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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part VIII

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie.

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand.

“He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills.

“Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also�� Mike needs that trash can.

“Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

“I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Mike frowns. How even…

“It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

“Why was I—”

“We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb.

He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code.

The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment.

He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while.

Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him.

He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting."

Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her.

He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough.

So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up.

Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it.

Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it.

Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time.

Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them.

One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine.

Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban.

There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off.

So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time.

He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person.

Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes.

Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks.

He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face.

You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him.

Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it.

He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is.

"Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

"It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

"Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

"Who's going?"

The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

"Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be.

"Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

"Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

"You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

"Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch.

He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

Mike ends up going.

After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius.

Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

"Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch.

"I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

"Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes.

Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'?

"Man, fuck off."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of.

"Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles.

Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

"If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs.

Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party.

They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight.

High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room.

It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil.

He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike.

Good.

Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date.

He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor.

Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be.

Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

"Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in.

"Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle.

"You know what."

Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry?

Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here.

It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity.

Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard.

Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones.

Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach.

If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg.

Not together his ass.

When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while.

He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away.

Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it..

He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it.

But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts.

It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late.

There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

“It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

"Literally what did I just say?"

"If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

"Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

"That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

"If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

"Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying.

"I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly.

You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

"Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

"You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

"I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

"Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

"Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?"

"No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing.

So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did?

Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him.

And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay."

Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment.

"What time is it?" You speak into his shirt.

"About eleven thirty."

You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

But nothing.

You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it.

"Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to.

"Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard.

You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike.

"Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me.

"Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

"I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around.

Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down.

"I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before.

You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand.

"That's not what I meant."

It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited.

"If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition.

Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

"You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?"

His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind.

"Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before.

"Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike."

There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly.

"And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should.

Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs.

"You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch.

"Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching.

"Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

"That's fucked up," you somehow manage.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time).

You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different.

His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike.

It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place.

You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for.

Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car.

He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

Dude obviously likes to be slapped around.

There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith.

You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?"

"I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

"See what?"

"You and me—"

"You and I," he corrects, and you shove him.

"You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

"Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

"That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

"Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

"Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?"

He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly.

"You caaare about meee."

He scoffs and looks away

"Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

"Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

"I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?"

He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?"

"Absolutely. Hundred percent."

"You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing.

Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you.

"You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

"Wow, fuck you."

"That's the idea," he smirks.

"Har fucking har. You're so funny."

Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?"

"Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

"Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point.

Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction.

"Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

"Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin.

This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive.

"Stop making that face."

"What face?"

"That—that—"

You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back.

"What face, hm?"

The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down.

Damn. He's good at this.

"Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off.

He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants.

You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future.

Maddening. He's maddening.

You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him.

"I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath.

"It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

"A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

"Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it.

"Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?"

You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once.

Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle.

He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

“Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face.

You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen.

“Feel better yet?” He smirks.

You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees.

If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it.

He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink.

“I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck, fuck—”

His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

That’s not important.

Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

“Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths.

You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out.

“Want me to wear a condom?”

“I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away.

“Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you.

“Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him.

He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders.

He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time.

Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?”

“Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

“Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed.

You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.

You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them.

Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type.

Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction.

Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

“Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length.

You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows.

Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other.

He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out.

Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

“Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice.

You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss.

He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike.

Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now.

Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

“I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight.

“Fuck—shit—”

That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching.

With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree.

The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened.

Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

“I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess.

“Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand.

You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

“Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug.

“I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around.

You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair.

You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly.

“M-Mike?”

All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do.

“Are you drunk again?”

“No. Little buzzed.”

Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

"What?"

"Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable.

"Mike?"

"I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy.

But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at.

For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster.

“Why have you been lying to me?”

And, there’s that drop.

You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

“Bullshit.”

“Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?”

You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry.

“I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over.

Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn.

“Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

“Why does it matter?”

You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself.

Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

“Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

“I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.

The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

“Wh-what d’you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

“Mike…”

“No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

“No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it.

So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop.

“I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

“Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

“Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option.

“Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

“That I’m not good enough.”

Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

“Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet.

Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter.

Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful.

His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

“I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you.

Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

“I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you.

“Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse.

“I won’t bother you.”

“Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things.

You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares.

True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two.

He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room.

Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause.

Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his.

It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you.

That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall.

Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend.

It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it.

He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side.

But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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imagine-organization-xiii · 3 years

Note

If i may ask; can i please have how the org 13 members act around their crush? Thank you in advance ❤️

Masterlist - Incorrect Organization XIII - Tip Jar!

You might also like: when they realize they’re in love with s/o

This was a long-ish one that’s been sitting in the back of my drafts forever lmao - I hope you all enjoy, especially since it’s a bit of long read!

Special thanks to Miss Silverspoon, PhantomMuze, and Sam for helping with Luxord, Saix, and Vexen. Such babes.

Xemnas - Least likely to actually show it. I mean, there will be signs, but it won’t be blatant that he’s acting a certain way because he’s attracted to you. There might be some favoritism (giving you better missions, not scolding you when something goes wrong, looking the other way in certain situations.)

Overall, it’s going to be subtle. You definitely won’t pick up anything weird, but the other org members might. Saix will definitely be the one to come up to you, grab you by the shoulders and give you a good shake. “Please, he’s driving the rest of us crazy.” And you’re like “what the hell???” Saix: “Xemnas has been giving you the best missions and staring at you for five minute intervals. In his language, that means he’s practically a wanton hussy.”

Xigbar - Not ashamed in the slightest. He won’t even act any different. He finds you attractive, you find him attractive (Xigbar: “Everyone finds me attractive, obviously.”) So why bother wasting time? He doesn’t really call it a crush, though. He thinks crushes are for children and he’s a man, god damn it, he doesn’t have crushes.

An unintentional sap. Before he plucks up the courage to say something to you - and it takes him longer than he will ever admit - he finds himself going soft for you. Thinks you’re pretty, instead of hot; wants to hold your hand instead of slam you against the wall. It’s a bit infuriating to him at first, but also maybe kind of worth it.

Xaldin - Ohhhh, man. He’s been in love before; he’s been hurt before. So he is ready to rein in that shit immediately. But it’s so difficult because he likes you so much and you’re so awesome. He’ll decide to give it a chance eventually, but it will take some time. He would definitely be content with just being friends, though, because he really doesn’t want to ruin what the two of you already have.

He makes sure to always be there for you. Always helps you when you need it. A gentleman in the ways that matter and a feisty, flirtatious beast in the ways that don’t. The type of guy to flirt by making sure that he takes his shirt off after a sweaty workout and casually flexes/stretches when he knows you’re watching but also makes sure you’re hydrated and wrapping your fists correctly when you spar.

Vexen - You’ll probably know about his crush before he does. He’s so absorbed in whatever his task is - his experiments, his theories, etc. - that he doesn’t even notice that his eyes linger on you and his posture automatically straightens when you walk into the lab. He’ll instinctively turn his body in your direction so that you’re almost always in his line of sight.

Doesn’t yell at you for walking into his lab when he’s obviously busy. Actually asks you for your input, likes talking to you and discussing his theories with you. You’re smart, but some of his experiments are beyond you, and he doesn’t mind explaining in simpler terms when you ask questions. It blows Zexion’s mind because he has a running tab on the different ways that Vexen throws people out of his lab and he’s never done it to you.

Lexaeus - not much for flirting. He’s come to terms with the fact that he likes you, but you’ve both known each other long enough that you know him, so there’s no way that he can pretend to act a certain way because you would know that something wasn’t right. It’s very difficult to tell that he has a crush on you - there’s no blushing, no flirting, no favoritism. He’s just his normal self.

When you finally figure it out, you realize that he showed his crush in subtle ways instead - offering a hand to pull you up after sparring, holding open a door for you, and apparently glaring at people who come up to flirt with you when he accompanies you to the market for groceries.

Zexion - “IT’S NOT LIKE I LIKE YOU OR ANYTHING, GO AWAY.” This emo little bastard doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions. He lost his heart at a really bad time, when he was still growing into himself, learning balance between anger, frustration, patience, euphoria, etc. so he’s very unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the idea that he likes you.

There may be a few gentle shoves and punches in the shoulder. He has so many feelings and has no way to put them into the world other than violence - because that’s really all he knows nowadays. But it gets better!!! You learn together.

Saix - Honestly, God help you if Saix gets a crush on you because he really doesn’t make it easy. If anything, he’ll be making your life difficult. He overcompensates about not giving you any special treatment, giving you harder and more difficult tasks/missions, or your workload might remain the same but his expectations are almost impossibly high. He’s not only trying to prove himself to the others; he’s trying to prove to himself that he doesn’t care.

He’s more difficult to be around tbh, and yeah, he’ll definitely seek you out which is a pain in the ass when you’re trying to avoid him. You’ll have to be the one to barge into his office, slam open the door, and yell at him that he’s being an asshole. He’ll probably back off a bit, but.... he’s really only rough on you because he knows you’re capable of more.

Axel - Axel falls in love unapologetically. He’s head over heels almost immediately and not even ashamed of his crush on you. Flirting becomes almost a part of your friendship because he’s just that comfortable with you. His mood is already so bright when he’s around you, but now it’s like the sun and you can’t help but meet his smile with your own grin.

But it gets to be kind of weird on his end because... you don’t realize that he’s being serious when he flirts? So many pick up lines. So many compliments. But you’re just like “oh that same old Axel haha,” and he’s left banging his head against the wall because he likes you so much but you’re so oblivious.

Demyx - He won’t even notice that he has a crush on you tbh. It will take him forever to notice. He knows he’s attracted to you, but he’s attracted to a lot of people so he didn’t think that it would be any different! A crush?? In this economy??? But he’s grateful, you know? Because there really couldn’t be a better person for him to have a crush on - like he could have a crush on Xemnas, of all people, and that would just be disastrous.

Doesn’t act differently until he realizes he has a crush. When he does realize, he’ll get nervous and clumsy. Shouting from across the hall, “HEY LET ME GET THE DOOR FOR YOU” and runs, trips, and knocks out a tooth. Just completely ridiculous stuff. You kind of notice that he’s acting strange, but it’s just Demyx, and it will probably take Vexen going up to you and saying “please put him out of his misery before he accidentally kills himself trying to flirt with you”

Luxord - Luxord is so charming, more charming than he usually is. He always has this endearing aura around him, and man, he turns it up when he tries to flirt with you. A gift giver - small things, a dessert you might like, a flower he stole from Marluxia’s garden, lunch when you’re busy, etc. Very aware of how to approach you; also knows where to stop before he goes too far. Knows how to read you pretty well in that respect.

Loves the romance that comes with having a crush because there’s so much raw potential. Feelings are confusing, they take a while to grow, but the idea that something amazing can be coming in the future is a great feeling to him. Great potential hangout ideas that don’t necessarily have to be dates, but they help you both metaphorically test the waters about what a real relationship could be.

Marluxia - arguably the most romantic out of everyone. Surprisingly?? Also the most sensible. Of the mind that, you know, if you like someone then do something about it. He has a crush on you? Why not just give it a shot, then? He’ll bring you flowers! Accompany you when you go somewhere! Take you for garden walks! Take you out to dinner!

Somewhere along the line it just becomes a relationship and not just a crush and he’s like, yeah I did this. When everyone’s like “omg how did you get her to like you back” he’s just like “because I did something about it unlike all of you idiots.”

Larxene - Listen. Listen. Larxene is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need someone else in her life to make her feel loved and powerful but damn, you’re so awesome and she has the biggest crush on you even though all of her instincts say that she’s being dumb. Will ask you to spar with her as an excuse to get close to you and don’t be surprised if she’s extra harsh when sparring - she definitely won’t be pulling her punches.

When you get closer, she’ll open up to you in a way that she won’t open up to anyone else, which is a big, obvious flag for you that her feelings may be more than friendship. She doesn’t like talking about herself or her past, so hearing things she’s never told anyone (except maybe Marluxia), makes you feel really great about being her friend.

Roxas - Man, he is such a cute little marshmallow, not shy in general but shy around his crush. He’ll do his hardest not to blush around you, but he does get nervous. So nervous, in fact, that he might make you think he doesn’t like you because he’ll tend to avoid you when he can. He doesn’t want to look stupid in front of you.

This baby feels things deeply, despite the lack of a heart. He always has felt things more deeply than others. Likes physical contact so when he gets over his fears of being around you, he’ll probably end up asking to hold your hand, randomly hugging you, giving high fives, etc.

Xion - Only really falls for people that she’s already friends with, because she knows them and she’s comfortable with them. It’s subtle for her, though. She’ll realize her crush one night and suddenly she can’t even speak to you without blushing, cheeks a bright pink against her pale skin. She’ll stutter, too, and she hates that’s she’s so nervous for no reason because you’re friends!!! And she has no reason to be nervous!!!

She’s also so helpful when she has a crush! Like Demyx, she’s eager to help you with whatever you’re doing, whether that’s mission reports, cooking, cleaning, etc. Unlike Demyx, she actually gets the job done and doesn’t get injured when trying to help. You’re always so grateful and thankful and that just makes her blush even more.

#organization xiii headcanons #kingdom hearts headcanons #organization xiii #kingdom hearts #axel #xigbar #roxas #xion #xemnas #demyx

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seoloquent · 3 years

Text

project: dance, dance, revolution

summary - you hate that ai robots are beginning to take over the entertainment industry, but you have no choice than to help them. but what if it all didn't turn out to be what you thought it was?

pairing - johnny and fem!reader

genre - strangers-to-lovers!au, robot!au, comedy, fluff

word count - 10.101

warnings - cw! food, there might be some grammatical errors... i'm depending on grammarly on this one

author's note - this is for @pastelsicheng's ai project #14320 collab! this was honestly such a challenge for me since i have been in a writing slump for over two years i believe, but i'm glad it gave me the push i need. i am still super rusty, but i think the dialogue is cute, so i'm happy with it! thank you so much emmy for sharing your great idea with everyone, and i hope you all like it!

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

Johnny AI AU - seoloquent

Kun was terrified.

Despite experiencing your various emotions throughout the five years of being your manager, he has never seen you this angry before. But, honestly speaking, he couldn’t blame you. He’d be just as mad if he found out his boss went behind his back and signed a contract with a company he hated. As much as he could sympathize with you though, Kun just couldn’t get himself to understand why you were so upset about working with LSM Incorporated. If he were in your shoes, he’d be doing backflips off the wall! The amount of exposure, and revenue you are potentially going to be receiving… Kun just does not understand what the problem is.

Although your strides were long and strong, Kun was able to keep up with you while making sure he kept his distance, as if a dark cloud followed behind you. As cautious as he was to not have you blow up at him, he still tried to convince you to not make a scene within the conference room by his desperate protests; in which you kindly ignored. Every single word that left his mouth went through one ear and straight out the other as you paid him no mind. You were in a tunnel vision; the only person you wanted to talk to right now was your boss.

Pushing the door open with much force (that Kun had to catch before it slammed onto the wall behind it), you caught the attention of the CEO of your company, as well as Lee Soo Man of LSM Inc. They flashed pleasant smiles your way, completely oblivious of your angry state.

“Y/N, just the person we wanted to se-”

“Are you serious?!” You slammed the contract papers down on the table, your eyes wide and fierce as they stared into your boss’s eyes.

Your emotions were still fresh from when you first received the signed contract papers from Kun about an hour prior. The feelings of betrayal and violation lingered within you, and the uneasiness it caused made you sick. How could someone lack so much human decency that they justified going behind their employee’s back, an employee that has their trust in them at that, and force them into labor; which they have already voiced that they did not want to do? It baffled you, and you were hurt, as you believed that you and your CEO had a great business relationship. But he took that open communication for granted and took advantage of you.

After realizing that you stormed in with anger rather than excitement, he pursed his lips and looked down at the papers, chuckling to himself. “Oh. So you’re still opposed to the idea.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Of course I am!” Your voice rose as your eyes grew bigger. “You never talked to me about it again after the first time; what made you think that I changed my mind?”

“Y/N, I have to get you to notice that you are not the only one signed to this company. This will not only be good exposure for you, but for us as well.” He justified. He kept his voice calm, not only to calm you down but also to keep a professional demeanor in front of his newly established business partner.

“Oh, so you’re doing this for yourself?”

“Of course not! This is for the benefit of not only you, not only me, but for the company as a whole.” Your CEO reasoned. Before you could respond, he cleared his throat and turned to Lee Soo Man. “I’m sorry, but will you excuse us for a moment? I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation in front of you as our partner.”

Normally, you would be embarrassed that you presented this side of yourself in front of a potential partner, but embarrassed in front of Lee Soo Man? You care more about a monkey’s opinion about yourself more than his opinion. Besides, it doesn’t seem like he’s phased by your reaction at all. Strangely enough, when you turned toward the founder of LSM Inc., you realized that his arrogant smile had never left his face since the moment you stormed into the conference room. It gave you chills. He seems so artificial that you wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be a robot himself.

After Lee Soo Man gave his, “No problem,” your boss stood up from his seat and escorted you both outside the conference room. The moment the door closed, your boss’s true emotion started to show. His eyes grew wide and his fingers grabbed onto his freshly trimmed strands as he breathed out a heavy breath of frustration. Equally as frustrated, if not more, you crossed your arms and made sure your gaze was unwavering; something you needed to learn after being manipulated many times from past experiences with people who work within the entertainment industry. You stepped your metaphoric foot down. Even if your boss had signed a contract without your acknowledgment, you were not going to do the job. That’s not your signature on the papers.

“Are you crazy Y/N?!” He yelled in a hushed tone, careful to not have anyone overhear your conversation. “How could you act like that in front of him?”

“Do I not have a right to be angry? You sold me away to a robot company Jack, a robot company!” You slapped the back of your hand on your other palm, now physically unable to withhold your emotions.

“I didn’t sell you away, you’re getting paid to do this job.” He spat. Now self-aware of how uncivil and unprofessional he was being, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to ease his nerves. You are going to get nowhere if you bickered like this, and if you keep it up, he knows he is going to say something he regrets.

Now keeping his tone soft, he revealed, “I chose you because you’re the best for this job.”

“Aren’t there other artists under this label who could do this? I’m sure they’re more willing to work with LSM than I am.” You matched his tone, hoping that this time you could get through to him.

“Those other artists can’t produce the same product as you can.” Jack shook his head disapprovingly. “Listen Y/N, I don’t want to waste any more of Mr. Lee’s time, so I’m going to make this short. I apologize in advance if you find any offense in this, but business is business.” You stared intently into his eyes, in hopes to understand where he was going with his next sentence, but his expression could not be read.

“If you can’t do this job, then I’m afraid that I’ll have to drop you from this label.”

You never knew what people meant by having their hearts drop down to their stomachs until now. You felt as if the wind was knocked out of you, your breath short and shaky and your knees weak. All these years… all this work you put in to make a name not only for yourself but for this company… it baffled you that all that effort could be thrown away so easily, just because of some AI company.

As much as you wanted to keep standing up for yourself and your role in the company, you knew there was no use. Your boss didn’t seem to give you a choice either, seeing that he walked back into the conference room shortly after his bombshell. The only thing you could find yourself doing is laughing bitterly to yourself while shaking your head. What in the world are you going to do now?

