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laketaj24 · 3 years

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Serotonin III

A/N: Hey! Here’s the final part!!! I hope you enjoy it! I am working on three requests for Mr. Baker and Part 2 to The Business! My taglists and requests are open! Let me know what you think! Happy Reading!

Pairing: Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Language, Nudity, Lowkey Pettiness, Smut, orgasm denial

Inspo Song: Acting Like That : Yungblud ft. MGK, Travis Barker

Serotonin Masterlist, MY MASTERLIST

Meg: I can’t believe you left me at the club! I was joking with your petty ass!

Colson: you said if I wanted her, go get her. I did

Meg: so you really are choosing her over me?

Meg: hello?

Meg: I know god damn well you getting my texts, you asshole

Meg: Colson.

Colson: who is this?

Meg: real funny

Colson: what you want?

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

The hours passed since he left seemed like seconds; maybe you’d fucked up. Overreacted by busting his phone up and making him go.

Shit.

The fact that he left his phone left meant Colson knew you’d fucked it up this time. You tossed the phone on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, and to make matters worst, you couldn’t even text and say come back because you had the phone. You’d fucked up.

Guilt played a weird role in your relationship, making Colson feel guilt, easy as pie. He did shit all the time, and even when he didn’t, his little ass found reasons for him to still feel some guilt. Guilt rarely rested on your shoulders, but here tonight, it rested heavily on your shoulders. You stare down at the text messages, there were several avenues you could take to resolve the issue. The first was just say you were sorry; apologies meant a lot. But a text wouldn’t do; for starters, it wouldn’t do because you had his phone. He wouldn’t see it. Secondly, Colson would eat the texted apology and spit it out in your face if you did that to him. Your arguments had been more than toxic in the past, and you may or may not have told him text apologies were trash. The only actual resolution was to drive over to the house and do it face to face. Unfortunately, that would not be an easy feat either.

You dressed quickly, taking one of his out of the box outside your bedroom. You slide on his purple EST sweatsuit. His aroma still lingered even though it’d been washed. The musky scent of his earthy Cologne intertwined with his weed because the man smoked enough for his whole team. It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to, felt like home, even sliding back into his clothes.

The drive over usual took forty minutes, traffic and all, but today it lasted ten, or it felt like ten, and no matter how many times you rehearsed your apology, it still tasted like dirt when you said it.

“Colson, I overreacted.” You braced a smile in your rearview mirror and then leaned into the steering wheel. “Colson, you’re gonna forgive me because you’re a fucking cheater.” You growled and slammed your fist into the passenger’s seat. “Colson- I am sorry I broke your phone. I will go with you to buy another one.” You laughed and reached for the vape filled with the THC vape. It’d be best to be high talking to him. The vape hits smooth, the fruity flavor hitting your tongue before your lungs, and then a plume of smoke fills the car as you exhale. Fuck.

The knock on your window scares you, but only a little as Slim waves. He points down, signaling you to roll the window down. You do, and the plume leaves with the small gust of wind the fresh air brings. “What are you doing out here Y/N? It’s three in the morning?”

“Shit.” You glance at the fluorescent blue digits on the clock. “Damnit.”

“Yeah, you good?” Slim smirks knowing the answer.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I can go get him.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll come in a few.”

“bet, I’m gonna lock this gate.” He laughed as he walked away.

He faded from your view, and you slinked down in your seat, regathering what you were planning once more. Ten minutes passed, and you hit the vape four more times, feeling your body relax and the tension dissipates. It was time; either he forgave you, or you would just sleep in the car until he did. Every light in the house was on, upstairs and down; they never slept at night. They just slept until the next afternoon and started the party all over again. It's the one reason you refused to live with him; your sleep schedule would be fucked.

You stand at the grand doors and knock a few times, hoping they hear you over the loud ass music that played in the room over. It stopped abruptly after a few seconds, and you could hear his long strides headed to the door.

“If you don’t have food, go back home.” Colson’s playful voice came from the other side.

“I-,” You chuckled. “I don’t have food; everything was closed.”

