya girl is exhausted. So yay for drafts! Enjoy chapter two. I’m honestly too tired to give ya’ll a better note right now. :-\   XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Steeeeve [9:32:08PM]: Hey, it’s Steve.

Bucky Barnes [9:32:47PM]: hi steve

Steeeeve [9:33:15PM]: I had a lot of fun meeting up today.

Bucky Barnes [9:33:39PM]: me 2

Steve huffed staring at Bucky’s second generic response. He was usually so much more lively. Steve took a long sigh and started texting what he needed to get off his chest.

Steeeeve [9:35:21PM]: I’m sorry if I came off as confused or misleading. 

Steeeeve [9:35:26PM]: I didn’t mean to do that. But I am kind of confused right now. 

Steeeeve [9:35:35PM]: I spent so much time liking the idea of you, and you in real life was even more amazing than I could have expected. But I’ve never dated a guy before and I never expected to want to. And now I think I do. 

Steeeeve [9:35:49PM]: I’m sorry. This probably isn’t any less confusing. I’m apparently really bad at this lol. I guess what I’m trying to say is, will you go out on a maybe-date with me? I want to try and see how I feel. I don’t want to string you on, but I want to try.

Bucky stared at the flurry of texts coming into his phone. Damn, serial texter much? He read and re-read Steve texts a few times, chewing nervously his bottom lip, trying to find a response. He wasn’t willing to let his heart get trample on again, not after Brock. But he really liked Steve and if there was a chance Steve might like him too, it was too good to pass up. He had a distinct feeling he was going to regret it, but he tapped out the only honest response he could think of.

Bucky Barnes [9:44:13PM]: i like u 2 steve. i get that ur confused. lets try ur maybe-date and see how it goes? if it goes well cool, if not no hard feelings. k?

Steeeeve [9:45:20PM]: Thank you. Really, thank you for being so great about this. Can we get dinner one night this week? 

Bucky Barnes [9:45:55PM]: im free any nite but tues

Steeeeve [9:46:10PM]: I can do Friday night around 7. There’s a really great Mexican place a few blocks over from the gym if you’re willing to schelp all the way over to Park Slope. 

Bucky Barnes [9:46:31PM]: sounds good. see u then

Bucky sighed, putting his phone away into the pocket of his favorite old hoodie. He had a date. A maybe-date, but for some reason that felt good enough for him at the moment.

xxXxx

Steve discovered the best part of being able to text Bucky wasn’t just that their chatting was no longer limited to when they were both near a computer, but that they now had a full range of emojis, memes, and GIFs at their disposal. He could now send Bucky random funny things he found during the day and he felt a little proud when Bucky would send back a string of laughing emojis, knowing he had brightened the other man’s day a little. He had worried with their maybe-date looming things might be a little awkward but if anything they were going even better. By the time Friday came Steve was genuinely looking forward to their maybe-date. He had even gone out on Wednesday before his shift at the gym to pick up a set of clothes that were distinctly not gym wear. He couldn’t remember the last time he bought a button up shirt but he had to admit the blue and white checked shirt looked nice on him. He was trying not to stress over the maybe-date but he felt this gnawing need to know, definitively, if he was truly interested in Bucky, or just the fantasy of WinterBae. 

Steve raced home Friday to shower and change, hoping he’d left himself enough time to do all that and still make it over to Los Aztecas in time. Taking the time to slick back his hair and do a quick shave, Steve was hustling out the door only to realize he’d forgotten the bottle of wine once he got outside. After a fast double back for the wine he was on his way, making it to the tiny authentic Mexican restaurant with three minutes to spare. He had barely stopped walking when he saw Bucky hopping out of an uber. Steve felt a little flutter at the sight of Bucky and he took it as a good sign. 

Bucky looked amazing in his dark skinny jeans and a silky looking black shirt. A minimalist necklace was around his throat, the simple bar resting just below the wings of his collarbones. Steve noticed Bucky had swapped out the cheery beaded bracelets he’d worn on Sunday for a set of sleek silver and leather ones. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine and Steve felt ridiculous in what Sam had teased was his bible salesman outfit. 

“Heya.” Bucky greeted warmly, extending an arm for a half hug.

“Hey,” Steve echoed, hugging back with his free hand. “Ready for the best Mexican food of your life?” 

“Definitely, let’s go.” 

Steve led Bucky inside the little restaurant, its cozy decor making the place feel intimate instead of cramped. Steve had called ahead for reservations so they were whisked off to a table as soon as he gave the concierge his name. Bucky was looking around fascinated, taking in all the colorful decorations. 

“It’s really something, huh?” Steve prompted with a smile.

Bucky nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s beautiful. So much art packed into so little space. Thanks for bringing me here, Steve.” 

“It’s one of my favorite places in the area, mostly for the tacos but also for the art. I got my degree in fine art before I switched gears and went back to get certified in exercise science.” 

“That’s quite a switch.” Bucky laughed.

“Art will always be my first love, but it’s not exactly profitable. And once I got healthier I knew I wanted to help other people do the same. I was really sick as a kid and didn’t hit any major growth spurts until I was almost 21. After that, I worked out a lot getting used to my new body and fell in love with the gym.” 

“Wow. I’m glad you were able to get healthier, and it’s sweet you’re trying to give back to others with that.” 

“Do you go to a gym? I won’t be offended that it’s a competitor, I swear.”  

Bucky barked out a laugh, “No. God, no. I am perfectly happy with not having abs or a totally flat stomach as long as waffles exist.” 

Steve couldn’t help his eyes dropping to Bucky’s stomach which honestly couldn’t have had more than the smallest layer of padding across it. “That’s okay too. Waffles are pretty great.” 

The waitress stopped by to uncork their wine and drop off a basket of fresh tortilla chips and salsa verde. 

“What did you bring?” Bucky asked as he took the glass of white wine Steve had poured him.

“Albariño. A waitress here recommended it a few years ago and now it’s my go to. It’s light and crisp, and kinda citrusy? I’m not a wine snob but it’s damn good and goes really well with tacos. I hope you like white wine, I forgot to ask.” 

“I’ve yet to meet a white wine I didn’t like, so you’re safe.” Bucky sipped the wine and his eyes lit up, “Oh yeah, this is good. I’ll be hunting this down next time I go shopping.” 

“You can get it over at the little wine boutique near the farmers market in Sunset Park. They always have this kind.”

“Nice, I’ll have to check it out. My sister will love this the next time she visits.” 

The conversation flowed as the basket of tortilla chips disappeared, only ebbing when their platters arrived and they tucked into their food. Steve had ordered his usual taco platter while Bucky opted for the taquitos platter, an assortment of slow roasted meats wrapped in thin crispy shells. He let out a groan at his first bite that had Steve’s heart stuttering in his chest. The maybe-date had mostly felt like a friend-date up until that point, though Steve had to admit there was a tiny flutter of like there too. But the noise Bucky made and the expression on his face had Steve thinking anything but friends only thoughts. 