***

Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to go to a bar when you’re in a bad mood. The constant noise of chatter and the clinking of glasses did not soothe your nerves one bit. Rather, it made you even more annoyed, and on the brink of yelling out at everyone to just be quiet. Instead of making a fool of yourself in public though, you sat with your head under your arms, forehead resting on the cool surface of the bar. Kun, your designated moral support, sat next to you, tapping his glass of whiskey as he thought of what to say to you.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

That simple yet oh so effective sentence had you throwing your head back and releasing a loud groan. Your reaction had your manager shrugging, his face reading, ‘What did I do?’ You rested your cheeks on the palms of your hands as you thought: ‘What can I do?’

Gazing off into a space of nothing, you replied: “I dunno.” You shook your head, your hands still on either side of your face as you deadpanned. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do.” After a moment, something clicked in your head, and you set your arms down and turned to Kun. “Do you want to bail on them and start a company with me?”

He snorted at the inquiry. “You know we can’t do that! At least not right now. It’s way too last minute.”

You looked down at your arms with a sad expression and sighed. “You’re right.” Not only would it be an impulsive decision, but you had no motivation in you to own a whole entertainment company. “What am I gonna do?!” You cried out, your hands covering your face to hide your shame.

“Hey, hey, hey! Stop the whining!” Kun took your hands away from your face, revealing the pout on your face. “Everything is going to be fine! I’m sure of it.”

Kun, a big pep-talk kind of man, was always ready to reassure you when you were in doubt. And boy was he good at it. You still remember when you were growing anxious before your first big concert at an arena. The staff ran around the whole place frantically trying to find where you ran off to. Thankfully, your trustee manager was able to find your hiding spot, which was beside a vending machine in an empty hallway. His comforting words found a way to ease your speedy heart rate, and clear up your clogged mind. After that day, you knew you could always go to him when you were feeling down or unsure of yourself. He’s a friend you could always lean on.

“How are you so sure?” You asked, your voice so small that he almost missed the question.

“Think about it,” he set his glass to the side and folded his hands together, “this contract is only valid for six months. It’s not like you’re going to be working there forever.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I know that; but still! I don’t want to do it at all!”

“You never know what will happen until you try though! You might end up liking it.” He nudged your elbow as he flashed a convincing smile.

“Me? Liking it?” You scoffed. “Kun, do you even know me?”

He pursed his lips and sighed. This situation was foreign to him since he always knew what to say. But now, it seemed like everything he was saying was making the situation worse. He wanted nothing more than for you to feel comfortable, but that mission is basically impossible knowing how much you oppose the AI industry. But still, Kun is a persistent man. He wasn’t going to back down just yet.

Finally, something clicked.

“Actually, your idea doesn’t sound half bad.” You cocked a curious eyebrow, surprised that he brought up something you spurted out carelessly. “Think about it: you’re still your own person. Even though you’re technically bound by a contract doesn’t mean that you can’t make a decision on your own. He did give you the choice to leave.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “So you’re saying that I should just leave the company?”

He shook his head. “No. What I’m doing is offering a deal. I want you to try to work with LSM for at least three months. If you try it, you might like it! If not, I will quit with you, and we can try to start a company on our own; which I know we both don’t want. But hey, that might be fun too.”

You thought about the proposal for a moment. It wasn’t too much of a bad idea. It was actually quite reasonable. Yeah, you aren’t looking forward to being surrounded by robots and their arrogant creators, but you guess that it’s worth a try. Just for the experience at least.

“I think we have a deal.” You held your hand out.

He took your hand in his and gave it a firm shake.

“Pleasure doing business with you, partner.”

***

You shivered upon entering the entertainment wing of LSM Inc. You were told that the lab would be a bit chilly, which is why you brought a jacket with you, but the cool air still found a way to nip at your skin through the material. You have to say, the lab was not what you expected it to be. Rather than it being some cold, plain science lab, it was made out to be much more casual. Your eyes settled on what looked like a lounge area for the employees, and you watched carefully as they conversed with one another with soft smiles on their faces. Scanning the place even further, you came across capsule areas, in which you assume where the AI robots stayed. As cool as the dome building seemed, you still couldn’t shake off the grudge you had against the company.

“Oh, you’re here!” A man holding a clipboard exclaimed. He ran over to you and Kun, flashing a bright smile. “Mr. Lee told me that we were to be expecting you both. I was hoping to greet you at the main lobby entrance, but I got caught up in another situation, so I apologize. My name is Kim Doyoung, I’ll be your guide for the day.” He politely held his hand out, and you shook it while replying with a small, “Hello.”

“We’re pleased to have you here with us Ms. Y/N. Please, follow me.” He motioned both of you to follow him. “I must say, I’m a huge fan of your music. I’m really happy that you decided to work with us for the next comeback.”

“Oh. Don’t mention it.” You shook your head while smiling slightly.

As Doyoung lead you to wherever he was leading you, he pointed out different areas to help you grow familiar with the lab. You learned that they have many recording and dance studios like regular companies do. You couldn’t help but wonder why, since they could just be programmed to sing the songs, but you didn’t bother to ask.

Finally, Doyoung stopped at a station, but his bright expression was replaced by a puzzled one. He looked around as if he were looking for someone. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare at what stood before you. The tall human-like… thing, stared right back at you with a neutral expression. It gave you chills how real he seemed; like he could walk past you on the street and you wouldn’t bat an eye. Despite how anxious it made you feel, your curiosity outweighed that emotion, and you inched closer to get a better look.

Your tour guide caught you eyeing the bot, and that smile found its way back onto his face. He heard that you might be a bit opposed to working with the AI’s, so he was glad to find you expressing some sort of interest in their prized possession.

“He’s so human-” As if in a trance, you reached out a hand to touch the robot, but it suddenly stepped back just before you got to it.

“I’m sorry, but physical touch is not allowed unless permitted.” The robot announced before flashing a commercial smile.

Doyoung’s chuckled beside you. “For the safety of our bots, we have prohibited anyone from touching them.” He leaned in to add, “Too many fans at fansigns got touchy-feely.” He shook his head disapprovingly.

“Eager to get a feel of my bot already?” You heard a voice from behind you.

When you turned around, you felt as though you got whiplash. The man standing behind you looked identical to the robot standing before you. The only difference was that the robot had blonde short hair and was styled in fancy clothing whilst the man had long brown hair and didn’t seem to care much about what he had on. He had his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, a sly smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re late.” Doyoung deadpanned.

“I’m not late, I was taking a nap in the Pod, and nobody cared enough to wake me up!” The mystery man shrugged.

Finally, you snapped back into reality, but you still had to verify that what you were seeing was real. When you finally accepted what was going on, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“How cute.” You snickered to yourself.

A puzzled expression masked the mystery man’s face. “What’s cute?”

“What is this? The Man and the Muppet?” Your comment had Kun nudging your arm and shooting you a warning look to which you responded with an apologetic gaze.

Not giving the mystery man any time to respond (merely because he does not have the patience), Doyoung spoke up. “This is Suh Youngho, he’s the head AI Developer of our department. He’s the creator of #S127.” Youngho put his hands behind his back and bowed as his greeting.

“I’m guessing his name is Youngho as well?” You pointed to the robot, still standing expressionless.

“He wishes, but no, we call him Johnny!” Youngho swung an arm over his identical twin of a robot, smiling brightly. “After a long and hard fight for it, he will be releasing his first solo album this year.” He wiped a fake tear from under his eye. “Johnny here is my firstborn, so this is going to be really special.”

“And you’re going to help us make it very special!” Doyoung cheered.

“Actually, speaking of that, what exactly am I supposed to be doing? Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to give you guys a demo and you program him to sing it or something?” You asked.

Doyoung was quick to answer. “That would defeat the purpose of AI robots actually! The thing is, they’re supposed to learn to adapt to certain environments, like we do! So they learn how to sing songs and how to dance complex choreography just like we do.”

This time, Kun was the one to ask a question. “Aren’t you guys just putting more work upon yourself?”

“Yes, and no,” Youngho started, “It’s like a domino effect. The more work we give our bots means more research that needs to be done. The more research that is done, means there’s more data we get. The more data we get means a more refined bot, and then it loops.” Kun opened his mouth in an ‘ah’ shape and nodded his head after the explanation. “Hopefully we can get this bad boy to the point where we don’t have to do any more research and he can be a successful artist on his own.”

Even though this was all very interesting, you still couldn’t help but still be opposed to the thought of helping a robot making it in the entertainment industry. You caught a glimpse of the future as you fell into a daydream: AI’s getting a full sweep in wins at big music award shows, discrediting those who actually put their heart and soul into their work. Robots don’t have a heart, nor do they have a soul. Even if they do seem to “work hard,” they will never be on the same level as a human artist. It just won’t be fair, but what even is fair these days?

“So, to answer your question, we need Johnny to learn what it’s like to be a true singer-slash-songwriter. And to achieve that, he’ll be staying with you for the duration of the six months before his solo debut.” Doyoung’s words snapped you out of your daydream and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

“Oh, so this is going to be like ‘Take your robot to work day’ or something? But just for six months instead?” You questioned.

Doyoung looked up as he thought, nodding and shrugging seconds afterward. “Well, yes, but we were hoping that Johnny could get the full package. We planned for him to stay with you 24/7 so that he could really get a feel of your creative process.”

You did a double-take, eyes wide and mouth agape showcasing your shock.

“E-Excuse me? You mean to say that he will be… living with me?” You spoke low and slow, scared of the obvious answer.

You didn’t see anything about this in the contract papers; not that you read it anyway since you weren’t the one who signed them; but still! You could feel your heart race as you thought of him living in your apartment, those brown soulless eyes studying every move you made. The vision made you shudder.

“Affirmative.” Youngho nodded firmly.

Your heart wanted to burst out of your chest. “I’m sorry, but can you guys excuse us for a moment? I need to speak with my manager in private.” You said just before taking Kun’s hand and dragging him somewhere where the two scientists wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation.

“I’m living with the robot?!” You whisper yelled, careful to not have anyone nearby hear your anguish.

“In my defense, I had no idea about this.” Kun shook his head with his hands up.

You paced back and forth as you panicked. You lifted your hands, but not knowing what to do with them, you just clenched them into a fist. It seemed like your life was spiraling out of your control. Nothing is going your way, and it is driving you insane. You need to get your life back in order fast. If not, who knows what will happen?

“I swear, if he wasn’t the one paying me, I would kill Jack right now.” You grumbled.

“Hey, it’s not like Johnny is a real guy. I doubt he would try to do anything to hurt you.” Kun tried his best to reassure you, but it was not doing much to help.

“You don’t know that! We don’t know what those guys are capable of!” You pointed toward Doyoung and Youngho. “That Doyoung guy is nice, but I don’t know if I can trust him. And Youngho seems like he’s gonna be a handful.” You stared at the said man as he and Doyoung bickered, probably about him being late again.

Kun turned his head to see the two men bickering, and the only thing he could do was chuckle. “I think they should be the least of your worries.” His comment made you sigh deeply. “You’ll be fine, I promise you!” He put his hands on your arms to steady you, but you avoided his gaze as you stared down at your feet with a pout on your face. “You know I’m always on speed dial if you need me.”

You nodded your head, still avoiding his gaze.

“Hey,” his call made your eyes meet his. “If all goes wrong, we can always dump a bucket of water over ‘em.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “Yeah, and then we’ll get sued and possibly go to jail.”

Kun smacked his lips and said, “Eh, I’m sure they’ll be able to fix the guy. A little water can’t do that much damage.” He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. After a small moment of silence, he kicked your shoe gently. “So what do you say? You’re still gonna do it, or no?”

A groan erupted from your chest, and you brought your hands down your face out of frustration. You really don’t want to do this, but a deal is a deal.

“Three months. I’m giving three months.”

“That’s my girl!”

***

You found yourself pacing around your apartment in the early morning. It has been about a week since you first spoke with LSM Inc. From this day forward for the next six months (or three months you hoped), Johnny would be shadowing you at all times. You were a nervous wreck since you didn’t know what to expect from living with a robot. What if he suddenly malfunctioned and they blamed it on you? You can’t handle this type of responsibility. Or what if he malfunctioned and started acting violently toward you?

“Snap out of it!” You whisper yelled at yourself, hitting your temple with your knuckles. You always tend to scare yourself when you’re nervous. Everyone you have spoken to about this matter has told you that you had nothing to worry about, so you made it your goal to not worry. But why is it so hard?

DING!

You swore your heart jumped out of your chest when your doorbell suddenly sounded throughout your home. As much as you wanted your heart rate to calm down, it only began to race faster the closer you got to your door. When your hand touched the gold knob, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, then you finally opened the door.

Two identical men stood before you, flashing the same bright smile.

“Good morning to you!” Youngho greeted you cheerfully, to which you replied with a dazed “Morning,” before allowing them inside.

You eyed the two men as they entered your living room, confused as to why they were the only ones here. “Where is Mr. Kim?”

Youngho cocked an eyebrow before turning around to face you. “Who?”

“Your coworker. Doyoung, I believe his name is?” You answered.

“Oh!” He let out a hearty laugh. “You don’t have to call him that, it makes him sound old. And I’m older than him, so that kind of hurts my feelings.” He joked, but the only thing you could find yourself doing was nodding your head and looking away.

Sensing your discomfort, he cleared his throat before answering your question. “He’s busy back at the lab. I’m here to make sure John is all set before I leave him in your care.” You winced at his words. It only added to the overwhelming weight on your shoulders.

“Why do you ask? Did you grow fond of him already?” He slung his backpack from around his shoulder onto the floor. You peeked inside when he zipped it open, finding wires bunched inside.

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t say that.” You let out a nervous laugh. “I just find it a bit overwhelming with only you two here.”

A smirk grew on his face. “So, you’re overwhelmed by my great looks huh?” He flipped his hair and shrugged as if it was inevitable to be starstruck by him.

“I look exactly like you,” Johnny spoke for the first time since entering your home.

You had to hold back a laugh at the sudden comment, and Youngho’s reaction didn’t make it any easier.

“So? You’re inspired by me, so therefore I take the credit of our looks!” He stuck his nose up in Johnny’s face. When the scientist turned back toward you, he realized you were holding back a laugh as your pursed your lips and looked away. “What? You find this funny?”

You put your hand up and shook your head. “No, no.”

Youngho was happy to find you in a better mood than when you first met. Sure, you’re still on the shy side, but at least you’re laughing instead of frowning like the first time. He heard that you weren’t exactly on board with working with LSM, so he made it his goal to have this be an enjoyable experience for you. He hopes that one day your negative opinions about AI’s would change. They’re as special to him as music is to you.

“I need to set up Johnny’s things. Is it okay if you tell me where he’s allowed to sleep?” Youngho asked.

You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled expression finding its way on your face. “He sleeps?”

“Yeah!” Youngho nodded simply. “It’s like setting your computer on sleep mode. Machines need rest as much as we do. Johnny here is a hardworking man, he deserves to sleep.”

You supposed he was right. He might break easier if his gears were running constantly. Plus, he was made to function as a human, but you didn’t know that it was to this extent. To say the least, you were impressed at the attention to detail.

You motioned the two to your guest bedroom, and immediately Youngho got to work. Johnny stood next to you as the both of you spectated Youngho’s work, but you were shortly distracted by the robot.

You peered up at the tall machine with a curious gaze, and he turned to you with a kind smile.

“So, I’m not sure if this is an inappropriate question or not, but I’m curious.” Johnny nodded for you to go on. “Should I, like… talk to you like Siri? Or can I talk to you like a normal person?”

You were startled to hear Youngho’s loud snort in the corner of the room, but instead of him being the one to answer, Johnny did.

“You can talk to me like a normal person, don’t worry.” Johnny shook his head. “If it makes you comfortable, you can view me as a human if you’d like. I’m not that much different than you actually. We’re just wired differently.”

“Hey,” Youngho’s stern voice caught both of your attention. “Be proud of who you are, whether you are a human or robot. We’ve been through this John.”

Johnny nodded. “Right, right. My apologies.”

Youngho hated it when Johnny tried to tell others to view him as a human. Not because he believed that Johnny was trying to fool people, but because being a robot is his identity, and he should be proud of that. Sure, it’s not likely that Johnny could feel the feeling of pride, but Youngho could tell that Johnny was insecure. It worried him, but he didn’t want to tap into his database to change anything since he wants Johnny to be as authentic as possible. So for now, Youngho is keeping track of Johnny’s growth as an AI person.

Soon, Youngho was finished with setting up Johnny’s station. In the corner of the guestroom stood a white podium with a screen built in the middle of it. He let out a deep breath of satisfaction as he stepped back and dusted his hands off.

Before you could ask what it was, Youngho was already answering your unspoken question. “This is Johnny’s Communication Center. Every night he’ll have to transfer data from his system so that we’ll know what he’s been up to and see if he’s made any improvements. That’s if he’s not with me at the lab.” Suddenly, his face grew serious. “For legal reasons, I have to let you know that this station is strictly off-limits. There’s confidential information in here that belongs to LSM Inc.”

Even though you were curious, the last thing you wanted to do was get involved with the law, so you took note of his warning. Hopefully, it isn’t something regarding the invasion of privacy.

You shook your head before you could scare yourself even further. Positive thoughts. Think positive thoughts.

“Alright, on that note, I think my work here is done!” Youngho announced. “Can I talk with you in private?” He asked suddenly, pointing a finger at you.

“Me?” You had to double-check whether he was really talking to you or not. He chuckled as he nodded his head, confirming your wonders. “Oh, okay.”

You followed the man out of the room, leaving Johnny to check out the place he’ll be living in for the next few months.

After the two of you reached your living room, Youngho began to speak. “Hey, so, I really want to thank you for working with us on this project. I heard that you’re not the biggest fan of AI’s, so I was surprised to hear you signed the contract.”

You held back from rolling your eyes as the memories of your boss came up. “It’s not like I really had a choice.” You smiled softly and shook your head.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

You tensed up when you realized what you just said. As much as you did not want to do this job, you made it your goal to remain as professional as possible for the sake of your reputation. After working in the entertainment industry for some years, you learned to keep your personal feelings apart from your job. If- no, when you do end up quitting the job after three months, at least LSM won’t be able to say anything negative about you.

Refraining from explaining yourself, you shook your head once more. “Nevermind what I said. Johnny will be safe in my care!”

Youngho pouted, his eyes scanning your face. He wanted you to elaborate, but he had no time to talk further. He needed to get back to the lab.

“Well, I hope so. Call me if you need anything. I need to get going.”

Nodding, you waved goodbye to him before seeing him off. Your feet ended up taking you back to your guest bedroom, where you found Johnny sitting at the end of the bed, staring at the wall in front of him. You caught his attention after you cleared your throat, and instead of staring at you with that lifeless gaze, he smiled brightly.