“When I apologized to you, I had fucking food. Go get food and come back. The pizza place on Simmons is open until five.”

“Colson, please.”

“You can call Door Dash or whoever, but the entry fee is food.” The music started back, Dopeman – lyrics raged from the door, and your mouth dropped.

This fucking asshole had audacity and some fucking nerve, You banged against the door, but this time the music did not stop. He was being serious, a food fucking entry fee. Fuck him! Ten minutes passed, and he did not budge. The music continued, and you swore you could hear actual drums being played inside.

Fine. He wanted food; you’d bring him food. It was hard to strip in the back of a car, but you did. You stripped out of your clothes and grabbed the one pair of heels that never left your car. You called them fuck me heels, but it wasn’t because you were trying to get fucked. They were six inches and incredibly hard to walk in; you hated them. The most said was usually FUCK ME, when you wore them. If Colson wanted to be an ass, you’d level the playing field. You liked putting on a show too. You laid on your horn for a minute, knowing it would get his attention, clicked the headlights to your car, and stepped out into the crisp air of the night. He didn’t have too many neighbors but now was their opportunity if they wanted to see you naked. You stood bare ass in front of your car awaiting the jealous Colson. You knew well to show his face, and like clockwork, he arrived.

“What the fuck are you doing!” He yelled, charging from the house. “Y/N.”

“You said to bring food. Well, come eat.”

“You’re not fucking cute.” Colson snapped as he slid out of his jacket. He quickly wrapped your body in the black leather jacket and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fucking spoiled ass. You could have just went and got the motherfucking pizza.”

“It’s late.”

“I know what time it is,” He hissed. Colson entered the house, eyeing his friends. “Don’t even look at her.” He warned as he carried you up the steps; his hand came down on your ass with each step until you two finally reached his bedroom. Colson tossed you onto the plush black comforter and stood in front of you, “Why are you here?”

“You left your phone.” The line seemed innocent enough, but there was little innocence behind it.

“You broke it.” His confused look makes you laugh; cupping your mouth, he smacks. “Don’t come over here tryna laugh at you throwing shit at me Y/N.”

“I thought-.”

“I know what you thought.” He pointed at you, “So don’t try to sugarcoat it. You thought I was dicking you down and then going back to her. Then you read them messages and realized you were a whole asshole.” He stated matter of fact.

“So, you’re not gonna let me talk.”

“Did you let me talk before you tossed me out? Why are you here anyway? It’s four in the morning. ”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You attempted to kick off the heels, and he grabbed your foot, stopping you from sliding it off.

“That guilty conscience is heavy, huh??” He cracked a smile and shook his head. “Leave them on.”

“You won.” You whispered. “I fucked up,” the omission tumbled from your lips unwillingly.

“Was that an apology?” Colson teased.

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Oh, you gone say that and more.” He laughed. “Sorry, ass apology.”

“Col-,” You giggled, “I’m tired. Can I apologize tomorrow, please?”

He kneeled in front of you, rubbing his hands up your legs, his touch ignited something in you, even if you were sleepy. “Oh and the next day too, shit, I’m never gonna let you live this shit down. So you can apologize all the fuck you want, but you’re not going to sleep right now. I haven’t had you in my bed in months. I wanna fuck you to sleep.”

“ I’m halfway there.” You smiled lazily at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “We have all tomorrow for make-up sex.”

“You the only person that’s doing the making up.” He reminded playfully.

“So you’ve said.”

Sleep found you minutes after you snuggled into his lean frame; you missed sleeping glued to Colson no matter how hot he felt. He nestled into you as well, pulling you against his chest, tracing his long fingers down the line of your back, humming tunes to an unwritten song when he thought you were sleeping. He didn’t sleep much tonight didn’t prove any different as the hues magenta cut across the once dark sky outside the window.

“Morning came fast.” You mumbled.

“It’s been three hours.” He whispered. “Shit, You still tired I can see it in you. You don’t have to get up.” He pulled the cover over your body and sighed. “I gotta be somewhere at eleven.” Colson groaned. “I’m gone cancel that shit.”