Bucky caught Steve staring at him as he licked a dribble of sauce off his bottom lip. He hadn’t gotten a distinct date-date vibe from Steve but the look on the blonde’s face was priceless. Bucky thought he probably had made a similar one the first time he saw Devon Sawa in Wild America when he was 12. He had never stood a chance of being straight after that. Testing the waters a little bit, Bucky smirked at Steve, making it abundantly clear he’d been caught staring. Steve flushed and Bucky’s smile widened. There might be hope after all.

Steve wasn’t sure if it was the wine or too many tacos but by the time dinner was over he felt glued to his seat. He hated knowing the evening was coming to an end and wanted to do something, anything, to prolong it. The waitress dropped off the sales receipt with a pen and Steve tried to steady his hand as he signed his name. He knew he needed to muster up his courage or he would be saying goodbye to Bucky in mere minutes.

“Thanks again for paying.” Bucky said after draining the last of his wine, “This was really nice.” 

“It was.” Steve agreed, seeing his chance, “You know, I have another bottle of this wine back at my place if you wanna come over for a bit. Maybe you could help me find that movie app you were telling me about for the Fire Stick?”

“Sure, I’m happy to help. I won’t say no to more of that wine either.” Bucky stamped down the hopeful cheering in his chest that Steve was inviting him over. The poor guy probably didn’t mean that anything would happen other than wine and tech help but Bucky could always dream. He would be respectful though, he resolved to himself. He’d never dated a guy who was questioning his sexuality before and Bucky didn’t want to push too far too soon. Bucky figured it was best to let Steve set the pace and just hope his heart didn’t get run over in the process. 

Steve’s apartment was only four blocks from the restaurant, a second floor walk up in an old converted brownstone. It was nicer than Bucky’s little hole in the wall apartment and even had a small second bedroom that Steve had set up as a home office. After giving Bucky a quick tour, he led them to the kitchen to pull another bottle of Albariño out of his cabinet. Passing a stemless glass to Bucky, he poured them both a generous amount of wine which they carried out to the living room so Bucky could show Steve the app he’d mentioned during dinner. A few clicks and a quick download later, Steve had access to a ridiculous amount of free movies. 

“This is so great.” Steve praised, clicking through the different options. “Oh I love this one!”

“Hm?” Bucky looked up from his glass to see Steve hovering over 10 Things I Hate About You. “Oh that one is great. I remember wanting to be Patrick Verona when I grew up after seeing that.” 

Steve gave an amused side eyed look at Bucky. “I think you did a decent job.” he teased, throwing on the movie out of sheer impulse.

Bucky laughed, “You’re sweet. But god knows I’ll never be that smooth.” 

“You’re better off than me. I’ve been told I’m hopeless on more than one occasion.” 

“You hold your own, Rogers.” Bucky assured him, reaching over to take Steve’s hand in his, stroking the pad of his thumb over the ridges of Steve’s knuckles. 

Steve blinked slowly, looking from their joined hands up to Bucky’s face. It felt good, that fluttery feeling stirring in his gut at the contact. He gave Bucky a smile and squeezed his hand gently, making sure his consent was clear.

The movie rolled and they sipped their wine as Patrick did his best to woo Kat. Bucky slowly nudged closer to Steve until he was pressed against his side, his head leaning against Steve’s shoulder. He was warm and comfortable and completely unwilling to move by the time Letters to Cleo played into the credits. 

“I can’t believe it’s after eleven already.” Steve yawned. 

Bucky yawned next, set off by Steve’s. “Same. I had a really good night, Steve.” He looked up curiously, wondering if Steve had found any new revelations on their maybe-date. 

“Me too. This was… really nice. Hey, um, I know this was a maybe-date, but maybe um…”

Bucky shifted so he could sit up taller and face Steve while he fumbled for words.

“I, um, I’d really like to kiss you right now.” Steve blurted out, looking equal parts excited and terrified. 

Bucky’s smile was like the sun. “Okay, yeah.” Bucky reached out to cup Steve’s cheek, going agonizingly slow to give Steve a chance to bolt if he needed it. He leaned up a little and Steve craned his neck down, tentatively meeting Bucky’s lips with his own. 

A soft press, a pause, another soft press, and then the kiss deepened, Bucky’s lips parting to slot Steve’s with his. Steve let out a choked off moan, unable to believe what he was doing and how good it felt. He let a hand rake through Bucky’s hair and it only made him want to feel more of the silky locks. The scent of cedar and teak from his cologne filled Steve’s nose and though it was very distinctly male, Steve couldn’t get enough of it. It was so much more than he could have expected but also not nearly enough. He was breathing raggedly when he finally pulled back, repressing a shudder at the well kissed expression on Bucky’s face. His full bottom lip was shining and red, his eyes heavy lidded and his chest heaving just as much as Steve’s. 

“Whoa.” Steve finally breathed out in amazement.

“Yeah, whoa.” Bucky agreed. “So does this help in sorting out if this was a date-date?”

“I think it was definitely a date-date.” 

“I’m glad. And do you think you’d want to try another date sometime?”

“When are you free next?” Steve chuckled, only half kidding. 

“Easy there, pal.” Bucky warned lightly, patting Steve’s ridiculously broad chest. “We’ll find a day again soon.” 

Steve nodded, knowing Bucky was right for wanting to take things slow. He led Bucky over to the door, giving him one last quick kiss goodbye before the brunette headed out into the early summer night. Steve was still floored by his own reactions to Bucky but it felt so right that he couldn’t agonize over it for long. 

[spookysanta]

daddy’s girl. (e.d.)

Summary: he's been watching her and she knows it. He's yearning for her, and he’ll have her, but she has to finish high school first. 

Pairing: Ethan Dolan xReader

WARNINGS: age gap (38 vs 18), creep shit

SAY NOTHING IM WRITING A NEW SERIES JUST READ IT AND TELL ME IF IT SUCKS 

DISCLAIMER! PLEASE READ: in this, the girl (cairo) is of LEGAL age. he (ethan) refers to her as a child bc yanno.... he's almost 40 here. this isn't on any pedophile stuff, okay? just for clarification. AND as i was writing this i got jake gyllenhaal vibes from this, but then i figured ethan could be the “sexy dad” in the future (so to speak)—which is what i was kinda going for; like a man that’s older but is so irresistibly gorgeous, even young girls swoon over him.

UNEDITED

****

******

She'd caught his eye. 

And he doesn't know how it came to be this way; he thought he was done messing around like this ages ago. But here he was, a thirty-eight-year-old man, watching an eighteen-year-old girl cheer at his neice's high school's football game. 

She sees him though; as if he's staring into her soul. As she finishes her tumbling routine in the halftime show, her eyes dart in his direction and his never leave her. She shivers slightly--

Who is that man? she wondered, walking away from the field to distract herself. 