You mustered up the courage to walk up to him, still stopping some feet away though. Crossing your arms, you tried to think of what to say. While you thought, he examined your face, trying his best to read your expression so he to could come up with something to talk about. The silence was awkward for you, but Johnny never sensed the discomfort. He was happy to be here with you. You are the gold coin on his road to success, so he decided to cherish you.

“So… it’s quite early and I usually don’t head to the studio until the evening. Is there anything you wanted to do?” You asked.

“There isn’t anything I can think of…” he shrugged his shoulders.

Suddenly, your stomach grumbled and your hand covered it as a reflex. You were so nervous this morning that you didn’t have much of an appetite, but hunger was catching up to you now.

“I didn’t have breakfast yet.” You laughed nervously. “Are you… able to eat anything?” You felt weird asking such a question since he’s a robot after all, but who knows what he can and cannot do? Technology is so advanced these days. Besides, isn’t he made to live like a human anyway?

In all truthfulness though, Johnny isn’t allowed to eat-- sometimes. In special cases, he can nibble on a snack, but eating a full course meal was a no-go. But Johnny was aware of your discomfort of being with him, and he was determined to make you feel the opposite. As long as he doesn’t clog his gears, taking the risk should be okay.

“I know of this breakfast house Youngho likes to go to every now and then. Do you want to go there?”

Your face lit up at the suggestion. You were more excited at the thought of being around others rather than eating. Being in the house alone with Johnny was really starting to suffocate you, and you needed out immediately. Maybe some fresh air and being surrounded by humans will make you feel somewhat better.

The two of you were quick to leave the apartment after you accepted the offer. Johnny led the way to the restaurant, and on your way, he let you know that it was not far from your home. Come to find out, it was within walking distance. You wondered how you never noticed the humble breakfast house, but after thinking about it for a while, you realized that you are always on the go. Ever since you moved to your apartment, you never took the time to stop and get to know your surroundings.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny’s question snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh… nothing, just thinking.” Finally, you noticed that you were standing in front of the restaurant. “Let’s head inside.”

Surprisingly, Johnny was easy to talk to. Even though he had somewhat awkward responses to your questions, it was never boring or dry. You got to know about his life in the lab, and even how Youngho decided to grow his hair out because people mistook him for Johnny so many times. His story was so interesting, and it kept you on your toes, itching to hear more. It was beyond what you could ever imagine.

“So what is your goal?” You suddenly asked.

He tilted his head in curiosity. “Can you elaborate for me please?”

“You know, like what’s your goal as a singer? Or even just as a living being?”

He sat back in his seat as he pondered on the simple, yet deep question. It’s something he’s never had time to think about. Actually, it’s something he never considered thinking about. Ever since he was first powered up, he has always been working. But working towards what, is the question he began to ask himself.

“I… honestly don’t know.” He shook his head after moments of thinking.

“Really?” Your eyes grew wide at his response. “If that’s the case, then why do you expect to learn how to write music? You need to have some desire or passion to do so.”

He crossed his arm over his chest and rested his chin on his other hand. “I guess you’re right… But how do I find out what my goal is?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “What are you living for? What’s your purpose? You have to ask yourself these types of questions.”

It worried Johnny that he didn’t have a passion despite calling himself a music artist. But he knew he needed to figure it out fast because he really does want to be successful in this field. But is there anything really to work for being the person he is?

***

The next day, you were back at the lab for Johnny’s first checkup. The first night at the studio was not a success, which wasn’t surprising considering that he had nothing to write about. This was exactly what you were afraid of. No matter how busy he might be, he hasn’t gotten the real human experience, so what really can he write about? Hard drives and wires?

“Hey Babysitter!” Youngho greeted you cheerfully after spotting you and Johnny some feet away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Babysitter?”

“Yeah, you are taking care of my kid after all.” He laughed, ruffling Johnny’s hair, to which Johnny slapped his hand away. “How was the first day?”

You sighed deeply, thinking about yesterday’s events. “It went okay, but we made no progress in the studio.”

Youngho smacked his lips. “Well, that’s alright. We still have six months ahead of us. There’s still time left.”

“That’s true.” You nodded your head. “But on the bright side, Johnny treated me to the best breakfast I had in a while! So brownie points for that.”

Your words came out too fast for Johnny to stop you. He froze, his hand slapping his mouth in shock. He is dead meat.

“He didn’t eat with you, did he?” Youngho blinked at you. Sensing the tension in the air, you nodded slowly, but kept your mouth shut. “Oh my-” Youngho stepped back as if he was about to faint.

He clenched his fist against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. You felt like you did something wrong, but you just couldn’t figure out what. You were sure Johnny would tell you if you did.

“Johnny, just head to the back, okay?” Youngho said, his eyes still closed.

“Yes sir.” Johnny rushed away without another word.

“Did I do something wrong...?” You asked shyly.

“No you didn’t, don’t worry.” Youngho sighed. “He knows better. If he eats too much he could clog his gears. But mostly, I just hate cleaning him out, it’s so tedious!” He groaned at the thought of all the clumps of food he has to take out.

“Oh my gosh! I wouldn’t have let him if I have known!” You exclaimed.

Youngho shook his head. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. He seems to be functioning well, so he should be fine.”

You were worried at the thought of Johnny breaking while under your supervision. Imagine getting sued by a company that handles AI’s? Your life would be over! You can’t let that happen, you won’t allow it to happen.

“Is there any way for me to know if he’s okay or not? Like does he feel pain or no?” You asked. You needed to know just in case you had to rush back to the lab if anything happens. You’re not going to be the blame for anything.

“Yes, and no.” Youngho went on to explain. “He can feel you if you tap him on the shoulder, but if you punch him, it’ll still feel like a mere tap. But the only time he does feel pain is when something in his system malfunctions.” You tilted your head, still not catching on. He found your expression cute, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Just think about it: when you’re using your phone, it can feel your taps as you scroll. But if you drop it on the ground, you don’t hear it screaming out in pain.”

“Ah, I think I get it now!” You nodded your head fervently.

“Right! But we did program him to feel some type of pain just so we will know if something wrong is happening to the important parts.”

“That makes a lot of sense… Man, you guys really have it all laid out huh?” You couldn’t help but be impressed at the amount of thought that went into creating Johnny.

“Yeah, well, it’s nothing much.” Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets as he shrugged nonchalantly. As laid back as he was acting, nothing could hide the blush that crept onto his face. He’s a sucker for people acknowledging his work.

“Well, as much as I want to argue with you about that, I have to get to my schedule! Kun is waiting for me outside and I can’t keep him waiting. I’ll be back soon!” You waved as you began to walk away.

Youngho waved back to you as he watched you exit the lab. He sighed to himself, not knowing what he was going to do with Johnny. But knowing that it is best to get the job done now rather than later, Youngho dragged his feet to the operation room where Johnny would be waiting.

Johnny tensed up once Youngho entered the room, and he avoided eye contact in hopes he wouldn’t blow up at him. Thankfully, Youngho didn’t have the energy to yell.

“Why did you do that?” The scientist asked simply.

“She was uncomfortable and hungry, so it was the only thing I could think of.” Johnny justified his past actions, but Youngho wasn’t having any of it.

“Let’s just get this over with, and then we’ll check your data.” Youngho sighed as he started to prep for the cleanup.

“Wait, wait! I have a question.” Johnny stopped him. “Do you have a goal?”

Youngho was taken aback by the sudden question. “Yes… I think so? I guess it depends on what the goal is for.” He wasn’t very sure if he had a set goal, but he did know that he is satisfied where he is right at this moment. The only thing he is concerned about is making sure #S127 remains on the rise.

“Do you think… I’m able to have a goal?”

“You can have the goal of winning a Grammy!” Youngho suggested.

Johnny scoffed. “Well, yeah, but I’m talking about for myself. Am I able to find a goal or a passion at least for myself?”

Youngho blinked at his robot. He was at a loss for words. It seems like a simple yes or no question, but there are levels to it. The right answer to this question was up in the air somewhere, and Youngho was finding a hard time finding it. What in the world did you do to his bot?

“I’m sure you can if you put your mind to it,” Youngho answered. He grabbed his phone and began texting you, suggesting that the two of you grab coffee when you get back to the lab. He needed to talk to you to figure out the meaning behind Johnny’s words.

Some hours later, you were at a Starbucks near the lab sitting across from Youngho. You were nervous you did something bad after all, but you couldn’t get yourself to figure out what you’ve done. But thankfully, Johnny was the first to speak.

“So, Johnny asked me a question that kind of shocked me. I’m supposing you asked him the same question yesterday.” He began.

“What question are you talking about?” You asked.

“If he has a goal. He’s been thinking about it really hard.”

You felt as if a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. You thought of something way worse, even though you talked to Johnny a handful of times yesterday, and the conversations the two of you had were never bad or questionable. Your nervousness always found a way to get to you still.

“Well yeah! He needs to have a passion in order to be a real artist. And to have a passion, he needs to have a goal.” You nodded.

“Are you sure he can have a passion? He’s a robot.”

You were surprised at his response. “Aren’t you the one who created him? I thought you would know this! Writing songs isn’t just jotting down words on a piece of paper you know. It’s much more to it than that.”

Youngho sighed. You’re right, and it bothered him. It’s not you that he’s bothered by, but the fact that he really doesn’t have everything figured out. He’s so used to being a genius and having questions answered before people could even ask them, but the fact that he doesn’t have an answer prepared for something as simple as this messed with his head. How did he expect to make a successful idol group if his idols can’t even write music on their own?

“I could always just give you a song to use.” You suggested.

“No, I don’t want that,” Youngho answered quickly. “We do that every comeback. We need to actually make some improvements.”

You took a sip of your coffee as you watched Youngho try to figure out what to do. You knew Johnny writing his own song was too good to be true, but you have to admit, there is a part of you that believes in him. If he can read and understand human emotion, there are chances for him to be able to write a decent song.

“What was your purpose in making Johnny and the other guys in the group?” You asked suddenly.

Youngho frowned at the memories that came up in his mind. “I actually didn’t create Johnny and the others to be idol singers.” You furrowed your eyebrows at the bombshell. “I actually intended for them to be soldiers.”

Your jaw dropped. You would have never thought of #S127 fighting in a war. It’s a complete 180 from what they are doing right now.

“What made you change your mind?!” To say you were shocked would be an understatement.

“I didn’t change my mind.” He laughed. “The government rejected my offer, but they told me about LSM Inc. and now here I am. Lee Soo Man suggested that I use my bots to make an idol group, and I wanted nothing to do with it. But it was either I make a group, or be broke with robots that have no purpose.”

So he was in a similar situation that you’re in right now. It made you feel happy to see that he seems to enjoy his current circumstances, but still, you can’t get yourself to accept that you have to share competition with AIs who can’t even figure out how to write a song on their own. Despite that, you were growing fond of Johnny, and you wanted him to be able to find his passion. He’s the only AI you would allow to win.

“I would have never thought of Johnny being a soldier.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Considering that this is your current circumstance, you need to figure out if they’re able to create their own goals for themselves. I understand the base goal is to win awards at big music shows and hit the charts, but there needs to be a better foundation.”

Youngho couldn’t help but admire you as you gave your advice. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re thoughtful, and the more you spoke, the more it attracted him to you. Where were you when he needed you the most? The company has worked with so many different artists before you, but you’re the only one that is actually helping. He just wanted to take you into his arms and thank you repeatedly at this moment.

From here on out, Youngho was determined to find out what Johnny’s goal is. Whether it is impossible or not, he is going to make sure Johnny becomes the best songwriter there is.

***

The three months had gone by before you knew it, and in all honesty, you didn’t want to quit the job. Johnny and you had grown closer the more you worked together, and you enjoyed seeing his progress as he worked to become a better and more authentic writer. And Youngho and you also hit it off very well, becoming closer friends the more you talked. You also realized that you were catching feelings for the scientist, but you ignored it, believing that it was nothing but a simple crush. ‘It will pass overtime,’ you would tell yourself.

Kun on the other hand did nothing to remind you of the deal that you made with him since he knew you forgot about it. He enjoyed seeing you have fun made him happy, he never liked seeing you in a sour mood. He too has gotten close with Youngho as well after going out drinking with him and Doyoung several times. Just like tonight.

This time, you decided to join the guys tonight for drinks at the bar. Once you found out Kun was hanging out with the two scientists, you felt left out and invited yourself to the next outing. It wasn’t like they minded though since they love your company.

“So, I heard that you don’t really like AI’s Y/N. Can I ask you why that is?” Doyoung asked.

You poked your lip out as you thought. “Well, it’s mainly because nothing they do feels true to me. It’s all programmed. Not only that, but they’re slowly taking over our jobs. I’m not exactly comfortable with that.”

Youngho shook his head. “I get what you’re saying, but that’s not necessarily true. AI’s, at least the ones we make at LSM, is made to function like humans. So everything they do is learned after we establish a little bit of a foundation we put in their program. And there are still significantly more humans who have jobs than AI’s, but I do get your concern.”

What he said had you thinking. You supposed he was right, but you still felt so odd about it. But you figured it’s just something that you’re going to have to learn to accept as time goes on. The only AI you trust is Johnny, and that’s all that matters to you right now.

“You might be right, but it’s going to take me some time to get used to them. I like Johnny at least.” You shrugged.

“And that’s all I need to hear.” Youngho smiled widely.

You giggled at his antics. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom really quickly. I’ll be back. Don’t buy any more drinks without me!”

“No promises!” Kun called after you, laughing afterward.

Youngho tapped his glass, trying to decide whether the question he has is worth asking or not. But he needed to muster up the courage since it’s an important question. For him at least.

“Hey, Kun, I have a question.” Youngho started.

“Hit me.” Kun nodded.

“Do you… like Y/N?”

Kun threw his head back in laughter. “What?! Where did that come from?”

Youngho could only scratch the back of his neck and let out a small laugh. He was embarrassed, but it’s something he has been wondering about forever now.

“He’s been waiting to ask that question for ages!” Doyoung exclaimed. “He wouldn’t stop bugging me about it.”

“Well, to answer your question, no I don’t. She’s like a sister to me.” Kun shook his head simply. “You should ask her out on a date. I’m sure she’d like that.”

Youngho shook his head fervently. “I don’t know if I can do that. Not right now at least.”

“You never know until you do it.” Doyoung sing-songed. Kun couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shut up, she’s coming back!” Youngho whisper yelled.

For the rest of the night, Youngho thought about you as the four of you enjoyed more drinks. He knew he had feelings for you, but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same as he did. For now, he just wanted to take more time to read your actions before he let you know of his feelings. He needs time to muster up the courage.

The four of you decided to end the night after realizing how tipsy you have gotten. Kun realized that you had a packed schedule the next day, so they needed to get you home immediately. He already knew you were going to regret it later on.

Kun had made sure you got up to your apartment safely. You stopped him at the door, saying that you could get in the house yourself, and just go home. He at least opened the door for you before leaving, hoping that you’ll get to bed right away rather than finding things to do around the house.

When you entered your home, you began to drag your feet toward your room, that was until Johnny stopped you in the hallway.

He leaned forward and sniffed. “Were you drinking?”

You giggled. “Yeah, I was.”

“You might want to get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.” Johnny pouted at your condition. Looking at how you were, you for sure were going to experience a hand hangover in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” You waved him off. You stepped forward to start going to your room, but you paused and stepped back. You looked up at Johnny and sucked in a sharp breath as you thought. “You look a lot like Youngho.”

Johnny blinked, confused at the sudden revelation. “I am aware of that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you just saying that because you are Youngho? Are you trying to fool me?” You poked your finger into his chest.

“No…” Johnny wasn’t sure how to respond to your absurd words. He’s never been in this situation before.

“Well, Youngho, goodnight. I will see you tomorrow.” You smiled at him. Rather than leaving, you stood there, staring up at who you believed to be Youngho through your heavy eyelids. Suddenly you got on your toes and pecked his lips softly. “Rest well Youngho.”

Johnny stood in shock after you left to your room. What was he going to tell Youngho? He has never allowed this to happen before. The kiss was so unexpected that he couldn’t dodge it! He hoped he wouldn't get in trouble.

The next day, Johnny was at the lab for the daily check-in.

“How was the night at the Babysitter’s?” Youngho asked as he plugged Johnny’s chip into his computer to retrieve yesterday’s data.

“She kissed me.” Johnny found himself blurting.

“She what?!” Youngho squeaked.

“She kissed me.” He repeated.

Youngho couldn’t believe his ears. He shook his head, slapping his hand on his forehead. “Huh?!”

“She kissed me—“

“I heard you the first two times!” Youngho yelled.

Youngho suddenly turned around to his computer and rushed to retrieve any video data if there were any. And there was. The camera hidden behind Johnny’s eyes wasn’t always on, but they only started recording if Johnny felt that he needed to. Youngho played the video, nervous about what he’s about to see. But all that worry washed away after seeing your drunken smile. Seeing you kiss his robot amused him more than he thought, as he couldn’t help but snort and laugh hysterically at what he just watched. It was something he never thought he would see or even hear about.

“She thought I was you,” Johnny revealed, which shut Youngho’s laughter up.

“W-Wait, really?” He was shocked.

“Yeah. She kept calling me Youngho.” Johnny nodded. “I think she likes you.”

A blush crept up Youngho’s neck, and he couldn’t hold back the grin on his face. Knowing that you had the same feelings he currently has sent him over the moon. He just wished you kissed him rather than his lookalike.

Youngho waited until the evening to talk to you so that you were free from all your schedules. The two of you spoke at the convenience store near your apartment, enjoying a canned beverage.

“So… Johnny found out what his goal is,” Youngho revealed.

You gasped, clapping your hand over your mouth. “For real? What is it?” You were slightly disappointed that you didn’t know what it was first since you’re the one that is with him most of the time, but you could care less since the whole point is that he knows what he’s working for now.

“Well, his goal is to gain more of a human understanding. He wants to be able to truly write a song. And he found a passion in… people, to simply put it.” Youngho chuckled. “He talks more and asks more questions than he has ever had before.”

“That’s great! I’m so glad, I was really rooting for him.” You cooed.

“I just want to thank you so much. He has been making so much improvement since he started working with you. You really helped us out. You helped him out.” Youngho smiled softly.

“Oh it’s no biggie. I’m glad I was of some help.” You laughed. “He’s the one who did most of the work, so the credit should go to him.”

“I’m supposing that’s why you kissed him then? Because you’re proud of him?” Youngho asked suddenly, a playful smirk on his face.

“What?” Your eyes grew wide in shock. “I kissed him?”

Youngho’s cackles filled the air. “You don’t remember? Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t since you were so drunk last night. Johnny told me you thought he was I, and you kissed him.”

Your fingertips touched your lips after the memories started coming back to you. “Oh my gosh!” You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Don’t be embarrassed! Actually, I’m quite flattered.” Youngho reassured you. “Just be sure to kiss me next time.”

You brought your hands down from your face so you could get a good look at his expression. You had to figure out whether he was joking or not.

And to answer your unspoken question, he cupped your cheek with his hand and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Please tell me this feeling is mutual.” You whispered.