“No, do what you said you were going to do. Get some sleep.” You climbed out of bed, pulling drapes closed and bringing darkness back into the room. “It’s no point in missing money.” You said his words back to him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He watched you, his tongue between his teeth. “I really thought you were not coming over here tonight. I was tryna find ways to apologize to you for shit I didn’t do. It’s already fucked up when I have to apologize for this shit I did do.” Colson adjusted his pillow and waited for you to return to the bed.

“I know I fucked up, damn.” The walk of shame was generally when you’d fucked a one-night stand, but right now, it was walking back to the bed to face him. “I get really pissy when it comes to you. Like—I wanna fight.” You cut a smile and sunk back into the bed, this time angling yourself to face him.

“Why fight me? I didn’t send the text?” He pulled you towards him and rolled himself on you. The weight was comfortable and one you’d craved. “Huh?” Colson exhaled before he leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth. He held the small nub between his two teeth, tugging a little before he began to suck.

“You’re gonna be tired.”

“Man fuck that interview.” He whispered before diverting his attention to the other nipple and repeating the same actions. You were already wet for him; one look could get you ready. Eager for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your pussy against his boxers. He could make the foreplay lasts as long as the sex, and you both had things to do later. There was no time for the slow sex; you damn near wanted to be punished – but he wasn’t in that mode.

Colson pushed his boxers down and lifted your waist from the bed, putting you in the perfect angle to take him but instead of slamming into you as you desired, he teased. He stroked the length of his cock down the line of your pussy, soaking himself in you before finding his way to your entrance and stopping.

“Stop playing.”

“I want that apology.” Colson smiled, looking down at you.

Your pussy jumped with anticipation. “I’m sorry.”

“Fake ass apology,” He pushed an inch into you and then pulled out. “Make it real.” He whispered.

You groaned, frustrated, slapping his chest in a tantrum. “I said I was fucking sorry.”

“Mean ass apology--,” he shook his head. “That’s how you wanna play, let’s fucking play.” Colson slammed into you, and your mouth opened in pleasure. His pace was intense, knocking the breath out of you with each stroke, but you didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to cum all over him. “Say that shit as you mean it.”

“I said-,” You scratched down his back halfway, and he pins your hands above your head, thrusting into your harder and faster. “Oh,” Tremors take over, rocketing through your body. “Yes,” You buckled against him. “Yes.”

“Yeah, keep saying yes.” He pulled out of you, slapping three fingers to your clit. “I bet you won’t cum.”

Your eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap to your clit, and the pleasure had faded just a small tinge of pain, and he started to fuck you once more, long strokes, hitting your g-spot each time. “I don’t believe that shit; this pussy is just greedy. You wanna cum, you ain’t sorry.” He whispered.

“I am sorry.” You whined as your body climbed back up to the precipice of a release. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Your swollen clit throbbed, one stroke away from cumming, and he stopped slapping your clit again, bringing pain that made you cry out. “I am sorry.” You cried. “I should not have thrown your phone.” You mewled. “I should have talked to you.” You pleaded. “Believed all that shit you said.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, let me cum.” You pulled at the one hand that had secured both of your wrists. “Please, daddy.” The lustful tone made him smile.

“You can call me daddy all the fuck you want… you ain’t getting what you want yet.” You rolled your hips, coaxing the movement from him, and he shook his head. “Stop being a fucking brat.” He warned. “Just tell me why you’re sorry.”

“Because I want to be with you.” You admitted. “I love you.”

He grinned. “You better mean that shit too.” Colson started back fucking you slow, releasing your hands but making sure he was in control. You flooded with relief feeling him give in to you, gripping your hips to meet his thrusts, all while burying his face in your neck to nip his favorite spots on your body. This is what you had wanted all along, to be with the man who’d somehow drove you insane but simultaneously become an innate piece of your life that brought you a balance you didn’t know you needed. He was, in a way, as your serotonin.

A/N: I know I described my Meg in this fic, but just a lil disclaimer she is not Megan Fox lol I realized that could be confusing.

