#well coffee first bc i feel like i’m gonna crash despite all the sleep i got asdghj

[quietlyblooms]

this is what i hope you’re imagining every time i start yelling in the tags about y’all 💜 screeching very passionately and full of love 💜

[vanderlindemorgans]

Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Two weeks after breaking up with you, you're picking up the pieces of your heart that had been broken by your now ex-boyfriend Javier Peña. You want answers, a clear reason as to why things fell apart. The only problem is that Javier refuses to even acknowledge your existence

Warnings: A little bit of period-typical sexism, but not much, Javier being an asshole, mentions of prostitution, some low level typical Narcos themes

Authors Note: So this idea has been swimming around in my head ever since the song was released last week. I already had a Bad Breakup fic for Javi planned but I’ve decided to extend it into three parts! Also reader speaks in English bc I do not understand a word of Spanish other than that one line in Ultraviolence. None of this is beta read, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes - if I get anything really wrong then let me know. 

Part 2 | MASTERLIST

The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. From the moment someone walked in they could feel it, the stifling air of awkwardness surrounding every single person in the room as they pretended to carry on with their work, averting their eyes to the spectacle presented in front of them, a war of agitation rife between two agents sitting across the room from each other as well as the unfortunate Steve Murphy who just happened to sit between you two. From your end it was simple silent fury, directed right across the room to where your partner, or rather, ex-partner, Javier Peña was seated at his own desk, casually leafing through mountains of paperwork and suspect photos as if you weren’t practically shooting daggers at him from across the way. 

He wasn’t doing anything, and that was exactly the problem - you wanted him to do something, say something, anything, if only it would show that he even gave a damn about the situation at all. But he never did. Every morning when he walked into work carrying a black coffee in his hands, his top shirt buttons hanging loose as they always seemed to be and his hair mustled as if he hadn’t been sleeping properly, he said nothing. He walked past you as if you weren’t even there, ignoring your stares and crashing down at his desk, ready to continue the endless chase for Pablo Escobar. And it infuriated you. Oh lord, how it made you burn. With every refusal of acknowledgement he gave, you became even more tempted to march right over to him and strike him across his stupid handsome face. You never did, of course, and you never would. Physical confrontation just wasn’t your style. Nevertheless, the mere thought of such did bring you a small bit of joy to your broken little soul. 

Things had been going like this for two weeks now. You hadn’t expected much on the first morning back in the office after what had happened between you. A part of you wanted him to come grovelling to you, insisting that he’d made a mistake and begging for you to take him back. That in itself was nothing more than a fantasy: Javier Peña was too proud to grovel. If anything, his behaviour shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. He was the one who broke up with you over a 27 second phone call, after all. 

Despite taking that into consideration, you thought by now you would have heard something from him. He’d have to talk to you eventually since you two were working the same case. Apparently no, because it appeared that he went out of his way to deliver every piece of correspondence meant for you through to Murphy, letting him act as a sort of unwilling middle man between the two of you. You knew that Steve already felt awkward enough having to be in the same room with the two of you whilst this was all going on, so your sympathy for him deepened when he was thrust into the even more awkward position of messenger. Sometimes you swore he made up fake meetings with Messina to attend to or new leads to investigate just so he could get away from the suffocating air of hate around you and Javi. And really, who could blame him?

You felt your nose twitch in annoyance as you trained your eyes forward to him, periodically looking down at various files of intel to keep up the facade that you were indeed working, though you eyes were across the room for most of the time, searching for any sign of emotion on his face. Nothing, zilch, not a single trace, his expression only showcasing general indifference, as if nothing were wrong at all. You gripped your hand tightly around the edge of your pen, thinking of everything you wished you could say to him. How’s your heart after breaking mine, Javi? For your information, ever since you pulled that bullshit on the phone, I’ve been miserable as all fucking hell. Before all that happened, I wanted to try. I was even ready to try to forgive you after that stupid fight, but you just had to make that call. You know what? I’d actually hate you less if you just acted like you cared a little that we broke up. But noooo, you’re just Mr. Perfectly Fine, what with your ignoring me and your casual cruelty, your always showing up at just the right time, and your insincerity, and the way you think everything fucking revolves around you. Well, I’ll tell you something Javi - I’m done! Absolutely done with you and your shit. Jump off a cliff for all I care!

“I’ll be back later on, gonna go follow up on a few leads” your thoughts were cut off by Javier’s abrupt announcement, your eyes gracing themselves upwards to watch him hastily scoop his jacket off the back of his chair and skulk his way out of the office. Every bitter word you wanted to say to him burned on your tongue, though you only managed to settle on a simple yet seething glare while his eyes glazed over you, rushing himself out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. You noticed Murphy look over his shoulder like he was about to say something but it was too late - Javi was already long gone. 

_______

Letting out a low groan of frustration, you slammed the door to your car shut and threw your head back against the seats headrest, the stress of the job and the emotional weight of the day combining to make you even more tired than you would usually be at the end of a long day. Javier hadn’t been back to the office since he left, leaving both you and Murphy to pick up all the work he’d left in his absence. If that wasn’t infuriating enough, the thought of him running around all of Bogotá just to avoid seeing you brought your anger to new unreachable heights. It was annoying - him not being around should have left your mind to be free to do some actual goddamn work but instead, just as before, every single moment he occupied your mind, living there permanently as if it were his right. How much more infuriating could that man get?

Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t any more of a nuisance than usual, since the apartment complex you shared with the others wasn’t that far from the embassy, so that was a small positive at the very least. Once you’d pulled up to the lot you were feeling a lot more level-headed than you did before, and were mainly looking forward to kicking back in pajamas and watching whatever was on TV with the leftover pizza from the night before. It wouldn’t do much to take your mind off everything with Javi, though, you knew that much. Still, a small bit of bliss was still bliss. 

Your apartment was down the hall from Javier’s, which had made it easier for you two when you were together but now felt like another sore reminder of what had been. Sighing heavily to yourself, you kicked the door to your car shut and stuffed the keys into the pocket of your jeans. A minor annoyance, sure, nothing you couldn’t handle though. You wondered if he would even be back right now. He had to be, right? An idea started to creep into your head at that thought, taking root and festering until you had practically talked yourself into doing it already, descending up the stairs with a sense of purpose behind you. Maybe if you showed up on his doorstep you could force him to confront you, make him look you in the eye. Any sort of acknowledgement to what you two had would be nice at this point, and if you had to take action yourself to get him to do it, then so be it. 

The closer you got to his door the more you felt you should turn back, a feeling of uneasiness beginning to form somewhere deep in your chest. This might be a bad idea. What if you two got into a fight again? As much as you wanted nothing more than to hurl some carefully crafted insults at Javi and his stupid gorgeous face, you weren’t exactly up for a full on battle that could result from it. Would it be better to simply go home and ignore your problems a little more?

Once you were only inches from the door was when you started to hear it. At first it sounded muffled, on account of the fact that there was a physical barrier between you and them, and you weren’t quite sure exactly what you heard at first but when you pressed yourself closer to the door you could hear it all clear as day - a woman moaning loudly on the other side, whimpering out Javi’s name and betraying exactly what was going on within the walls of the apartment. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, the world feeling like it was collapsing around you from the very second you realised why he had left early for the day. Unable to stop yourself, you tore yourself away from the apartment door and ran down the hall to your own place, tears falling at a rapid pace that refused to stop. You didn’t know if the woman in there was an informant, or a prostitute, or some random chick he’d picked up in a bar after ditching work for the day. In the end none of it mattered though. All that mattered is that it wasn’t you in there with him, like it used to be, like it should be, and that fact made you hurt all the more fiercely.

Fumbling with the keys to your apartment, you choked on a low sob working your way through the waterfall of tears in your eyes to try and wrestle the key into the lock. Through your haste, you accidentally let them fall loose from your palms and onto the ground, prompting a loud “fuck!” to ring out from your throat, loud enough for everyone in the neighboring apartments to hear. Not like you really cared about that, to be honest. With your hands shaking, you finally managed to throw the door to your apartment open, slamming it back closed with a thud and leaning back against it with your head in your hands, slowly descending to the ground to finally give in to the wave of sorrow threatening to claim you. 

You’d known his reputation before you started seeing each other, that he slept with all his informants and chased every woman who crossed his path in Colombia. Actually, it had made you hesitant to get involved with him in the first place but once you two had bitten the bullet and finally admitted your damn feelings for each other, Javier had ceased with his wild ways, becoming solely dedicated to you and you alone. And sure, you two weren’t together anymore, there wasn’t anything stopping him from being with other women. It felt like a deeper twist of the knife though, what you’d heard from behind that door, and it practically confirmed the sickening feeling that had been building in you since the first day back in the office after your breakup, when Javi refused to even look you in the eye and acted as if you’d vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn’t care about me anymore. 

Moving on had been that much easier for him. While it took everything in you to get up each day, he was doing absolutely ok. More than ok, if the sounds coming from his apartment were anything to go by. He was even already settling back into his old reputation. You should’ve known it was too good to be true - the manwhore of the DEA, Javier Peña actually wanting to settle down with one woman, actually caring about a girl beyond what she could be in bed. You remembered the raised eyebrows when you two had first gotten together: for most, it just seemed so out of nowhere. You’d ignored them all, remembering all the times you’d be tangled up with Javi on the couch, his head nestled into your neck while your heart raced a mile a minute, hearing every sweet nothing and praise he’d whisper to you. Stupid girl, you should’ve known. 

_______

After such a huge revelation, you thought things might’ve changed. In what way they would, you didn’t really know. Maybe the change would be sudden, such as you finally working up enough of a resolve to actually go confront Javier on his shit. Or maybe you’d take a leaf out of his book and start trying to seem like nothing was wrong at all, maybe go out on a few dates with some other guys. One of the Search Bloc guys had been eyeing you up every time he came over with Carillo to talk strategy, maybe you could go out with him. Though you knew it wouldn’t help - unlike Javier, who was actually more than happy with where you two had left things, you weren’t, and acting like it was just to throw it in his face wasn’t really going to work if he didn’t care enough to look over at you in the first place. And even then, the idea of falling into bed with some random man that you didn’t care for all that much in the name of moving on didn’t seem right to you. 

Nevertheless, you expected some form of change to happen the morning after when you came into work to see Javier sitting at his desk, on the phone to someone you couldn’t care less about. But nope. Nothing had changed. You sat down and stared across the room at him, just like you’d done every day for the past two weeks, and he ignored your stare to continue with writing something down on his notepad, just like usual. 

Maybe the change would be gradual, you thought, staring back over at the man in the midst of your ire with one of your coldest glares. And sure enough, around midday Steve had come up to you asking to retrieve something from the evidence room for him. Apparently he needed to look over something but was too busy with his own work to go fetch it - you knew on some level that his excuse was bullshit as it had been a pretty slow day for all of you but sure, whatever, if it got you out of that room and away from Javi for at least a few blissful moments that was fine by you. 

Reaching out for the door to the evidence room, you pushed it open and admitted yourself into the crowded space, twisting around to slam the door shut firmly behind you. Before you were rows of shelves containing every bit of evidence the DEA had accumulated against Escobar - there wasn’t as much as there probably should have been due to the fire that had broken out at the Palace of Justice years before yet the amount contained in that small room was still impressive in size. Moving between the shelves, you scanned the rows of boxes looking for the one Steve had asked for in particular, taking your time with it as there was a small sense of serenity to being in that room. For once it felt like you could breathe. You didn’t have to sit at a desk across from your ex, you didn’t have to go home to your apartment that was literally across the hall from his, you could be alone and not feel suffocated by his ever-present shadow over your life. Though, in some way you supposed, your own memories could still prove just as suffocating as Javier’s own godforsaken presence.

As if by thinking of him you’d magically summoned him, the man himself strode through the door to the evidence room, appearing to be in quite a hurry however once he noticed you were there he stopped, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual stoic glare. You could barely contain your own disappointment at his sudden appearance, letting your face twist into a low scowl as you watched him walk down the aisle you were standing in, his eyes dashing from row to row searching for any place to look so they could avoid landing on you. Anger bubbled within you, a thousand different sarcastic or otherwise snarky remarks coming to mind that you could throw out at him, every one of them becoming increasingly more scathing the more you thought about it. Letting out a small sigh, you forced yourself to push all those delightful insults to the back of your mind, not wanting to become caught up in any more personal drama than you had to. Get the box and go. It’s that simple. There doesn’t need to be anymore to this. 

A minute later your eyes landed on the fabled box you’d been searching for, shoved into a corner and so out of the way you almost missed it completely. You thought of asking Steve what was in the box that he needed so bad when out of nowhere you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you.

“Listen, I...about what happened on the phone a few weeks ago-”. 

So, it seems Mr. Perfectly Fine has finally decided to break his silence. In an instant you twisted yourself around to face him, quickly taking in his serious expression and stiff stature before your eyes met for the first time in two weeks.“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to speak to me now? That’s a first. I thought you were steadfast gonna ignore me for the rest of my life” you spat, not allowing him any form of politeness or decorum in your reply. Why should you? He’d ignored you for weeks. He deserved this. 

You watched as Javier tensed at your words, clearly not expecting the bite back that you had given to him. There was some part of his expression that almost looked sheepish in a way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really wanted this conversation to happen at all. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just-” he started with you rolling your eyes and cutting in almost immediately. “Save it for someone who actually gives a shit. Shouldn’t be hard since you don’t seem to care all too much yourself” you snarled, an action which only made him even more tense. 

“I do care, and I kind of always have fucking cared so if you could calm down a little and stop getting yourself worked up we can actually talk about what happened. Can you do that for me at the bare minimum?” he retorted, a harsh edge appearing in his tone that indicated he was already becoming frustrated with your attitude. You knew Javi’s emotions like the back of your hand - he wasn’t a patient man, and he had no time for snark or sarcasm, though only if it was directed at him. When it came to himself, he was more than happy to indulge in a small bit of pettiness. You didn’t much care at that moment though: as far as you were concerned, he lost the right to a civilised discussion when he broke up with you over the phone and then pretended you were invisible for weeks. It’s not like things can get any worse than they are now, right?

“Oh, sure, sure, we can totally talk. How about I start then?” you fired back, every word simmering with venom and dripping raw with sarcastic edge. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the shelf to take him in, from the creases in his tie to his tired eyes staring straight into you. Wait, tired? You didn’t realise it until then but he had been looking pretty tired lately, almost like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then again, his sleep schedule had never been quite stellar, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. And he was probably up all night with that woman I heard him with, you reminded yourself bitterly.  “Look at you, so dignified in your well pressed suit, so smug and self-involved, so far above me in every way, so far above that you won’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge my presence. Tell me, Javier, has it really been that easy to forget about me?” you taunted. “Though I supposed when you’re seducing every whore in Colombia into your bed it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”. 

Javier was caught off guard by your remark, not anticipating that you would go so far as to accuse him of returning to his old ways. “First of all, she was an informant, and I had to leave yesterday to go meet up with her. Things ran into overtime and that’s the reason I wasn’t back. I thought you of all people understood that gathering intel is a vital part to the fight against Escobar?” he replied, that last line at the end being delivered with only a little more underlying snip than the rest yet it was more than enough for you to feel around thirty percent more pissed at him. 

You scoffed at his lies, your lip curling into a snarl at his attempt at patronising you. “Don’t patronise me. I’m well aware of the ins and outs of this job, in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been working with the DEA for eight years now, which is why I’m calling bullshit on your pathetic excuse for a lie. You do realise we live in the same building right? I know you were doing more than having a friendly discussion with her in there, in fact, I quite literally heard you two through the goddamn walls on my way back home. And before you try to spin some shit about how it was necessary for the case, you and I both know that fucking the informant isn’t a standard part of procedure. You don’t see Murphy bedding any of his sources of intel, do you?”. 

“Murphy’s married, princesa” he deadpanned, throwing in that little nickname he had for you that two weeks ago would have made your heart flutter but at this time and in the context he used it only soured your mood further. “That’s besides the point. You’ve been acting like I never even mattered to you at all, and it’s honestly making me wonder if I ever did? Especially since I apparently didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper breakup and got a 27 second phone call instead. Tell me, when did you change your mind? I thought I was supposed to be the one you were waiting for all your life. Guess that was pretty easy to change, wasn’t it?” you snapped.