Youngho chuckled, poking your nose as he sat back in his seat.

“Don’t worry. I want you to be mine as much as you want me to be yours. You have me baby.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #johnny suh #johnny #nct u #nct imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #johnny imagines #johnny x reader #johnny scenarios #johnny drabbles #johnny seo #johnny fluff

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hrina · 4 years

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In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

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#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

bahamas (iv)

warning: everyone is drunk ! , sexual references

wordcount: 6k

_________

The next morning, Allie strolled out of the bedroom with a messy braid, a cheesy grin and a blush that started the second James began to whistle. Colin flipped him off immediately, still as sullen as the night before. “Nice of you to show up.”

“I was busy.” She retorted, then immediately shook her head. “Not like - I just showered.”

“Did loverboy join? What’s his name again?” James questioned, sliding Allie a full plate.

“Carloooooos.” Julia sang, laughing as Allie glared at her. “I saw him sneak out this morning. He said hello. Nice guy.”

“He said he had to get to his shift, he teaches scuba lessons during the day. If we’re interested he said he could snag us a discount.” Allie shrugged, popping a blueberry into her mouth.

“Does he teach underwater basket weaving too?” Colin asked dryly, scowling.

“Is that a real thing?” Rafe asked, looking like he was actually considering the activity for a moment.

Sophie glanced over at him, concerned. “Baby.”

“It’s not?”

Julia shook her head at the couple. “I thought we had a boat today?”

“We do. We’re going sailing.” Rafe confirmed, glancing at his watch. “We’ve got an hour, but we need to pack snacks and drinks. Colin, can you help me grab the cooler from the attic?”

“You can’t grab it yourself?” Colin grumbled, pushing away from the table to follow Rafe up.

“No. It’s too big.” Rafe glanced behind him, making sure they were out of earshot of the group as he led him up the stairs. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Colin repeated, immediately getting defensive. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, you’re being a dick about Allie’s hookup. No one would say a word if you brought a girl home.” He coughed as he unlocked the attic door and a small layer of dust flew up, the house unused since the beginning of summer. “Actually, maybe you should get laid, you’ll chill out.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being an asshole to Allie. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Colin sighed, helping Rafe tug the Yeti cooler down from one of the shelves. Once it was down, he glanced over at Rafe. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Sorry.”

“Apologize to her, not me.” Rafe told him, looking Colin dead in the eye like he could figure out some hidden secret if he stared at him long enough.

“I will.”

“Good. Just because you’re jealous -”

“I’m not jealous, just don’t like this guy -”

“Ha!” Rafe pointed his finger in Colin’s face, eyebrows raised. “I knew it! You like Allie.”

Colin froze, immediately looking towards the door then lowered his voice. “You can’t tell.”

“Wait, shit, seriously? I was just trying to get a rise out of you...Colin. Seriously? You mean it?”

“The tiniest of crushes. She’s cute.” Colin affirmed, regretting telling him already. “Just - you can’t say anything.”

“I won’t. Brother swear.” Rafe nodded, extending his hand to Colin. “Don’t you dare fuck with her though.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Colin paused, not taking his hand to shake. “That includes Sophie.”

“Fuck, Colin, for real? You know she doesn’t count.” Rafe whined, running his hand through his hair. “She’s gonna get it out of me. Somehow. She always knows when I’m hiding something.”

“I mean it.” Colin shook his head. “No Sophie. No James, and especially no Julia.”

“Damnit.” Rafe sighed, but grabbed Colin’s hand and shook it. “Fine. You’d better apologize and start making moves or shut the fuck up and let her do her thing, though. No judging.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good.”

The door banged open, startling them both as James stood in the doorway. “Yo. You two can’t handle this thing?”

“No, we got it.” Rafe shook his head, lifting it easily on his own to haul downstairs. “They send you up here to check?”

“Yeah, Jules started asking questions about last night and Allie clearly didn’t want to gossip with me around, so Sophie sent me up here to get you guys.” James paused, thinking. “She muttered something about you probably getting stuck in some secret fancy passageway. You gonna tell her this house is your dad’s company house, not some family heirloom?”

“I’m pretty sure Sophie wants to know as little as possible about what my family owns. I think she cried for a solid hour on the first night here.” Rafe frowned, taking each step one at a time.

“You tell her about the deb thing yet?” James asked.

“Deb thing?” Colin echoed. “Sarah’s ball? What does Sophie have to do with that?”

“...No. I’m not sure. I think she’ll either agree or rip my head off, no in between.” Rafe sighed. “Sarah’s getting presented at the debutante ball in the spring, Rose suggested Sophie gets presented as well with me as her escort, and somehow my dad thought that was a good idea. Establish her with high society, or whatever. I don’t think he’s forgiven me for breaking up with Brooklyn a week before her deb ball. Apparently me being her escort would have been good for us. Our family.”

James cocked his head. “She broke up with you.”

“Whatever.”

“Huh. Well. That conversation should be fun for you.” Colin patted Rafe on the shoulder just as they got down the attic stairs. Rafe now sported a thin layer of sweat from hauling the cooler down alone, despite him already having no shirt on.

“Oh yeah. Looking forward to it.” Rafe deadpanned, then put on a grin as they all re-entered the kitchen. He didn’t miss the way Sophie’s eyes trailed over his exposed chest, the way she leaned forward on the counter and bit her lip a little. “Found it!”

“Excellent.” Julia clapped her hands together and began filling it with a selection of drinks she’d laid out on the counter. “Sophie, stop eye-fucking your boyfriend and help me out.”

Sophie snapped to attention as Rafe held back a laugh at Julia’s lack of tact. “I wasn’t -”

“Yes you were. Drinks.”

Sophie shook her head, handing Julia drinks with a rising blush on her cheeks.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart.” Rafe murmured to her lowly with a grin, trailing his hand down her spine ‘til he rested his palm on her lower back.

“Ew, we just ate.” Allie complained, pushing her plate away from her. “Thank you for pancakes, though.”

“No problem. It’s my specialty.” Rafe beamed, gathering up the plates and sticking them in the dishwasher.

“Only ‘cause you can’t cook anything else.” Colin pointed out, dodging as Rafe aimed a square punch at his arm.

“He’s not wrong.” Sophie agreed, reaching up to kiss Rafe’s cheek.

“Aw. Thanks for breakfast, Mom and Dad.” James grinned, patting them both on the head.

Sophie whirled on James immediately, only held back by Rafe slipping his arm around her waist (more to protect James than her). “Stop. I mean it.”

“What are you gonna do?” James taunted, grinning. “Hit me? Rafe won’t let you.”

“I will, if you don’t shut up.” Rafe replied, shaking his head imperceptibly behind Sophie’s back.

“What? You weren’t pregnant, it was just the flu - hey!” James took off running the second Rafe let Sophie go, who immediately sprinted after him through the house.

“Fuck off, James!” She yelled, chasing him down the hall.

“I didn’t mean it!” He yelped as she threw someone’s flip flop at him, nailing him in the shoulder with surprising aim. “I’m sorry! Rafe! Help me!”

Everyone else watched from the kitchen, thoroughly entertained. “You gonna help?” Allie asked, glancing at Rafe.

“Nah. He deserves it.” Rafe shrugged. “They’ll get tired soon enough.”

“She only likes fighting when she’s flirting anyways.” Julia added. “I swear all your arguments before you two were dating was just foreplay.”

“Doubt it. She could be pretty mean.” Rafe grinned at Sophie fondly as she strolled back into the kitchen with a triumphant smile, then looped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Who’s mean?” Sophie asked.

“You.” James informed her as he followed her back to the group, dramatically rubbing a red mark on his shoulder.

“Okay, both of you, knock it off.” Rafe took charge like always, glancing at his watch. “Everyone go get ready, we’re getting picked up in twenty to get to the dock. Don’t forget sunscreen.”

“You really make it too easy.” Julia rolled her eyes, but chose to refrain from calling him Dad again for the fourth time that morning.

“So everyone knows?” Sophie asked the group, frowning.

“For the record, I was team baby. I think you guys would have very cute kids.” James said, already flinching away as Sophie lifted her hand toward him.

“Yeah. Rafe accidentally let it slip when I asked why you looked like hell that weekend.” Colin confirmed. Sophie had stayed at Rafe’s instead of her house so he could take care of her, and Colin had found her sleeping on the bathroom floor curled up in a ball at 2pm when Rafe was in class. (He decided not to wake her up, thinking she was just wildly hungover, and had texted Rafe a photo instead.)

“Great. Fantastic. But if one more person calls me Mom this week, I’m going to rip your heads off.”

“I told you you’re mean.” James grumbled, clutching his shoulder. “I’m gonna have a bruise. How am I supposed to explain that to whoever I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“Tell her you’re into pain.” Allie suggested, shrugging when everyone gave her a look. “What? It could work.”

“...Alright. Everyone go get ready, I don’t want to hear another word from anyone about their sex lives.” Rafe instructed, shooing everyone out of the kitchen as he and Sophie made it toward their room. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine. I’d be more upset if we actually had a kid on the way.” Sophie conceded with a shudder at the thought. “How much did you talk about it with the boys?”

Rafe thought about it, about how James kept going on and on about how he wanted to be a godfather and how their kids would be adorable, and how Colin said he wasn’t really a huge fan of kids but obviously their kid would be family. He thought about how he shared with the guys how nice it would be to have a big family and know their kids would have several metaphorical aunts and uncles, and how much love and support they’d be surrounded by. It made him excited for the future - the far future, of course, but still.

“Not much.” He finally settled on answering, giving her a small smile. “You gonna wear my favorite suit today?”

“The pink one?”

“No, the blue one with the daisies. The one you wore in Nice?” He grinned. “Or, I guess, didn’t wear?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “I think that one’s dangerous to wear around you with our friends.”

“Any bikini is, sweetheart.”

“Control yourself.” She flicked his shoulder in warning. “I have a surprise for you tonight. Don’t let me forget.”

He perked up immediately, smirking. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Sophie just shrugged. “You’ll see.”

“I’ll see...is it a leave-the-bar-early kind of a surprise? A need-the-house-empty kind of surprise?” He asked eagerly, his smirk broadening as she pulled out the light blue bikini from her suitcase.

She laughed, pulling off her shirt before she fumbled with untangling the bikini strings. “I think you can stay quiet enough that we’ll be fine.”

“Will you be able to stay quiet?” He teased, beaming in appreciation as she stood there shirtless in front of him, tongue in between her teeth as she concentrated on fixing the bikini. (He didn’t bother to help.)

Sophie ignored him, rolling her eyes, but glanced up and caught him staring. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me, you know I will.” He shot back. “I know you brought your film camera I got you for Christmas.”

“The last person I want seeing my nudes is the freshman art student that develops my film in the photo studio on campus.” She replied with an eyeroll. “Though I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”

Rafe’s face dropped as he immediately grew protective, grabbing the bikini top away from her and deftly untangled the strings. “Get dressed. We’re gonna be late.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She replied innocently, biting the inside of her cheek to hide back a grin.

He paused, considering, then shook his head. “No. Sorry, no, can’t vibe with that. Find a different kink please.”

She burst out laughing, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, James paid me $10 to tell you that.”

Rafe huffed, tugging on his swim trunks and shoved his feet back into his boat shoes, then promptly slammed open the door, striding back to the group. “James! Fuck you!”

________

Later, once everyone gathered their things and made it down to the dock after their driver for the week picked them up, the boat driver helped them all onto the boat, offering his hand. He was younger, around their age or a little bit older, and Rafe scowled as the driver’s eyes lingered maybe a little too long on Sophie’s bikini top. Then the driver politely leaned over to Rafe to inform him that Sophie had the tag sticking out of her top, hanging on by a thread, and he dropped his scowl quicker than it had appeared.

It only took them twenty minutes before they cracked into the cooler, everyone satisfied with a drink in hand, and two failed attempts to go head-to-head in a shotgun contest with James left Sophie drunk within the hour. She had her sunglasses perched askew on her nose, eyes closed as she rested her head in Rafe’s lap, lying down on the seat next to him.

“This trip is good for you. I think this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you all year.” Julia commented, snapping a quick photo of the couple.

“I do feel very relaxed.” Sophie hummed, taking Rafe’s hand and starting to play with his fingers. “Hm. Relaxed. Relaxation. That’s nice.”

“You’re hammered.” Rafe pointed out, but looked down on her fondly. “I want you to eat soon.”

“Snacks.” She affirmed. “You’ll have to feed me. I’m not sure my jaw works anymore.”

James giggled, more tipsy than anything, but still lacked any filter. “Better for dick sucking.”

“Hey.” Rafe warned. “Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry. Just came out.” James shrugged, having zero remorse. “Can we go swimming? I wanna see dolphins. Do they have dolphins here?”

“Some dolphins. I’ll take you.” Their driver interjected, changing direction of their boat.

“Dolphins can travel up to 80 miles a day,” Allie informed them, confused when she got weird looks from the groups. “What? I’m from Florida, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer growing up. Everyone did.”

“Aw. You would have been good at that, Al.” Julia told her, topping off her drink. “Sophie, no sleeping.”

“M’ not sleeping.”

“No drunk napping.”

“M’ not drunk.”

“Well now you’re just lying.” Rafe told her with a smile, gently nudging her up. “C’mon, I need you to drink water for me. Have some snacks.”

“Here, Sophie.” Colin waved the bag of Sun Chips under her nose, grinning. “Try some. Yummy.”

She batted it away, frowning as she leaned back into Rafe. “Everyone leave me alone.”

He pushed her back upright immediately, ignoring her frown, and pressed a water bottle to her lips. “Drink.”

“Do the thing.” She lowered her voice, challenging him with a smirk.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna -”

“Then I’m not drinking.”

He sighed, resigned. “Drink water or I’m not letting you go out tonight.”

“Let me? You don’t let me do anything.” She argued, grabbing the water bottle away and took a long drink.

Rafe just nodded, clearly not in the mood for a fight. He knew Sophie was in charge of the relationship, but the second he said he wasn’t comfortable with something, she listened right away. “Okay. Sure.”

“Trouble in paradise,” James sing-songed, only to receive a glare from Sophie.

“You’re still on my hit list.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You and Julia are on it.”

Julia sighed, glancing over. “You’re really still hung up on that?”

Sophie sat up a little more, her eyes lighting up, and Rafe braced for an argument. “I told you no -”

“And we’re both grown adults, Soph, we can make our own decisions -”

“You don’t even like him -”

“Ouch.” James mumbled, shrinking back into his seat as if he couldn’t be seen.

“Hey!” Allie clapped, standing and putting herself in between the girls. “Both of you, let it go. We’re not doing this again. Julia, drink more. Sophie, no more drinking.”

“But -”

“No.” She crossed her arms, staring them both down until they sighed, mumbling apologies. “Thank you.”

The boys all watched in silence, impressed, until Colin spoke up. “Right, well, I’m gonna go swim.” He and James nodded, jumping off the back of the boat, and Allie and Julia took a second but followed suit.

Sophie moved to join in until Rafe grabbed her around the waist, protective as he pulled her onto his lap. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes. I feel good.” She promised, but couldn’t fully meet his gaze and was swaying with the rocking of the boat. “Can we go swim?”

“Will you wear a life jacket?”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“It’ll be more embarrassing if you drown.” He pushed her hair back, out of her face, and kissed her forehead. “You’re way too drunk right now, you’re making me nervous.”

She frowned, placing her hand on his cheek. “I make you nervous?”

“No, I’m just worried something’s gonna happen. Life jacket? Please?” He pulled it from under the seat, offering it to her.

Sophie rolled her eyes but let him put it on, strapping it tight across her chest for good measure. “Now can we go?”

He scooped her up with a grin and stood on the seat, ready to jump. “Now we can go.”

“No, Rafe - wait no!” She screamed, grabbing around his neck as he jumped into the water with her in his arms, plunging down and letting her go to float back up.

James snorted, splashing water toward her. “Nice life jacket.”

“I’d like a life jacket.” Allie interjected, closing her eyes and floating on her back. “Wouldn’t have to do any work.”

“Hold on - Allie, are you high?” Colin questioned, swimming closer and poking her arm. She’d only had half of a drink since they were on the boat, but was still acting strange and zoned out the whole day.

“Carlos gave me an edible. I ate it before we got on the boat.” She mumbled in reply. “I have more if you want it.”

“You took sketchy drugs from a sketchy guy?!” Colin exclaimed, much louder than necessary.

Rafe swam over with a frown, shaking his head like a dog. “Who’s taking drugs?”

“The bartender -”

“Carlos.” Allie corrected.

“The bartender gave Allie drugs.” Colin cut her off. “And now she’s high and probably something else.”

Rafe cocked his head, looking over Allie. “Al? You good?”

“I feel nice.” She replied, moving to tread water and smiled at them. “So nice.”

“Jesus Christ.” Colin cursed, while Rafe kicked him under the water.

Julia swam over, tugging Sophie’s hand to drag her along. “Oh, it’s finally kicking in?”

“You knew?” Rafe questioned, pulling Sophie into his arms as she tried to be subtle and unclip the life jacket.

“Of course I knew.” Julia replied. “Don’t freak out, I looked at it, it’s fine.”

“Oh, you looked at it, great. Thanks, Julia, I didn’t know you were the resident expert on drugs.” Colin huffed.

“Just weed, actually, I haven’t done anything else -”

James seemed to finally realize the whole group was congregated instead of doing their own thing, like he was. He swam under the water, grabbing Rafe’s ankle - who immediately screamed like a child and kicked James in the face. James bobbed up straightaway with his hand clapped to his nose and blood trickling from it like a leaky faucet. “What the fuck?!”

“Why’d you grab me?!” Rafe defended, letting go of Sophie. “This is on you.”

James launched himself onto Rafe, grabbing at him, and the two promptly started wrestling in the water, despite everyone’s protests. Colin stuck his arm in between them to break them up after a few minutes, tugging Rafe off of James and being careful not to hit James’ nose again. “Hey! Hey. Everyone back on the boat.”

“C’mon, Colin.” James argued, but hauled himself back up onto the boat anyways when Colin tapped his watch and reminded them all of their dinner reservations.

Once they all clambered back onto the boat and James had a towel and a can of beer pressed to his nose, the boat driver started taking them back to the shore. Sophie had sobered up somewhat and Allie was asleep with her head in Julia’s lap, with Julia absent-mindedly stroking her hair. “Hey, Rafe? Do you have any good recs for somewhere we could go for dinner?”

Rafe furrowed his brow, confused. “We’re going to dinner tonight, what do you mean?”

“No, no, tomorrow. I was thinking it could be just the girls, you guys could do something else -”

“No.” He replied, firm. “None of you are going anywhere alone. I don’t trust any of you when you’re drinking.”

Allie stirred, finally opening her eyes as she’d been listening in on the conversation. “We could invite Carlos to chaperone,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d love to tag along. Drag you into some trafficking ring too.” Colin grumbled.

James pulled the towel away from his face, confused. “So that’s a no to guy’s night?”