Taglist: @taytayize123 @ctrlszn @supernaturalvikingwhore @jae-writes-fanfiction @bigsisbria @placeoffreedom @kyla-queen @missdforever @gottatoxicattitude @bang-kim-bap @msreshel @blowmymbackout @titty-teetee @strawberry-skyes @mauvecherie @savageiz @luci-her @littlelovebug98 @babyboy-cody @hellshedevil @daddyavesxx @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf @fangirl199812 @thatonegrl-1 @isyoongi @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @cartoonlover101 @therandomthoughtsofmsparker @bowwowzer @fandomfic-galore @mayaslifeinabox @lasren @szaplsdrop @heavenly1927 @mvrylee @canyoubuymetoast @littlelovebug98

#mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly x black reeader #colson baker #colson baker fics #colson baker x reader #colson x reader #colson baker x black reader #laketa j writes

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jinkicake · 4 years

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Paint For Me

Nishinoya, Tendou, Ushijima with a s/o who is an artist.

Nishinoya Yuu x Reader

Tendou Satori x Reader

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

For Anon who requested this~ I kinda went a little A LOTTA soft on Ushijima’s but.... can you blame me.... Also, I’ve been reading Haikyuu-bu and Tendou’s little manga chapter was sooo cute I had to take inspo from it!!! Anyway, I’m going to try the minecraft hardcore 100 days challenge again and if I die,,, I will pass away on the spot so if I go silent it is minecraft’s fault.