“Hermosa, can you just fucking listen for one minute?! God, you’re impossible sometimes” Javier shouted, that infamous temper of his rising towards the surface at a rapid rate. It was only a matter of time before he spat something out that he would no doubt regret. In your own haze of anger though, that fact didn’t register with you at all - you only saw red. If you had to scream back at him to finally pull some answers out of the man, then so fucking be it.

“No, how about you listen for once! I know we had that big fight but we could have just talked. The next day when you called me up I was ready to forgive you for being a complete ass. And what did I get instead? ‘I’m sorry, I think we should stop seeing each other’ and a dead dial tone after that. I can tell the only reason you’re apologising today is just so you don’t have to feel like the bad guy in all of this. So what’s the truth? Why were you so ready to throw away a whole relationship over one night of terse words?” you screamed, not caring that you two were at work and anyone could pass by outside and hear you two argue. With the way you both were shouting, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire building could hear your screaming match with Javier. None of that mattered to you though. The only thing that mattered was the truth. 

You weren’t the only one refusing to hold back in any of this: any lingering spark of politeness had vanished in Javi, his eyes turning dark with searing anger you had only seen in him a couple of times before. “You want to know why? You want to fucking know why? It’s because you’re a fucking pain to deal with. You may be a fantastic agent but god you can be so stupid sometimes. You’re too reckless, you throw yourself into danger too willingly with no consideration for anyone else. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the people who cared about you if you died? Do you even give a shit about the people trying to protect you?” he confessed, fury burning with every word that came out of his mouth, his admittance making you flinch. It was just like he said during your last fight, the one that led to him dumping you in the first place. 

Everything he said from that night came rushing back to you, remembering how furious he’d been at you for what had happened during your last raid together. You could see that underneath it all he was concerned for your safety, a gesture that was usually sweet but frustrated you that night as you felt something more akin to a porcelain doll than a capable agent in his eyes. Just because I’m your girlfriend, doesn’t mean you can treat me like I need to be protected. I can handle myself just fine. That was what you’d said to him that night, which should have been the end of it but somehow as the argument went on things got more and more heated that by the time he’d stormed out of your apartment neither of you could remember what had started it all. 

What took you by surprise was that apparently he was still stewing about this, for some reason not wanting to believe in your capabilities as an agent and that alone made you more pissed at him. “I don’t need to be protected, Javier. I’m a woman, a DEA agent for crying out loud, not a flower! I’m more than capable of handling myself, I was literally trained for this! Nobody else here seems to have a problem with how I approach things so maybe the issue isn’t my method of attack but the fact that you’re a paranoid asshole?”. 

He raised a single eyebrow back at you, looking somewhat skeptical of your claim but more so angry that somehow you two had managed to circle back around to the very thing that had started this whole mess.“Really? Because our last raid you were throwing yourself into the fray as if it were a suicide mission. It was a miracle you only ended up with a minor sprain to the wrist. Those men, the sicario’s, they don’t fucking hold back, one wrong mistake means the difference between life and death” he snapped.“And you know what? After constantly stressing over your safety every minute I was done. If you wanna end up with a bullet between your eyes, be my guest”.

The second those words slipped from his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. As the tears started to form in your eyes you could see him freeze up, his burning temper that had caused him to be so hateful before starting to slowly seep back, replaced with remorse and a hint of panic if you squinted. Although that didn’t matter much right now - his venomous words were rattling around in your brain, acting as a metaphorical hammer that took the final swing towards your damaged heart. Apparently what you heard through the walls the night before hadn’t been enough to break you completely, since there was still enough left of your heart for the rest of it to be shattered by his callous cruelty. 

Forcefully swallowing down your cries, you wanted so badly to disappear from the room. You wanted to melt into the floor, to run away and go find one of Escobar’s men and gloat about all you’d done to try to stop him so you could feel the mercy of a fatal gunshot wound to the head. All the pain you had felt previously paled in comparison to the knife that cut you then, the tight feeling of your throat closing with every word you forced out. “So you were lying. You don’t care about me at all. You...you think I’m stupid. And reckless. And...not able to handle being here…”. 

“Shit, princesa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Javier started, desperately scrambling to fix the mess he’d caused, however, you weren’t going to let him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Any hope he might have had of making things right was now thrown straight out the window. No more chances. Not anymore. 

“I think that’s exactly what you meant, Javi. Well, you got your wish I guess. I’ll get out of your life for good” your voice wobbled as you spoke, the next few minutes becoming a blur from when you’d pushed past him and ran out of the evidence room, hearing him call your name behind and not bothering to turn back to face him, running through the halls past different agents and members of the DEA, your hand shielding yourself in a pathetic attempt to save face. Somehow you’d managed to make it out to your car, throwing yourself into the driver's seat and jamming the keys into the ignition, your mind going in a million different directions. Your first thought was to go back home, though you knew that you’d have to hear Javi come back later, probably with yet another woman he picked up. You didn’t exactly have any friends in Colombia - with your line of work there hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to sit around and mingle with people, and truth be told you wanted to avoid people at all costs right then. Without any idea as to where you might be going, or what you were going to do, you pulled your car out of the parking lot and slammed on the gas to get you out of there, the world surrounding you not registering to you anymore and every sound becoming a rush against your ears that you paid no mind to. 

One thing was for sure - you weren’t going to give Javier a single drop more of you. Your time, your mind, your energy, your tears, nothing. He’d already proved himself to be a lying sack of shit who didn’t care about you, so as it stood, you wouldn’t care about him either. Like the end of a tragic tale, everything had crashed and burned, and now that you thought about it more, maybe that was how things needed to be. 

Goodbye, Mr Perfectly Fine. I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time. 

Permanent tag list (if you wanna be added shoot me a message):

@greeneyedblondie44​

[minjeongthinker]

Jump Then Fall

(inspired by Jump The Fall by Taylor Swift obviously 😭)

warnings : none afaik >__<

genre : fluff !

word count : 2.4k

pairing : han jisung / oc (f)

ps . very messy bc i just wrote my thoughts ahead without sincerely thinking ++ hello Tumblr!

"Hey y/n!" you gasped in shock while docking over the countertop to prepare for your morning shift at the coffee shop you're currently working on when Jisung, the shop's owner's son, called your name in a deafening way while it's just almost 6 in the morning.

"Oh hey Ji what are you up to?" You tried so hard to hide the bubbly voice petrified that he'll notice that you're happy and jumping inside because he's actually here, in front of you.

Yup, you have unattended feelings for this man hiding inside your very heart although you don't bother talking it to him because you can't afford to lose the friendship you and him had built through the years. At least you're aware that he's not interested in you so you're convinced that this is better, that you're satisfied with him being your superman despite you two just being "besties".

"can't sleep... i think I'll just work with you on your shift then maybe we can sleep at my pad?" he played with his lips in a very cute way while he's clasping his fingers with each other signing that he's nervously not sure if you'll go with him 🤠 as if you two don't treat each other's apartment as their own too...

"oh poor baby, let's go then! my shift ends at 8:30 if that'll be okay with you?" he scooped your shoulder, wrapping both of his hands around your neck while he sniffes your hair as he happily jumps upon your approval.

"of course bub,, i got nervous at the thought that you're already tired of seeing my face.. let's go to work maybe?"

"alriiiight!!! ^____^" this time, you didn't hide the bubbly tune and smiled sweetly at him with his small gestures. He also smiled back at you, giggling and his gummies were showing so you hugged him absentmindedly while saying he's so cute to be him..

That was just a normal day between you two. Most of the time, you even thought the things you two are doing are lovers-like but you just shrug 'em thoughts off because you like it too so who are you to ask for more T^T

"Hey bubbles! Can I take the usual?" you looked up at the customer to know who just stated their order only to find Minho smirking and steadying his hands above the counter to see your face clearly. Minho is your blockmate and also your best friend, but you know the love you have for him will not exceed above platonic, very different when it comes to Jisung. Speaking of him, you both decided that he'll work on the coffees while you take the counter.

"Oh Minmin good day! Sure you can! what brings you here though? as far as i am concerned, you don't wanna walk through cafes just to have your coffee?" You talked to him while not looking back and punching whatever that needs to be punched on the counter.

"I just wanna look at you pretty, is it too much to ask?" You giggled, knowing how un- serious he was because you do know he's not the type to date and step things up with people he considered as family.

"Sure it's not Min, take a look all you want!" You moved your head from side to side while posing different angles to add light to the situation. You both laughed off until you hear a mini smash on the kitchen which makes you hush and run there aggressively, leaving Minho concerned in front of the counter.

"Jisung what the fuck was that?" You saw the kitchen perfectly fine, Jisung being sloppy with his movements, and a pan which looked like it was intentionally banged just to create a huge noise.

"Oh.. nothing, nothing.. sorry to disturb your flirting sesh y/n, you can now go back, it's perfectly fine here..." he didn't even bother to look at you, continued the coffee he was making, though his movements were still sloppy as it was when you entered the room. You got scared because he might be mad about you chitchatting while at work and even misunderstanding what you did with Minho earlier. "Uh.. first of all, i am not flirting,, and uhm second, i hope it's really fine here, yeah? I.. i'm so sorry.." you hated your voice for shaking at the last phrase so it made him look at you, now with worried eyes.

"It really is y/n, sorry..... uhm.. for the noise." Though the coldness, he still smiled at you reassuring you that it's really true this time. You can still see a glimpse of worry when he did a second look after getting his eyes off for the first time.

Him on the other hand felt extremely guilty when he saw your eyebrows meeting each other in a scared way, and your voice shaking made his heart break, as he never really saw and heard you like that while talking to him. He can't believe his jealousy made him do something petty that he knows he'll also regret later on.

You went back to the counter pouting and Minho was still there, distracting the customers behind him while waiting for you to arrive. He let out a deep breath when he saw you.

"Bub, i think your man is fucking jealous. Believe me this time, wanna bet?" he whisphered while you take other orders.

"Confess already y/n, he might— will act cold after this, talkin from experience.. and i too would leave a "so called bestie" that i like if she had found someone to love already.." he added.

"... including me?" you teased, though what he said had affected your senses because you know there isn't someone other than Jisung inside your heart.

"Shut up ma'am, i met you when you're already head over heels over jisung, and p.s, I don't want you, ew?" he teased as he feels the uneasiness after you going out from the kitchen.

"I think.. he's just plainly angry though, i'll talk to him later.. and.... try to confess.. you better be ready because i might crash to your apartment when things just get worse."

"Gotchu y/n! i better download movies so i can fix thy heart by then, just text me okai?"

Jisung overheard Minho's last sentence so he himself brought the coffee to him while glaring at him. "Thank you, Please go now!" He told Minho, almost pushing him outside.

Minho then grinned and winked at you before closing the cafe's door. Jisung didn't even look at you as he straight up returned to the kitchen.

It's 8:30 am and the workers for the next shift have arrived already, so you and Jisung are now on the locker room, folding both of your aprons as well as your caps. At this point, you aren't really sure if your sleepover would still push through considering his attitude towards you earlier.

You were suprised when he hang his hand on the air, waiting for yours to interwine when you had finished cleaning already, you didn't even notice him waiting for you as you are clouded with negative thoughts.

You grabbed his hand and you both walked to his car while nobody is still speaking.

"Ji.. uhm i need to... tell you something later." You finally broke the silent conversation you have been going through while you were arranging your seatbelt.

His eyes dropped and did a blink that shows his regret and a bit of weariness, he thinks he already know what you need to tell him. He then reached to your side as he memorized that you still don't know how to buckle your seatbelt when you're on the front seat.

"Sure thing y/n, be 100% comfy telling me things because i will always root for whatever that'll... make you happy." He smiled at you, wearily, and patted your head; you wondered why he's suddenly being nice and sad at the same time after the commotion earlier. Weird.

You both arrived at his apartment without talking to each other. Immediately going to his large couch, you had the sight of the blankets and pillows that were already there, as if he already planned it all beforehand. You just shrugged it off, thinking he just tried to sleep here earlier, no biggie.

Rain started to pour, the living room lights and the tv were turned off, making the windows beside you the only source of light that brightens the room. It made the place serene with the sound of the thunderstorms acting like the music from the vinyls playing at bright daylight.

You curled your body in a comfy way on the large couch, not bothering to wait for Jisung which is still not in the living room. Maybe you're just gonna talk to him later when you both woke up. You're gonna be rejected anyway.

Senseless thoughts had clouded your mind again, thinking what would you even do in this world if you don't have him anymore. Maybe you'll just drink everyday. Maybe you're gonna find someone in school, on a dating app, on Twitter. Maybe you're just gonna enter the convent. These thoughts made you dizzy and sleepy.

You're half asleep already when you felt his body spooning you from behind, cuddling you while sniffing your hair. Jisung wrapped his hands below your chest, gripping and hugging them tight as if it is the last time he's gonna hold you.

"you still awake?" he asked huskily, you hesitated to answer because he might let go if you did, so you stayed silent.

"you know, i kinda know this moment would come.." he started off, his breathes are getting slower as you feel them on you shoulder.

"i clearly know you'd fall for someone who you'd want to be with the rest of your life.."

"im... honestly not prepared for it.." your heart dropped. You weren't sure if he means something about this or he's just plainly concerned as your best friend.

"i cried in my room if you didn't notice why i was away suddenly... I can't let go of you, pumpkin.."

You seriously don't know what was he talking about but when you felt your shoulders wet, you knew he was serious about it. You and Minho really do give different ideas to people..

"i hope that Minho boy would take care of pumpkin..." pumpkin.... something that helps people see better.. you make him see better ??

"she deserves so much care..."

"and affection.."

"and love..."

"and hugs..."

"and.. kisses.."

He's still sniffing while hugging you, this time tighter than he was doing earlier. The sound of his low sobs have mixed up with the rain drops as they hit the houses' roofs.

"i love you my pumpkin.."

"im sorry i blew up the chance to be the one to take care of you for the rest of your life.."

Tears started to run through your cheeks slowly, he had never addressed you pumpkin before, thinking about how he thinks of you as "his pumpkin" melted your whole existence apart and it just made you wanna cling and cry on his chest all day. You told yourself you're gna let go if he tells you he likes you right at that moment which you knew was never gna happen— that he's just saying this out of care and concern because afterall, you're his best friend.

"my pumpkin.."

"i like you so much if you still don't get it.. i wanna take you with old ji.. i wanna explore the world with you... everytime you shine, I'll shine for you.."

"i wish im just.. dreaming and th.. at when i wake up, my pumpkin would... say she wanna be with me too..." he sleepily says, his grip on your stomach is now loosening, making you able to move.

You moved while whining as if you're misunderstood. Tears started to flow like waterfall, they just don't stop. You faced his chest and tugged your leg on his waist as if he's the plushie you hug to sleep.

"ji.. what the fuck are you saying?" you cried on his chest like a kid begging her mother to take them with her wherever they were going.

Jisung didn't flinch at all, he just hugged you again, this time caressing your hair and rubbing your back as you let go of your tears on his chest... he has stopped sobbing, but you still feel him getting weak and sad through his breathes.. He thought about this as your good bye hug. That this'll be the last time he's gonna be within your embrace.

"baby,, you can tell me whatever that you wanted to tell me earlier now.." the huskiness didn't leave his voice, you're still sobbing and crying on his chest like you don't wanna stop at all.

"i can't... at this state i just.. wanna.. cry all day.. while hugging you.. " you struggled to say 'em words while crying so hard.

"shhhh, hush baby, you'll just hurt me more if you don't stop.. please stop... crying... i might act carelessly and steal you from whoever has got my.. pumpkin's heart..." he said, almost a whisper.

"baby" you started..

"i wanted to confess.."

"i like you jiji.. for a very long time already.."

"i don't intend to hurt you at all by my tears, i just wanna cry it all out.."

"you have called me pumpkin for so many times and you expect me to be fine as i am??" you're still crying btw..

jisung flinched a little this time, thinking if he had heard those words right from you

"bunny, what did you say? i feel like im hearing things right now because of this desperation im feeling, fuck.. i wish i was hearing you right" he said, now hugging you tighter.