**

She stands at the cash register, swiping his items across the scanner. "Did you find everything okay?" she asked in a monotone voice, looking at the clock on the register's screen. 

"Yes, I did. Thank you." the man responded, fishing in his wallet for cash as he already knew how much two bottles of red wine cost. "Do you need to see ID?"

"Yes, I--" she paused, looking at the man for the first time during their interaction. This was the man from the football game! She couldn't have forgotten those pearly eyes that bore into hers, and definitely didn't forget the way he ironically made her feel when their eyes locked. "I-I do."

"You okay?" he asked with a chuckle as he handed her his driver's license. He knew exactly who she was, and after a bit of research, he knows that she's what he wants. And, likewise, he knew that she remembered him. That in itself was exciting because now he knew where she was from 9-2 every Saturday--which meant he'd be seeing her a lot more. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

She glanced at the line forming behind him and shook her head at the idea of her confrontation. She took the card and read the birthdate carefully. "1980." she muttered, handing it back to him. "Your total's $18.20."

He handed her a $20, grabbing the bottles of wine by their necks and smirking. "Keep the change."

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome, Cairo. See you around."

**

She lay in her bed, wondering why this man clouded her thoughts. What was it about him that made him so intriguing? Yes, he was attractive, but he was more than twice her age--shouldn't that mean that he was repulsive to her? Should she shy away from this man and his beauty?

Ethan.

If there's anything she knew about men, it's that older men (well, boys, in her case) don't usually have the girl's best interest in mind. But no matter how many cons appear on this list, the only pro she seems to think of is the fact that he looked at her like he knew her already. His hazel eyes were almost magnetizing her brown ones to his gaze, and the energy was too strong to pull it away.

**

He's come to the realization that he's hooked on her.

He wants her, no--needs her. 

And he knows how crazy that sounds with all of the odds stacked against him (namely, her being a child by his comparison) but he'll admit they'd look absolutely perfect together. 

And there's nothing he won't do until they're in love.

**

day one.

She walked home from school every day. Three-fifteen on the dot, Monday through Friday. Sometimes, she takes the after-school bus after her cheer practices, and that drops her off on the same corner but at five-thirty. He sees her walk down Linden Avenue, then make a left on Conch Street, and then go into the tiny brick house at the end of the lively culdesac. Sometimes he sees her through her window at night, laying in her bed soundly. It takes everything in him each night to not climb up the big pine tree to the second floor, open the already unlocked window—she doesn't lock it anymore because the lock can get finicky at times and it can get quite hot in San Bernadino in May—and breathe in the same air as her.

Just once.

Just once, he wants to be there for her—hold her, kiss her, smell her, taste her.

Is that too much to ask?

Just one more month, he reminds himself as he perches himself on his porch chair, watching her walk into her home with her friend, Janelle.

He does not like Janelle.

Janelle has a tendency to be a bit manipulative when it comes to Cairo; she wants the best for her, of course. But she's always making Cairo go to parties that she doesn't want to go to, or do things that Cairo doesn't typically do.

Cairo's a good girl who doesn't need to be bombarded with social...ick.

"She's a good girl," he mumbled, palms set on his knees with white fingertips. "My good girl."

***

She continued her walk to the store like she usually does on Sunday mornings in the spring. Yes, she does work at the store, but why not stop by and visit her favorite co-workers while she picked up her favorite ice cream?

"Good morning, Edith!" she greeted to the elderly woman stood behind the customer service desk. She resembled Jane Goodall in a way; caring, generous, kind. "How are you today?"

"Hey, sweetie! I'm alright, hope you're doing well. Say 'hi' to Katherine for me!" she replied with a wave, going into the employee's lounge.

"Will do!" she wandered to the frozen food section, her coffee brown eyes set on the cookie dough ice cream in the freezer. With happy alarms blaring in her head, she grabbed a pint from the shelf, going immediately to the checkout line to pay for her dessert. "Hey Ricky." she said to the cashier.

"Hey, Cai." he responded, ringing up her ice cream and setting it on the counter. "$4.68. Got your employee ID on you?"

She fished through her wallet and came up emptyhanded. "Shoot. I must've left it at home." she sighed. "It's cool, I'll pay full price."

"Nah, I got you." he took a card out of his front pocket, swiped it, and put in his pin. "There ya go. $2.27."

"Thanks, Ky. I owe you one." She handed him a five dollar bill, keeping the cash fold of her wallet open so she could put her change in it.

"You know what you could do for me so we're even?" he opened the cash drawer, taking out her change and handing it to her.

"What?"

"Go to dinner with me." he wrote on her freshly printed receipt. "It doesn't have to be fancy, but if you're interested, you should hit me up sometime."

"Sure. I'd love to." she smiled, putting the receipt with her change and grabbing her ice cream off the counter. "We'll talk tonight?"

"Totally. See you around."

"See you!"

**

She entered the house again and put her ice cream in the fridge. "Ma!" she yelled into her mother's office as she passed it. "Ms. Edith at Ben's said 'hi'!"

"Aw, how sweet of her to think of me!" she said with a smile. "I'll have to send you by her house with a plate of cookies this week."

She groaned inwardly. Edith's a nice woman, but Cairo's mother, Katherine, does not conjure up her life-changing cookies on any given day. Which means that she would make a small batch—just enough for Edith and her husband, Clarke—and then, poof! No-one's going to see those cookies until Christmastime. Bounding up the staircase and into her bedroom, practically leaping onto her bed with a sigh.

Meanwhile, he was watching her still. He didn't even think to consider the idea of someone catching him stare at this girl, sat in the rocking chair on his front porch, watching her intently through a pair of zooming binoculars while she boredly scrolled through her phone. Quite frankly, he wouldn't care at all. If someone were to walk by and ask him what he was doing, he'd merely say: "Protecting my girl."

He doesn't give a damn if she took a glance out her window and saw a man—that man—staring back at her. Knowing her, which obviously he does, she'd probably scream for her mom and tell her mom to come and look because "there's a strange man" looking at her through her window. And then her mom would come and look but by then he'd be back in his home across the way from hers, in his bedroom, watching her panic through the telescope he'd set up.

That'd be a gift to himself, really. Because he knows deep within that she thinks about him. Even though maybe the thoughts are of worry or panic and not ones of admiration, all he cares about is the fact that he's invaded her thoughts just like she's invaded his.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Hey there! :) This is for the OC Ask Game, for Harrison: could you answer questions 1-6, 14 &15? Hope you're doing well!

Oh let’s just expose Harrison *cracks knuckles*

1: List five basic facts about your OC.

He’s turning 22 (just shy of his birthday in Moth Work)

He’s gay as fuuuuuh

He’s from Brooklyn, NY

He’s an only child

If you come for his jacket, he’ll come for your life (a very basic fact)

2: Post a line of dialogue from your OC.