WC- 1,687

~~~

Nishinoya Yuu

Nishinoya would think your artwork is the coolest thing he has ever seen,,,,

He will beg you to draw on his bags or notebooks, he wants you to customize all his stuff because he wants to show you off

Nishinoya would watch you whenever you’re working on something, but then get bored after like five minutes and start going through his phone

He likes being in your presence so even if you work on something for hours, he will lay right beside you with his head in your lap while he naps or plays games

Nishinoya would probably ask you to teach him how to draw stuff like a lion or something,,, you would have art lessons with him. His art is a work in progress...

Please, he is such a big show-off that if you give him something he will proudly go around presenting it to everyone…. Tsukishima is usually the person he always brags to

‘Did (Y/N) make that for you senpai’ ‘They did! How did you know?!’ ‘Well, I know you certainly can’t draw that good’

Cue Nishinoya tackling his favorite first-year and trying to steal his glasses. Yes, Tsukki is his fave first-year

If you ever want to go out to the park or the mountains or the beach to take pictures for inspiration or even do something cute like drawing the sunset, Nishinoya would tag along. Please, he would make it his own little adventure

Nishinoya has his own love for volleyball so he can really appreciate the love you have for art, he finds it super intriguing and it makes him fall in love with you even more~

“Right here!” Nishinoya points to the handle of his bag and you stare confusedly at him.

“You want me to paint on the strap?” You ask and Nishinoya eagerly nods, you squint at it while thumbing the fabric. “I’m not sure if it will work on this material.”

Nishinoya sighs dramatically and you flick his forehead.

“I can draw you something else though, here,” You lean up and kiss the area you had previously hit before digging right into your sketchbook. Your pencil flies across the paper and Nishinoya watches with interested eyes.

That lasts for about thirty seconds.

“Is it done yet?” You glance over your shoulder to see Nishinoya hanging off your bed, a bored expression on his face.

“Yuu, it’s been like two minutes.” You laugh and go back to the sketch you’re working on.

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully.

“Mmm, it’s a no.” Nishinoya sighs at your words, he drags himself off the bed and brings the blanket with him. You jolt slightly when you feel his body press up against yours and you glance behind you to see him curled up against you.

The sun continues to fall from the sky and you diligently work on the paper in front of you. Nishinoya wakes up from his nap with a quiet yawn, the sleepiness still inside of his body. His arms wrap around your waist and he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Are you done yet?” You answer his question with a brief head shake. “Let’s go to sleep do it later,” He moans and you can already feel him falling asleep against you once again. “I want cuddles.”

Tendou Satori

Tendou is that kid in school who always begged you to draw him when he found out you could draw

LOL like this mf will get on his knees ‘pls draw me’ and when you finally ask him what you want to draw he’d be like ‘me fighting a dragon’

Tendou would be very supportive of your art, he would love to sit there and just watch you paint or draw or make sculptures, whatever you do he loves to watch

He will sit there in your room and lay on your floor and just stare, watch every brushstroke you make, you’ll have to physically push him away for space

I feel like when he sees you draw he, himself, will want to draw something as well

Tendou will practice making little stick figures or draw portraits of you

You have to hype him up and put it in your phone case or hang it on your wall because it is too cute

Tendou will make you work with Ushijima to create his manga, he will have the two of you draw the entire thing

He’d love everything you create and will always cherish it like he will definitely have a little place just for all of your artwork

Tendou loves encouraging you in everything that you do,,, your hobbies will somehow also become his

“And then when it gets recognized we will become super famous!” Tendou tells you with excited eyes, his hands tightly gripping your shoulders. “We will get to work together in the future, angel! I get to spend even more time with you!” You laugh softly at his eagerness for the future as you continue to sketch in the tiny boxes.

“That’s the plan, huh?” You ask and Tendou nods, he swings one of his long legs to sit on the bench beside you, moving to practically sit on top of you.

“This is going to get sued for copyright.” Shirabu comments, his eyes narrow towards Tendou, as he reads through the manga ideas that Tendou created.

“I simply took inspiration from other shows, Naruto did it with Hunter Hunter!” Your boyfriend defends and Shirabu simply shakes his head, continuing to thumb through the papers.

“(L/N), I will take the next page,” Ushijima tells you, already reaching for another piece of paper to draw on.

“Woah, you’ve finished already Ushijima? Can I see it?” Ushijima nods and shows you his paper, your eyes widen when you look at his drawings. “This is really good, Ushijima! You’re good at everything!” You compliment and Tendou pouts when he notices your attention is no longer on him.

“I, too, am good at everything.” Your boyfriend tells you, moving his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him.

“If you’re so good then why didn’t you draw it yourself?” Shirabu asks, his eyebrows raised behind his bangs.

“I can’t be the writer and illustrator, Kenjirou!” Tendou defends and you put your hand over his own.