You really love how your body melts completely whenever he tightens the hug like he really don't want to let go of you, even for a single split of sec.

"pumpkin loves you too jiji.."

"im trying to confess and... i thought you'll just reject me so i didn't bother waiting for you earlier.."

"pumpkin didn't want anyone else babe,,"

"she just wanted your care.. your affection... your hugs.. your kisses.."

"pumpkin just wanted you.." you had stopped crying but you're now having hiccups while cooing onto jisung's chest.

"you don't have to sleep to hear them baby.."

"i wanna be with you too. everytime you smile, i'll smile too.. you can jump then fall here baby.."

"pumpkin will catch you wholeheartedly.." you finally looked up to jisung, whose eyes are watery again.

"i love you jisung", you whisphered and gave him a peck on the lips.

He was caught off guard, but he immediately got himself together.

When you let go and were on your way to return to his chest, he pulled your head again into a kiss—this time a deeper and longer one.

You both let go, running out of breath. He kissed the top of your head while you have returned to his chest, feeling and hearing each and every beat of his heart. You stayed together that way, you didn't hear anything from Jisung but you feel him so much and you know he's never gonna leave you anymore.

You didn't even notice you have slept for hours already while hugging him. You woke up and you're still at that exact position when you were a crying mess. It was nearly 5 pm and you still don't have the energy to let go from his embrace. You really meant it when you said you wanted to cling onto his chest all day.

You moved upwards a little bit to level your face to Jisung's while he's still sleeping. You caressed his temples down to his chin, admiring his cheeks that you have been wanting to bite since then, and you kissed each and every mole, which you loved the most. They were stars to you, making your eyes gleam in awe every single time you try to look at them. You have hoped you were his lover from your past lives— that you were the one who kissed him the most on those particular parts of his pretty face.

"You're so pretty to be pumpkin's man, jiji" you said and giggled, as if he was gna hear you.

You were caught off guard when he pulled you carefully to his chest, rubbing your back again.

"She loves to be called pumpkin huh?" he cheekily said, despite his voice being still husky.. you didn't know he was awake already. Was he just waiting for you to wake up then?

You tied onto his body for the nth time.

"s-she does.. i guess.. ?? and she.. wants to hug you longer.."

You heard him chuckle and wiggled both of your bodies together as if a kid who's happily playing with his teddy bear.

Your breathes steadied, Jisung had finally processed every word that came out from your mouth, finally jumping to fall into you.

"The moon will be pretty tonight, y/n." he cooed. You find it amusing how he don't flinch at all despite you clinging onto him for almost 9 hours now.

"I love you too, Jisung.."

[patton-croc-agenda]

Coral and Crowns (Ch.1/4)

A/N: Heyoo it’s me your local fic dealer here with a mer!royality fic bc those boys need more love damnit (me??? not writing logicality?? more likely than u think)

Specials thanks to: @pattonistooprecious my lovely beta, @impatentpending for letting me cameo her disaster lesbians, and the kids on the powerless discord server. Y’all wild.

Pairings: Royality

Words: 5,887

Warnings: Mentioned homophobia, mentioned/implied overbearing/emotionally distant parents

Next: Ch.2

Read it on Ao3

Roman Prince, despite being a hopeless romantic, did not fall in love easily. He’d faced enough heartbreak in his life to know when to teasingly flirt, and when to guard his heart away. He knew someday, he’d find the right person for him, but he doubted he’d meet them today. Hell, he doubted he’d meet them within this year. That was okay though, really, better to wait and find his perfect match then just go getting his heart broken by all the wrong people.

“YO! YOU GONNA JUMP OR NOT?” Roman ignored the voice behind him in favor of looking down into the water below. This was a popular cove for cliff-divers, with cliffs of all sizes lining the beach. Roman had been coming here his entire life, and had been jumping off cliffs into the ocean below for the same length of time. Taking a deep breath, Roman stepped back and prepared himself.

This particular cliff was rather dangerous, it was quite high up and the water below was surrounded by a small semicircle of rocks. It was dangerous, but Roman was a Prince.

He lived for danger.

Racing forward, Roman whooped and dove down, feeling the wind rush past his face, stinging his eyes and skin with salt carried up from the ocean. Roman closed his eyes as he made impact with the water.

Roman felt the warmth of ocean water engulf him as he slowly opened his eyes. He loved being underwater, loved the feeling of being hugged it gave him. His vision was slightly fuzzy, making him wish he’d brought his goggles. Sadly, goggles were terribly unfashionable, and as much as Roman wanted to see the bright colors of sea life, he wanted his dignity more.

Roman was about to swim up when he saw a blur out of the corner of his eye, a very large blur. Roman turned and saw...a boy?

He looked to be about Roman’s age, maybe a bit younger. He was poking out from behind a rock, so Roman couldn’t see his lower half, just his chest and arms and face. Not that Roman was complaining, as Mr. Stranger had a very pretty face. Dotted with freckles, with wavy brown hair floating around his head like a halo. He was wearing glasses, which was weird considering they were underwater, but Roman had seen people do so before and decided to not think much of it. He gave Roman a wide, sunshine grin before ducking behind the rock completely.

Roman was about to follow, but the pain in his lungs was a sharp reminder that he needed to resurface. Besides, people were still cliff-diving, and Roman didn’t want to get crushed by an unsuspecting jumper. He gave the rock one last look before kicking to the surface.

~~~~~

Roman’s hand rested on the door handle. He’d spent the entire day at the beach, and really needed to get home. He had to get ready for work tomorrow, as much as he hated it. Roman sighed and rested his forehead against the warm, red metal, closing his eyes. Just thinking about going to work, thinking about listening to customers whine loudly like mosquitoes while children screeched and ran wild in the background, gave him a headache.

Still, though, he couldn't help it. All of his job hunting had turned out to be fruitless, so he would continue to work retail until someone took pity on the high school dropout and gave him an honest shot. He needed the money, needed to find out how to get his GED and then maybe scrape together enough money for community college.

Roman inhaled through his nose and opened his car door, ready to face tomorrow. He paused, however, and remembered the boy from earlier. He’d been in the back of Roman’s mind all day. Roman knew he should go, should get some sleep for the headache that was tomorrow. Just like he knew the boy probably wasn’t even there anymore. Still...he couldn’t shake the feeling that overtook him. It couldn’t hurt to just look. Roman groaned and closed his car again, returning to the beach.

~~~~

Roman did not find the strange boy. He’d looked everywhere, from the water around the cliff he had first seen the boy, to the corners of the beach, to even a few closed food stands. Nothing. Roman didn’t know what he was expecting. Sighing, Roman glanced up at the setting sun and prepared to head back to his car. Again.

He froze when he heard a beautiful, soft, melody. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. It blended perfectly with the waves that crashed up along the sand, a haunting sound. Roman walked slowly towards the ocean, noticing a rock jutting out from the water. He often saw children climbing up on it during the day, and usually lifeguards would have to keep a close eye on it to make sure none were shoving each other off.

At the moment, however, there was only one person sitting on the large rock. The boy Roman had seen earlier, if those wavy locks were anything to go by. Roman could only see the upper half of his body as he slowly approached, glad he hadn’t changed back into his clothes as he waded out into the water and approached the large rock.

The boy kept singing softly, the sound echoing in Roman’s mind. He couldn’t make out any specific lyrics, just the boy’s lovely voice.

“Hey there,” Roman finally decided to make his presence known. The boy shrieked in surprise and fell forward off the rock, into the ocean. Roman scrambled up and looked down with wide eyes at the place the boy landed. The water bubbled for a moment, before the boy resurfaced, brushing his hair from his face.

“Oh my goodness!” the boy said, looking at Roman with wide eyes. He placed his hand against the rock, and when he pulled it away it was a blur. Something hit Roman in the chest and he looked down to see a rather bright colored starfish. He looked at the boy with a bewildered expression.

A sheepish grin, “you star-tled me!” Roman gaped slightly before a laugh escaped past his lips. He gently took the starfish and tossed it back into the ocean, laying across the large rock on his stomach and putting his chin over his crossed arms.

“So you’re beautiful, a talented singer, and make witty puns? I seem to have hit the jackpot,” Roman said smoothly. The boy’s cheeks turned bright pink, accentuating his freckled face as he giggled.

“Man, you’re a real charmer aren’t ya?”

“Of course. Now, would you happen to have a name, you handsome angel?” The boy tilted his head.

“I thought the term was handsome devil?”

“You seem far too sweet for that,” Roman winked. The boy titered again.

“Patton. I’m Patton Coral.”

“Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful boy I see? I’m Roman, Roman Prince.” Patton snorted loudly and quickly covered his mouth. Roman raised a brow at him.

“Yes, yes. My last name is very funny, I know.”

“No, no, it’s not that! I guess it’s a sort of inside joke?” Patton said. Roman nodded.

“Well, I’d love to make some inside jokes with you someday. How about you and I grab coffee sometime?” Patton’s face fell and he looked at the water, swimming away from the rock slightly.

“I, um. I can’t, I’m sorry,” he fiddled with his fingers, looking truly upset. Roman’s face fell as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I just met you, and asked you on a date. That was awfully rude of me.” Patton looked at Roman again, quickly shaking his head.

“No! It’s not that at all! I just. I’m not really able to go many places other than home and the beach...strict parents and such. Which is totally unfair, since I’m not a child anymore!” Roman smiled softly and sat up, letting his feet trail through the water. Patton swam closer.

“I understand,” Roman ran a hand through his hair, “my parents never let me go out of their sight. I mean, until they kicked me out.” Patton’s expression grew surprised.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Nah, I’m over it now. They couldn’t handle the fact I like boys, so I say I’m better off without em anyway.” Roman shrugged. It was at least somewhat true, the sting of being kicked out dulled a lot over the past six years. Not entirely though. He couldn’t expect it to ever, truly.

“Still, that’s awful. I’m real sorry you had to deal with that. Parents should accept their children, not shun them,” Patton put his hand over Roman’s. It felt weirdly warm and dry considering it had been previously underwater.

“Thanks, Pat.” Patton nodded before suddenly ducking into the ocean, hardly making a ripple. Roman was genuinely concerned he’d been pulled down due to how sudden it was and peered down, trying to see him.

He resurfaced suddenly, knocking foreheads with Roman. They both winced back, rubbing where they’d been hit.

“Sorry!” Patton finally said, holding out a shell. Roman frowned, slowly taking it.

“Thanks?”

“I heard if you put these up to your ear, you can hear the the ocean. I thought it’d be a good gift from me...considering everything,” Patton looked a bit nervous, “and if you want we can meet here same time tomorrow? The shell can be a reminder of sorts.” Roman couldn’t help the wide, hundred watt grin from growing on his face.

“I love it,” he said, because he did. He really, truly loved it. Still, he felt as though he needed to give Patton something in return. He felt inside the pockets of his swim trunks, before remembering something else.

Clipped onto the belt loop (though he had no clue why these swim trunks needed a belt loop) was a pocket knife Roman had bought a few years ago. He never really needed it, but enjoyed having it on him anyway. He unclipped it and handed it to Patton.

“Oh, no! Roman I can’t take this!” Patton shook his head, but his eyes sparkled with obvious interest. Roman winked and curled Patton’s fingers around the knife, pushing it towards him.

“I insist. You gave me a gift, so here is one for you. Just carry it with you, and if I ever need it back, I’ll just ask.” Patton seemed to consider the offer for a heartbeat before he nodded.

“Thank you so much, Roman! It’s beautiful.”

“I could say the same about the gift you gave me, or you, for that matter,” Roman smiled. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Patton grinned and gave Roman the cheesiest wink he’d ever seen.