This is dialogue from book 3 that I still can’t get over (for context, Reeve is criticizing Harrison’s choice of Walmart as a gourmet pie shop back when Walmart used to be a big thing in my books lmaooo):

Reeve: “So your gourmet pie shop is Walmart?”

Harrison: “Why yes, actually… Do you have a problem with saving money and living better?” 

lmfaoooo

Also an iconic interaction from Moth Work:

Lonan: “You’re patronizing me.”

Harrison: “You’re patronizing yourself.” 

3: Post a snippet from your writing that describes your OC.

So this is the first ever description of Harrison from book 1 (I had just turned thirteen when I wrote this):

There’s a faint click somewhere to my right and a soft glow soon illuminatesthe room, shattering the darkness into pieces. I shake off the fact that Ican’t see where the light is coming from, instead pointing the still loaded gunat the first thing I see, a boy who looks a bit older than me with what I makeout to be honey blond hair and the most pissed off expression on his face. 

(fun fact I really wrestled with describing the colour of Harrison’s hair at the time and probably changed “honey blonde” from “honey brown” like 5000 times, 13-year-old me had BEEF with his hair colour)

4: Post a snippet from your writing in which another OC describes your OC.

This is a very old description I scavenged to find from book 6 where Reeve vaguely describes Harrison in the first paragraph which is one way to go about it:

Beside me is wood smoke and copper, leather and strong coffee, all strung around human flesh. He moves with precision, like a player focused on a riveting chess match…

And here’s the most recent paragraph (and the last paragraph in Lonan’s POV) of Lonan describing Harrison when they meet up for the first time after brief hiatus (I haven’t shared this yet, so for context, Suzanna is Harrison’s mother):

In the kitchen, Suzanna laughs at Eliza’s joke, something vaguely about Geminis, or maybe she says alibis. He doesn’t quite hear it. He doesn’t mean to drop the rose, but it falls with a muffled thump between them, a floral border. Lonan blinks many times. He breathes many times. He counts many times. But after all the tests—the blinking, the breathing, the counting, the person at the door doesn’t change. Sunshine hair. Concerned mouth. Semi-crooked nose. Butterfly lashes. Eyes the colour of a kingfisher.

5: Describe your OC’s physical appearance.

Harrison’s the cutest guy in town, so cute he managed to convince @sarahkelsiwrites to get me to write book one! Without Harrison’s cuteness, this 8 book series/monstrosity would not exist! As I’ve said, Harrison’s a cutie and should definitely be treated as such (the downfall of Moth Work loool). He’s shorter than Lonan by just a bit tho I really can’t think of how tall my characters are because I am apparently short and can’t imagine anyone a foot taller than me, so all you need to know is he’s tall but still shorter than Lonan lol. He looks a lot like his Portuguese mother and takes on both her “semi-crooked nose, the same mouth, straight and concerned, the same markabove the eyebrow he always thought came from some sort of accident. Eventhough her eyes are brown and his are clearish and teal, it’s like he has hereyes too—soft and rimmed with lashes like butterfly wings” according to Lonan lool. He wears Lonan’s fake mom’s earring which is a pretty dangly blue gem. Though Harrison could look like anything and all he’d need to be Harrison is his leather jacket. In the book cover I designed, Lonan’s wearing it (ROOD) as he unknowingly takes it in chapter 6, but besides that one time, his jacket never comes off! He also wears his mother’s guardian angel necklace which is a newer edition, though a well-liked one as I always pictured him wearing a chain of some sorts! It’s important to note that when I was thirteen, the only way I’d describe Harrison’s eyes were as “burning turquoise” loool.

Here’s how I drew him for the book cover (though I couldn’t really get his eyes right are they burning turquoise-y enough??):

6: Describe your OC’s love life.

Messy! Harrison’s gone through a lot as a hopeless romantic, and has been lead to much heartbreak because of it. If he loves someone, he really loves someone, and this is very much seen in his feelings toward Lonan. Since we’re spilling the tea on Harrison, here’s his relationship with Lonan throughout the books + as Nothing But Thieves songs (because we’re going THERE):

Book 2

When the boys actually meet! Lonan didn’t exist in book 1 and I think Harrison’s sanity benefitted from this but anyway

They’re coworkers (back when this book was a dystopia lmao, Harrison took an open job as a tech analyst in Lonan’s government squad which was his pride and joy and I have since of course axed it)

They don’t like each other but can’t get enough of being enemies if u know what I mean

NBT song: Last Orders 

Book 3

This “love being your enemy” thing continues even when Lonan makes his redemption arc and he’s no longer an enemy lmaoo

We get to see their actual friendship develop toward the ¾ mark of the book

“Clearly these people care about each other” kind of vibe!

NBT song: Wake Up Call

Book 4

We see a new level of closeness develop between the boys, and though we’re in Reeve’s head, she def senses some tension mwahaha

NBT song: Afterlife

Book 5

Harrison really steps in as not only a friend for Lonan in this book, but a body of support while his mental health goes through it

NBT song: Reset Me

Book 6

They’re both mad at each other for almost this entire book but this gives us more of that tension we WANT

Reeve really notices this tea develop and she be sippin it the whole book

Toward the midpoint there’s definitely explicit suggestion of their relationship (Reeve can’t fully see this as she’s mostly concerned about herself but there’s definitely an ongoing relationship in this book that’s pretty turbulent):

NBT song: You Know Me Too Well

Moth Work

This relationship sees a lot of bad times

It ain’t a healthy relationship by any means and things start falling apart! Both boys have things they have to work out, that are currently causing lots of conflict!

The TEA I have not shared yet is that I *plan* for them to split up by the end of this book (though they never were really together in this book so it’s not really a breakup lol). Harrison moves to Brooklyn with his mom and Lonan stays in Vegas with Eliza (do with that what you will!!)

NBT song: Hostage (for Harrison) and Take This Lonely Heart (for Lonan)

14: What is one of your OC’s secrets?

That he likes waffles better than he like Lonan? Scandle! Harrison had an affinity for waffles in book one. Here are receipts:

A scene from book 3 (2015) that features a lot of iconic content (Harrison’s waffle kink, Foster being prime-time soft boi, grumpy Lonan, narrated by Reeve who manages to not inject her opinion once, my classic 2015 “witty” YA dialogue):

“Ah, well… your sister [the youngest, not Reeve lol] was talking about people, and how being mean is the only way that they listen… She may or may not have had a run-in with Harrison earlier, which is why the topic was brought up…” From next to him, Ris grunts over his steaming waffles, a full mouth when he turns his face toward Lonan who’s got the same laptop in front of his face, furiously tapping at the keyboard as he concentrates. 

Harrison actually reaches over and slams the lid shut.            