“We believe you Tendou, you’re the most amazing person ever!” Tendou practically melts at your compliment and hides his face in your shoulder.

Ushijima glances up at you, nods his head, then goes back to work.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Let me first say. Ushijima is also kinda artsy,,,, he is the perfect man,,,, we all saw how he drew for Tendou’s manga! It brought Goshiki to tears!!!

He can appreciate all the works that you create because he knows how much effort is put into each piece

Ushijima used to draw a lot when he was a kid and was really interested in it so seeing you do your thing will probably pique his interest again

He might start drawing again, aimlessly, whenever he is bored and it’s all for you~

Ushijima loves when you show him whatever you create, even if you think it is bad, he will always find the beauty in it

He’d probably sit there while you describe what you drew and why, how you did it, stuff like that because he loves to hear you talk

Whenever you two hang out in your respective dorms, Ushijima probably reads magazines while you work on your latest project

He’d probably try to sneak peeks at what you are creating just because he is curious but he doesn’t want to disturb you when you’re in the zone

If you ever draw something for him, Ushijima’s heart would bust the fattest nut, he would be so happy. He would praise you for like ten minutes and then hang it up in his room

Ushijima loves how passionate you are about something that you like and in turn, he wants to support you with it!!! He’d probably buy you supplies as little gifts, even when you don’t ask for it

“Let’s paint the sunset!” You beg Ushijima, your hands cupping his own as you pout up at him. “Please, it’ll be so much fun!”

Ushijima glances down at you and then to the art supplies collected in his room from your daily visits, he really can’t say no, can he?

“Okay.” He responds and you squeal happily before placing a kiss on his cheek and grabbing all the things that you’ll need.

“Here, hold this.” You thrust your bag of supplies into his arms before grabbing a blanket. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

Ushijima follows you quietly, listening to you as you ramble about how excited you are. His heart soars at the happiness you emit at this moment.

“Wow.” Ushijima comments when you open the door, he knew sunsets were pretty but damn, this is something else.

“This is going to be so much fun!” You grab his hand and drag him to the center, placing the blanket down before hopping on it. Already you’re grabbing for the orange and yellow paints. “Don’t you think?”

Ushijima nods and sits down beside you, unconsciously making it a point to rest your legs in his lap, he always has to be touching you.

The sun continues to change colors and you keep up with it to the best of your ability, your canvas no longer the original color. Ushijima’s, however, is still blank. He’s been unable to take his eyes off of you the entire time. Instead of painting the sunset, he finds something better to paint.

When the sun eventually goes down and the two of you are now under the moon, you hide your canvas away from him.

“Let me see yours first before I show you mine!” You bargain and sit up, looking over his shoulder at what he painted. “That’s not the sunset.” Your lips part when you notice what he painted was you. Ushijima glances at you while trying to calm his racing heart.

“I know, I decided to paint something even prettier.”

~ Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah @littleshopoflove @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee

#nishinoya yu x reader #tendou satori x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #nishinoya x reader #tendou x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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1. December 26th, 2016

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.4k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

A/N: welcome to chapter one of THE ONLY EXCEPTION! i’m so flipping excited i could scream!!!!!! this fic is going to be a long boi so buckle up. also thank you to @meetmeinfleetwood for supporting this fic from the start ilysm!!!! xoxo, willa

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N’s dad had been having these Christmas parties for the past five years or so, each time on the 26th of December, each time packed with music industry people and lots of bottles of tequila and red wine. Her first time had been two years ago, and she had found it surprisingly enjoyable—she had expected it to be boring and to want to leave after the first hour. Instead, it was full of people she had known since she was a kid, musicians and producers and her dad’s old A&R guys who she had grown up hanging out with in recording studios and backstage at her dad’s shows. They had come to family dinners before and after her parents’ divorce, and so when she ran into them at the parties it was easy to catch them up on her life and suddenly it was after midnight and the party was emptying out.

This year she had volunteered to help set up. Her dad had rented a massive house out in the hills and it came already decorated, but it was on Y/N to make sure there were chairs set up for the music circle, a massive bar laid out and plenty of glasses ready. Her dad’s friend was making the food, eager to use the opportunity to promote the new restaurant he was opening, so when Y/N opened the door it already smelled like garlic and olive oil, her favorite scents on earth.