“Of course, Mr. Prince.”

~~~

Roman never realized how lonely he was until he’d been seeing Patton for about a month. July melted into August, but despite the slight drop in temperature Roman had yet to see his friend(? Boyfriend? They certainly flirted, but Roman wasn’t sure where their relationship stood) out of the water. Whenever he tried to ask him about it, however, Patton seemed to dodge around the question, swimming back away from Roman, and despite his curiosity, Roman was far too scared of losing his only friend to any sharp realities that would come with confrontation.

So instead, Roman would sit on the rock and watch as Patton swam and laughed, and the pair would talk for hours until Roman had to head home. They enjoyed each other’s company, and Roman trusted Patton more than he’d trusted anyone in years, despite all his secrets.

They’d gotten into a routine, with Roman coming out and sitting on the rock for about five minutes before Patton would appear seemingly out of nowhere and the two would begin wherever they last left off. Not today, though. The second Roman stepped out into the water, he saw Patton’s pop up next to their meeting rock. He was laughing, giddy, and excited.

“ROMAN!” Patton squealed, swimming in circles. Roman laughed, rushing and stumbling out to the rock. He almost didn’t make it, as Patton continued to swim circles around him.

“What’s up Patt Patt?” Excited to see me?” Roman teased lightly, collapsing onto the rock. Patton swam over, resting his arms on the tops of Roman’s knees. Roman forgot how to breathe for a half a second.

“I am, I am! Guess what guess what guess what?!” Roman laughed again, smiling at Patton.

“Hm, well I haven’t a clue. You seem so excited, why don’t you just tell m-”

“I CAN GO ON A DATE WITH YOU!” Patton cut him off, flailing his arms wildly. Roman’s heart flat out stopped in his chest. He hoped Patton knew CPR, because he was gonna die otherwise.

“You can?!”

“YES!”

“OH, PATTON, MY WONDERFUL COMPANION,” Roman was excited now too, standing up and twirling dramatically. He crouched down and took Patton’s hands in his own, they were both pink in the face and laughing with pure delight and excitement.

“When will I be able to take you out then, my beautiful Starfish?”

“Is now okay?” that took Roman by surprise a bit, but he hadn’t done improv before he dropped out of highschool for nothing. He masked any shock with a sincere grin and eagerly jumped into the water with Patton.

“Of course! Off we go!” Roman didn’t let go of Patton’s hands as he swam to shore, afraid he would lose him if he did. However, Patton ended up pulling his hands back anyway, causing Roman to turn to him curiously.

“Just gimme one second! Can I meet you at your…” Patton paused, brow furrowing.

“My car?”

“Yes! That! Sorry, you know how sometimes you know a simple word but it still slips your mind?”

“Yes! God, I hate that. I’ll see you there though.” Roman said, jogging out of the water. He walked backwards most of the way, trying to watch Patton for as long as he could before he finally vanished over a hill. Roman inhaled deeply, turning around so he wouldn’t run into anything; he’d already narrowly missed a tree.

He finally found himself sitting in the driver’s seat in his car, fiddling with his keys. Each passing minute felt like hours, and Roman felt like Patton must’ve changed his mind after fifteen torturous minutes of waiting, Roman finally started feeling a niggling doubt. Like maybe Patton had changed his mind. Maybe he was just trying to get Roman to leave so he could escape. Maybe-

THUNK!

“JEE MENETI!” Roman gave a high-pitched shriek, covering his face his arms. He looked up to see Patton, fumbling with the door handle of the passenger side. Roman let out a relieved sigh, unsure if it was because he saw that his car wasn’t being assaulted by mothman, or because Patton hadn’t ditched him after all. Probably both.

Roman leaned over and opened the door for him, grinning as Patton stumbled back. It was the first time he’d seen Patton below the waist (not that he’s really thought about it- honest!), and he had rather scrawny and pale legs compared to the rest of his body, as if he didn’t walk quite as much as he should. He was also wearing sparkly blue swim trunks that were covered in sequins that looked almost like fish scales.

Patton beamed at Roman, but it didn’t quite match the nervous look in his eyes. Still, he slowly lifted one leg, swaying as he did so, and stepped up into the car. He collapsed into the seat, letting out a relieved little sound. Roman chuckled.

“Too used to swimming to handle a little walk?” he joked. Patton gave him a playful glare, watching as Roman buckled up. He attempted to do the same, but obviously struggled. Roman had an inkling suspicion that Patton had never been in a car before, but he wasn’t going to say anything. After all, he never thought he’d get the chance to even take Patton anywhere.

“Alright, where did you want to go for this date?” Roman asked, turning to look at Patton as he put his keys into ignition. Patton shrugged helplessly.

“I figured you’d have something planned,” Roman snorted, backing out and away out of the parking lot.

“Well, this is pretty sudden, but I do have one idea,” he said. He suddenly realized something, as he looked over at Patton.

“Uh. Did you have like, at least a shirt or anything? I have one in here, but that would mean I’d end up shirtless.” Patton gave Roman a sort of confused look.

“Do I need one?” Patton asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Roman shrugged helplessly.

“Not technically? I’ll just stop by my house real quick and grab an extra one. We could see if any of my pants fit you too,” Roman started driving the familiar path home. He didn’t really live far from the beach, and it would only be a 10 minute walk if he so chose, but Roman often just headed to the beach right after work, and didn’t feel like stopping at home first. He parked at the front of his apartment, looking over at Patton, who was struggling to unbuckle.

“Were you planning to come in?” Roman asked, surprised. He had planned to just run in and grab a shirt and extra pair of pants. Patton looked at him innocently.

“Is that okay?”

“Y- yeah of course,” Roman said, secretly dreading the idea. He was sure Patton wouldn’t mind, not really, but he couldn’t help but feel self conscious as they stepped off the elevator- which seemed to terrify and fascinate Patton in equal regards- and he unlocked his door.

“You live here?” Patton asked, looking around. Roman internally cringed, looking at the mess of clothes, papers, and takeout boxes littering the room.

“Yeah. Sorry about the mess, I would’ve cleaned if I knew you were coming over,” Patton gave him a funny look.

“I don’t mind the mess, though, I think my friend Logan would lose it. I’m just sad you have to live in such a small space.” Roman frowned. First at the mention of this ‘Logan’, the only friend Patton had really mentioned so far. Secondly, at that implication of Patton’s words. Sure, his apartment was pretty small, but it wasn’t miniscule. In fact, many apartments in the area were around this size. He had to wonder where Patton was living that being in an average-sized apartment made him pity Roman’s living space.

“It’s not too bad,” Roman said instead, not wanting to cause Patton to clam up like he usually did talking about personal information. “C’mon, my room is this way.”

The two headed into Roman’s room, and Roman pulled open a drawer, glancing at Patton. He was about a head shorter than Roman- a fact he was only now noticing now that they were standing next to each other on even ground- so he pulled out a pair of khaki shorts and tossed them to Patton, followed by a pale blue polo. Patton pulled them on. The shirt went down to his butt, and the khakis were slipping down his hips. Patton hasility tried to keep them up, and Roman couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, earning him a playful glare.

“Here, allow me to help you, my starfish,” Roman picked up a belt from the floor and slipped it through the belt loops, threading it all the way around. At one point, he felt his fingers brush the bare skin along Patton’s hips and he had to fight off his blush. Said blush wasn’t helped by how squirmy and giggly Patton was as he attempted to finish buckling the damn thing.

“Right, there you are,” Roman smiled, “now, could you step out for a second? I’m gonna take my swim trunks off so I can put on some more form-fitting attire. Patton nodded, bouncing out of the room. Roman changed as quick as he could, and ended up adding some sparkly eyeshadow at light speed. A lifetime of sleeping in late as he could and getting ready within five minutes really paying off.

He opened the door and looked out, seeing Patton sitting on his kitchen counter, staring thoughtfully at the floor. Roman walked over, leaning on the counter next to him. Patton looked up at him.

“Ready to go, then?” Roman inquired. Patton gave an excited nod, sliding off the counter and taking one last look around.

“We can come back later...if you like?” Patton smiled at him again, leaning closer. Roman felt his heart skip.

“We’ll see,” Patton murmured, pulling back and heading out the door. Roman fought down his disappointment as he followed.

Back down the elevator, out to the car, and they were finally ready to get on with this whole date thing. Roman subtly tried to wipe the sweat from his palms on his jeans as he put the key in ignition, setting course for his favorite restaurant. He thought some music would help soothe his nerves, so he flicked on the radio, making Patton jump in surprise. His gaze went from shocked to starry eyed, as he leaned forward and began to hum along to the tune. Roman swore he’d never get sick of that haunting voice that lured him to Patton weeks ago.

The drive was relatively silent aside from the quiet humming of Patton matching the radio, but it was a peaceful kind of silence. Not the bitter silence of his parents ignoring him whenever he messed up.

“Here we are,” Roman forced himself out of his own thoughts, parking the car. Patton pulled his attention from the radio, beaming at Roman with that wonderful smile of his. Roman’s heart melted a little. He unbuckled himself, and sneakily undid Patton’s seatbelt as well so he wouldn’t have to fumble with it again, before stepping out of his car and opening the passenger side door.

Patton gave him a smile, complete with light pink blush on the cheeks, and took the hand Roman offered him. Roman kept Patton’s hand in his own, which Patton seemed to appreciate if the way he trailed his thumb across his knuckles was any indication. Roman tried not to shudder at the featherlight touch as he grabbed the door and pulled Patton inside, causing his date to stumble a little.

“Woah…” Patton stared, taking in the large space in awe. The entire area was dimly lit, with all the the tables and booths lining the walls, leaving a large, empty space at the center of the building. Roman felt a tiny nervous coil in his belly, but it faded as Patton squeezed his hand and started making his way to one of the booths.

“This place sure is nifty, Ro!” Patton poked the seat before hesitantly sliding in. Roman slid in on the other side, beaming at Patton. A few other couples and families were scattered about, chatting softly. Patton continued to look around, kicking his legs excitedly. Roman chuckled and hesitated a moment before wrapping his leg around one of Patton’s. The man in question squeaked in surprise, turning red. Roman tried to pull back.

“Oh I’m so so-,” Patton wrapped both of his legs around Roman’s in a death grip, flushing even more. Roman grinned, feeling his own face heat up.

“S-so there’s a lot of empty space. Wh-” Patton started. He was cut off as a woman with a long, thick braid approached their table.

“Howdy, fellas. My name’s Katrina, and I’ll be takin’ ya boys’ orders tonight. I’ll be back in a few to getcha’ drinks, aright?” Roman and Patton nodded. She left, and Roman reached over to pick up a menu. Patton mimicked him.

“So...that empty space?” Patton asked again.

“Oh, yeah, there’s a reason for that. You’ll see,” Roman winked. Patton’s face morphed into one of sheer curiosity.

The waitress- Katerina- came back, and the pair ordered their drinks (with Patton somehow struggling with what he wanted, even though he ended up just getting water). They made small talk for a bit, getting to know each other even better. Bit by bit, Roman felt his feelings towards Patton shifting towards the most positive he’d ever felt towards another human being. Drinks were delivered, and Patton set his menu down and placed his elbows on the table, staring at Roman, who laughed.

“What’re you looking at, Pufferfish Pat?” he asked, sipping his drink. Patton smiled softly.

“You’re so pretty,” Patton said. Roman choked on his drink.

“Wha- You mean that?” Roman asked. Patton nodded.

“Oh yeah,” he started, eyes sparkling with mirth, “you’re a turtle knockout.” Roman blinked a couple times, processing what had just been said.

“Was- was that an ocean pun?”

“Oh, Roman, haven’t you heard? I’m cray-sea about ocean puns. In fact, I bet you’d be more shell-shocked if I didn’t make all these puns. They don’t always happen on porpoise, but those accidental puns shore brighten my day at least!” Roman was clutching his stomach laughing. He didn’t even care that the puns were stupid, or that people were staring at them. It didn’t matter because Patton looked so proud of himself. It didn’t matter because Roman was having a good time. It didn’t matter because he lo-

“Are ya boys ready to order?” Katrina asked, pulling a pencil from behind her ear. Roman glanced at the menu one more time.

“I’ll take the spaghetti dish,” Roman said. He looked over at Patton, who was frantically shifting his gaze from the menu to the waitress. Roman decided to save him, carefully taking the menu from him.

“My date will just take a personal cheese pizza,” Katrina smiled.

“Gotcha, sugar. Enjoy ya date,” she gave the pair a wink and hurried off to the kitchen. Patton started to run his finger along the rim of his glass, humming the soft tune to himself he’d first sang the day Roman met him.

“Does that song have lyrics?” Roman asked. Patton’s gaze flicked up. The dim lights reflected in his gaze, making them look so, so blue. As if the ocean were a permanent staple of his gaze.

“Yeah. My friend Virgil wrote it,” so Patton did have multiple friends then. He kept running his finger across the rim of the glass and took a deep breath:

“Hush, sweet prince, rocked by the waves

Feel your heartbeat echo for days.

If you ever feel scared, alone

Let this melody carry you home.

Sweet prince of coral

Sweet prince to soon be crowned

Let my song be a guidance

Whenever you’re down”

Roman stared at Patton. His hair shining, soft. His eyes closed and concentrated. He was beautiful.

“That was beautiful,” Roman said. Patton opened an eye.

“Really? I’m like the worst singer I know,” Patton laughed humorlessly. Roman took Patton’s hand in his own, causing him to flick both eyes open.

“Well, I thought it was beautiful.” Patton blushed.

The moment was ruined as Katrina threw the pizza down in front of Patton, causing him to jolt back in surprise. She threw the spaghetti too, but somehow it didn’t spill everywhere like Roman had expected, which required perfect skill and aim. Needless to say, Roman was impressed.

“Enjoy, boys. Y’all might wanna hurry. It’ll be seven o'clock soon.” Patton looked up from where he was curiously sniffing his pizza.

“What happens at seven?”

“Did ya boyfriend not tell ya, pardner?” Patton opened his mouth, turning bright red, and looked at Roman helplessly.

“It’s a surprise,” Roman assured her. She smiled at that.

“Hell of a surprise, there.”

“He’ll love it.”

“Whatever ya say pumpkin. Enjoy your meal,” she walked off, and Roman turned back to see Patton had practically inhaled over half of his pizza when he hadn’t been looking.

“Hungry?” Roman laughed in mild shock. Patton looked up at him, tomato sauce smeared all over his face.

“Roman. Roman, listen. Listen, okay? This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.” He took another bite, swallowing what looked like half a slice at once.

If it were anyone else, it would be disgusting. However, Patton seemed to make everything endearing. Roman could stare at him forever and probably still be satisfied. Well, that might not be true. He might want to do more than stare. At one point Patton had released his leg from its prision between his own, so Roman reversed the situation. Patton paused eating to look at him before continuing.

Roman decided it was time to eat his own food before Patton started scolding him about it (it seemed like something he’d do) and got halfway through his pasta before he heard the current background music halt and Katerina’s southern drawl came through a hidden speaker.

“Hey y’all. It’s seven o’clock. You know what that means,” Roman grinned, grabbing Patton’s hand. Patton looked at him, eyes wide. An upbeat, funky tune began to blast at a much louder volume then before.

“Remember, you asked what the big empty space was for?” he pointed to the center of the restaurant, where couples and families were starting to dance. Patton looked at Roman again, eyes wide with mild terror.

“I- I can’t dance Roman!” Roman took both his hands in his own and yanked him over to the dance floor.

“Of course you can, my sweet seashell! Everyone can. The only thing in question is how bad you are.”

“I’m awful,” Patton deadpanned. Roman scoffed.

“C’mon, I’ll lead!” Roman broke away from Patton to do a fun little jig. That made Patton less tense, if only a little.

He took Patton’s hands again, “And we’ll go slow…” he reassured. Patton bit his lip and looked at his shoes. A pair of old sneakers Roman had given him.

“Okay…”

The two did indeed go slow. It was horribly off tempo, and Patton stumbled and fumbled about every five seconds. Still, they were laughing and smiling. Occasionally lifting their gazes from their shoes to look into each other's eyes. Another song began, and Roman saw Katrina swing dancing with a pretty woman wearing a mint green hijab. Roman attempted to lead Patton in a similar dance, but he ended up almost toppling over and Roman managed to save him in a dip.

The second song faded into the third, and Roman knew it would be the last one of the evening. It was a slow song, and Roman smiled as he carefully adjusted Patton’s grip so they could waltz. Despite how clumsy Patton still was, despite the fact they were both not wearing anything particularly fancy, the moment felt right out of every romantic movie Roman had ever seen. He leaned forward.

“Patton,” he whispered. Patton blinked, dark lashes fluttering.

“Yes, Roman?”

“Can I-” the song ended, “-can I…”

“Roman?”

“It...it’s getting late. I should get you home before your parents worry.” Disappointment flashed in Patton’s eyes, but Roman elected to ignore that in favor of heading out into the cool evening air.

He heard the door open and close and felt Patton walk over to stand next to him. They said nothing, glancing at one another out of the corner of their gazes. Crickets chirped around them, and Roman turned to his car, climbing in. Patton managed to buckle up with minimal struggle this time.

The ride was silent, tense. Roman didn’t turn on the radio. Patton shifted to face the window. When Roman looked over, he saw something stormy forming on his face reflected in the glass. He swallowed nervously and turned his view back on the road. The second he pulled into the beach’s parking lot he heard Patton unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Patton...I-” he turned just in time for Patton to grab him by the collar of his shirt.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“What? I-”

“Roman.” Roman licked his lips, gaze flickering across Patton’s expression. His throat was dry.

“Yes,” it was a whisper, barely there. Patton leaned until there was hardly a silver between their lips. Until Roman could feel the phantom of his lips moving.

“Then kiss me,” he breathed.

Roman lunged forward burying his hands in Patton’s hair and closing that tiny gap. It was a bit too wild for how close they were already, and their teeth clacked painfully, but Roman didn’t care. He didn’t care, because once the initial sting was gone, the mix of sweet-saltiness of Patton’s lips overwhelmed his senses. Roman pulled back, sucked in a large gasp of air, and went right back in.