“No one is splitting up.” Rafe insisted, firm, and reached over to press the towel back to James’ nose.

Sophie cocked her head at her boyfriend. “Where is this coming from?”

“Look, I don’t even let Sarah go out alone here, and we’ve been coming here for years, she knows this place like the back of her hand. I don’t want something to happen to you guys.” He slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Any of you. I mean it.”

“Man, even my own father isn’t this protective.” Julia remarked casually, then immediately regretted it upon seeing Rafe’s wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But that’s final say.”

“Okay, got it.” Julia raised her hands in defense. “So. Back to Carlos. Do you think he’d get all of us drugs if we had a threesome with him?” She suggested, only for everyone to stare blankly at her. “Oh my god, I’m just asking. It’s not like I suggested meth.”

“Who’s in the threesome?” James questioned, cocking his head.

Julia ignored him, barreling on. “That’s, like, an appropriate thing to ask, right? It feels like an island vibe. He’s gotta know where to get something.”

“Something.” Rafe repeated.

“Yeah.” She directed her question back toward him. “Hypothetically, if he could get us coke, would you say no? That’s like a rich person drug.”

“Rafe hasn’t done coke.” Sophie interrupted, assuredly, then frowned as Rafe seemed contemplative. “Right?”

“...No. Had to think. Been in the room, though, so probably got something secondhand.”

“That’s literally not how coke works.” Julia dismissed.

“I wouldn’t. I’m pretty sure that ruins the lining of your nose.” James supplied helpfully - Julia nodded in agreement, considering this newfound information.

“I’d consider doing molly.” Colin added. “But not from him.”

“Oh, like that makes a difference.” Allie deadpanned, always quick with the comeback while the rest of the group registered their surprise, because - Colin? Drugs? Two words that didn’t go together.

“It does, actually, but I get drug tested at NASA every single week, so.” Colin shrugged. “Not worth losing my future job.”

“Right. No one answered my question.” Julia sighed. “I’m open to a threesome with Allie or James. Rafe and Sophie, you’re out. Colin, I -”

“Yeah. Agreed.” Colin nodded, then hurriedly added, “I’m not saying I’m down for a threesome -”

“Hold on, why are we out?” Sophie frowned. “We’re hot.”

“Neither of you would share. It wouldn’t be fun.” James pointed out, only for Julia to nod enthusiastically in agreement.

“Exactly. You two are too, like, in love or whatever. It’s sick.”

“We would be great in a threesome.” Sophie argued, crossing her arms.

“You are too damn competitive.” Rafe mumbled to himself, shaking his head. “No one is having a threesome, no one is doing drugs. Not until we’re back under American laws. I’m not bailing anyone out of jail here.”

“Boo, Dad.” James grumbled, making Sophie lean toward him and raise her hand.

“James -”

“Okay, Sophie, chill, you can be the only one to call him Daddy -”

“Oh god, gross -”

“Home again!” Their driver announced with a grin, bumping the boat a little against the dock. The group snapped to attention, with James and Colin grabbing the coolers and Rafe helping the girls off the boat. He clapped the driver on the back as he was last to get off, murmuring something in his ear and slipped a wad of cash into his hand.

_____

After dinner, the group was dropped back at the house with the same driver they’d had all week, who now knew them all by name and knew way too much gossip about each of them. He knew that Rafe always sat in the front, the girls crammed into the back and James and Colin shared the middle, unless the girls were too drunk to crawl all the way back safely, and the boys would trade. They were all tired from a long day in the sun and agreed to call it with a lowkey night back at the house.

Once they’d all changed into comfier clothes, rather than how they dressed up for dinner, they congregated in the living room, sprawled out on the couches.

“All right, games. I have...uh…” Rafe rifled through the cabinet under the television, coming up short with only a deck of cards. “There’s just this and a poker set. We didn’t exactly play family games growing up.”

“That’s alright. We can play B.S.” Julia concluded, clapping her hands together with a grin.

“Last time we played B.S. it ended in a screaming match, and you and Colin didn’t talk for a week.” Allie reminded her, wary. Drunken card games in their group usually resulted in made-up rules that were only kept on track if someone wrote down the rules to lock down any possible room for arguments.

James and Sophie returned from the kitchen with two bottles of Sprite, two bottles of lemonade, a handle of vodka and six shot glasses. “Okay! Ready!”

“What the - guys, I said a chill game night.” Rafe raised his eyebrows as Sophie passed out the shot glasses.

“Yeah, we decided it’s our only senior spring break so we want to enjoy it.” Sophie told him, smacking a kiss to his cheek. “We’re playing B.S? Whose rules?”

“Normal rules, for the first round. Second round everyone adds a rule as you get away with bullshit.” Julia declared, shuffling and dealing the cards out to everyone with a surprising amount of skill. “Next birthday goes first, and if you don’t get away with it you have to take a shot. Or chug your drink for five seconds?”

“That’s me. And player’s choice, I think.” Sophie decided, sitting up and angling her cards away from everyone, looking a little too contemplative. She placed her card down, and Colin immediately shook his head. “Bull.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Take the shot, Sophie.” Colin insisted, flipping her card to reveal a jack instead of the needed 2.

“Fuck.” She muttered, following suit.

Rafe shoved her cup of water closer to her before she could pour herself a vodka lemonade instead, shaking his head. “You’re not even sober right now. Finish this first.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine.” She waved him off. “You’re next.”

The game continued on, escalating dramatically as they kept playing. By the time the first big bullshit was called, Allie had to accept at least 30 cards, the group had all taken at least one shot, Julia had been banished to the corner for a whole round, James was wearing Julia’s pink sunglasses upside down and Rafe had made out with Sophie three times, due to a rule he’d made up.

“Total bullshit.” Allie giggled as James placed five cards down at once on top of a huge stack. She was rivaling Sophie for drunkest of the group by far, slumped on the couch with her arms wrapped around one of the pillows as she wore a happy grin.

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

“Challenge!” Julia exclaimed, setting up two cups at the end of the table and handed them each a ping pong ball. (No one was sure when this was added to the rules, but everyone accepted it easily.) “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand.”

The two stood and took each other’s hands, laughing as they followed the customary pre-pong rule of spinning each other three times before taking their aim. “That was four! That was four.” Allie protested, having to grab James’ arm for balance as the room spun behind her eyes. “You need an extra spin.”

“Wait, dude, you put five down.” Colin pointed out, cocking his head. “Fucking idiot, take the cards.”

“Julia said challenge!”

“But you cheated!”

“The whole point of the game is cheating, dumbass!” James retorted, shaking his head. “She said challenge!”

“I said challenge!” Julia cried out, tapping her shot glass against the glass table to regain order. “Now throw.”

Both of them missed their mark terribly, James’ ball falling short and Allie accidentally nailing Rafe in the forehead with hers. “Sorry! Shit, sorry!”

“Oh, no, baby, are you okay?” Sophie asked worriedly, smoothing her hand over Rafe’s forehead as she combed through his hair with her fingers.

“I’m fine. I’m not sober.” He replied, humming with a smile as he leaned into her touch.

Everyone stared at the two of them with grins as they realized Rafe’s mistake in his own rule that he’d made up. The couple took too long to realize, slowly glancing around at the group. “What?” Sophie asked, sitting up straight. “What happened?”

“James missed the shot.” Colin grinned at Rafe, way too smug. “Pucker up.”

Rafe’s face dropped as it clicked for him - he’d made up the rule that a missed shot from falling short meant that person had to make out with the player who’d gone before for at least two minutes. It was a carefully calculated rule, he’d played pong with everyone in the group countless times and knew that everyone besides Sophie tended to overshoot, almost every single time.

Almost.

James laughed at Rafe’s expression, crooking a finger toward him. “Come here, buddy. Do you want me to get chapstick? Soph, do you have chapstick?”

“Do I have to?” Rafe groaned, standing up and striding over to sit next to James on the couch.

“It’s your rule.” Julia pointed out. Sophie shrugged in agreement, not quite putting together all the pieces.

“I’m really honored to be doing this with you, seriously.” James joked. “Sophie, can I touch him?”

“Just the head.”

Julia snorted, and she and James exchanged equally delighted grins at Sophie’s accidental innuendo.

Colin pulled up the timer on his phone, flashing it toward them. “Okay...alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Fucking hell.” Rafe sighed, but leaned in to make the first move, eager to get it over with. Both of them had their eyes closed and the kiss was relatively tame, albeit impossibly long.

“Oh.” Sophie murmured quietly, unsure how she felt, but uttered a warning “hey” when James’ hand automatically went to Rafe’s face. She decided she felt mainly neutral about it, but would be a lot more neutral if it was James and Colin kissing instead.

Julia was quiet for the first time all night, unable to tear her eyes away as she watched. Allie couldn’t resist a quick photo but giggled, hiding her face in Colin’s shoulder.

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” Sophie yelled the second the timer went off, leaning over and grabbing at Rafe’s arm to tear him away. “No more.”

James had his eyes closed and had unconsciously chased Rafe’s lips with his as they were pulled apart, but made a show of wiping his mouth afterward. “Okay. Well. Mark that under something I thought I’d never do.”

“And you’ll never do it again, so I hope you enjoyed it.” Sophie scowled, wrapping her arms around Rafe from behind and pulled him back to lean against her chest. “Stupid fucking rule, Rafe.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” Rafe laughed, clearly unbothered as he tilted his head to press a short kiss to Sophie’s neck.

She grasped his head in both her hands, leaning down to press a sound kiss to his lips, as if it was a mark of ownership. “There. No one kiss my boyfriend again, I’m getting more snacks.” Sophie declared, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m lowkey horny right now.” Julia muttered much louder than she intended.

“Thanks for sharing, Jules.” Allie laughed.

Julia glanced toward James with a desperate look, pressing her legs together. “Are we done playing? Or do you guys want to keep going?”

Oblivious as always, James shrugged, unfazed, moving back to his seat beside Julia. “Whatever you want. I’m down to keep playing.”

“Fuck, I need to get laid.” Julia mumbled much quieter so only he could hear, and he straightened up immediately like a bolt of lightning had shot up his spine.

“Actually, I’m good. Tired, actually. Yeah. I’m gonna - yeah.” He stood, offering his hand to Julia. “You look tired too.”

“Guys.” Rafe warned, glancing toward the kitchen where Sophie was still raiding the cabinet for any leftover snacks.

“Night, y’all.” Julia grinned, ignoring Rafe’s warning as the two strode off hand in hand to Julia’s room, making sure to go around so Sophie wouldn’t catch them.

Rafe sighed, but bit back a smile as he saw a dirty text pop up from Sophie, with a very detailed idea of how they could use up the rest of the whipped cream in the fridge. “Alright. Night, guys.” He promptly got up and left, leaving Colin and Allie alone.

“And then there were two.” The tension hung thick in the air as Allie leaned on Colin, giggly. “Fuck, I am so drunk.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t dare move, especially as she took his arm into her lap and started tracing lines as she connected freckles on his skin.

“I think I’m gonna call the bartender.”

“No you’re not.” Colin frowned, shaking his head. “No. You need sleep.”

She yawned, blinking up at him. “I’m pretty sure my room’s occupied.”

“You can take my bed.” He offered immediately, resisting the weird urge to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s fine.”

“Where are you gonna sleep?” She asked, reaching up and tracing her finger along his cheekbone. “Your eyes are pretty, did you know that? You have a freckle in your right eye.”

“A freckle?” He smiled. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

“It is.” She insisted. “I can go in your bed?”

“Yeah, I’ll take the couch.”

“Okay.” She agreed right away, hauling herself up. “I gotta brush my teeth.”

“Good thing your bathroom’s shared with mine.” Colin reminded her, following her down the hallway. “Unless you really want to go into your room while...that’s going on.”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head quickly, stretching and nearly smacking him in the face. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“It’s alright, just be careful.” He laughed, ushering her into the bathroom. “Do your thing, I’ll fix my bed.”

They’d all changed into comfortable clothes and showered before playing the game, anticipating intoxication, but Colin still wished he had a reason to offer her something of his to wear to bed. He re-made his bed, even fluffing the pillow, before tugging on a hoodie.

Allie returned a few minutes later, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Colin.” She touched his arm as she passed, crawling into bed.

“Of course. No problem. Yell if you need something, yeah?” He told her, smiling back before leaving and turning out the light, resigned to a night on the couch.

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #outer banks #rafe x sophie #college rafe #mine #frat rafe

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark.

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

-Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

#jlalafics #567inpanem #prompt 42 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 8

Previous | Next

So this chapter is longer than the previous one and hOpefuLly my writing will get better with each new chapter. One can only hope. And I’m updating this daily cuz I wanna be caught up with all of my chapters so I don’t forget to post one by accident. But the daily updates will unfortunately stop after chapter 13, I guess. For now, enjoy! *totally not debating if I should post chapter 9* also Gabriel, no

Uncle Jagged: Nettie! I got everything ready. Wanna record a bonus track for my new album?

'Oh god'

—————————————————————

Marinette kept rereading the message to make sure she had read it correctly. The message never changed. "Oh Tikki what if my voice sounds horrible? Uncle Jagged will be disappointed and then he won't have me as his designer anymore! He'll probably tell everything to everyone, to Gabriel Agreste, Clara, Chloe's mother and to the whole public!"

"Calm down Marinette!" Tikki flew out the bag and hugged the bluenette's face. "I'm sure you'll do just fine!"

"Thanks Tikki" Marinette said hesitantly. She then approached the hotel doors and towards the elevators. She had felt the gaze of the receptionists and one of them had got up with the intention to talk to her, only to be dragged back down by the fellow receptionist, the one who Marinette talked to yesterday. The bluenette had taken full notice of this but chose to ignore it. She then reached Damian's hotel room and knocked on the door. She heard something metallic drop on the floor followed by a slightly muffled word. Marinette knew exactly what he said but she was confused. She then heard the same voice again though much clearer this time.

"You can come in, the door is unlocked"

~~~

Damian had just finished showering, he was half dressed when he got a message from 'Angel'. He had changed used this nickname as her contact name.

Angel: I got an hour and half till my meeting with Uncle J, you want me to come over?

Damian smiled. Honestly, if he could he would give all his time to her.

Me: Sure, come over whenever you want I don't mind

He was about to put his shirt on when he got an urge to practice with his katana, which he did. He made a mental note about getting dressed soon and he went to the case which his katana was located. He then practiced different stances as well as practicing different motions with the blade. He thought of the bluenette. When he first met her, she struck him as someone defenseless and vulnerable. But he now had the feeling she could take down someone twice her size. Though, that didn't stop him from feeling obligated to protect her. He had become so focused that when someone knocked he tensed. Not that much but enough to loose grip of his katana. The blade sunk into his skin and left quite a deep cut on his upper arm and on the right side of his chest, causing him to drop his katana.

"Scheiße!" He didn't react to the pain, it was the thought of Marinette walking in on this situation. 'Since when do I know German?' "You can come in, the door is unlocked" 'Damn it that's not what I meant!'

Marinette opened the unlocked door to see a shirtless Damian. She probably would've metaphorically died at that point if she didn't take notice to the whole situation. Not only was he shirtless, he was bleeding. 'How did-' she noticed the katana. 'Oh, makes sense now'. The bluenette then sprinted into action. She closed the door behind her, put her bag down quickly but still being mindful of Tikki and turned her attention to the now flustered Damian. She grabbed the arm that wasn't cut and carefully dragged him onto the sofa, she also looked at the katana on her way there while taking some mental notes. 'Looks clean, no rust or scratches that could contain bacteria and seems so have been cleaned thoroughly before use. Great! That makes my job easier'.

"What are you-"

"Hush Shaytan" Marinette interrupted while going to the bathroom, searching for one of those medkits. "Let me take care of you" she said while getting one of the disinfectants in the kit. Marinette then carefully rubbed the liquid into his wounds.

"It stings" he grumbled.

"Awww don't worry little Dami, it will stop stinging soon" Marinette said lightheartedly, as if she was comforting Manon.

"Tt I am not five" he grumbled again. He shifted his body so that Marinette could properly bandage his chest and right arm. After she was done, he flexed his arm. 'She did extremely well' "Thank you, Angel. You really are a life saver". He subconsciously smirked when he saw her face turn a shade of pink.

"Thanks, did I bandage it correctly? I hope I did, oh no what happens if it doesn't heal correctly? What happens if-" she suddenly stopped as Damian had pulled her in close to his chest.

"Honestly you did perfectly Habibti, there's no need to worry" he stroked his fingers through her deep blue hair as a way to calm her down further, but he himself enjoyed it. He knew how Marinette would always think that she's the one at fault and he came up with a way to calm her down. From the looks of it, it was working.

Marinette blushed when Damian had pulled her into his chest, even more so when she felt his fingers brush through her hair. It felt like it had genuine emotion with it, not only just to make her feel better. She took advantage of being close to his chest, his wounds, and used her powers outside the mask to let the wound heal faster. Now knowing that it would heal soon, she enjoyed his embrace, burying herself further into his muscular body. The she remembered something. "So what are we gonna do about your spilt blood?"

"You say that like I deal with this often" he said with a smug looking face. Marinette then had a 'I know you do' face. He jokingly sighed. "I shall clean it and before you object, I feel fine enough to do a simple task such as this." Her giggling brought a smile to his face. "Also have you worked out what Jagged Stone has in mind for you?"

"I'll tell you that after you tell me how you know German" Marinette shifted so that he could get up. "If I recall, you told me that you were fluent in French, Arabic, English and Spanish and that you were learning Japanese. I don't remember German ever coming up" she said in a jokingly serious tone.

"Actually I'm fluent in Japanese now" Damian murmured while getting something from one of his cases, 'Something to clean the blood I suppose' "I was taught an easy way to learn languages, I might have crossed German once before but if so I just forgot about it. Also, how do you know German?"

"Well if you have any interest in learning a new language you'd want to know the swear words, am I right?" She giggled.

"Fair point" he chuckled while allowing his blood to soap into something he brought, a tissue or towel perhaps. "Now, do you know what Jagged Stone's surprise is for you?"

"Yeah, he wants me to record a bonus track for his album"

Damian paused just as he had finished disinfecting his katana. "Wow, that's great Angel!"

"Yes I'm very grateful to Uncle Jagged for organizing all this but what if I sound horrible? I do want to do it for him really, I don't want to turn the offer down but I-"

"Angel, there is no need to worry. If you're not comfortable with it you can tell Jagged, he'll understand. But I'm sure you have a beautiful voice"

"You really think so?" Marinette murmured. Damian nodded. She gave him a thank you smile before saying, "So, what's this quick way of learning a language? I've got 30 minutes"

Damian chuckled. "Well the first thing you would want to know is..."

~~~

'Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only one in class whose been able to stop herself from getting akumatized. She must be very strong, physically and mentally. My point was proven when she became Multimouse, wearing nearly every miraculous that I've ever heard or come across. Ladybug must trust her greatly. I must find a way to akumatize her'

Gabriel Agreste stood in his observatory after recently detransforming. 'She can control her emotions well but when she's angry, it's incredibly strong. This girl could be one of the strongest in Paris, she could be one that senses auras. I must find a way. I will use her to eliminate all of heroes. All I need is time'.