“Karl!” She called through the house, shutting the heavy oak door behind her. Her arms were laden with boxes of plastic glasses—her dad was too scared of the guests breaking glass ones—and she wandered into the kitchen. The tall ceilings of the entryway where a massive Christmas tree sat adorned with ornaments gave way to a modern, sleek kitchen. Karl twirled around to greet her, a grin on his face. “Smells delicious in here.”

He set down his spatula and came over, grabbing a box and giving her a kiss on each cheek. “Hello, darling. Are there more in the car?”

She shook her head, unwinding her scarf from her neck and placing it on the counter. Karl had been her father’s college roommate and somehow they’d stayed close over the years, every one of Y/N’s birthdays spent at one of Karl’s restaurants with all of her favorite dishes made special, a birthday cannoli with a candle in it for her to blow out. “This is all of the glasses. Dad told me to get the bar ready—he’s bringing the booze in a bit.”

“Hope there’s a glass of wine in there for the chef,” Karl said and Y/N chuckled—there always was a bottle of Karl’s favorite expensive wine set aside when he did one of these things and he knew it. It was part of the pay, her father always said. “Want to taste test?”

“Always.” Y/N joined Karl at the stove, eagerly tasting the sauce he was cooking. It was a simple sage butter sauce, but Karl always excelled at the most simple dishes. “Delicious, as usual,” she said.

Karl jabbered her ear off about the updates on the restaurant—they’d run into problems finding a good sous chef and he was about to do the job himself if he didn’t find someone soon—while Y/N decided where to set up the bar. Finally, she settled on a high table against the glass wall in the wide hallway between the kitchen and the sprawling dining room, which opened up onto the patio. She tugged open the accordion glass doors and breathed in the cool Los Angeles air, thankful for a relatively cold evening, since she always got overheated at parties like this, where people were crammed into every corner. Her dad seemed to know more people every year. Satisfied with the position of the table, she set out the glasses and paper napkins, before asking Karl if he had an extra cooler he’d brought with. She’d forgotten to ask her dad for one before she had left. She filled it with ice and set it next to the table with a scoop, and grabbed the special shot glasses her father had told her to bring, placing them on the table next to a bouquet of flowers.

Her job done, she wandered through the rest of the house. It was gorgeous—she wondered how her father had found it. If she remembered correctly, he had said something about it being an official venue for music and parties, he’d done a private gig here a few years back and the owners had loved him enough to offer it for this party. It’s not like anyone really had gigs on December 26th anyway. She closed all the doors to the back bedrooms, remembering her father’s request, and set up a coat closet of sorts out of the bedroom closest to the front, before heading to change into her outfit for the evening.

“Y/N!” She was securing her favorite pair of earrings in her ears when she heard her father’s voice through the halls of the house. “Where ya at, sweetheart?”

“One sec, Dad!” She grabbed the hanger she had kept her top on and shoved it into her massive purse, settling it into the back corner of the room for safety. Her father was waiting for her in the kitchen with Karl, also getting a sample of the sauce she had tried earlier.

“Hi you,” her father said when she came in. His salt and pepper hair was balding a bit, but his bright smile was what drew people in, olive skin that tanned easily in the California sun. Y/N had selected his suit for the evening, a maroon red and a black tie, something a bit out of the ordinary for him, but Y/N loved it. “Look gorgeous.”

She hugged her father tightly. She had spent Christmas with her mother, as usual, so this was the first time she’d seen her dad during the holidays. “Not too bad yourself, captain.”

“Ha!” Her father pinched her cheek softly, just as he had when she was a child. “I’ve got your present in the car, come grab it with me?”

“Sure.” They had decided to exchange gifts at the party and Y/N had hers tucked in the back pocket of her jeans—dinner on her at Karl’s new restaurant, something she’d discussed with the owner a few weeks ago. Her father’s car sat in the driveway, trunk open where boxes of alcohol laid waiting to be carried inside. “That my gift?”

“You wish,” her dad answered, and Y/N gave him a pouty look that he just shook his head at. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn’t help but hope it was cash—she needed a new computer and was running a bit short. She knew her dad would help if she asked, but she hated asking him for money.

She took the envelope and opened it, a sheet of paper and something thicker hiding between its folds. She opened the letter and found a homemade coupon of sorts, just as she had done for him.

TWO TICKETS TO ANY SHOW IN LA - NON-REFUNDABLE, FUN REQUIRED!

“Papa,” she said, giving him a beaming smile. “My favorite!” She threw her arms around his neck and he chuckled, hugging her right back.

“Just give me a few weeks heads up, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and looked back down at the letter, eyes running over her dad’s sweet words of love and pride. It was their thing—homemade cards always, never store bought, despite that neither of them could draw. “Thank you.”

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

“Now yours!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his envelope, aptly addressed, Dad, and handed it over. Her father read her card as well, and chuckled at her drawing of them at dinner together.