It was as if someone had made sweet tea with ocean water. Which sounds extremely gross in concept, but it fit Patton so well that Roman couldn’t get enough. Patton took their next breath as an opportunity to stumble-climb over into Roman’s lap, sliding his hands down to Roman’s hips before he pulled Roman back into the waves of dizzy delight all over again.

Roman pulled back. Patton tried to follow, but Roman put his hands on his chest to pause him.

“Be my boyfriend?” he gasped out, breathing hard.

“Shell yes.”

“Fantastic pun, darling,” Roman fisted the front of Patton’s shirt and kissed him again.

Roman was starting to wonder how long this blessing from on high that was making out with his new boyfriend Patton Coral could last, when Patton suddenly yelped and pulled back.

“Oh, God, are you alright?” Roman asked. Patton stared straight through Roman, pulling his hands back.

“I can’t feel them anymore…” he whispered. Roman took Patton’s wrists, alarmed.

“Can’t feel what anymore?” Patton snapped back into focus.

“I- I have to go,” he tried to pull his hands away. Roman was tempted to hold on, to never let go, but considering the implications of that he released him anyway.

“Patton…”

“I’m sorry Roman. I really, really have to go. I- I promise. Next time we talk I’ll explain everything,” he cupped Roman’s cheek, expression tender. Roman swallowed and nodded.

“Okay... I trust you, Starfish,” Patton smiled sadly and pressed his forehead against Roman’s.

“See you later,” with that, Patton opened the door and stumbled out. Roman was tempted to help him, especially when he continued to wobble, but Patton looked back at him with a pleading expression as he mouthed the word, “don’t”.

So Roman simply watched his boyfriend disappear over the crest of the hill. He sat a little longer, itching to follow. Itching to make sure he got home. Itching to see where home was, exactly.

But he didn’t, because when it came to grand adventures, Roman was the bravest man alive. Yet, with people he cared about, he was a coward. He would do the wrong thing a thousand times over to avoid losing the trust of another person he cared about.

So instead of following, Roman put the key in ignition and backed out. He didn’t follow Patton down to the beach, where he finally collapsed in the sand. He didn’t watch as he dragged his now useless lower half to the salty sea- the place he called home.

He didn’t hear Patton’s relieved sigh cut off in a scream as invisible claws dragged him under without so much as a ripple left in his place.

General Writing Taglist:  @angeliclogan @pattons-constellations@amuthefunperson @tatergator27@honeycoloredcorduroy@1esor2 @that-royal-ravenclaw@sardonicsanders@iridescentroyalty @sheeparecutest @pathos-logical

Royality Royalty: @notveryglittery

Discord Hell Friends: @crystrifoglio @verge-of-a-breakdown @why-things-go-boom @moralitytime @impatentpending

[runwiththieves-blog]

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

It’s when you’re sitting on the couch next to him that you have your ’oh god’ moment where you realize that you’re actually really into him.

Harry hasn’t done anything to provoke this. He’s literally just sitting there, being his angel-like self because he can’t help it, it’s just who he is and you’ve accepted that. He’s beautiful and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. But you can feel it down to your toes when you look over to him and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest because he’s already looking at you, like he knows.

“’S wrong, pet? Not in the mood t'cuddle w'me today?” His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence you had fallen into, and you feel yourself flush down to your chest because this is Harry calling you out for being weird with him. You’re pretty sure there’s supposed to be at least a three month pining window before he starts to notice.

He’s Harry, though — not megastar Harry Styles, or the Harry his fans have dreamed up in their fantasy worlds where he takes them on luxury getaways whenever he has downtime (you guess they have no idea that he would rather watch romantic comedies and drink wine on the comfort of his own couch). To you, he’s the Harry who held your hair back while you threw up the first night you met at one of Nick’s parties. He’s the Harry who then proceeded to make his home, whenever he got to hangout with Nick and the rest of his friends, right beside you. He’s the Harry who insists that you sleep in his bed with him whenever you’ve had a bit too much to drink (and when you haven’t), instead of crashing on the couch (there are a gazillion fully furnished bedrooms in his house, you’d never have to crash on the couch, but you always crawl into bed with him instead of pointing that out). He’s the Harry who sort of just wiggled his way into your life and heart four years ago and forced you to be his best mate, whether you liked it or not, because he liked you.

So of course he notices when something is off with you. He always has, so you’re not entirely sure why you thought he wouldn’t notice when you went dead silent and put three miles between the two of you, when you had just been curled up against him like you always were on nights like this (and nights not like this, just kind of whenever the two of you were in the general vicinity of each other).

“Jus’ getting t'be a bit sleepy, I think. Think ’m gonna call it a night soon,” you say, and then you spare a glance to the clock on the wall, and it’s barely half ten, and Harry knew damn well that you almost never fell asleep before midnight, and if you did you’d wake up at three in the morning unable to get back to sleep.

The lie seems to do it’s job, though, because he doesn’t press you for further explanation, despite the fact that he’s looking at you in a way that lets you know he knows you’re bullshitting him and he’s bound to find out whatever it is that’s clearly bothering you. It almost feels like a challenge, but you know that this isn’t a game, and Harry gaining knowledge of your newest revelation would change everything, and probably not for the better.

It’s when you’re putting your answer into action that he presses further, because you’re grabbing for your keys, instead of announcing that you’re going to sleep with a kiss to his cheek, or wherever you can reach, and heading up the stairs to his bedroom. “Y'not staying?” He questions, and he’s got a pointed look about his face, and he really looks genuinely concerned, because you’ve never not stayed after a night like this. “’M supposed to meet m'mum for brunch,” you say, and you know it’s a lame excuse, because you’ve stayed over at Harry’s and went to work the next day with no problem. It also doesn’t help that he knows there’s no way your mum isn’t in town, because she would have texted him and made dinner plans a week in advance. They were close like that and you momentarily hate them for it.

He’s looking you over from where he sits and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more small or intimidated in your life, and all he’s done is look at you. That’s all he’s done all night, really, and you feel like you’re about to claw your way out of your own skin because of it.

The three month pining window would kill you, probably, so scratch that.

“Has anyone ever told you what an awful liar you are? I mean, I know I haven’t, but that’s because you’ve never lied t'me,” he says, and the words send chills all over you skin, because you’ve been maybe not necessarily caught, but he knows there’s something going on, and you don’t know how to get yourself out of this one.

“I’ll cancel,” you finally tell him, accepting defeat, but not admitting to the lie. The fact that there is nothing to cancel isn’t something either of you bring up, even though you both know it.

“Wanna tell me why you’ve been a mile away fr’m me all night, while we’re at it?” He murmurs, and you just shake your head, setting your keys back down on the coffee table and fitting yourself into Harry’s side. “I just didn’t want t'bother you, s'all. You’ve had people all over you for a month now, w'your album 'nd all. Wanted t'give you your space,” you explain, even though you know he’ll see right through that excuse, too, if he really thinks about it, but it’s not nearly as opaque as the brunch thing.

It’s when he calls her cute and tucks her head under his chin that she knows she’s in the clear, for now at least, and she smiles silently. 

—–

You’re in his dressing room helping him get ready for one of his secret shows when it happens again.

It’s nothing different from what you’re usually doing when you get to go to one of his shows, even did it the last couple of years that One Direction toured. You’ve seen all his bits and helped him cover each and every part of them at some point or another, so seeing him without clothes has never had a very strong effect on you (okay, well it did, because you’re human and you’re not blind to the fact that Harry’s gorgeous, but you did a damn good job of hiding it).

And he’s not even naked now, not really — he’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s got his shirt covering his arms, and you’re standing in front of him buttoning (and smirking up at him when he unbuttons one more of the top buttons, even though you know not to even try to start at the top and fix him up proper) from top to bottom, like you always do. It’s become something you just do, no questions asked and for no real reason, because Harry is perfectly capable of buttoning his own shirt. You just like to do it, you suppose, and he’s never had a complaint.

Your fingertips drag across his lower abdomen by accident, before you’ve finished, though, and you swear you feel like your entire body’s on fire, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“I like this shirt,” you tell him as you drag your hands over the fabric covering his tattooed chest to smooth it out. You don’t even know why you said it, it’s like you were trying to distract him from the much more intimate, in your head at least, touch before, even though he probably didn’t even notice or think anything of it if he did.

“’S the ruffles, innit? Makes all the girls wild f'me,” he says, and you know he’s teasing, but his smirk lets you believe for just a moment that he’s flirting with you.

He’s not. It’s something you decide quite easily for the both of you, because it’s easier to shut your brain down that way than let it wonder if, maybe, possibly, he might be feeling everything that you are. You’re a very humble and grounded person, and ironically enough, you pride yourself in being just that. You wouldn’t dare let yourself believe that Harry Styles would ever have any romantic interest in you.

“’S too bad I only care that this one’s wild about it,” he says, kissing your cheek, but it’s so close to your lips, just barely brushing against the corner of your mouth, that you feel dizzy from more than just his statement.

Well. Maybe that changes things little bit.

Because you’re the only one in the room with him, so it’s not like there’s some other girl lurking in the shadows that you didn’t know about. Also, he almost kissed you. Like, really kissed you. Mouth to mouth. Does he know he almost did that? Does he know that you feel like you’re going to pass out the more you think about it? Also, what does that even mean? Why does he only care that you’re 'wild’ about him? There are so many questions and you feel like you’re going to start screaming any second, so you decide a shot of tequila is the best option right now.

–

You’re standing at the side of stage when you realize there’s no coming back from this.

He’s performing 'Woman’ and you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed anything as provocative as this. He’s really into the song, is the thing, and you’re certain he could tell any girl in the building to drop her panties for him, and they would in a heartbeat. You’ll pretend that you aren’t part of that group.

Until he’s looking to the side of the stage, like he’s looking for someone, and once his gaze finds yours and stays there, you realize it’s you that he was looking for.

And oh. Oh.

You are definitely, undeniably part of the Drop-Your-Panties-For-Harry-Styles group. Very much so, indeed. 

He’s got the microphone stand between his legs and he’s practically grinding against it as he just stares at you — he’s been doing that a lot lately, and that’s another one of the many realizations you’ve had in the past week with Harry.

You swear you nearly pass out when he sings the line ’you flower, you feast,’ with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen before he’s looking back towards the crowd.

And then you have to go. You have to leave and go to his dressing room for the rest of the song, at the very least, because you’re so fucking confused. Where did all of this even come from? Why is he suddenly acting as if he just can’t resist you anymore, like he’s been longing for you this whole time. Was he just lonely? Horny and unwilling to put any effort into finding someone to get his fix with? Was it just a joke? Because the ache in your heart and between your legs was no joke.

You consider leaving the entire establishment when you hear the beginning chords of the last song on the setlist, so that you don’t have to face him afterwards, but instead you find your way back to the side of the stage and watch proudly as your best friend absolutely rips this crowd apart with his talent. You want to cry sometimes because you’re so proud of Harry, you really do. You think you probably will when he heads off on his first headlining tour in a few months. Cry because you’re proud, but also because you’ll be without him for the majority of those three months. The thought tugs at something in your chest, probably your heart, and it makes your eyes sting just for a second, until you’ve pushed the tears off for the moment.

For now, you’re watching on with a smile you just can’t help as he belts out the last few lines of 'Sign of the Times,’ and you want to join in, but you’d die if his microphone were to pick up your awful howling, as well. So, you wait for the end, and then you cheer and scream with the rest of the crowd in front of him. You notice that he spares a glance back at you, and you send him a nod back as you continue your cheering, watching as he practically personally thanks each and every fan in the crowd until the stage has gone dark and the lights in the main establishment have come up, and everyone’s pushing and shoving their way out.

You’re grinning because the star of the whole goddamn show is walking over to you before he is anyone else, and you’re beaming as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You were fucking incredible,” you tell him against his neck, and you take the kiss to the top of your head as an acceptable way to say 'thank you.’

–

It’s when the two of you are back in his dressing room that you feel the tension build again, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you replay his question over and over again: “Where did you go after 'Woman?’”

You want to scream, shout, throw things; not because you’re angry, but because when the hell did Harry get so confrontational? Or was it just something he was doing because you were being noticeably weird with him?You don’t like it at all, despite the fact that you’re always telling him he needs to speak up more. You never meant with you. 

“Had to use the loo,” is the answer you give him, and he cocks an eyebrow at you not a moment after you’ve spoken.

“You feelin’ okay, then? You were gone for four songs after that, and I talk a lot,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that you know he sees right through you, just like he had the other night when you told him you were going to brunch with your mum.

When you don’t say anything for a minute, he presses on, stepping closer to you. “I don’t understand what you’re tryin’ so hard t'hide from me, babe. First the other night, now this — what’s going on?” He questions, and his stare is intense, and it wouldn’t be if were anyone else, but as always, he’s Harry.

“I’m fine, H, just have a lot on m'mind,” you try, feeling absolutely defeated, because try as you might, it really is impossible to lie to Harry, especially when he’s looking at you the way he is. He knows something is up, because you’ve never hidden anything from him. He knew your deepest, darkest secrets three days into your friendship. He knows more about you than any of your exes ever have, and you think that could be part of what scares you so much about him. You feel like if he ever finds out, the chances of you losing him are far greater, and the idea puts a pain in your chest, because what would you ever do without Harry?

You can’t help but miserably stutter and stumble over your words when he asks you who you’ve been thinking about, rather than what, but what catches you even more off guard is him stepping until he’s nearly got you pinned against the wall of his dressing room, and you’re breathing is heavy as you stare up at this beautiful, sweaty boy who just wants to know why you’ve been treating him so differently.

“You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about, 'f that’s any sort of encouragement,” he tells you, and you want to speak, you do — you want to say something, fucking anything, but you’re frozen and your heart is about to beat right out of your chest.

“You don’t mean that,” is what you say, for whatever reason, and you feel awful as soon as you see the way Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his lips form into a tight line, but he’s not moving away from you at all. If it were possible, you feel like you’re drowning in him even more so.

“I — of course I fucking mean it,” he argues, his eyes unmoving from yours. “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that. Have you not noticed that I spend every bit of free time I have with you? You’re the first and last person I talk to every morning and every night, and the first person I run to when I have news, 'r just something to say. You’re the first person out of everyone I know that I run to after I come off stage — of-fucking-course you’re all I think about,” he says, and although his words are nice and make you feel all warm inside, he sounds angry, and that scares you, because Harry’s never been actually angry with you.

“Harry, I — I’m sorry,” you say, and your voice is nearly a whisper and you feel like crying, because he was honest with you, and you all but said you didn’t believe him, and honestly, how could you be such an idiot? You’ve got the most beautiful man in the world standing in front of you, telling you you’re all he thinks about, and you tell him he doesn’t mean it — who does that?

“I really — I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just — it’s kinda’ hard t'believe, innit? That the person you’ve got feelings for has them for you, too?” And you realize there really is no going back after you’ve said that out loud, but hopefully it could fix what’s just happened here if he knows the only reason you said it is because it’s just a tad bit unbelievable.

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front 'f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

–

At least, you thought you were dead because you’re pretty certain Harry’s pillowy soft lips are what Heaven is made out of, and if you were experiencing those, you had to be dead, right?

Except now, he’s got you in the back of a car, and his hand is sliding up your thigh, beneath your skirt, and it’s then, with his lips on yours, that it happens again.

You realize that he’s probably not going to be able to come back from this, either. You don’t know when it happened, or why it seems that you both had the realization that you’re fucking mad about each other at the exact same time (not that it isn’t convenient, it’s just strange), but you’re here with him and it feels like he’s using his mouth to promise a lot more than just a few heated kisses.

You pray that this isn’t just some dare, or an adrenaline thing, because you’d have to be blind or just not paying attention to not see that Harry gets hard each and every time he performs to a crowd. Like, fully erect, you’d noticed, and of course you had always teased him for his evident praise kink (’even the twitter fans know, Harry, it’s not a secret’).