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming (ur the one who wanted to get tagged right? I’m so sorry I forget to write your name down so I’m not sure-), @icerosecrystal

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #did I get the taglist right please correct me if I didn’t

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

Text

Trial and Error (Derek x Reader)

A/N: This has been something living in my brain for a while, and I decided to get it out, along with 5 prompts.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx and @mymonandsymon for looking this over for me!

Warnings: Some language. As close to smut as I write, (If you squint.) Mostly just fluff, though.

Word count: 1,646

Anon said: “"I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offence, your personality needs a lot of work."”

Anon said: “Can you do 93 & 99 w/ derek hale pls :) thank you!”

(93. “Forget it. You fucking suck.”

99. “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”)

Anon said: “Hello! I was wondering if you would be willing to do numbers 8 and 101 with Derek Hale from the the most recent list you have posted? If not it’s okay, thank you ❤️”

(8. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

101. “You got a cute butt.”)

Xxx

You’d barely made it into the loft before you were pinned up against the far wall, Derek holding your hands up on either side of your head at the wrists, his grip much tighter than it should be, but not as much as it could be.

“I thought I told you to stay on your side of the city,” he hissed out, face inches from yours, eyes glowing red, and a low growl rumbling in his chest.

His eyebrows knit in confusion at your smirk, his body pressing against yours as you made a halfhearted effort to push you both off the wall.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a breathy chuckle, which only made him cock one eyebrow up in either amusement or disbelief, you weren’t sure.

“What the hell is so funny?” He asked, both his tone and his weight easing up a bit.

His mistake.

“Oh, nothing,” you mused, looking up and away from him for a few seconds before flipping you both around, holding him pinned against the wall in the same position, your own eyes glowing their bright red as he let out an annoyed snarl. “Just thinking about how things can change in an instant….”

The breath was knocked out of you as you once again were pinned to the wall, this time his weight almost fully against you to keep you still. “What do you want?” He ground out through clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help thinking that the two of you would have been great friends if it weren’t for both of you being Alpha’s. Pack rivalry and whatnot overriding much of any chance at getting any closer than you were now, which given your position physically, was actually pretty damn close.

Baby steps.

“I have an idea,” you began after letting out a huff. Resigned to being stuck against the wall, you relaxed a bit, deciding to try and placate the Big Bad Sourwolf instead of poking him with a metaphorical stick, no matter how fun the latter was. “It would save both of our packs a lot of hassle, and probably save some innocent lives, too, come to think of it-”

“No,” he said firmly, his hold relaxing just a bit.

You looked at him in shock. “You haven’t even heard-”

“I said no!” His voice just as firm as before, he pushed off the wall for emphasis, your body relaxing just slightly, and you rubbed your wrists, despite the fact they were already pretty much healed.

“I’m just trying to be a good leader, Derek, offering you peace and my help for both our sakes and our packs, but because of whatever vendetta you have for me, you’re not willing to listen. Well, you know what? Forget it. You fucking suck.”

Stalking toward the loft door, Derek grabbed your elbow firmly and lightly tugged you to face him, making you roll your eyes again. “What, Hale?”

“I know. Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what it is I don’t like about you, I just don’t.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet as you fiddled them absently.

Grabbing your shoulders to make you stand still again, you straightened your back and looked him in the eye. It wasn’t the gesture that caught your attention, but the gentleness in it. A new side of Derek Hale had just showed itself, a side you always thought was there, but never got to see, except when he was interacting with his pack.

Very small baby steps.

“But,” he continued pointedly, “I’m willing to put that all aside to listen, for our packs and everyone involved.”

“You’ll really hear me out?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

“I’ll try my hardest.” He smiled a real, genuine smile, and you felt some of the ice crack between you two.

You returned the grin with a small one of your own, before finally saying, “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”

Derek laughed, and let go of your shoulders, walking back into the loft, and after a few seconds, you followed him. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked and said, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

You scoffed, then let out a chuckle. "I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offense, your personality needs a lot of work."

Sitting on the couch, he spread his arm out in gesture to the open spot beside him, his own smirk still firmly in place. “So I’ve been told.”

Xxx

Waking up to the wee hours of the morning and a silent loft, you looked around bleary eyed. Once you realized where you were, and who was with you, your eyes went wide.

Laying on the far end of the couch, his legs tangling with yours in the middle at some point while you were both asleep, was Derek, head propped up on the arm of the couch, mouth wide open as a snore escaped him.

You couldn’t contain the giggle from the completely uncharacteristic image of the big bad Hale Alpha, and turned into the couch cushion to smother the sound.

It was only a second later you looked back, but you still jumped as now Derek was looking at you with one eye barely cracked open, his mouth closed in a tight line, but his eyebrow raised in what you now understood was amusement.

Lightly swatting his leg with your own, he said a mock “ow”, but neither of you untangled your legs.

Propping your elbows on the arm of the couch behind you, you glared at him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?”

You swatted at his legs again, and he did the same, both of you grinning lightly.

“Did the alarm go off or something?” He lazily looked to a box on the wall that must have been some sort of baddie alarm, his hand going to the back of his neck to scratch sleepily. Contented with what he saw, he looked back at you, stilling, hand still on his neck. “What?”

“Why do you assume I woke you on purpose? Why would I put myself in a position to endure even more of your company than I have already had today, which, by the way, is I think more than we have had at once ever?”

He grinned. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

You shrugged, smirking right back at him. “You got a cute butt.”

“Why, thank you,” he said cheekily, his grin doing the same.

Batting his legs again lightly, you heard him mutter, “Okay, that’s it,” and you suddenly found yourself pulled toward him, until you were basically straddling him, your wrists once again tightly held in his hands.

“Stop doing that.” His voice was firm, but soft. His eyes searched your face, but for what, you didn’t know.

Digging your knees into his rib cage, just as some sort of retaliation, he groaned softly at the pressure. You leaned down close to his face and whispered, “Make me.”

Suddenly faster than you could blink, your positions had been flipped, him now straddling you, holding you down. “Okay.”

Trying to fight back, you quickly gave up, huffing, much like earlier in the day, looking up at him with a less than enthusiastic look.

Searching your face again with his eyes, he finally landed on your gaze with knit eyebrows.

Raising yours in question, he let go of your wrists, but you left them beside your head, and he sat back on his haunches, your legs still under him.

“I’m trying to figure out what it is about you that drives me so crazy.”

“I have that effect on lots of people,” you said smugly. “I’m awesome like that.”

“That! That’s it.” He pointed at you, and you sat up, elbows once again on the arm of the couch, eyebrows once again raised in confusion. “Yeah, you drive me crazy, but I’m starting to think it’s not because we hate each other or annoy each other-”

“Are you sure? Because you’re kinda driving me insane just a little bit right now-”

He leaned back over you on your perch on the armrest, face closer than it ever had been, and you found yourself staring at his lips. “Am I?”

If it hadn’t been the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice with those last two words did it. Your eyes drifted shut when he finally met you with a kiss, surprisingly soft and tentative given the tension between you two.

But that was just the first one.

Pulling back just enough to look at you one more time, something was exchanged between you without words and you both surged forward in a heated kiss.

Slowly laying back down all the way, your hands briefly in his hair to make sure this never stopped, pulling him with you, his hands grabbed your wrists putting them by your head like before, but this time trailing his fingers lightly from your elbows up to your hands, fingers tangling with yours as he held your hands.

Instead of restricting, his weight now felt warm, and inviting, and the more of it you felt, the more you wanted.

Turning your head to the side, you had a small grin on your face, but it soon turned into a soft gasp as you felt his lips ghosting ever so lightly over your skin, working from your collarbone, up your neck, and to your ear, where he bit the lobe gently.

When he released it after a second, you turned your head to look at him, lips barely touching one another’s, foreheads pressed together, and heavy breaths being shared, almost as if the breath one was breathing out was what the other required to live.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02 @palaiasaurus64 @shydinosaurcandy @lucyqueenofthestars @c-breanne1999 @l4life @ethereallysimple What’s this?

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale x reader imagine #derek hale x reader insert #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #tw imagine #teen wolf reader insert #teen wolf x reader insert #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fluff #tw fluff #fluff #tw #pack imagine #pack x reader #pack x reader insert #my mind spins stories

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harrysgloves · 4 years

Text

In the Middle

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

Story Summary: Florence and Harry are smitten with their makeup artist on set.

Word Count: 10k (dear god I got carried away. I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Language // Threesome // MFF // Oral Sex (Female Receiving) // Unprotected Sex // Spanking (I couldn’t not include this) // Dirty Talk // W | W (obviously) // Mentions of religion (it’s more a metaphor.. not sure how to explain that?) //

Authors Note: Woooo boy, she’s finally done. Been working on this baby for a while so please comment. I’d love to hear your feedback! Also, the reader has an adopted last name in this... Not sure if that bothers anyone or not but if it does please tell me and I won’t do that in future fics.

>>><<<

It was your first day on this movie set and honestly, you were scared shitless. This movie was so star-studded you were almost positive that you'd say something stupid to at least one of them. That'd be just your luck, your first job as lead makeup artist and you'd let some gibberish crap fall out your mouth.

You took a deep breath, standing in front of the door to your trailer. Your trailer. It was so surreal, you were finally getting your lead moment, and all you could think about was 'I better not mess this up and get black listed.'

"Gonna open the door or are ya goin' to do makeup out 'ere?" The voice from behind you caught you off guard. You wished you wouldn't have let out the shriek when you jumped around to see the beautiful specimen of a man standing in front of you.

Of fucking course it had to be one of the main actors.

Your face heated. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun when you heard him chuckle from his spot. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as he looked at you like you were the most amusing thing he'd seen in a while.

"Don't scare the poor girl." His co-star said as she walked up from behind him. Her hand slapped against his chest as she walked past him and towards you. His grin never faltered as you stood there completely starstruck and trying your best to not be a blubbering idiot.

"Here, lemme help." She said as she held out her hand. A sweet smile forming on her lips when you handed her the keys.

"Always make me out to be a dick, love." Harry mumbled to Florence when she finally found the right key to your trailer door.

"Easy to make you out to be a dick when you are one." She said with a shrug. He rolled his eyes but you could tell it was all in good fun. "If he messes with you, jus' tell me. I'll take care of him."

"Think she's gonna 'ave to talk to us 'fore she goes tellin' on me." He smiled widely as he teased you. Whatever shred of your usually vibrant personality had been completely washed away by nerves. You couldn't believe you were standing in either of their presence.

If only your 13 year old self could see you now. Even she would be telling you that you're a fucking idiot.

"We don't bite." Florence said as she pulled you inside your trailer. Your head nodded because honestly it was the only way to guarantee that you wouldn't say something stupid.

"Unless yeh want us to." Harry teased. Florence immediately shot him a look you'd never want to see directed at you.

"I'm good." You squeaked out. Your bag being quickly thrown on your table before you turned on all the lights to the place.

It was simple but it was completely yours. You were finally the head honcho, the boss, the shot caller. It was all up to you- how the makeup looked, how the prosthetic were applied. It was something you were pretty sure would never happen to you but knowing Olivia Wilde definitely had it's privileges.

You'd never imagined working on The Lazarus Effect would lead to almost a five year friendship with so many great opportunities. Plus, she didn’t judge you for your train-wreck of nerves you had your first day of work.

"So yeh know us. Wot's yeh name?" Harry asked you after mindless banter with Florence. Her head filled with curlers turned to look at you standing over Harry. The foundation you were dabbing on his face smeared slightly as your nerves picked back up.

You were never good at the talking part of the job. Not until you warmed up to people a bit. You were definitely more reserved of the makeup artist in the industry. You stuck to yourself for the most part and only your closet friends knew how you really were and you really preferred not getting mixed up in any celebrity business.

"Um, Y/N." You said as you sat the makeup brush down on your table before moving to start taking the curlers out of Florence's silky blonde hair. The perfectly formed curls bounced out, your fingers ran through them to diffuse them a bit.

"Been doing this long?" She asked as you busied yourself with hair. Trying your best to not pull or tug on it too hard and hurting her on accident.

"Not long." You said, the nerves you had dissipated a bit when you talked about something that you enjoyed doing. "Five years but I mostly did low budget horror films."

"Step up from that then, innit?" Harry asked, both their eyes burned into you. Your face immediately heated again at the attention.

"A bit." You said as you finally took the last roller out of Florence's hair. You were so close to being done and getting away from everybody long enough for your anxiety to let up. "First movie I get to be in charge of the makeup department."

"Explains the nerves." Florence hummed out as she sat up in the chair, fluffing her own hair a bit as she examined your work.

"Yeah, sorry about earlier. I get a little lost in the mornings without coffee." You paid close attention to them both smiling at you. Somehow feeling like you were missing a joke until they both spoke at the same time.

"You should do tea instead."

"Never going to happen. I need my coffee to function." You said pointedly, knowing deep in your heart that you would forever be a coffee lover.

"No way." Florence scoffed but you didn't miss that hint of a smirk on her lips as she looked towards Harry.

"'Aven't had the right tea."

"I'm not abandoning my one true love like that." You said with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Boyfriend doesn't get mad that coffee is your one true love?" Florence asked while Harry nodded his head in agreement.

You couldn't help the laugh that left your. A fit of giggles you didn't think you'd be letting out near them any time soon or ever. Your hand came up to tell them to give you a second to compose yourself. Their eyes moved back and forth between each other and you, confusion clearly etched into their expressions.

"You really think me, who couldn't even open the door this morning, is out hitting on people? Honestly, that's the best compliment I've ever gotten." You said as you turned back around to sit down the rest of the curlers in your hands. Random giggles still escaping from you as you shook your head in disbelief.

"They could've came onto yeh." Harry said like he was trying to figure you out. Another burst of laughter came from you when you turned back around, hands on your hips as you looked at both the ungodly beautiful people in front of you.

"I'm not really the type that attracts attention but really this was a great confidence booster." You smiled at them, whatever words both of them were about to say was interrupted by the knock on the trailer door.

"Hey, you guys are needed on set." Some assistant said quickly before walking away from the trailer.

"Guess we gotta go. We'll see you in a bit." Florence smiled brightly at you before turning and walking out the door with a cute bounce in her step.

"See yeh, love." Harry mumbled, his hand ran through his thick brown curls that you'd spent too much time styling for no reason. He followed her out the door. His long confidant strides quickly caught up with Florence. His arm around her shoulder talking to her as you shut the door.

Maybe working with them wouldn't be so bad. Maybe you'd even learn how to not be a total mess around famous people or maybe you could even make new friends. It was a nice thought you decided, they both seemed genuinely nice to you and you could always use new connections to get yourself out there a bit more.

>>>

It only took 4 hours and a shit ton of retouches on everyone's makeup to finally get to your break for the day. Your feet were sore, your whole body felt like it'd been beat up, and you still hadn't had any caffeine. If you didn't get any in you soon you'd be cast in the next remake of Godzilla.

You quickly jumped at the opportunity to run like the wind when it was announced it was lunch time. Your sprint towards freedom was stopped at the sound of your name being called out. You groaned quietly to yourself, cursing whatever god out there for hating you this much.

All you wanted was a damn coffee, was that too much to ask for?! You didn't think so, but apparently, someone out in the universe had it out for you today.

Fast footsteps sounded from behind you as you stood in your spot. Yes, you were making them come to you because fuck them for not realizing lunch time meant you didn't want to chitchat.

"Wanna grab lunch with us?" Her voice rang from behind you, making you feel like such an asshole for making her walk to you.

You turned around to see the group of people she wanted you to have lunch with. Which included everyone from the set. Not just her and Harry, everyone.

Your eyes widened as you looked at all of them. There was no way you could fake it through lunch with all those people you didn't know looking at you. Expecting you to be able to answer simple questions about yourself. Being able to carry on a semi decent conversation. You were exhausted at the mere thought of trying to not seem like a total nutcase for an entire hour.

"Thanks but I think I'm going to put on a pot of coffee in my trailer." You said as your eyes moved away from the crowd of people back to her. Her face couldn't hide emotions even in the slightest bit. Her eyebrows furrowed, lips rolled into her mouth, trying to not look disappointed but you could see the hint of it lingering behind her eyes.

"Sure. Have a good lunch." She said in a soft voice that made your heart feel like it was getting ripped out of your chest.

You stood and watched long enough to see her shaking her head at Harry. His arm around her shoulder as he frowned down at her before looking up to you. A soft smile across his lips before he bent down to say something lowly in Florence's ear.

You turned on the spot and headed for your trailer. A sigh of relief left you the second the door closed. You were always the type that needed recharge time. You had to be alone for a bit here and there during the day so you could unwind. Wash all the anxiety from being around people off you.

You hit the playlist you had saved on your phone as your chill out music. The coffee pot in your trailer gurgled in the background over your music. The slow soft beats filled the air around you. Swirling beautiful with the scent of the coffee.

You lived for this shit.

"Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise.

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies."

You were at the best moment, the cup of coffee in your hand, your voice echoing the words of the song you had a slight obsession with when a knock came from your door.

"Shit!" You yelled when the coffee from your cup splashed out at your knee-jerk reaction to the interruptive knock. The hot liquid barely missed you but still… you could cry over spilled coffee, right?

You threw down a towel you had in arms reach on the floor before scurrying to the door. Hoping it was Olivia here to tell you that she decided to go in a different direction and needed to replace you as head makeup artist.

"Scares like a cat." Harry said more to Florence than you when your head poked out of the door. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

"You made me spill my coffee." You said with a fake pout. Harry's eye brightened as his dimpled smile came across his face.

"Good, we brought you something better." Florence chimed in, a cup of something that definitely wasn't coffee in her hand was now glaring at you. A bag of take out boxes in another.

"Ew." You scrunched your nose as you looked at the offensive cup. Your hand finally opened the door enough for them both to slip in.

"You guys didn't have to bring me lunch." You brows furrowed. Why were they being so nice to you? You had no idea. You weren't really the friendly type, not until you warmed up to people at least.

"Noticed yeh didn't 'ave lunch with yeh. Can't run on coffee and no food." Harry shrugged slightly. Like it wasn't a big deal that they somehow managed to notice you had no lunch with you that day. Your confusion grew more by the second. Maybe this was how people became friends? You weren't entirely sure.

"Love this song." Harry muttered before he plopped down on the love-seat in your trailer. His feet kicked up on the coffee table, obviously making himself at home in your space.

"It's a good one but nothing tops 'Dreams'." You said as you took a seat on one of your makeup chairs, Florence sat on the other side of Harry.

"You two have the same bad taste in music." She groaned as she fished out the first take out box from the bag she had in her hand. Your shocked gasp made her pause.

"How dare you say that about our Lord and Savior, Stevie Nicks. You should be ashamed of yourself." Your dramatic voice and Harry's laughter of agreement made her roll her eyes at you both. Quickly going back to unpacking the bag they brought for all three of you.