“Hey asshole,” he says around his mouthful of waffle. “Put the fucking technology away, and be a little social.” Lonan’s dead silent on the receiving end, and when I look closer at him, I realize it’s because his fists are tightly clenched and a vein in his forehead’s bulging. 

“That was three full days of work that you might’ve completely ruined!” Lonan hisses, eyes wide and angry as he stares at Harrison who’s scowling around his breakfast. 

“Anyway…” Foster continues awkwardly. “Basically, helping people is sometimes–” He’s cut off as a giant waffle is smothered up to his face, Harrison holding it out tauntingly. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You know you want the waffle… Waffles…”  

Also to the waitress while he and Reeve bond at a diner:

“Thank you.” Harrison says with a wide smile, staring at the waffles like they’re the love of his life. “Oh my fucking god.” He mumbles, and I assume that I’m not meant to here that. 

15: Your OC is given the chance to go back in time. Where do they go and what do they do?

I think there are a lot of things he’d like to change in his past, namely his relationship with his mother who he’s estranged from until the end of Moth Work. I think he would’ve liked to see her more in his teens (despite being a hard ass when she does show up in Moth Work). He’d go back to Brooklyn and like chill in a pizzeria with his mom lol. On a lighter note, I think he’d also like, join ABBA or something.

Thanks for asking!

[songbird-musing]

Virtuoso: Chapter Two - Recitative

Enjolras is Saint-Michel Academy's brightest young composer. He runs the orchestra, the Musician's Rights board, chairs the scholarship program, teaches free classical music to children, and is in the middle of his dissertation. He has never been anything less than a prodigy, until his teacher forces him to write a pop song.

Enter the effortlessly cool Grantaire, with his smudged eyeliner and lovely guitar-playing fingers. He really digs Enjolras' "vibe," whatever that means.

Enjolras tries to tackle his pop-song-nightmare, and enlists the help of Grantaire.

Chapter One

Recitative 

The world exploded around Enjolras as he awoke. Combeferre was in the kitchen, coffees in hand grinning widely beside the ‘Morning Gong.’

“Why do I let you keep that godforsaken gong?” Enjolras complained, the imprint of computer keys ridged in his cheeks. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen counter with the machine a stand-in, whirring pillow.

“Morning, sunshine!” Combeferre said brightly, and Enjolras cursed himself for ending up with morning people for roommates. “Any sign of Courf?”

“Negative,” Enjolras yawned, “I think he went to an after-party last night, he could literally be anywhere. He might not even be in Paris.”

“He’s probably not even still in France,” Combeferre laughed, placing a mug beside Enjolras. “I will never understand how he can still party like a first year... When did you get back?”

“About one,” Enjolras stretched out and brought his computer to life, tapping impatiently on the mouse pad, “I was working on the pop nightmare until about five, though.”

“Ah, I had almost forgotten about your pop dilemma... How my day has been brightened!” Combeferre beamed, coiling himself around his mug. “I’m heading off soon, so if you’re ready in twenty minutes we can walk together...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Enjolras said, still not fully awoken. He yawned widely, noticing that it was already ten past eight and hurried to shower away the scents of the previous night.

It was an overcast day, grey skies neatly connecting to the grey Parisian pavement. Combeferre and Enjolras walked side by side, an impressive array of instruments strapped to them.

“Okay, but how about...” Combeferre interjected, swerving the topic of their heated morning debate, “How about you could either write an utterly commercial pop song that goes immensely successful, and your name is forever linked, so, like, everyone in the world will be like ‘Oh Enjolras? That guy who wrote that pop song?’” he put on a silly voice, crossing his eyes underneath his glasses, “Or you write a crazily successful classical piece that changes the world of classical music forever but nobody ever knows who wrote it and it goes down as a musical mystery forever. Which would you rather have?”

“Can I not just tell everyone I wrote it?” Enjolras asked, scrolling through his phone and nearly colliding with a lamppost.

“Uh... No,” Combeferre confirmed, “You tragically die and nobody knows who you were.”

“Wait... am I dead in both situations?”

“No.” Combeferre pondered, “Actually, scratch that, you’re not dead, you just can’t tell anyone you wrote it.”

“Well obviously the classical one,” Enjolras said flatly.

“Authenticity over fame... I could have guessed,” Combeferre said, not bothering to conceal a yawn. They were just going through the motions. Often they filled the space of morning silence with pointless conversations to wake their brains. “Okay so the situation is the same but with the pop one you also do loads of classical as well, but when all of your millions of fans come to your concert they just want to hear your top hit.”

“I’ll take that, then. An audience of millions is better than none, besides I’m sure I could change their mind.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh,” Enjolras stretched out his neck and they fell into silence. Enjolras’ mind drifted to the pop song he had been working on. The piece sounded spiky – filled with diminished and augmented chords – in short, it sounded nothing like a pop song.

Pop music, to Enjolras, was foreign – but not cross-the-border-to-Germany foreign, it was more of a outside-of-our-known-galaxy foreign. He had hurried past shop fronts that blared warbling voices and fuzzy synths, as if the sound was shameful. His parents raised him on a strict diet of music composed before the 1900’s. Even his more rebellious high school friends viewed pop music warily – that was private schooling for you. Now, at Paris’ highest esteemed classical university – pop was an insult.

“I hate pop music,” Enjolras grumbled, heaving an almighty sigh. “It’s inane.”

“That’s the point,” Combeferre poked.

They bid their farewells at the gates of Saint-Michel’s and headed to their separate classes.

Enjolras weaved through the crowds, dodging instrument cases, almost receiving a trumpet to the forehead. He stopped. The throng of people behind him huffed and split around him, as he hopped back down the stairs and turned to the smoker’s area. In his first year he had held an enormous campaign to turn the area into a community garden.

“Instrumentalists should never smoke,” he had argued to the board, “It’s counterproductive to breath support. If you’re training the next generation of musicians – they shouldn’t be given the resources to destroy their lungs.”

His fury had been met with blank stares, and Enjolras had avoided the area out of principle. In the morning glow, the pavestones glistened, the ivy was burnished gold. It still looked like the perfect place for a community garden.  Enjolras had to force himself to stop mentally planting sunflowers.

Tucked in the corner, Enjolras found whom he was searching for... he also found Courfeyrac.

Grantaire and Courfeyrac were sat on the wall, chatting too animatedly for nine in the morning. Grantaire, dressed in dark green, blended into the ivy, looked as though he had been stolen from the middle of a woodland nymph painting. He turned, catching Enjolras’ eye, and beamed – Enjolras wondered what Grantaire saw as he stood there.

“Enj!” Courf said, reaching out a hand.

“Please don’t touch me, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days.” Enjolras commented, a grin playing on his face, “Courf, our flat is literally ten minutes away, just grab some spare clothes!”

“No, you’re right, it is so gross. I am definitely coming back tonight, though. I just couldn’t give up on the chance to go to an after-party... Especially not a Patron-Minette one, those guys are absolutely mental. Montparnasse tried to get off with me, but I think I offended him when I said he reminded me of Arthur.”