But from the way he’s pulling away to whisper praises in your own ear, about how badly he wants you and all that he wants to do to you, how long he’s wanted to do these things to you, you’re starting to realize that this is very real and you aren’t being fucked with at all.

Well, you will be, hopefully, but in an entirely different sense of the word.

You’ve somehow found your way onto Harry’s lap now, because apparently the silently pining over each other thing did a bang up job of sexually frustrating both of you, so you jumped at the opportunity. If you died in a car accident on the lap of Harry Styles with his tongue down your throat, so be it.

–

It’s only five minutes later when you realize you’ve pulled into the driveway, but it feels like it’s been hours, and your lipstick has gone to hell already, and your shirt is hanging off your shoulders, and so is Harry’s because as it turns out: you’re just as good at unbuttoning his shirts as you are at buttoning them.

Despite your messy states, you both thank the driver as you exit the vehicle, and the rush to get to his front door would be funny to absolutely anyone else, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get into bed with someone. Hell, he could get the door opened, closed, and locked again and take you in the corridor and you wouldn’t care. You don’t need a bed, you need his cock. And then you wonder when your self conscious started talking like a porn star.

“Are you goin’ to laugh a'me 'f I try t'dirty talk you?” He asks, and it’s a ridiculous question, because he has no idea how much you’ve fantasized about being the one he’s whispering filth to. “Absolutely not,” is of course your answer, and it’s breathless and you’ve already let your shirt hit the floor, and you’re dropping your skirt at the bottom of the stairs, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, which are totally cotton and not matching and not sexy at all, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, because he’s pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and is picking you up to carry you up the stairs a second later.

“Take me t'bed, please,” you murmur in his ear, kissing along his jaw with your arms and legs wrapped tight around him. Everything about this is so, so, so urgent and is happening so fast, and you wish you could slow it down, even if only for a second, because it’s all so much, but it’s not enough at the same time. And you kind of want it to be perfect and remember every little thing, as cheesy as that really is.

He’s got you on his bed in no time, though, and you’re practically shaking, because that’s when it happens again. That’s when you realize this is really about to happen. You’re about to fuck your best friend, and the thought should be terrifying, if for no other reason than all that you’re risking in doing so, but you’re smiling up at him as you grasp the nape of his neck and pull him down towards you so that he’s fitting between your legs and his lips are back on yours for the first time since you got out of the car. “Want you,” you whisper against his mouth, and you realize when you press up against him that there’s no foreplay even needed, because you’re already soaked through the fabric of your panties, and you can still feel where he’s been hard since he left the stage tonight.

“’S that — do you want that?” You ask, and it’s sudden and probably sounds ridiculous, considering the situation you’re currently in, but you think it’s an important question to ask. “This, I mean. Me,” you clarify, blinking up at him, and you doubt seriously that he thinks your awkward quirkiness is cute at all right now, no matter how many times he’s implied how adorable you are because of it.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know,” is his answer, and you’re starting to think you’ve heard more insults tonight than compliments, which is weird because you always thought Harry would be the type to tell you that you’re beautiful and kiss every inch of your skin. Turns out, he’s still just as good at picking at you even when he’s got you pinned to his bed and your lips swollen from kissing him so much. “Yes, I want that. This. You,” he says after a moment, and you’re blushing as he repeats your own words back to you in confirmation.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” is the next thing out of your mouth, because apparently filters don’t exist anymore, and he shrugs before shaking his head. “Was hoping t'get my mouth on you first, actually,” he tells you, licking over his lips, and you’d swear it was for dramatic effect, but it was also really ridiculously hot, so you can’t even be mad at him for being a walking cliché.

As much as you want to argue with that, because you want him inside of you now (and you also argue with him about whatever it is he wants to do before you eventually give up and do it), he’s looking at you like he might die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt in the next two minutes. How could you deny him, really? It’d be wrong and unjust. 

Or: you really want his mouth on you, too, but you’re willing to let Harry seem more desperate to please you than you are desperate for him to eat you out, even though you’re certain that’s not the truth by any small means.

You don’t know when he took his pants off or your underwear, you must have missed it, unfortunately, but you’re watching him as he kisses over your thighs, and you feel sort of like you just got to fast forward to the good part. It’s when he licks over you completely and presses harder on the upstroke against your clit that you know that’s what happened.

You don’t know if you moan or if you scream, because you’ve tuned everything that isn’t Harry’s mouth on you and the little noises he makes against you all the way out, and you feel a little bit like you’re floating as he sucks at your clit, and your hands had flown to his hair the second he’d started that.

“Fuck, Harry, please,” you whine, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you know you need more of anything he’s willing to give you. “Taste so good, baby. ’S it feel as good as y'taste?” He murmurs against you, and his voice vibrating against you may be hotter than anything you could possibly think up for him to do to you — and you’ve thought of a lot. All you can do is nod and give his hair a tug, grinding up against his mouth, and you wonder if he notices that you’re practically riding his face while he fucks his tongue into you, licking in and around your entrance, and you could cry from how good he’s making you feel. But also because it’s Harry who is doing this to you.

It’s the Harry who would rather stay in and cuddle with you than go to a party packed with A-listers. It’s Harry, whose preferred method of clearing out a cake batter bowl before putting it in the dishwasher, is the the two of you licking it clean. Harry, who would do anything and everything for you, and never make you feel like it was anything less than what he wanted to do. It’s Harry, and he’s told you a million times how much he loves you, and even if you roll your eyes at the sentiment from time to time, you know he means it, and you always say it back.

“Harry,” you say, looking down to him and the pleasure is almost overwhelming, so it pains you to make him stop, but you just want to be as close to him as humanly possible. He can devour your cunt afterwards, or later, or something. You’ll fit him into your schedule. “I — Harry, up. Come back up here, please,” and your voice is cracking, so you swallow as you look down at him, and you don’t know why you’re near tears, but you definitely are, can feel them welling in your eyes.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” He whispers, holding you by your wrists, his thumbs gliding against the skin soothingly. “Why’re you cryin’, sweetheart? Talk t'me, please,” he murmurs, and he sounds so panicked, and it makes you feel bad because how could he ever think he’s done something wrong? This perfect, wonderful, amazing man hovering over you is clearly unaware of how fantastic he truly is. He’s looking at you with concern in his eyes, and you know he wants to comfort you, especially when you feel the warm tears trickling down your cheeks, because it’s Harry, and he won’t leave your side for hours if he ever catches you crying. Which, you don’t mind so much. But you know he needs his answer now, or he’s going to end up thinking he’s done something wrong, or to hurt you, and it’ll all be over, and you refuse to let that happen.

“No, no, no — ’m fine. Perfect, actually, just — I love you, ’s all,” is what you say, and you give him a watery smile, even when your voice gets a bit quieter and doesn’t sound nearly as rushed there at the end, because you know he knows that, especially now. There’s no way he could ever doubt it, you don’t think. He lets out a throaty laugh as he pushes his hair back where it’s fallen against his forehead, his hands dropping down to yours, holding them tightly as he leans down to kiss you for maybe the hundredth time since you first started about an hour ago, even though it feels like it’s been a lifetime. “I love you, too, you silly girl,” he assures, kissing you once again.

“No, Harry — I mean I really love you,” you murmur, breaking the kiss for a second just to say that, because you need him to know that it’s not just something you’re saying, or even being said in the same sense as you’ve always told each other. He’s looking at you with an amused expression and shaking his head, but in the fond way that doesn’t hurt your feelings. “That’s what I’ve always meant, Y/N,” he confesses, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, because it really feels like everything suddenly makes sense and all is right in the world, a love song is playing in the distance (and it’s not just in your head, so you must have missed when he turned that on, too), all the dumb things that are said in books and movies are happening to you, and you want to appreciate the moment for what it is, but you’re also going to scream if he doesn’t fuck you into his mattress soon. There’s time for talking later.

“Please, please, please fuck me. Now. Please,” and you don’t realize you’re begging for him until you’re begging for him, and it has you blushing down to your chest. “Haven’t even gotten m'dick out yet, 'nd you’re already beggin’ f'me? Love me that much?” He teases, because of course he does, but you look up at him with a new sort of determination your eyes.

You’ve got your hand on the bulge of his briefs not a second later, working over him through the fabric, and it makes your legs spread instinctively when you feel the patch of wet where the head of his cock is pressed against the fabric. It’s then that you decide you’ve had enough, and you’re doing your damnedest to try and push his boxers down. You eventually give up and he laughs and stands to tug them the rest of the way down, and it almost sounds animated, the way you gasp when you see him bare, hard, and leaking for you.

It’s not that you didn’t know Harry was a monster — he’s woken up with enough morning wood pressed against your ass and your thigh for you to be more than completely aware of just what you’re getting yourself into (or what’s getting into you, actually). But knowing it’s all for you and because of you that he’s this hard is a lot to take in.

“Y'still wan’ me?” The question catches you off guard, but you nod almost too enthusiastically for it to be anything other than embarrassing. “Tell me,” is the next thing he says, and your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion, but your features soften as he lays you back against the bed again and offers more information on what he’s wanting from you exactly. “Tell me how bad you want my cock inside your wet cunt,” he says, and it makes you bite your lip to keep from moaning, just because Harry’s filthy, as it turns out, and your thighs are glistening with how wet you are from it all. “Want it so bad, Harry. Want — wanna’ feel you, please, all of you, every goddamn inch of your cock. Wan’ you t'fuck me until I can’t take anymore,” you whisper, and it seems to have done the trick, because the head of his cock catches on your entrance where he’s sliding between your folds, and you can feel him start to press inside of you.

You really think you could blackout when you feel the whole of him settled snugly inside of you, but it’s not until he starts to move that you have dig your nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back as he fucks back into you. “Fuck me,” you moan, your head tossed back and your hips grinding up against his. It feels so good, is the thing — he’s so big, not just his cock, but everywhere, and he’s got you pinned to the mattress as he drives into you somewhat relentlessly, and he’s stretching you so wonderfully, because he’s thick, too, and it hurts in the best kind of way.

“Wanna’ ride you.” The words leave your lips before you’ve given them permission, but Harry’s smirking at you wickedly, so clearly he’s on board with the idea. You know he is when he’s pulled out of you (and you want to die because of that) and he’s got you on top of himself now and is unhooking your bra. “Feel like I owe your tits a personal apology for not paying attention t'them sooner,” he tells you, and you lean down to kiss his stupid mouth, rocking back over his cock. You tease him like that for a long minute, just grinding against him and feeling him against you, before you’ve decided that you quite miss the feeling of him inside of you.

You start to tell him that, but then it hits you that you’ve got the power now, so you take him into your hand after that, lining him up, and you sink down on him slowly, smiling into the kiss you’re giving him, because you can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve dreamed of this moment exactly. It feels so good to be fucking yourself on Harry’s cock, and you don’t pass up the opportunity to tell him that this time. It makes him groan as he stares up at where you’re properly bouncing on him, and you notice when his eyes drop down to watch where he’s fucking in and out of your pussy, and you swear you feel him twitch inside of you at the sight. “Takin’ me so well,” he praises, and apparently you’ve got a bit of a praise kink, as well, and you throw your head back when you feel him begin to thrust up into you, the head of him nudging against your most sensitive part each time. “Harry, fuck,” you breathe, your fingers curling and nails digging into his chest.

You’re so torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to hear everything he has to say, that you’ve settled for just kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving a lovebite or two in your wake, listening while he tells you how beautiful you are (you were right, he is into that), how good you feel, how you’re going to make him cum, and God — you hadn’t even allowed the reality of that sink in yet. Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you had a goal, something you wanted to accomplish, because all you’ve wanted is to be as close as possible to him this whole time.

Now, however, you really want to make him cum, and you want it inside you (you’re very much on birth control and if you were to get pregnant, having a baby with Harry wouldn’t be the end of the world, and he wouldn’t be the first former member of One Direction to become a father). “Want you t'cum inside me, yeah? Fill me up,” you tell him, and you feel it when his grip on your hips tightens and he helps you fuck yourself over him faster. “Not until you cum on my cock,” he replies, and you clench around him at that, fucking down harder each time. “Need y'to touch me,” you whisper, grabbing for his wrist and guiding his hand towards your clit, “here.”

Your moans get louder the second he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rocking your hips harder, with more determination to get off. “I wanna cum,” you whine, and you want it so bad, now that you’ve remembered that’s part of all of this, that you could cry. You were a bit spoiled when it comes to getting your with Harry, you could say, because his fingers are quick and just right on your little bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight circles and applying just enough pressure. “Know y'wanna cum, baby. Wan’ y'to. Wanna feel y'squeezin’ me,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing over your ear. “Can y'do that f'me, angel? Come for me,” he continues, but his voice is so low and he sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and you can feel his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

And then you’re pretty fucking sure you did, in fact, die this time.

Everything goes black, your lips parted in a silent scream, but not because you’re not trying, but everything feels too fucking good and you can’t even make a sound, aside from the pathetic sobs you’re letting out into his shoulders. You can feel your cunt pulsing around him, your clit throbbing beneath his fingers, and you’re sure he’s drenched with you, but it evens out because you feel him releasing inside you not even a minute later.

This time you moan his name, grinding yourself on his cock while he empties himself inside of you, fucking him through his orgasm, despite how tired and sensitive you are, praising him and thanking him with each and every movement, milking him for all he’s worth as you listen intently to the string of curses and your name falling from his lips.

You feel him dripping down your thighs the moment you slide off of his cock, but you only move to straddle the lower part of his torso, making a mess of his abs, and you can’t begin to explain how little care about that when you lean down to kiss him. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you don’t know why you say it, but it feels like something that needs to be said, because you are thankful for everything that’s just happened.

“I love you,” is his response, a smile tugging the corners of his lips up, and you can’t help but kiss him again. “For how long?” You question, and you’re about to explain what you mean, because you just want to know how long he’s known he loved you, like this, but he answers you with “probably forever” before you can elaborate, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He’s decided to answer the question in the ‘how long are you going to love me’ sense, you realize.

You blink down at him, like you’re surprised, but he’s just wearing his signature smirk and you feel a bit lightheaded. He seems so sure of everything he’s told you in the last day or so, and it’s so scary, but it makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way and how he figured out that you finally realized that you felt this way, too. Was he sitting on the couch beside you, staring at you instead of paying attention to The Great British Bake Off, too?

“How’d you figure out that I was just cranky ‘cos I realized ‘m in love w’you?” Is the next question you ask, and he shrugs, staring up at you and letting his fingertips drifts over your skin. “Jus’ know you, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “‘Nd I remembered how red y’had gotten when y’mum told y’that we’d end up t’gether, ‘nd then y’started tryin’ t’push me away, ‘nd I knew you’d realized she was right. Plus, I did the same bit t’you when I realized. Remember when I’d hardly talk t’ya’ when I was in Jamaica? Wasn’t just ‘cos I needed t’focus on m’album,” he explains, and you laugh, because everything really does make sense now. 

You’re laying down beside him, curled into his side in what has always been your favorite position when you speak again. “I love you, too,“ you nearly whisper, and you’ve got a smile curling your lips, your hand wrapped around his wrist and your other arm slung over his chest where you’re resting your chin to look up at him. “Probably forever.”

[kate-writes-fluff]

If you're still doing dialogue prompts? 160? For whatever you want?

160.  [text] Who says no to sex and donuts?!

When I saw this, I thought of Jean, so @tiggeryumyumm I decided to work in your Valentine’s day themed jeanmarco in the same prompt.

Sorry for the wait!  I’ve been fighting some real writer’s block.

Jean: Who says no to sex and donuts?!

Eren: just bc i work at a bakery doesn’t mean u can take advantage of it

Jean: I just thought it would sweeten the deal ;)

Eren: obviously it didn’t work

Jean: T-T

Eren: considering how thin the walls are in our apartment, i’m grateful for ur lackluster flirting skills

Jean: …. Rude