"Want us to turn on 'Wonderwall' for you?" You asked through a voice cracked with laughter. Her green eyes immediately snapped to yours, narrowing at you.

"Fuckin' hell, that was a good one." Harry mumbled out, his arm wrapped around her as he smiled widely at her fake pouting.

"See if I bring you lunch ever again." She mumbled under her breath. Finally done unloading the three take out boxes and all the utensils out of the bag.

You gave her a fake pout. Her eyes rolled when she handed you the box. You were too curious for your own good most of the time, right now though, you were scared to open this box and some weird ass Hollywood "lunch" would be staring back at you.

Harry's amused eyes kept meeting yours when you'd look up from your box to whatever the hell they were eating. Nothing but rabbit food and not the good kind either, whatever they were managing to shovel down their throats smelled like rotten eggs. You were trying your best to not be a whiny brat about getting free lunch when you heard Harry let out a chuckle from his side of the room. Florence immediately looked up to see you staring blankly at the box in front of you.

"Gonna open it up, kitten?" Harry asked with an infuriating smug smile on his lips. Your eyes rolled at the nickname but you couldn't deny it stirred something in you.

"We didn’t get you steamed kale." Florence giggled when the sigh of relief left you.

"Thank fuck. I thought I was going to have to gag that crap down." You smiled when you opened the box. A plate of harmless looking pasta sat in front of you. All the carbs and wonderful goodness in the world that you absolutely adored.

Leave the healthy shit for them, you thought.

"Wait!" She yelled from across the room, you jumped slightly at the loud sound making Harry laugh. "Got to try this first."

"No way. I'd rather eat the stinky kale then whatever's in this." You tried to push your hand away from the drink she was adamantly trying to hand you.

"Come on. Jus' fo' fun, yeah? Never 'ave to try anything new again with us if yeh don't like it." Harry said. Florence head snapped around to him quickly before looking back at you. A curt nod of her soft blonde curls told you she agreed with him.

You took the cup from her. Cautiously opening the lid to peak at the color of the drink. A bright green color stared back at you. Your nose scrunched up at the sight but the smell wasn't the worst, not compared to the steamed green leaves the other two were eating.

"Bottoms up. If I die, tell my parents I was forced to drink this." You mumbled out right before downing half the cup of cold green liquid. You hoped if you chugged it the way you did cheap beer when you were 19 would mean you wouldn't taste it much.

You were wrong but surprisingly you were thankfully you got a good taste because it was fucking delicious.

Your eyes brightened when you took the next sip. Slower this time to actually enjoy the drink.

"Told yeh she'd like it." Harry said with a smug smile across his face. The look of triumph directed toward Florence who pushed his shoulder with her own at his comment.

"Sod off, Harold."

"This is really good." You said in between drinks. A very prominent caffeine buzz started to hit you by the time you'd finished the last drop.

"Got more caffeine too." Harry smiled brightly. Florence rolled her eyes as she stabbed a piece of kale with her fork.

"Yeah, well, the pasta was my idea and I'm sure she'll love it." She grumbled like it was some sort of contest between them.

It didn’t take long for you to realize you actually liked hanging out with the both of them. They were able to keep up a conversation with ease, even whenever you didn't feel like talking they both could somehow sense it. They weren't draining to be around, which really surprised you.

The both of them could joke and tease. You and Florence ganged up on Harry. Harry and you on her. Florence and Harry on you. Nonstop teasing, jokes, and enough laughter you could feel your cheeks ache by the end of lunch.

You definitely could see yourself being genuine friends with both of them.

>>>

To say you three managed to get close fast was an understatement. You three practically became inseparable by the end of the first week of shooting. If all three of you weren't together at least two of you were and the other one wasn't far behind.

It quickly became a joke on set. People constantly had to find where the three of you had snuck off to. Which was usually to the food table that was set up for the actors but Harry insisted that it was for everyone, even though you knew it wasn't.

He didn't care though, he just wanted to make sure you actually ate for the day and not just down caffeinated drinks for a meal. Florence on the other hand, was more than willing to invite you to lunch every single day. Her pleas for you to join the two of them was impossible to turn down after a while.

You figured it was pointless anyways since they brought back food for you every time you said you weren't hungry. So today was the day you'd finally gave in to her cute pouting.

"This place looks like they have those really small dishes that cost more than my rent." You mumbled to Florence as you approached the building that looked like it had jumped out of a magazine.

"You'll love it!" She beamed brightly from beside you. You wanted to believe her, you really did, but you were more of a cheap bar food type of girl. In fact, the bar by your house now knew you by name whenever you walked through the door. Which was only slightly pathetic, but you didn't have many friends and you weren't that good at making new ones, so you weren't in any position to hurt her feelings by not liking this place.

Her hand slipped casually into yours as you neared closer to the building. Harry rounded the corner from parking his car right before you two crossed the street. His long legs stride easily over to you two, his arm around your shoulder.

That was another thing that had threw you a bit off guard at first. They both were so touchy. Your hair, your face, holding hands, hugging, hands resting on your thigh. One of them always had a hand on you any time they could. It was a little strange at first but you quickly realized this was just how they were with you.

And you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't enjoy it now.

"I can feel yeh bein' nervous from 'ere." Harry said so closely to your ear you could feel the soft touches of his lips against you.

Your breathing seemed to stop for a second before you swallowed the feeling and turned to him. Eyes wide as you glanced back to Florence, trying to tell him to shut up before she realized you didn't want to be eating French cuisine.

He chuckled, shaking his head before pulling you back to the table that was already set up for you guys.

This was fancy and you were so out of place. The small table in the corner tucked you guys away from everyone. The stark white linen over the table had you anxious from the moment you sat down. Who the fuck puts white on a table?! At least the dim lighting had your back. This way no one could see you choke on a snail as you faked your way through this lunch.

Florence hand rested on one of your legs, Harry's on the other, both of them deliberately choosing to ignore your anxious feet tapping on the floor.

"Sweetheart?" Harry called you out of your panic from looking at the menu that was in French. Screw your 14 year old self for taking 4 years of Spanish in high school. "I can order fo' yeah if you want."

"Oh, I think I'm gonna have the, um…" you paused, squinting at the menu of fancy font. "Langue de boeuf?"

"Okay, 'm not lettin' yeh eat tongue." Harry snickered when your nose scrunched up. Who in their right mind would ever want to eat that?

"Wait…" Florence said as she sat down her menu in front of her with her one free hand. Your eyes glinting over to see her looking so confused, yet so adorable with her scrunched brows pulled together. Her head tilted as she blinked a few times at you. "Do you- do you not like French food?"

"I've just… never had it before." You settled for a half-truth, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

"Your last name is François!" She said as her cheeks turned flaming red. Harry's snicker from beside you did nothing to help her embarrassment. Your hand quickly squeezed his, hard, under the table to tell him to stop.

"I'm adopted," You smiled widely at her surprised expression. It's not like she knew you were adopted and she really was being so sweet planning all this out, thinking you'd feel at home here. "And the only thing French about my dad is he knows how to say beget."

"God, I'm so sorry, if- if I'd known, I'd neve-"

"Flor, please," you smiled as you took her hands away from fiddling with her menu. "I never told you. It's not a big deal. Besides, now you two can order for me in your fancy French words."

You dismissed her worrying with a wave of your hand and a gently prod of the menu. If anything, this was the most heartwarmingly considerate thing anyone had ever done for you. At least she tried to include things with the three of you that you'd also like.

When the, equally nervous as you, waiter finally approached your table to take your drink orders you were glad those two were handling everything. It felt sort of like being spoiled and you'd take that any day of the week.

"I know you." The waiter, Grayson you learned from his name tag, said after a few awkward seconds of standing in front of the table. You were only half listening, assuming it was for either one of the obviously famous people sitting beside you. "Yeah! That's right you're Y/N Y/L/N-François!"

Your eyes widened, cheeks heated as you squirmed in your seat. Both Florence and Harry looking back and forth between you and your new fan.

"God, your makeup on insta is amazing. The special effects stuff is so good. Really, I'm a big fan." He gushed as you mumbled out a small thank you, your hand clutching the complementary cup of water in front of you like it was a life raft. "Here, you can have my insta handle. Maybe you can DM sometime."

His movements to start writing down his Instagram information came to a screeching halt when both Harry and Florence shot him glares. The tension grew thick between the three of them. Some sort of a weird show down as you tried to drink your water and ignore the awkwardness.

Maybe they didn't like their friends being bothered at lunch when they were with them? You weren't sure. In all honesty, this never happened to you but you could see why this would be annoying for them. They had to deal with it all the time.

This is what they'd do for any of their friends. Right?

The tension finally eased when the waiter left the table. Your cup finally placed back down on the white linen when you let out a sigh of relief. You weren't one for strangers and they both knew it. Maybe they were just telling that guy to screw off because of your nerves, yeah that was it.

The rest of the lunch went much better than you expected. Conversation between you three was never a problem but even the food was amazing.

The two of them had great taste.

"Come on. Gonna be late if we don't get out of here." Florence mumbled, her hand already in yours as she pulled you out of the seat. You didn't even have time to get a word out when Harry threw down an ungodly wad of money on the table.

"You didn't have to pay for me." You said when he caught up to you. His hand on your lower back as he guided you through the door.

"What kind of date would that be?" Florence said without thinking. Your confused eyes shooting to her briefly before looking at the horrified Harry. "Lunch date, meant lunch date, with friends."

"Oh," you said, still a bit confused but chugging through it so you didn't have any awkward conversations. "Still, thank you."

Harry's tensed shoulders relaxed when he gave you a nodd. His eyes shot daggers to Florence over your head as you three started walking.

"I'm sorry!" She mouthed silently to him. You were completely oblivious to the mimed conversation between the two as you walked in front of them.

>>>

"Lookin' sweet today, kitten." Harry's voice from behind you made you jump in your skin. Your hand over your chest like that would somehow stop your nerves.

"What's got you all dressed up?" Florence asked as they both stood in front of you on set.

Your hands fiddled with the tight black lace top you had on. It complemented your bust so well but it made you feel awkward and out of place, like everyone's eyes were on you. Plus the pants that hugged your ass tighter than cling wrap weren't helping with the shameless stares from people.

"Is- is it too much?" Your words stumbled over themselves as your face heated.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Yeh look gorgeous like always." A slight frown danced on his lips as he looked down towards you. He could tell something was up by your anxious movements. Your eyes flickering around the studio like you were constantly on the lookout for someone.

"Okay," you sighed, your hand running over your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. "You guys know the sound technician, James?"

Their faces solidified to stone at your words. Both of them rigid as they looked at you. Not a hint of emotion detectable in their expressions.

"He asked me out." You felt uneasy, unsure of the decision to go to lunch with him. You felt like you were going to die in a ball of nerves at any second. This was exactly why you didn't date.

Sure, you'd gone on a date here or there. Mostly when your very small friend group got tired of you third wheeling at all the couples activities. You'd then be set up with someone, it wouldn't work out because you were one shred away from being a nutcase, and that would be the end of it.

"You can't go out with him!" Florence said shrilly, her eyes widened as the words came out of her mouth.

"Why?" You asked, eyes glancing over to the guy in question.

"He uh- he uh," she stammered, her hand slapped Harry against his chest twice for him to answer for her.

"He sniffs people!" His words rushed out of his mouth. Your eyebrows scrunched together.

"What?" You asked, as Florence hand rubbed the temple of her head before shooting a deathly glance at Harry.

"Yeah, Harry, what?" She asked, obviously annoyed but you weren't sure why. It wasn't like she was about to go on a date with the guy.

"I saw him. He likes to, uhm, yeh know." Harry looked at the ground before his hands shoved into his pockets. "He sniffs peoples hair."

"Wow," your hopes of going on a date that didn't involve cheap beer and 25 cent chicken wings suddenly blew up into flames. "Well, thanks for telling me."

"It's okay, Y/N, we'll go out to lunch." Florence said softly, her hand in yours as she gidded you off the set.

"Thanks guys." You smiled softly, head rested against Harry's chest as you three walked.

>>>

"We've got to tell her." Florence spoke quietly as she snuggled into Harry's side. His duvet wrapped tightly around the both of them in his oversized bed.

"I don't know.." He glanced at the fallen face of his girlfriend. "This all could backfire and then she won't even want to be friends."

"But, things don't feel right. It's like she's our missing piece." Her bottom lip started to tremble, corners of her eyes held onto tears that she refused to let fall.

"I know, I feel it too." He sighed as he laid back on his pillow. Looking up at the ceiling. A large feeling grew in his stomach, despair. You didn't seem like the type who dated adventurously or tried different things in your life.

He wanted you. God, how they both wanted you. You, their missing piece. Your presence made the both of them feel that indescribable warmth of home in their chest. Your laugh, your smile, your terrible sense of humor, and the way you had no idea just how desirable you really were.

"One of us should make a move on her." Florence said, finally breaking the silence between the two of them.

"Think?"

"Think it'll be the only way to know for sure if she likes one of us or not."

>>>

That Friday morning started like all the other mornings since you'd been on this job. A new mystery cup of tea in your hands that Harry had brought for you that morning. Their makeup was done long ago but now they hid out in your trailer until some intern was forced to go and find them.

This had been your three's new morning routine for the past three weeks and surprisingly, you weren't bothered by having your quiet time interrupted by them. You were actually starting to look forward to these morning's.

"Do you want to come to dinner with us tonight?" Florence asked you from her spot on the love seat. Your head lifted from the trashy magazine you were mindlessly flipping through on the floor. You chuckled as you shook your head at her, turning back to the obvious lies written in ink.

"We won't make yeh eat anythin' weird, kitten." Harry smiled easily when he moved off the couch to sit by you. His arm around your shoulders when you looked up in disbelief.

"I could pick the place." You suggested a cheeky smug smirk across your face when they both looked like you'd asked them for a kidney. "See, I knew you two wanted to eat somewhere gross!"

"You always want tacos!" Florence groaned flinging herself against the now unoccupied side of the couch that Harry previously sat at. A pout on her face as she tried to get you to change your mind.

"I do not." You scoffed. Okay, maybe you did but still those two could use a real meal or two.

"What if we do food and a movie at mine?" Harry asked, interrupting yours and Florence's teasing back and forth.

"Yes!" She agreed eagerly, her bright eyes filled with excitement and you knew you couldn't say no even if you wanted to.

>>>

You had to admit, you were fucking nervous to go to Harry's house. The neighborhood your old Camero chugged through was definitely not like your neighborhood at all. It was all fancy houses, nice lawns, and security everywhere. You felt like you were a step away from breaking into the pentagon when you rolled up to the gate for the guard to let you in.

You stood anxiously on his front step. The 6 pack of Coors Light seemed like such a bad choice now. You mentally cursed yourself for being so stupid, how could you think someone who lived here would be okay with your cheap beer? You were four seconds away from faking a stomach ache and going home to your hole of an apartment when the door opened. Harry's smiling face with that cute little dimple popping out stared at you looking so out of place.

"Don't gotta be nervous, yeh know?" He asked when he took your hand in his, pulling you into the house.

"Well, you did say you two would bite." You crack a smile at his bark of a laugh. Nerves easily washing off you when you made it into his living room.

"Where's Flor?" You asked, eyebrows raised when you turned to him.

It wasn't that you minded being one-on-one with Harry. You two got along great but you figured the blonde would be here already, the two of them seemed inseparable.

"On her way." He shrugged, his ass hitting the seat of the couch, motioning for you to do the same.

"What're we going to watch?" You asked as you sat down beside him, his arm around you when sat back from placing the beer down on the floor.

"Anythin' yeh want." He said, his eyes trained on you as you wracked your brain for a film those two would watch with you without complaining.

"Only watch horror."

"No way, nope. Not watchin' a scary movie. Yeh'll never sleep." He joked, his arm tighter around you as he pulled you into his chest.

"Not sleeping here so it's not gonna be your problem." You poked back, your head leaning against him. God, he smelled amazing.

"Sure yeh are. Got beer with yeh, can't drive drunk, kitten." His fingers lifted your chin when he spoke to you. Your eyes meeting his briefly before they flickered to his lips.

Have they always looked that good? Or was the intoxicating scent of his cologne making you drunk on him?

You couldn't tell and honestly, you could care less what the reason was when his face seemed to inch closer to you. He was going to kiss you, you realized. Your breathing seem to halt in your throat when he was millimeters away from you. His nose pressed lightly to yours, setting your soul on fire.

Your stomach turned and flopped, that familiar chill of desire ran down your spine all the way to your core. Your hands wanted to grip onto him, kiss him with a passion when the doorbell rang.

You jumped in your skin. Your body jerked back from him. Your big round doe-eyes staring blankly into his face. He groaned, eyes squeezed shut, resting his forehead against yours.

"She's got the worst timin'." He muttered before getting up from the couch to answer the door. The breath you'd been holding in released when he left the room.

Did you really about kiss your friend? And not only was he a friend, he was a coworker. You groaned, hands covered your face as it burned in embarrassment. What the hell were you thinking? You knew better than to ever mix business and feelings, especially when it came to famous people.

Florence entering the room with her sweet smile put a stop to your insanely degrading thoughts. You'd simply just pretend this never happened. Push it to the back of your mind and forget it, yeah that would be the solution.

>>>

"Why do we gotta watch this scary shit?" Florence asked, her hands covering her eyes as Jason stalked through the forest after innocent teenagers.

"You've literally acted in horror movies." You smiled at her glare she shot at you. Her head laid on your shoulder as she whined loudly. Harry sat on the other side of her, his hand rested on her thigh.

You had no idea how to even begin to feel about that. An hour ago he was trying to kiss you and now he was rubbing her thigh. You didn't understand but refused to acknowledge the fact that the kiss almost even happened.

There was definitely tension between the three of you, awkward feelings floating in the air around his oversized living room. You tried your best to shove it down, to ignore whatever happened with you and Harry, especially since Florence was here and you had no idea what she would think.

"Let's take shots." She said as she flipped off the TV right as Jason's machete swung wildly through the air towards screaming teenagers.

"Trying to get us drunk?" Harry chuckled as he stood and walked to the kitchen. That smile on his face that could melt hearts.

"Duh. You two are being weird." She said as she eyed you up. Your face heating so much you swore you'd burst into flames. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just you know, stupid stuff." You waved your hand, dismissing her question. An unbelieving hum coming from her as Harry came back in with a bottle of tequila and shot glasses.

"Oh fuck," you groaned at the sight of the bottle, your old enemy that made you say the dumbest shit glared back at you.

"Gonna be able to keep up, kitty?" Harry asked as he sat down a full shot glass in front of you on his coffee table.

You wished you'd been the type of person who was smart enough to see a bad idea staring you in the face.

You were not that person.

The shot stung and burned your throat the whole way down your throat. The potent liquid turned your stomach into knots whenever it hit the acid there.

Maybe you'd regret this tomorrow morning but it'd make one hell of a story.

>>>

"Yeh never dated?" Harry asked, the upper half of his body swayed back and forth as he sat crossed legged on the floor of his living room.