“Why? The young Arthur was a dreamboat,” Enjolras said.

There was a very long pause.

“What?” Courfeyrac spluttered.

“Arthur Rubinstein was really hot in his youth,” Enjolras eyed Courf with suspicion.

“On what planet was I talking about Arthur Rubinstein? What is he? A pianist?”  

“Yeah...” Enjolras squinted, “Which Arthur are you talking about?”

“The aardvark thing.”

Enjolras looked blank and Grantaire started to sing the theme tune. Enjolras could only blink in response.

“I’m so confused,” Enjolras said, “Montparnasse looks nothing like an aardvark.”

“Yeah... I coulda been hallucinating pretty badly,” Courf said and hopped to his feet, “Are you coming, Enj? Fantine won’t like it if you’re late...” he tried to put on an intimidating voice, but by third year lateness seemed wholly inconsequential to everyone, even the professors.

“I’ll be there in a second; I just wanted to have a quick chat with Grantaire about the pop thing.”

Courfeyrac cackled in response. “Good luck,” he kissed both Enjolras and Grantaire on the cheek, and wandered inside the building, scuffing his cigarette out beneath his shoe.

Grantaire squinted against the sun. “How’d you enjoy Patron-Minette?”

“I liked them a lot more than I thought I would,” Enjolras said without thinking, he turned red. “I didn’t mean that I... It’s just, pop isn’t really my thing.”

“Éponine doesn’t like the word pop. It’s psychedelic, contemplative, indie, punky folk, darling.”

“Well, then I guess I am a fan of psychedelic, contemplative, indie, whatever else it is,” Enjolras said lightly, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Sorry to ambush you, and feel free to say no...”

“I love a good ambush, sometimes,” Grantaire laughed, “What’s wrong?”

Enjolras sighed. “Well, Prouvaire said you were doing this pop project, and my teacher is forcing me to write a pop song, and I have absolutely no idea what to do, and it’s all a bit of a disaster, and I was wondering if you wanted to collaborate?” Enjolras blurted, taking an embarrassingly large gasp for breath at the end of his ramble.

“Yeah, sure, sounds cool.” Grantaire scribbled a number on the back of a receipt and held it out, “Here’s my number, text me when’s best for you... Or you could Facebook me, I’m sure there aren’t many ‘Grantaires’ on there, it won’t be too hard to find me.”

“Oh, brilliant! Thank you!” Grantaire seemed like he would have needed more convincing than that. Enjolras pocketed the receipt.

“Do you have a setup at your flat?”

“Um,” Enjolras faltered, “I have a couple of leads and a microphone... And about three-quarters of an orchestra.”

“Huh,” Grantaire shielded his eyes from the sun to look at Enjolras, “Not really helpful for pop... you can come to mine, I have everything there for the Patron-Minette recording and stuff. I’ll text you my address when you text me.” He tilted his head and laughed wolfishly, “I can’t imagine you at the flat... It will be interesting.” He grinned, “Let me know,” and sauntered away before Enjolras could say another word.

Performance class called for Enjolras to sit at the front. His arms cradled around the cool wooden curves of his cello. He bowed his head, pulled his bow taut, and felt his fingers fall into a familiar position, strings indenting his callused fingers. The whole classroom inhaled together, and Enjolras felt electric. His eyes fell shut, and instinct tugged at his muscles, creating the smooth, elegant dance around the instrument. The song was a duet between his body and the cellos. It was as intimate and in tune as a lovers waltz. Moments like this, lost in lines of manuscript and drowning in notes, that time ceased to exist. Enjolras felt like he did not exhale until the piece resolved, its final cadence dousing the room. The sweet, warm oasis of music cascaded as the class applauded.

Enjolras breathed raggedly against the neck of his cello, daring a smile at his classmates.

Fantine stood, roses in her cheeks. “Simply delightful!” she beamed, “Will you perform the piece at the concert next Friday? I know you’re incredibly busy, but we’re missing a cello solo...”

Enjolras pencilled it into his diary, trying to ignore the vaguely frustrated glances from the rest of the class.

Courfeyrac’s flute solo went down well, and he flushed with pride. Enjolras grinned at him genuinely, wondering how he had managed to compose such a lovely piece when he hadn’t even had time to return home.

“I feel like you need an accompanist,” Fantine said brightly, “It’s very sweet, but I think it needs a bit more depth... Do you know Combeferre?”

Enjolras and Courfeyrac shared a grin.

“You could say that, Fantine...”

“Ask him to accompany you. He’s very good at that.” She clapped her hands together without waiting for an answer, “Marius, what do you have for us today?”  

~*~

Once Enjolras had sent the text to Grantaire, his fingers couldn’t stay still. They traced over the table in triplet rhythms, danced over invisible keys, tensed as the pulse of music within him swelled.

A message returned in minutes and Enjolras dragged his eyes from Courfeyrac’s antics to read it.

I finish at 4 today, could do something after that if you’re free –R x

He sent back an affirmative and planned to meet the almost-stranger outside the school gates later that afternoon.

Combeferre was astutely trying not to laugh, cheeks molten with joy, as Jehan and Courf tested their ranges.

“My whistle pitch is literally the best. I’m probably the best in the school,” Courf said, emitting a high-pitched scream. “Maybe the world.”

“That is so not whistle pitch,” Jehan said, snorting loudly.

“Yeah it is,” Courfeyrac shrieked again and the table of four collapsed into all encompassing laughter. Through delight-tinted eyes, Enjolras remembered again how much he adored his friends.

~*~

“Hey,” Grantaire said, stamping out a cigarette under his boot heel. He noticed Enjolras’ lingering gaze on the smouldering stub and said, “Nasty habit, I know. Especially when you’re a singer,” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“You sing?” Enjolras said, carefully arranging his face into a passive, non-judgemental mask. To Courfeyrac and Jehan he often lamented the early loss of their vocal ability and breath control that promised to swoop in with every cigarette and joint they smoked.

“I do,” Grantaire said with a grin, “I also play guitar, bass, keyboard, a little bit of drums and whatever else I can get my hands on.”

“Sounds...” Enjolras floundered, “Pretty pop-based.” He grimaced. Compliments had never been a strong point of his.

“That’s why I’m the man for your job, right?” He smiled, looking like he had been rendered on a canvas, all wilderness and Dionysian thrill.  “What do you play? Harp?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Enjolras enquired.

“Am I wrong?” Grantaire directed them down the stairs to the Metro station.

“No.”

“You’re such a harpist... everything about you screams it. How many times have you been forced to wear angel wings, a halo and a toga at weddings?”

Enjolras shuddered. “Way too many times,” he said with a hiccup of a laugh.