Jean locks his phone and sighs as lets himself into their apartment.  It’s only 5 a.m., about a half hour after the Wings of Freedom closes for the night and therefore way too early in the morning to deal with Eren’s teasing.  Jean drags his feet as he makes his way to his cluttered bedroom, exhausted from both his most recent rejection and a long night of wiping down tables at the bar.  He simply throws his uniform–which chronically reeks of alcohol–into a corner of the room as he strips, not even bothering to throw on pajamas before he flops into bed and promptly falls asleep.

Hours later he’s ripped away from a pleasant dream about a handsome stranger with plump kissable lips and warm, welcoming arms by an annoying buzzing noise uncomfortably close to his ear.  Jean groans as he fumbles, finally finding his phone underneath his pillow with the display lit up with a new message.  Part of him wants to ignore it, but he knows that if Eren pities him enough he might offer to bring him food–but only if he replies before he changes his mind.

Turns out, the text is from Eren, but it’s a picture of a flyer with no words attached.  He can’t help but groan as he taps the image to enlarge it and squint at the tiny, pixelated words his brain isn’t awake enough to comprehend yet.

“Valentine’s Meet Up,” it says in a curly romantic font.  “Hang out with other singles and donate your time to brighten someone’s day.  Make friends and meet someone new.”

Before Jean can think of a coherent response, though “what the fuck” would probably be a decent enough answer, Eren texts him again.

Eren:  i signed u up

Jean: whyyyyy?

Eren: bc ur single +whiney + u have a day off on 2/14

         also ur a romantic loser so i know ur gonna be extra whiney on V day

Jean: ….

Eren:  u kno im right. Accept it

Jean:  i only read this text b/c i thought you were offering me food

Eren:  if i bring u a donut will u stop complaining

Jean: its a start

Eren: i hate u

Jean puts his phone on his dresser and sighs happily as he relaxes back into his pillow, looking forward to the treat his roommate will inevitably bring him.

Jean makes good on his promise and doesn’t complain about the singles anonymous meeting Eren has signed him up for.  Though he makes sure to give his roommate the stink eye when he finds out that he has holiday plans of his own.

“If you’re hanging out with Mikasa and Armin, then why couldn’t you just let me tag along?”  Jean whines, turning to give his roommate the most pitiful expression he can muster from beside him on their lumpy clearance-sale couch.

Eren doesn’t bother to look up from his phone as he promptly answers, “Because you would spend the whole day complaining and flirting with my sister.”

“Not true!  I might flirt with Armin too,” Jean flutters his eyelashes as Eren groans, turning away from him to finish texting his sister about their plans.

“Yeah, like I want to make my sister and my best friend uncomfortable all day.”

“But you’ll let your sister crash your date with your crush.”

“It’s not a date!”  Eren exclaims despite his bright pink cheeks.

“But Armin is your crush?”  Jean laughs as he reaches out to playfully ruffle his roommate’s hair, an attempt that costs him an elbow in the side.

“I hate you,” Eren groans.

“Then get your own Netflix,” Jean suggests, switching windows on his computer away from the website in question to check his email.  He makes a point to delete his junk mail as slowly as possible, just to rile up his roommate even more.  After about ten excruciatingly long minutes he’s about to give in and start the episode of Stranger Things when a new email pops up in his inbox.

“It’s for that Valentine’s thing,” Jean remarks, catching Eren’s attention.  He crowds over Jean’s shoulder to watch as he opens the message.

Dear Mr. Kirstein,

Thank you for expressing interest in helping to set up and organize the Valentines Meet Up event.  Would you mind meeting me at the bakery to discuss planning details?

Thanks,

Marco Bodt

There’s a moment of silence as they stare blankly at the polite message before Jean pointedly glares over his shoulder.  “Eren!  I thought you signed me up for the event, not the planning committee!!”

“Whoops,” Eren shrugs and leans back into his own spot on the couch, giving his roommate the space he needs to properly fume.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Jean accuses, narrowing his eyes into an even harsher glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Eren turns his attention back to his phone, pointedly avoiding further eye-contact as he resumes texting.  Jean puffs his cheeks angrily, unsure whether the avoidance is a sign of guilt or exactly how little Eren cares about the situation.

“… That’s it, we’re watching Hart of Dixie.”

“No!” Eren exclaims, dropping his phone in his lap as he finally returns eye contact.

“If you signed me up to be a romantic sap for the full week until Valentine’s day, well then I’m going to start now.”

Eren groans but shifts in his seat to see the screen better.  “It’s not even romantic, they’re just idiots for the sake of drama.”

Though Jean agrees with him there, he can’t help but roll his eyes at the remark.  “You can complain when you have an actual love-life, Mr. I’m-in-love-with-my-bff-but-I’m-too-scared-to-say-anything.”

“Says the chronic single,” Eren bites back, digging his elbow into a ticklish spot in Jean’s side, making the other man squirm.  “I hope you meet someone at the stupid event so you’re too busy being stupid and in love to bother me anymore.”

“You and me both.  Watching you guys flirt is more excruciating than watching Zoe and Wade go back and forth.”

Eren grumbles profanities under his breath for several minutes before he angrily remarks, “Are you going to start the show or not?”

Jean sighs as his alarm goes off at 11 a.m. the next day.  Working nights means that on a normal day, he tends to sleep through the afternoon.  But thanks to Eren, he has plans to meet the event guy at the bakery that cut his much-needed sleep short.

The night before had been a long, tiring day and even as he wakes up he still feels tired and listless, barely able to keep his eyes open.  Maybe if he was more awake, he would have put the effort into dressing for a first impression.  But the fact is, he’s simply too tired to care.  So he slips into a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt, not even bothering to comb his hair before he shoves his shoes onto his feet and stumbles out the door.

Eren’s wiping down the counter when he arrives at the Braus’ bakery.  As Jean slumps against the customer side of the counter, Eren shoots him a distasteful look.  “Really, not even an effort?”  

Jean finds enough effort to roll his eyes.  “Give me the sugar I need to get through this.”

Eren grunts an affirmative as he reaches into the display case to pull out a raspberry filled donut.  As Jean pulls out his wallet to begrudgingly pay–though this is all his roommate’s fault, he knows better than asking him to pay too often–Eren nods toward one of the front tables.  “Marco’s here already.”

As Jean turns to find the person he’s meeting, he suddenly wishes he had bothered to look in a mirror before he left the apartment.  Dressed in a spotless lilac button-down and steam-pressed gray slacks, the man looks as put together as Jean isn’t.  But by this point, Jean is just too tired to even think about running back to his apartment to scrounge up an outfit that looks half decent.  Though he does quickly finger-comb his hair before he slides into the chair opposite the man.

“Hi!  Are you Jean?”  The man smiles brightly at his approach, making Jean regret his clothing choices all over again.  Because that dimpled smile single-handedly makes his heart clench and his hands start to sweat.  Though the freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose certainly make the expression far more endearing than anything larger than a baby animal should ever be.  In contrast, Jean can almost feel the bags under his eyes and wonders what the stranger thinks about the hot mess he regrettably is.

“Yeah.” Jean does his best to smile politely, though it falls short.  His cheeks feel stiff and his flirting muscles are not quite awake enough to throw out his usual charms.  “Are we waiting for anyone else?”  He takes a moment to look around the shop and though there are few people getting breakfast to go, there aren’t many people milling around.

“No… you’re the only volunteer.”  Marco threads his fingers around his coffee cup and looks crestfallen for a moment before he smiles again.  “Let’s start brainstorming, shall we?” he suggests as he pulls out a small spiral notebook and a pen.

“Um, sure.  What do you have in mind?”

Marco eagerly flips the page in his notebook, revealing rows upon rows of neat handwriting and messy doodles and diagrams.  “I’m so glad you asked.”

The following week is the busiest Jean’s had in years.  Whenever he turns around, he’s making bright colored paper chains or folding squares of paper and cutting out paper shapes, filling his and Eren’s apartment with boxes upon boxes of decorations.  Whenever Jean gets ready for work, he can hear Eren stumbling and cursing over the new boxes that appear while he’s out of the apartment.  It would be funnier if Jean didn’t trip over the damn things himself, too.

The highlight of all the paper toil is that Marco is loathe to make him work alone.  During the week, they meet up at the bakery at noon, where Marco spends his lunch break away from the library decorating the place with him.  (Jean makes a mental note to pay the local library a visit someday soon.)

Even after spending so much time together, Jean doesn’t find himself tiring of Marco.  In fact, with each day he looks forward to every time he leaves to return to work, Jean finds himself actually looking forward to the next day even more.  Marco is just as charming as he was the first day they met, cheerful, creative, and fun.  

Unwilling to repeat the embarrassment of their first meeting, Jean’s careful to pick the best outfits in his closet for their afternoon meetings.  He can’t help but blush the day Marco compliments a shirt ornamented with an iron-on transfer of one of his own art prints.

Jean has always been one to preen over compliments, but the sheer sincerity in Marco’s voice and smile as he gives them is enough to fluster him every time.  Halfway through the week, Jean realizes that his attraction for Marco is slowly growing more than skin-deep.  That day, Marco laughs cheerfully at even the shittiest of his puns–a quip about Eren being the real breadwinner in their roommate relationship because bussing tables doesn’t exactly set the bar high–and Jean softens.

By the weekend, Jean finally finds the guts to invite Marco over, so they can watch movies while they create card supplies.  Marco brings takeout and they eat together on his lumpy couch.  When Jean watches tv with Eren, they have no qualms about personal space, throwing arms and legs into the lap of the other at a whim because they’ve learned not to care about boundaries after years of living together.  Here, with Marco, Jean is fully aware of just how small the sofa is and just the barest brushing of skin against skin is enough to make him jittery.  

Marco doesn’t seem to mind his nervousness, too busy laughing at the antics of the characters of The Grand Budapest Hotel and flashing smiles Jean’s way when a particularly funny line is spoken.  Jean confides that he’s an aspiring artist working at the bar only to make money in the meantime, so Marco makes an effort to point out the parts he finds visually inspiring.  He enjoys the pastel color palettes–strikingly similar to the colors of his dress shirts– and cheerfully taps Jean’s knee to point out the most brightly colorful scenes.  (He likes the pinks of the Mendl’s boxes the most.)

At nine o’ clock, Marco needs to leave and Jean has to get dressed for another night working the bar.  As Jean locks the door behind them, Marco hesitates for a moment, twisting his fingers together.  “I’ve heard that In the Mood for Love is a really visually interesting movie too.  And I’ve been dying to see it,” he remarks off-handedly, looking down the hall at the flickering lights instead of at Jean.

“Sounds cool,” he says, words that seem like the understatement of the century.  

For the first time ever, he smiles through his whole shift at work.

“Do you guys have to come flirt at my workplace every day?”  Eren asks on February 13th.  “It’s sorta gross.”

Jean’s ears warm but he scoffs at the question, “We are not flirting.  He just happens to actually appreciate my jokes.  Unlike some people.”  

Eren snorts.  “The only way he’d find you funny is if he has a crush.”  He leans against the oven door casually, enjoying watching Jean squirm with embarrassment for once.

Jean huffs in retaliation, “Less talking, more baking.  If we’re doing to decorate cookies tomorrow, we need cookies.”

Finally it’s the night of Valentine’s day and Jean’s nervous.  All their hard work is on display, hung up around the bakery, decorating it with reds and pinks from head to toe.  Trays of fresh cookies are ready to decorate and paper pieces are prepared for cards.

The cheerfully colored donation boxes are set up in the front of the room, listing the names of local hospitals and orphanages that are accepting cards.  The slogan “Give a card, give a smile,” hangs on a banner directly behind the boxes.

Sugary sweet pop music starts playing as Marco returns from the sound system, setting up a themed playlist from his phone.  Jean tries not to stare at the pink tie the man has on–the same color as the Mendl’s boxes in the movie they had seen together.

“It’s almost time,” Marco smiles, threading his fingers together restlessly.  “People should start arriving anytime now.”  The air between them seems charged with anxious restlessness.  Suddenly, in their last moments alone together it hits Jean that once the day is over, once they clean up the bakery, they’ll lose their excuses to see each other.

It doesn’t really matter that over the course of the week, Jean has learned that Marco’s favorite color is teal and that Persuasion is his favorite Jane Austen novel.  That Marco didn’t tease him when Jean confided that his favorite childhood movie was The Princess Bride.  It doesn’t matter that Jean showed Marco his art portfolio and the other man enthusiastically admired it, saying that if he ever finished writing his book he’d love to commission him to design the cover.

Once the event is done, they no longer have a reason to spend so much time together.

The shop bell rings and people start arriving, forcing the two men to separate and socialize, doing their best to keep the mingling running as smoothly as possible.  (Honestly, Jean hates this sort of thing, but after all the work they had done, he can’t weasel his way out of chaperoning a bunch of adults for a night.)

Regardless of how busy Jean finds himself throughout the night, his eyes always wander to the other side of the room where Marco is cheerfully chatting with other cute single people.  

He’s busy staring instead of paying attention to the card making tables when a young woman with wavy auburn hair whistles at him.  “Yo loverboy.  This is the wrong place to stand around being lovesick,” she chides, carelessly wiping cookie crumbs off her fingers.  “Sit down, make a card.  You’ll fit in with all the unhappy singles that way.”  She grabs a sheet of cardstock out of the pile and quickly scribbles something on it before handing it over.

It messily reads “Ur hot freckleface” above a hand-drawn heart that looks remarkably like a butt.

“See, it’s half done now.”

Jean sighs but sits down to work on fix the card she started.  He grabs a pink paper heart that’s just barely large enough to cover her unromantic words.  As he glues it down, he can’t help but notice that it’s the same shade as Marco’s tie and that thought convinces him to hazard a glance over at him.  The tall man is busy chatting and working on decorating his own cookies, even as he oversees others.

It wouldn’t hurt to make my own, I guess, he muses, searching through the box of children’s markers to find a color he likes.  It’s been years since he’s made anyone a hand-made valentine.  The only friend that might appreciate one would be Armin–the most sentimental out of the group–, though Eren would definitely change the wifi passwords for that sort of “personal offence.”

After an hour, Jean and Marco switch stations; Jean overseeing the decorations of the last batch of cookies while Marco helps with the cards.  Jean slides his own card into the back pocket of his jeans, unwilling to let his newfound friend even guess toward his intentions yet.

Finally, two hours after it started, people begin to leave, many of them in small groups as they chat and exchange phone numbers.  Even the woman who “helped” Jean with his card is cheekily hanging off the arm of a stern-faced young man.  She whispers something in his ear and his cheeks flare red before she turns back to wink at Jean as they leave the building.

The floor is covered in cookie crumbs, sprinkles, and paper scraps that will be a pain to clean-up, but even so Marco still smiles.  “Looks like a success.  People walked in alone, but they’re leaving with friends.”

Jean’s card feels like a weight in his pocket and he has to concede that yeah, it really seems like a success.  

They take their time cleaning, taking away all the little sugary clues that they’d been there, that they’d prepared for a whole week over it.  Jean’s smile falls as he returns to his earlier train in thought:  that their reason for spending time together is quickly falling away as they sweep up the mess.

“Cheer up, Jean.  The night’s still young,” Marco laughs, taking a moment to turn up the speakers.  Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” blares, bringing back memories of youtube videos Jean forgot watching.

“Where’d you find this?  What year do you think it is?  2007?”  

The music becomes a palpable presence in the room, especially as Marco begins singing along, dancing with his broom as he sweeps.  Jean cracks a smile as he laughs, leaning into the table he was in the midst of cleaning for support.  He’s laughing so hard that he doesn’t notice Marco’s approach until he leans the broom against his table.

“Mind dancing with me?  That broom is just too stiff and wooden.”  Marco holds his palm upwards, like a prince asking for a dance in the ball of a fairytale, not in an empty bakery that looks like it was ransacked by preschoolers on a sugar-high.

“I can’t dance.”  Jean waves his hands in refusal, but Marco’s grin only widens.

“Neither can I.”

Finally, Jean gives in and reaches out to hold onto Marco’s shoulders as the other man leads him around the room.  They trip and stumble on chairs they hadn’t put away yet, but they only laugh in the face of their own clumsiness, each mistake bringing their bodies even closer together.

The song ends and something slower and mellower replaces it.  Jean can feel his pulse pounding but it’s hard to be embarrassed about it when he can feel the beat of Marco’s own heart from where their chests are touching.  

“I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts.  Some superhero, some fairytale bliss.

Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss.”

Marco smiles breathlessly, his lips barely inches from Jean’s, and suddenly it feels a little too close and intimate, so Jean takes a step back to pull the card out of his pocket.  It’s more than a little crumpled around the edges from their romp around the shop, but Jean finds himself passing it over anyway.  It just seems… fitting.

The card is brightly colored and framed with paper hearts, but on the front it simply reads “Thanks” in Jean’s best penmanship.  Marco’s face falls a little as he looks at it, so Jean hurries to explain himself as he opens it.  “I wanted to thank you for setting this all up, because it really turned out to be a lot of fun.  And mostly because I got to meet you.  And I hope you don’t mind if I ask, but I’d really like to keep hanging out, even though Valentine’s day is over….”

Marco cuts him off with a gentle hand on his own.  “I’d really like that…  But you know, Valentine’s day isn’t over quite yet….  And there’s no one I’d rather spend it with than you.”

Jean’s cheeks burn brightly as Marco retrieves a small plastic bag from where it’s lying forgotten on the counter:  a cookie decorated with a heart and Jean spelled in pretty cursive.