"Nope." You answered back before shooting what had to be shot number 10 down your throat. The once burning drink now felt like water when it went down.

"Wait, are you a virgin?" Florence asked, her eyes wide as she stared at you. The serious look on her face made you bust out laughing.

"I'm not a virgin. I just don't date."

"But you're so pretty. Anyone would date you." Florence said, her hand brushing back the hair from your forehead that was beading alcohol induced sweat.

"Don't have the time. Always busy." You said with a sigh. Sure, you wanted to date but your working schedule made it impossible. You couldn't even have a cat you were so busy and you fucking loved cats.

"Ever date more than one person at the same time?" Harry asked when he looked up from his shot that sat in front of him. Testing the waters, he thought, if you said you'd never do that at least you'd be likely to not remember the next day.

"Nah." You shrugged, completely missing the look Florence shot Harry's way. A warning to not push the subject.

"Y'could." He suggested as the warm feeling of sleep started to surround your body. Your eyes feeling more and more heavy by the second.

"That means two people would actually have to like me." You gave a short laugh. Your eyes closing, head falling back to lay on the couch. You'd only rest them for a second, you thought.

"We like you." Florence said quietly from beside you. Her statement being answered with your soft snores.

"She's never gonna agree to it." Harry mumbled, the shot in front of him finally being thrown to the back of his throat.

"But-" Florence started, her hands running over your hair. "I don't know, Harry. I just like her so much. Things feel right when she's around."

"I know, sweetheart." He said as he stood from his spot. His arms encircled you, picking you up as Florence stood from her spot on the floor. The two of them and the passed out you made your way to his room. The big plush bed you would have loved was soft under your body. Your hands closed around the pillow under your head.

"I wanna keep her." Florence said as she laid down beside you. Her hand rested over yours as Harry climbed into bed on the other side of you.

"M'too but I think I scared her when I tried to kiss her." He said quietly, the both of them speaking in whispers over top of you.

Florence sighed, her lips pouting as she stared at your resting face. She knew weeks ago she liked you. Knew from the moment you laughed wholeheartedly at her terrible jokes that she wanted you. The same gleam bounced in Harry's eyes whenever he looked at you but you never noticed.

You never took any of their flirting seriously. Never paid a second thought to them asking you out or trying to take you to nice places.

It made a bit more sense to them now that they knew you never dated but how the hell could you not pick up on their shameless flirtation? Harry called you kitten for God's sake.

"Jus' gonna 'ave to be blunt." Harry said a while later. The both of them doing nothing else but listening to your soft snores.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

>>>

You woke up the next morning to a pounding in your head. Your eyes barely saw anything through the foggy vision of your sleepy eyes. You swallowed down that dry feeling in your throat - water, you needed water.

You groaned softly as you pushed yourself up from the bed that wasn't your own. You knew you'd end up crashing the night at Harry's but you didn't expect to end up in the same bed with him, with both of them.

You figured that was honestly better than you and Harry alone in the bed together, at least you know you didn't do anything with Florence laying next to you two.

You slipped out of bed, easily. The both of them didn't move a muscle as you snuck out of the house and towards your car. Maybe it was rude for you to run off like this but you needed to nurse your hangover at your own place.

You sighed, throwing your phone on your cluttered kitchen table when you finally made it home. The traffic was awful and of course everyone was laying on their horns like that would somehow help the long line of idle cars.

Your head was killing you when you sat in your shower. The water running over you was warm and much-needed. The hangover seemed to wash down the drain with your lavender soap.

You were calm, in your element, when frantic knocking at your door interrupted your shower. You cursed under your breath, cutting off the water quickly. Hoping it wasn't your elderly neighbor who always seemed to need help moving boxes on Saturday's.

"I'm coming, Ms. Thompson!" You yelled as the knocking grew more frantic. Your bathrobe tightly around you when you opened the door. The both of them looked like a mess of anxiety and worry.

"Uh, hi?" You said with the door barely opened enough for your head to stick out. Water dripping off you collected on the floor at your feet.

"Hi? Seriously?" Florence growled, her usually sweet and calm voice laced with irritation as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at you.

"Where's yeh phone? We thought you wondered off in the middle of the night or sumthin'. We were bloody worried, Y/N." Harry said as you opened the door for them to come in.

"It's dead." You gestured to the useless piece of technology sitting on your table. Harry hands ran over his face as he shook his head. Florence's lips pursed as they both looked anywhere but at you.

"Am I missing something?" You finally asked after what felt like hours. "'Cause I feel like I'm being scolded by my parents right now."

"You can't be serious. God, Y/N," Florence fumed in a way you'd never seen before. The confusion in your mind growing larger by the second. "What would we have done if something happened to you?

"Uhhh…" your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked towards Harry for help. You had no idea what the hell you did to make them so worried about you.

"Can yeh sit down?" Harry asked you, his head nodded in a gesture towards your couch. Anxiety crawled through your skin as you walked over to sit on your plain and basic couch.

Harry's hands smoothing down the front of his pants and Florence foot tapping like mad on your floors did nothing to calm your racing mind. All three of you sat in tension on your couch. You were sandwiched between the both of them. Their shoulders pressed tightly against yours and maybe if it was under different circumstances you'd enjoy the close contact.

"We like you." Florence blurted out into the silence of your living room.

Your widening eyes looked at her in complete disbelief until you burst with laughter. The snorting chuckling sounds died quickly when they both seemed to clam up.

"You're serious?" You asked, both of them seemed too nervous to answer at first. Harry's concerned filled eyes connecting with yours briefly before looking at the ground, his hands, his rings. Anywhere else.

"We do but we get if 's weird fo' yeh. We can just forget it if yeh want us to go back to bein' friends." He rushed out nervously as you let out a breath of air.

"I'm just surprised someone, who doesn't sniff people, likes me." You mumbled, hand pushing back your damp hair out of your face. Harry's snort of a laugh and a shake of his head had your eyebrows pulled together before Florence called your attention again with her nerve wrecked voice.

"I can't believe you didn't notice." Her hands fiddled together with nerves. "We kept asking you out."

"I'm a bit dense." You said with a short laugh.

"Whaddya say?" Harry asked as he took his hand in yours. Florence doing the same with the other. Flutters in your stomach blossomed at their touch. One hand, soft and silky like satin, the other, rough and calloused at the tips but smooth towards the palm.

You swallowed the nerves down. Your mind filled with so many doubts, so many thoughts all at the same time. Anxiousness mixed with excitement. It was new, different, and you had so many questions.

"How- how would this work?" You asked, both sets of eyes brightening at your words.

"How ever you want." Florence rushed out. The prospect of you actually considering this had her heart racing almost out of her chest. Really, she'd agree to anything you wanted as long as it included you three being exclusive.

"We… just date?" You asked, your brows furrowed as you stared at your hands. Your mind trying to turn out the logistics was going to drive you absolutely insane.

"Well, yes but y'know… the three of us." Harry gestured to the three of you.

"Won't someone get jealous?" You asked him, your head tilted to the side as you watched his lips purse in consideration.

"Guess if one of us gets jealous we gotta talk 'bout it. Work it out." He said, Florence nodding her head in agreement from beside you.

"And.." you started to get nervous about your next question, the one that had been blaring in your mind since this conversation started. "The sex?"

"Already tryin' to bed us, kitten?" Harry joked as Florence shot him a glare. Your face heated and eyes widened, maybe this was a bad idea, you were already about to die from embarrassment.

"Shut up." She whispered yelled from beside you like you wouldn't be able to hear it. Harry's eyes rolled in his head that smug smirk on his face.

"We don't have to talk about that for a while if you don't want to. We can figure it out later." Florence said softly from beside you. Her hand taking yours again, her thumb ran soothing circles against the back of it.

You shrugged, your lip between your teeth as you thought about what it'd be like to have both of them. A familiar heat worked up in the bottom of your stomach.

God, even just picturing it was getting you started. You could only imagine what it'd be like when it actually happened.

"The little minx." Harry laughed as he leaned up to look at you the thoughts you were thinking clearly wrote across your face. "Think she wants t'give it a try before settling on an answer, Flor."

"Hmm," she hummed from beside you, a smile cracked on her face as she brushed the damp hair off your shoulder. "Think she needs some more convincing?"

"Yeah, looks like it to me." Harry words floated over you, through the air above you. Your mind tried to desperately grab at the words, make sense of them, but it was useless. You were already gone at the mere prospect of the rest of the day's events.

"Can I kiss you?" Her word brought you down to earth but only barely.

Her plush lips made you forget how sentences form or words could be spoken in the English language when they hesitantly met yours. They were soft, not demanding to take control. She let you come to her. Let you set the pace that you were comfortable with.

Your hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her addictive gently touch harder into you. A heavenly sounded moan slid from her mouth when your tongue slipped its way in. You could have gotten lost in the way you moved so insync with each other when she pulled back.

Your deep breathing and closed eyes made her grin widely. Maybe you would be okay with this arrangement.

Harry's hand in yours again got your attention. Eyes snapped open to see the pretty blonde in front of you smiling smugly.

"Can I kiss yeh?" His thick accent somehow sounded richer in this moment. Your head turned to the other side to see his usually bright green eyes darken with lust. The sight of him like that could keep you satisfied for a month, maybe longer.

"Yes." You barely had the word out of your mouth when his lips pressed forcefully to yours. Demanding movements of his mouth led you in the kiss, determined hands grabbed your hips to lift you onto his lap. The sudden movement through you off balance. Your ass hitting his very prominent boner made you moan.

Holy shit, how the hell were you supposed to handle all of that?

You whimpered as he pulled you back from him. His hands running under the robe to your unclothed ass. His calloused fingers felt rough against your skin as he groaned, his head against the back of the couch as Florence moved over beside you two.

"We can stop 'ere." Harry said through gritted teeth when your hips moved over his, chasing the feeling of his retreating hands.

Florence hummed her agreement as you sat back fully on Harry's lap. Your mind ran circled around you. The last thing you were thinking right now was quitting this.

"I want to see you kiss." You said through your nerves both their wide eyes blinked up at you. Not thinking you'd be wanting to go any further.

Florence acted quickly, her hands on either one of Harry's cheeks as she pulled his lips to hers. The two of them were obviously familiar with the other. They'd been doing this for a while, you assumed.

Whatever worries you had about being jealous or not liking the three of you together all at one time quickly went out the window. They were fucking hot together. The sight of them wrestling for the lead sent a flood of arousal straight to your core. Your hips grinding against Harry's lap, desperate for any friction.

"Think we got her answer." Harry mumbled into Florence's mouth, a smile on his lips as she laughed. Your face heated as she faced you with that sweet smile.

"We better make sure she doesn't change her mind then."

>>>

It was an absolute mess of limbs as you three rushed to the bedroom. Lips against lips, tongues sliding against one another's to a point you weren't sure where Harry started and Florence ended.

"Gonna make yeh feel so good, princess." Harry's deep voice vibrated against you. His lips pressed tightly to your ear, turned upwards at the corners in a sinful smile. His hands gripped the back of your legs tighter, bringing them closer to God and you further and further away from ever having a front row ticket to the pearly gates.

If this was why you went to hell, it'd be fucking worth it.

Her teeth grazed the inside of your bare thighs. Just enough to get your attention back to her pretty head of blonde hair between your legs. Harry's head against your shoulder as he watched her work you into an absolute mess of whines and she hadn't even done anything yet.

"So sensitive, baby." She smiled against your skin. Her perfect white teeth biting a bit harder into you before sucking the flesh of your inner thigh into her mouth. Marking you as theirs.

You whimpered, head against Harry's shoulder as your fingers dug deep into his forearms that were holding your legs open for Florence. His throbbing erection leaking a river against your ass every time you squirmed in place.

Hot breath fanned against your core. Her dainty fingers ran through your exposed folds and maybe, if you had more shame, you would have held back the pornographic moan that came from you. But you couldn't help it, they'd been absolutely teasing you relentlessly. Wanting to see how you ticked.

"Please, fuck," your hoarse voice cracked as you looked down at her. She was laid on her stomach arms crossed in front of her as she shamelessly studied you. "Flor, please."

"We're getting there." She mumbled, her fingers stopped their movements, one finger slipped into your absolutely dripping pussy.

"Fuck." Harry breathed out as another moan fell from you. A subtle shift from his hips had another wet spot starting on your back.

"She's soaked, Harry." Florence held up her fingers that were doused in you up for him to inspect. A hum coming from him as he kissed against your neck that was littered with marks he'd left.

"Think y'can give us that answer now, pretty girl?" He smiled at your defiant 'humph', you were going to be so much fun to tease. "Come on, wanna hear y'say it. Then, yeh can get what y'want."

You debated it for a second, your pride or your relief.

"I wanna be your girlfriend." You mumbled through nerves. Never one to be vocal during sex wasn't going to be an option with them.

"Didn't hear yeh."

"Fuck," you groaned, face heating to blazing temperatures you didn't know existed outside of the sun. "I want to be your two's girlfriend!"

"No need to yell, baby." Florence said with a smug smile up to you.

"You both ca--" you started to tell them both to shove off when her tongue finally, finally, ran across your swollen clit.

You swore your eyes actually rolled back in your head.

"Told yeh we'd give yeh what you wanted." That smug smirk on his face as he watched you starting to fall apart.

Her tongue was flat and thick against your folds. Wild and untamed in it's adventures to find all the spots that made your toes curl. Her moans from your taste echoed through you.

"Holy shit," she breathed out, her mouth disconnected from you only briefly. Her thumb pressed on your clit, rubbing lightly. "Gotta taste her for yourself."

"Will after yeh finish. Don't wanna hog her all to m'self."

You felt like you were going to explode. Here there were, casually talking about you like you weren't even there. It was so fucking hot.

Her hands grasped onto Harry's thighs as her whole face practically buried itself into your core. You'd been eaten out before, but not like this.

Her tongue switched so effortlessly between slow, thick, long, strides to quick, tight, circles on your throbbing bundle of nerve endings. She seemed to be a step away from reading your mind. Two fingers pushing into you right when you needed them the most.

"Gonna cum, pup?" Harry grunted against your skin. His eyes never left the absolutely sinful scene in front of him. Kisses pressed against your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

"Yes, fuck, oh-" your voice carried through your small apartment. So loud, so lustful, you didn't even recognize it was yours at first. Her fingers hitting that spot inside you so perfectly, your tightening walls couldn't take it anymore.

A release in a way you've never experienced before finally hit you. Your whole body shivered from the force of it. Eyes closed tightly, head against Harry's shoulder. It was so good it almost hurt.

When you finally started to surface from that hazy feeling of pure bliss you were being lowered onto the bed. Your legs that had been held open for so long ached and throbbed but it was so fucking worth it.

"Think y'can handle another one?" Harry smiled down to you as he hovered over the bed. Florence settling beside you, her hand over your hair to calm you down.

"Yeah." You barely breathed out, eyes connected with hers briefly. How the hell could someone look so sweet and adorable after wrecking you?

You hummed, head leaning up to give her a kiss. Lips connected with hers as you reached for Harry's hand. His cool rings relieved the burning hot skin of your hands as you pulled him to your guys level.

His lips replaced hers against yours. His hands taking time to explore the curves of your body, your chest. Fingers dancing against your budded nipples. Your overly sensitive body was aching for another release as you moaned into his smirking mouth. His hand kneading your flesh in brand new ways.

"Ass up, sweetheart." His cocky tone of voice had your heart beat picking right back up as you turned over onto your knees. You rested on your elbows, hand motioning for Florence to lay in front of you. Her eyes widened as she stared you down.

"Well, don't be shy." You smiled as she crawled over to you, her legs laid open on the bed as your arms wrapped around her thighs.

"Just, just, surprised this is happening." Her words stumbled out as your tongue started to explore her folds the way hers had done. Gently soft pressure against her core, hardly enough to taste her, teasing.

Payback for them taunting you in the beginning.

Her breathing caught in her throat, her elbows barely keeping her upright when you finally got a good taste of her and fuck, was she delicious. You moaned, hands dug into her thighs as your tongue slipped into her tight hole.

You could do this the rest of your fucking life.

Harry's distraction finally broke when Florence's eyes opened again. Green eyes meeting green eyes as her hand tugged your head down harder into her core. His tongue wet his lips before his hand traveled down between your legs, fuckin' hell you were soaking almost down to your knees.

He wanted to be gentle with you, soft, loving. Show you how much he liked you but when you shifted your ass back into him. Wiggling back and forth for him, he couldn't help himself. You little temptress. His hand landed firmly on your ass and what he didn't expect was the full fledged roar of a moan that came from you. His dick twitched from the sound.

"Fuck," your voice muffled by the her silky wet cunt. Her hand lifting your head up just enough to see your eyes as Harry started to slide into your velvet cave. His hand bruising your hip as he cursed under his breath.

"Feel good, H?" Florence wore that smug smile as his lust blown eyes met hers. His snappy comments and witty attitude put at bay by your contracting walls having a hard time keeping up with his girth.

"God, sweet girl, your pussy is fuckin' tight." He thrusted a bit further into your narrow opening, your hands dug deep into Florence's legs as you whimpered. Her hands ran over your hair as she shushed you.

"Oh my g--" you choked out as he finally settled fully in you. His hands pulled the round flesh of your ass back to see where you two were connected. He pulled out only a little just to push slowly back in. His head fall to his chest as your vortex sucked him back in. "Move, please, move."

Your hips only swayed slightly before he was pounding into you. You were thankfully you had a job in front of you to do or else you would have been reaching another orgasm in mere seconds. His length hitting that spot inside of you every single time.

You had to force yourself to concentrate, to not let your eyes roll back into your head whenever he pumped into you. Your tongue ran circles around her clit, your fingers slid into her easy. Nothing but moans filled your small apartment, your bed creaking from how hard he was thrusting into you.

You felt so sorry for your downstairs neighbors.

Her hand tightened in your hair as his hand tightened around your hip. You were pushed, pulled, tugged, manhandled, and holy fuck was it making your walls clench tighter. Your tongue was more determined than ever to make fast work of getting her off when you felt your fast approaching end over the horizon.

"Oh, oh," she moaned her hips bouncing down on your face as she fucked herself on your tongue and fingers.

"'M close." Harry grunted from behind you, his hand slapping down on your ass again.

You didn’t have the time or capacity to enjoy the stinging pain that went through your body. Tingling sensation all the way through your core when you felt the walls against your fingers start to contract. A wildly erotic moan came from her as Harry's hand reached around to rub fast pace circles on your clit.

Stars danced along your vision as your release hit you. Sloppy thrust of Harry's hips slowed down as a warmth filled you. Overrunning from your puffy, abused, pussy down your legs to the bedspread. Your body collapsed into the open arms of your now girlfriend as Harry leaned over your back.

"Why'd we wait so long to do that?" You asked once your mind cleared from the fog of your two orgasms. Laughs came from in front and behind you. Chaste kisses against whatever available skin was in their reach.

"We could always do it again, love."

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