“That’s what I want at my wedding.” Grantaire said, hopping down the escalators carelessly, “Apollo the harpist, golden everything, even gold suits, the priest dressed as a cherub...” He dashed onto the train and held the beeping door open for Enjolras.

“Really?”

“No,” Grantaire grinned, “Couldn’t imagine anything worse... Sorry!” He careened into Enjolras as the train started and apologised again, pointing out the short route to his place on the map.

“I do not know what it will be like in here, so beware, in advance,” Grantaire said ominously, turning the key in his lock and giving Enjolras a warning stare. “Hello?” he called, cracking open the door by an inch. Silence poured around them. “They must be out. Welcome to Chez Patron-Minette.”

“You live with the band?”

“I’m supposed to just live with Ép and Montparnasse, but yes, I basically live with them all,” he paused and flicked the lights on, looking around disdainfully, “The other three unofficially moved in without really consulting me.”

“How awful!”

“Nah, it’s fine. I have the biggest room, anyway.” Grantaire smiled, a sheen of politeness glazing his eyes, “Drink?”

“Um, I’ll have water, please,” Enjolras said, trailing one hand on the kitchen counter.

Grantaire looked up from the fridge, a spark of mischief playing in his eyes. “We’re living the rock star life tonight,” he said, “Cheers to that!”

Enjolras wasn’t sure if he was being made fun of.

“Sorry it’s a mess, I didn’t realise this was happening, of course.” Grantaire chucked a few items of clothing around and surreptitiously shoved an armful of cans into his bin. “Afterparty...” he said as a way of explanation.  “So...my friend...” he grinned into his cup of water, “I am fully at your service, what can I do for you?” he did a silly bow, dark hair bouncing around his shoulders.

“Valjean is making me write a pop song and I have no idea what to do,”

“Harps don’t usually translate well to pop, no.”

“I can play other instruments, as well,” he was quick to confirm, as if Grantaire would care in the slightest about his pedigree of musicianship, “But only classically.”

“Have you made a start with anything?” Grantaire asked, flexing his fingers around the neck of his guitar.

“I...” Enjolras grimaced, “I have... But... it’s not... well, listen for yourself.”

He plucked his phone from his pocket, searching for the audio file. It took two chords for Grantaire’s forehead to crease. It took just three more before his lips pursed, a laugh ill-hidden behind them.

“I know!” Enjolras protested, hastily muting the piece. “It’s terrible!”

“It isn’t terrible...” Grantaire rubbed the bridge of his nose and coughed, “It’s just not pop... like, at all...” A laugh bubbled out from his hand. “Sorry! It’s a lovely piece... but did you modulate twice in one bar?”

Enjolras looked sheepish. “Sort of.”

Grantaire laughed, throwing a palm to his forehead. “Oh, bless you. This is going to be harder than I thought. Let’s start again, and let’s start simple,” Grantaire said, his words not what Enjolras wanted to hear. “So we’ll do a four chord song, okay?”

Enjolras paled.

Enjolras hunched over the keyboard, fingers splayed on smaller keys than he was used to, Grantaire nimbly tuned up his guitar, strumming once when he was finished and letting the discord rattle around them.

Inner pianist screaming, Enjolras stilled and offered, “Does it have to be four chords? I mean we could add some embellishments, a modulation here and there, and still have it be pop, right?”

“Nope, pop thrives on simplicity...”

“But there are exceptions...”

“Yes, and they are known for being exceptions. You wanted straight up pop, so we’re using four chords,” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“But...”

“I could make us do a three chord song, if you wanted?” Grantaire laughed as Enjolras drooped, “Come on, Enjolras, let me lead you to the wild side.”

The pair looped four chords over and over, Grantaire humming a melody over the top. Enjolras’ eyes glazed over.

“What do you want to sing about?” Grantaire asked.

“I don’t sing,” Enjolras snapped out of his stupor, much closer to Grantaire than he thought he had been.

“Well what do you want me to sing about, then?” Grantaire slid his palm against his guitar and pulled open a scruffy notebook.

Enjolras pondered, still playing the chords in auto-pilot, the simplest thing he had played since he was five. “The disparity of classical music,” he said, turning to Grantaire with fire in his eyes.

“Woah,” Grantaire said, recoiling a little, “Not really a great subject for a pop song.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pushed back from the keyboard, “That’s why this whole assignment is a waste of time. You can’t talk about what you want to talk about, unless all you want to talk about is sex and alcohol.”

“Two very delightful subject matters,” Grantaire responded, mischievous glint in his eyes. When he noticed Enjolras’ stony expression he backtracked. “No, it’s not just like that... Well, okay, for the most part it is, but you can write about whatever you want, really.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Okay, a pop song about the disparity of classical music, let’s... give it a go.”

Enjolras glanced at him carefully, still unsure whether Grantaire was mocking him. The dark haired boy gave a genuine smile, almost bashful as he ducked down to watch his finger position on the guitar. Enjolras blinked. He watched Grantaire astutely, taking in the curve of his neck and the curve of his nose, the ink-spill of eyelashes across his cheeks and the length and dexterity of his slender fingers.

They played together for a while, Grantaire improvising melodies and lyrics over the top of the basic chords. Enjolras nodded seriously and scribbled down notation in his trusty manuscript paper pad. “So for the chorus we can use the same four chords but just mix the order up,” Grantaire said, strumming once across the neck of the guitar.

Enjolras sighed and spectacularly collapsed onto the keyboard, a dissonant crash echoing throughout the room.

“You alright, Enjolras?”

Enjolras merely groaned.

With a gentle clunk, Grantaire placed his guitar down and wheeled over to Enjolras on his chair.

“Enjolras,” he sung, drawing his knees to his chin. “Is it all getting too much?” Enjolras rolled his head and sent another chord ringing.

“I don’t mean to sound dramatic,” Enjolras said dramatically, “But I would literally rather be shot twenty-seven times than write a pop song.”

“Ah. Not a great state of mind to be in.” He wheeled away and spun slowly in the centre of his room, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not exactly what you had in mind, but instead of getting shot, we could get shots.” He laughed, the sound lovely and carefree and curling around Enjolras’ edges like smoke.

“I never drink alcohol when I’m composing,” Enjolras said, drawing to his full height and stretching out his limbs.

“Mozart did.”

“What?” Enjolras said after a beat.

“I’m just kidding, I have no idea what Wolfgang’s drinking habits were. I know mine, though, and there’s a lovely happy medium of being just the tiniest bit wasted and creating amazing stuff.”

“Does it still sound good the morning after?”

“Ahh!” Grantaire said in a stage-yell, “I didn’t want to hear the voice of reason tonight.” Enjolras’ lips broke into a smile, the phenomenon looking like sunshine on his face. “Okay so both getting shot and getting shots are out of the question, then. I guess we’ll just have to carry on composing.” He put a hand on Enjolras’ arm, his face edging a little closer than expected. “It gets better, I promise.”