They have a whole lot of cleanup left to do, but Jean really can’t bring himself to mind.  Even if he had to stay there all night, picking up each and every crumb individually with his bare fingers, he’d willingly do it if Marco would keep looking at him the way he is now, like he’s been the highlight of the night.

But the night’s still young, of course.  And if they want to watch In the Mood for Love and kiss on Jean’s couch, then they need to finish cleaning.

[jujywrites]

Splash

Dick-or-Treat/Lower Your Standards, part 3~ And yeah. More Gouldiplier.

It was freeing to just post-dump a bunch of smut but bc part of the challenges is to lower your standards I barely edited and all my smut patterns are staring me in the face and I Don’t Like That :[

AO3

or keep reading

***

I wake with a start. The bedside clock reads 3AM.

I get out of bed on autopilot and stumble down the hall. Only once I'm standing in front of the bathroom door, wondering why I'm standing there, do I realize I don't even need the toilet. Of course I'd wake up for no reason the night before a gig...

I'm about to head back to bed when I notice the light under the door. That might have been embarrassing; I could have walked right in on--

I think I heard a voice.

--Mark.

I press my ear to the door. It sounds like...

...a moan?

I'm turning the doorknob before I realize it, walking right in. The shower light is on, the water is running, and--

"Uhnh, god..."

He is in there.

"E-Ellie...!"

Well, fuck. He's never said my name like that before. A long moan emanates from the shower. Impulse compels me to peek behind the curtain, and what I see makes my heart jump into my throat.

Mark's sitting on the shower floor, palming his cock in quick, rough strokes. Except he's not quite sitting; he's braced his back against the shower wall and using his legs to lift his ass off the floor, the better to finger himself with his other hand. He's trembling and gasping, face flushed, eyes closed.

It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

"Oh, you gorgeous, perfect man."

"Ellie?! Oh, shit--" His eyes fly open, widening in shock as he sees me. He's frozen, the blush spreading down his neck. Then there's a flurry of movement as he disentangles himself, as he tries to get up.

"Mark, wait." The tidal wave of desire and need has finally crashed over me, and I know if I let him go now, I'll regret it. I remove my nightgown and toss it aside, pull back the curtain and step into the shower.

He's standing now, breathing shallow. "I-I-I'm sorry."

I'm shivering, from his gaze and the steam and my boldness and want. But I close the curtain and step toward him, place my hand against his cheek. "Why?" I whisper.

He casts his eyes downward. "I couldn't help myself."

Those four words almost make my legs give out. But I close the inches between us, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my body to his. "Please." A whimper slips out of me when his cock brushes my belly. "I want you, I want to help you, please…"

"Oh, god," he breathes. "Ellie."

We ease down onto the floor, under the spray. The hot water on my skin has me wilting against him, but his arms around my waist support me. The sharp moan he gives when I take his cock in my hand has me drenched down below in seconds, and the way he whines my name as my cunt slides onto him nearly makes me come right then.

"I've wanted you for so long," I say as I begin to ride him. "So badly, Mark."

"Oh, fuck, El--" His hands clutch at my shoulders, fingers digging into my skin. "You have no idea how much…" His voice trails into a long moan, and he pulls me closer to him, leaning his face into my neck.

Everything feels so real. His lips on my neck, how his cock fills me perfectly, the heat of his body and the water. But this has to be a dream, so what do I have to lose?

"I love you, Mark. And I'm not just saying it, I love you, truly, I--" I gasp, then groan as I grind down onto him and he holds me there, not letting me move. I can feel him throbbing, like his heartbeat is in my cunt, and I gasp for air while Mark keeps me still.

"Don't move, please," he murmurs against my jawline, tangling a hand in my hair. "I… I want to stay like this. Just for a bit." He rocks back, pulling me with him, and we both shudder. He puts his other arm around my back, and now we're as close as we can be, every inch of our bodies pressed together. I kiss him everywhere I can reach-- his neck, his collarbone, all over his face. When I kiss his mouth, the hand in my hair tightens, and I know instinctively what he's telling me: Stay. Be still.

I squeeze my arms around his back and keep my eyes closed, just feeling. I don't want to move ever again. Mark is warmth and safety, and I've never felt as small and secure as I do now.

The hand in my hair relaxes, falls to my shoulder. He pulls back just enough to speak, but his lips still brush mine. "I love you too… Elena." He smiles. And then he moves, thrusting his hips up toward mine, and his gasping moan of relief explodes across my mouth, and I groan his name as I move again too.

I keep my eyes open, watching his face as he slips deeper into pleasure, his brown eyes almost black with desire. My skin tingles, my cunt aches, and the only thing on my mind is racing toward that peak, climbing faster and faster. Mark's voice is all around me, changing with the rising sensation, and suddenly I'm coming.

"Mark, oh fuck, Mark…!"

His name is all I can manage as I shudder against him, clenching around him. He gasps, says my name like a sob, and then he's just moaning, over and over, clinging to me as I feel him spend in rush after rush of white-hot heat.

He falls back against the shower wall and I go with him.

For several minutes the water is the only sound, outside of the blood pounding in my head. Then—

"I… guess we should, uh…" He blinks down at me, smiling tentatively.

"Yeah."

We separate gingerly, helping each other to stand, hardly able to stay from each other's arms.

"Do—do you want to wash, a bit?" I can't seem to speak more than a whisper.

He nods, blushing slightly. I find myself smiling. After everything we just did, he's feeling shy about washing up. But he gets the washcloth and soap and says, "Let me wash you," and now I'm blushing too.

Oh. Somehow that does seem too intimate. How silly…

His hands are so gentle I feel like crying as he soaps me up, moving the washcloth reverently over my tender skin. I shiver and lean back against him.

"All done," he murmurs into my ear, too soon. He passes the showerhead to me so I can rinse.

"Can I… wash you?" I ask, face heating.

Another nod, so I do, valiantly ignoring how he bites his lip for a moment. Then we rinse each other off again, and finally turn off the water and step out of the shower.

Toweling off turns into a laughter-fueled collaboration, with hair rubbing, a tug of war and a hug break. God, the way he smiles at me. I feel so happy I could burst.

We end up in my bedroom, seemingly in a blink. The room glows with moonlight, or maybe that's my eyes.  I don't want him to leave but can't figure out how to ask him to stay.

He solves it for me. "There's no way I'm letting you sleep alone tonight," he declares, kissing my forehead.

"I wasn't gonna let you sleep alone either, so there," I answer, beaming at him.

We walk hand-in-hand to my bed. "After you, love," I say.

He grins at my endearment and climbs in. I slide in, and he's got his arms around me before I even pull up the sheets.

"Thank you," he says, eyes bright.

I kiss him. It's meant to be short, but he spurs it into long and lingering.

"Thank you," I say, when we part. I pull the sheets over us, then settle back into his arms, tucking mine against his chest.

His face fills my vision until I fall asleep.

When I wake, the sun is streaming into my face. I sigh and stretch and roll over toward Mark, but find empty sheets instead. After putting my hair into a not-awful ponytail, I yawn my way into the kitchen to find him sitting at the counter, eggs, bacon and pancakes laid out on the table.

"Hi," he says, with a little wave. I must look as nonplussed as I feel, because he adds, "I was up pretty early. Couldn't sleep. And I felt like making breakfast, so… bon appetit!" He smiles, gesturing to the place he's set out for me.

"Uh, thank you," I say finally, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down.

"Want some coffee?"

I smile. "No thanks. I don't really need any this morning."

"Me neither. Weird, huh." He chuckles, then digs into his eggs.

I nibble at some bacon. It is weird. Not just not needing coffee; the whole situation seems odd. The reason why comes into my head around my first bite of pancakes, and I very nearly choke. Last night-- er, morning. The shower. I have a gig! Mark's got a livestream! We have to--

"Are you okay?" His voice pulls me out of my reverie.

I reach for my water glass and slug it down. "I'm fine. Got mixed up about what day it was for a moment." I look at him while I formulate my next words, maybe for a bit too long; he asks how I slept at the same time I ask if he has a livestream today. We laugh at our word pile-up, then he answers first.

"No, I don't. Why?"

"Just wondering," I say with a sheepish chuckle. "I must have dreamed it. I slept well, by the way."

Silences settles in while we finish breakfast and begin clearing the table. My mind is only half on the task at hand, since I'm trying to find a way to broach the subject of last night. It felt so real… I want it to be real. But it couldn't have been; there are too many logical inconsistencies. Besides, he's already told me he doesn't have a livestream scheduled, and I know I haven't got a gig until next month. There's one more question I can ask that will settle the matter… so why can't I spit it out?

I find my chance when the cleanup is finished. First I thank him for breakfast again, and he waves me off. I take the opening. "You didn't have the bright idea to take a shower at three in the morning, did you?" I keep my tone light and even manage a smile.

He laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't have that much trouble sleeping."

Oh, thank god.

But my relief is short-lived. "You must have dreamed--" He stops, pressing a hand to his mouth as color rises in his cheeks.

"Oh my god," he mutters. "Oh my god." He stares wide-eyed at me, blinking rapidly.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I ask gently, despite my pounding heart.

"I don't know." His voice is rough. He clears his throat, takes his hand away from his mouth. "If you're thinking we had sex in the shower last night? Then yes. Yes, you are."

I grab on to the counter, all air gone suddenly out of me. "Oh my god, Mark."

"Part of the reason I woke up early is because I had a wet dream and wanted to wash the sheets, okay?" The words are sudden, propelled swiftly from his mouth. "And—and fuck why did I say that."

"It was a dream, then," I say, almost to myself. "I found you in the shower, and you--"

"Yeah. I was… desperate. But Christ, it felt so good and goddamn I need to stop talking." He groans, hiding his face in his hands. "Bet you're real happy about letting me stay over now."

"But..." My gaze latches on to a spot on the counter and I squint, trying to think. "Sharing a dream? Any dream, not just-- it's not possible."

"Shouldn't be." His hands drop as and huffs out a laugh. "Dunno about you but as far as I'm concerned, that's way too mentally taxing to try to figure out over breakfast."

Abruptly I realize what else he said. "No, I am happy!"

He starts, raising one eyebrow.

"About you. Staying over," I mumble, feeling a flush coming on. "Besides, I couldn't sleep with renovations directly above my head any more than you could, so..."

I go back to my plate, so does he, and the rest of the meal is quiet. I'm nowhere closer to solving the dream thing and I'm relatively sure a headache is coming on over thinking on it, so I try to meditate while Mark and I pick up.

"Uh, Ellie?"

I look up from wiping down the counter; Mark's over by the dishwasher, plate in hand.

"About my neighbor renovating... Um." He clears his throat, put the plate in. "It's not one hundred percent true?"

I go back to drying, absently. "Okay," I say slowly.

He's got a bashful smile on his face now; if he's expecting me to be mad, I'll have to disappoint him. "Well, I mean, there is stuff going on, just nothing that messes with my sleep. I kind of just..." One hand goes to the back of his neck, and he looks at me with his head bowed. "I wanted to stay with you and didn't know how to actually ask."

I feel like hiccuping rainbows. "I appreciate your honesty," and fail to keep a smile off my face, "and maybe I shouldn't be feeling like this but Mark, that's fucking adorable."

He snorts, shaking his head. "Um, excuse me, what?" He laughs (god I want to kiss him), grabs the last plate and shuts the dishwasher with finality. "Me, adorable? Ohoho, no, that's not happening! I have a reputation to uphold."

"Your reputation of being both adorable and devastatingly sexy, you mean." I punctuate the words with the paper towel in my hand before balling it up and aiming for the trash can.

"Ten ten," he says automatically, and then, "I'm sorry, are we talking about me or you now?"

I turn in seeming slow motion, making an inelegant question sound.

"Whoops there," he said lowly.

We stare at each other for what seems like an age. Then I somehow manage to speak first. "Well." I blow a lock of hair away from my face, then just give and undo the pony while I talk. "I still want to work on how the dream, er, thing, happened, but..."

"Looks like we've found the why." He waggles his eyebrows, getting a laugh. "Guess we have a lot of stuff to talk about, don't we."

"Guess so," I say airily, pulse thrumming. "I was thinking, though... my hair could use a wash. And maybe the rest of me." I breathe in, turning on my heel. "If you'd like to join me?"

I don't look back, because I know he'll follow.

[sumergosuigeneris]

June 30, 2019

Yesterday was a busy, exhausting day. But I feel good about it. Mostly.

Friday night, around 2am, there were fire trucks etc all over my building. At first I thought it was a car crash, because those happen here all the time. But I got curious and looked out the window and couldn’t see any car. Plus, then I started hearing things in the hall. Made me wonder if they were all up in our building. But no alarms were off. So then I started wondering if there was something wrong with the alarm (not likely) or that it was something that they might evacuate certain floors rather than the whole building. I mean, I did keep hearing things in the hall. I actually got in some clothes and prepared for me and the cat to go. Nothing. I had stayed inside b/c I didn’t want to get in the way, but finally the tension/curiousity got the best of me. Didn’t see anyone, didn’t want to go in the stairwell in case I’d be in the way. Ended up having a conversation with another lady who opened her door. Came back into my apartment, and they’d all left. That whole situation was about an hour. But I couldn’t sleep for a couple hours after that.

So, I slept in yesterday morning. Decided to go out for a healthy-ish breakfast. Went to eye hop. Disappointing. What I got served was a lazy man’s edition of what was in the menu. And, while I thought I was doing good with 650 calories, it turns out that’s a shit ton of points! Made me do some thinking. They say the average American diet is 2k calories a day. I forget sometimes that that should be 1600 cal for women. And that average doesn’t mean healthy either (since I’m confident I eat over the average). So, anyway thinking 2000/3 meals is 650-ish, I’m doing well. But really, after all my thinking, I’m thinking if I’m going to eye ball, a healthy meal is probably around 350 calories. Because depending on what those 350 are, they’re more or less points.

Then I went and played racquetball. I was hot as hell and had no water, so I only played about 40 minutes. Went to get coffee, and one of my barista people gave me a free one. While we were talking, I found out her sister had died in March or April. Her mother had died only a few months before, so she was pretty messed up. I wish I’d known, but I wasn’t going there very often, and when we were both there, she was always super busy. On my way from that bucks, I stopped at the community center and signed up for a lap swim membership! And I finally stopped at that gay bar that’s in my neck of the woods. They were open, and it’s really nice inside. I’m gonna go. Eventually. Thought about going last night for a drag show but didn’t. It means a lot to me about that place, because I live in a primarily black area, and the queer community has a tougher time when it intersects with the black community, so this bar, being there for decades? was really an oasis for black queer people at an even more intolerant time than we live in today. I got a little misty-eyed thinking about it. Came home and tried to nap. Didn’t.

Decided I needed to figure out some other things to be productive, b/c I needed to go out again to another bucks to get my 3 days in a row deal. Decided to get a bit of shopping done and maybe treat myself to a pedicure. My feet are always tore up and I think of a pedi but never do b/c they’re expensive. And I’ve talked about it for about 2 years now lol. So, I did that. I think it’s been over 10 years since I’ve had one, and I’ve only had a handful over my life. I’m so grateful that there was a really nice younger woman sitting next to me. She had to translate and give me remedial pedicure lessons, so I could make my choices. I let her pick out my nail polish. It’s a really nice shade of peach-ish/hot pink. Not too wild, and not too conservative. The girl said my feet were in great condition considering I hadn’t had a pedicure in a decade. That’s something I guess? I got a bit of a massage from the chair which was a bonus, and finally did some reading in a book I’ve started a few times.

Then I went to wall smart. Usually, I have a bit of a running list in my head of what I need/ want when I get paid. But this time, I really had to think. I got a bunch of stuff that are always on the bottom of my list, but forgot the one thing I decided to treat myself to - sheet corner fasteners. Oh well. Next month perhaps.

One thing on the list was to check for some shorts and/or tank tops so I can try to get some more color. Dude. I asked a couple of ladies (one was on the dressing rooms, the other may work there but wasn’t on the clock if she does) their opinion on one thing, which turned into them helping me with half my options. Which turned into me trying on, for the first time in my life, leggings. And they didn’t look bad on me! At least compared to a couple other things I tried on lol. So yeah, I bought leggings. It’s crazy. And, I found a tank-ish shirt style I liked, and got it in a size smaller than I expected! And they were really nice and telling me I need to be more confident in my body. And anyway, one of them asked to exchange numbers with me and said we were gonna be friends. We’ll see. But it’s always nice. I can’t help wondering if she felt sorry for my lack of confidence in the clothes thing; if she wants to like ‘mentor’ me. But she was super nice and I’ll take it!

I picked up some church is chicken (eh). Watched some little lies big (which I’d binged Friday night by accident), and went to bed. Oh also, I deleted the phone game I’ve been addicted to the last few weeks. It’s pointless, if I think about it. There’s no ‘end’. Nothing to win. Just endless achievements combined with endlessly increasing hardness. I’m kind of proud of myself.

Now today the question is how productive I’ll be. I need to apply for some jobs. Check out the status of that work transport thing. I really want to do some cleaning. I’d like to do racquetball 2 days in a row. And maybe get my swim on. Might need to return some of those clothes too - with the other stuff I got, like cat food and window wiper fluid, I spent $169.69! I did find a pair of $7 shoes that I like despite the fact that I’m surprised I like them. No open-toed sandals though lol.

Hmm. i’m looking at my feet and she didn’t take all the callous buildup off. I’m surprised bc she used what looked like a damn cheese grater, plus a pumice stone type thingy. And a scrub. But I guess it’s probably a good thing. Technically, that stuff is a bit of protection.