“Stop,” Enjolras said with a groan, “I’m getting war flashbacks to bullying in high school.”

Grantaire paused. Where he had made to move back to his guitar, he turned to face Enjolras again, perplexity playing over his features.

“Bullying? You?” he gaped, “I’m aghast! Kids can find fault in Apollo reincarnate. No wonder my high school days were doomed.”

“I came out at like the age of seven, I was a pretty easy target.”

Enjolras noticed Grantaire’s eyes shift over him.

“Seven, wow! It took me ten years longer to get the courage,” Grantaire shrugged, “People were still idiots about it.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, realising that he had automatically assumed ultimate straightness after hearing Grantaire’s rumoured popularity with women. The silence permeated for seconds too long and he added, “Right! Pop music!”

~*~

Enjolras kind of hated to admit it, but the song was actually going pretty well and not sounding as horrific as he had imagined it would. Sure, its harmony was brain-clawingly annoying, and the lyrics eye-rollingly inane, but it wasn’t that bad.

“Honey, I’m home!” came a loud voice from outside Grantaire’s door. “Have you seen Claque? He has stolen my tobacco, piece of - ” Éponine barged through, “Oh,” she said, catching sight of Enjolras and backing out. “Oh!” she said again and re-entered. “It’s you! Enjolras, darling! Sorry I just saw the blonde hair and thought R was trying to impress a girl with his beautiful guitar fingering.”

“That joke wasn’t funny the first time you made it,” Grantaire said, barely looking up from his guitar. He executed a perfect, intricate riff.

“Nah, it’s like a fine wine. It gets even better each time.”

“Not how wine works,” Grantaire deadpanned. “And besides, you laugh, but girls love it! They think ‘ooh wow, look how long and quick his beautiful fingers are...’ and imagine them tangled in their hair as I take on the role of their ravishing lover.”

“Well... Is it working Enjolras?” Éponine asked.

Enjolras froze a little bit. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but... he turned his gaze to Grantaire’s fingers.

“Don’t tease, Ép,” Grantaire said, a mischief oozing from his every pore.

“I just don’t feel as special now that I know it’s not just me you’ve seduced with your fingers,” Enjolras said, pushing his lower lip out.

Éponine cackled and sloped further into the room, socks padding across the hardboard flooring. “What are you boys up to this fine evening?”

“Writing pop,” Grantaire said with a flicker of his eyebrows.

Éponine’s face suddenly contorted and she looked at Enjolras in disbelief. “Huh, didn’t expect that from you, babe.”

“I’m writing his first pop song with him,” Grantaire interjected, “Popping his pop cherry, it could be said.”

“It could be said,” Éponine laughed, “But it shouldn’t be.” She looked at Enjolras with a grimace, “I’m sorry you have to work with this loser.”

“Ugh, get out,” Grantaire said quickly, humour dancing in his eyes, “Can you not see we’re in the middle of a very serious and important task.”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, echoing Grantaire’s levity, “He’s still in the middle of trying to seduce me with his fingers... It’s very important and serious.”

Both Éponine and Grantaire laughed raucously. Enjolras glowed with warmth.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Éponine stood and made to leave, she leant into Enjolras conspiratorially and mock-whispered, “Montparnasse’s hands are much nicer.”

“Lies!” Grantaire scoffed, “Begone you deceitful scoundrel!”  He shot a look at Enjolras, “She really is lying, Montparnasse’s flowery fingers have nothing on mine.”

“Don’t let him hear you call them that. It’s floral, darling, not flowery. Much more trendy.” Éponine traced Grantaire’s epic eye roll and added, “Okay, okay, I’m going. See you later!”

Grantaire’s head bowed as he laughed to himself, features shadowed by his dark hair falling forwards. “I love her,” he said, fingers sprawling effortlessly over a complex guitar melody.

Enjolras tore his eyes from Grantaire’s hands, licking his suddenly very dry lips. “We could perform this live in class, if you’d like...” Enjolras said. Grantaire looked at him, eyes calculating.

“Would you want me in your class?”

“What do you mean?” A surprised giggle fell from Enjolras’ lips.

“I mean you’re a classical god and I’m sure all the teachers are in love with you. I am a mere mortal second year who’s honestly just a bit mediocre.”

“Mediocre? Are you kidding, Grantaire?”

What followed was a shift of energy that was hard to describe. The look that the two young men shared suddenly became heavier, the silence felt louder and Grantaire, usually the master of words, couldn’t form a sentence.

“Ha,” he said loudly, a hint of blush creeping across his cheekbones. “That’s how my parents liked to describe me,” he joked, stretching out languidly and dragging a hand through his hair. “Should we break? Do you want a snack or a drink or something?” Grantaire stood and threw his head back to elongate his muscles, only the way his eyes flickered shut and his lips slid apart made it look almost obscene.

“Do you have coffee?” Enjolras asked, trying to look anywhere else in the room.

“We have cheap granules, if that’s cool with you.” Grantaire laughed raucously, “It’s okay, darling, I can see from the terror in your eyes that cheap granules are not cool with you. Tea?”

“Do you have soya milk?”

“Oh you sweet boy,” Grantaire couldn’t stop laughing, “I don’t even know if I have regular milk that’s in-date. I think we have a box of green tea somewhere... Are you a green tea kinda guy?”

“Absolutely,” Enjolras said, “The extent of me being a green tea kinda guy is actually quite concerning.”

“Well I’m afraid I’m quite a bad influence, I can only feed your addiction. One green tea coming up!”

While Grantaire was out of the room, Enjolras properly looked around, eyes drifting across the debris that was scattered. A grubby looking mug held an array of drumsticks and paintbrushes, loose guitar strings were coiled in a messy pile, a precarious stack of records balanced an old gramophone. Pictures were tacked to the wall, stopping abruptly where Grantaire’s arms couldn’t reach.

Enjolras’ eyes caught a series of photographs of Grantaire and Jehan. In one picture they were meditating, the others doing intricate looking yoga poses: if joy could be captured, these pictures were evidence of it. Wide, lazy smiles and dopey shared glances were rife throughout the set.

“Here we are!” Grantaire said, carefully cupping a steaming mug. “One green tea! I’m going to go out for a smoke, want to join?”

Enjolras, took the hot tea in his hands. Grantaire cracked open the door, throwing a backwards glance at him. Enjolras felt suddenly very warm, and reckoned the cool air would do him good, second-hand smoke lung damage be damned. “Sure,” he said. Grantaire beamed, and Enjolras wondered how a word as simple as ‘sure’ could illicit such a response. He liked it. “Sure,” he repeated, and followed Grantaire into the cold.  

A/N: Hollaaa chapter 2! Like I said in chapter 1, I’m transferring this from my ao3, which is almost finished here if you want to read further! Hope ya enjoy! These classical nerds fill my heart with joy! Please let me know all your thoughts!! <3