He kissed her forehead gently. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, squeezing his side. “Now let’s get all this booze out of your car before I drive away with it!” Her dad laughed and followed her to the back of the car, them each grabbing a carton of wine. There had to be enough for over a hundred people, Y/N thought to herself. Who would be new this year?

The party was in full swing, her dad’s favorite music playing softly through the speaker system, people littered all over the house with the alcohol flowing. Karl was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, his food a massive hit, and Y/N couldn’t have been happier for him. She’d caught up with her dad’s friends and people who were essentially her godparents, sharing how her job was going (fine) and her relationship prospects (non-existent), sipping tequila and red wine on rotation.

Y/N leaned against the patio railing overlooking the hills, a glass of tequila on the rocks settled in between her palms. She could hear her father’s voice in the distance calling people to come and start the music, the scrape of chairs and strumming of guitars. It was about time for her to go in, but she lingered, relishing the quiet of the night and the biting air wrapping around her. Since she didn’t play an instrument, despite her father’s attempts, this part of the evening was the part where she just sat back and observed. And also usually got quite drunk since all she had to do was drink and sing along.

“Y/N, right?” She turned around, eyes focusing on the person standing a few feet away. “I’m Harry.”

Harry Styles. How had he ended up here, and how had she not seen him yet? “Nice to meet you,” she answered, standing up straight and taking a sip of her drink. “Not going in to play?”

He shook his head. “Bit nervous, if I’m honest. Lot of talent in that room.”

She cocked her head to the side as he joined her at the railing. “You’re plenty talented,” she told him. It was true. She was a huge fan of his, had been for a while, following his work in One Direction since its inception, and now in the solo career her dad had mentioned. He was recording with some guys out at The Village a few months ago and called her at the end of the day, saying he ran into Harry Styles in the middle of a session doing some solo stuff. Said it sounded good, which she wasn’t surprised by in the slightest.

But Harry just chuckled. “Nah, those people are legends,” he said. She knew who he was talking about, too. One of the Dixie Chicks was there, some guys who had written with John Mayer and Kanye West, a dozen other Grammy-nominated musicians, some record label execs who had practically formed the industry as they knew it today, the A&R people who had found them. It was intimidating, definitely, but for Harry she didn’t think it would be.

“Just people.” She sipped on her drink, studying him. He was in a long black coat, a loose black v-neck silk shirt and red and white plaid pants that tapered at the leg, his cropped curls falling into his face slightly. He also had a tequila on the rocks gripped in his hand, rings adorning every one of his fingers. A skull, a red stone, a silver band, amongst them. “Having fun?”

He smiles at her, thankful for the change of topic. “Loads. Haven’t been at a party like this in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

The breeze passed between them, ruffling his hair a bit. “I don’t know. Just, people who didn’t really give a shit about me, if you know what I mean? Holidays can be a bit much sometimes.”

She nodded as if she understood what it felt like to be a popstar of his fame, which she didn’t, but she could imagine. “Didn’t go home?”

“My mum and sister came here, actually,” he said. “They were craving a respite from the cold English winters.”

“Well, this is definitely a respite,” Y/N said, and Harry chuckled.

Silence stretched between them and Y/N tapped her fingernails against her cup. Maybe it was time to go inside, she thought. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”

His question pulled her out of her head easily. “Brand strategy,” she answered, thankful for a comfortable topic. “I work mostly with fashion and product companies, preferably sustainable ones.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.” She did. She loved her work—she’d gone to school for it and thrown herself into it after school, loving pitching projects for clients and helping them understand their core purpose and how they could grow and evolve most authentically. “It was that or books, but I decided this was a bit more profitable. Also wasn’t too keen on living in New York.”

Harry nodded, twirling his glass in his hands. She took the opportunity to run her eyes across his face—he was gorgeous in this way that you weren’t sure was real. It was interesting to see how much he’d grown up. At 22, his cheekbones were cut and his jaw defined, his former long locks he had recently cut and Y/N liked these more, she decided. “What are your favorite writers?” He asked, pulling Y/N back into the conversation.

“That’s like asking which one of your children is your favorite,” she joked, and he chuckled, the sound music to Y/N’s ears. “Dunno, really. I read so much it’s hard to choose, you know? Reading a Louise Erdrich book right now that’s absolutely stellar. The Round House—you should give it a go if you’ve got the time.”

He pulled out his phone and she watched him type in the name to his Notes app, the action making her smile. “Been looking for a new book,” he said. “Just been reading The New Yorker and my mum about took my head off for not reading enough.” They both laughed, the sound filling the night air.

“Harry!” A man was standing in the doorway to the patio, a guitar in hand. “Come sing, mate.”

Harry glanced back at Y/N. “Coming?”

Y/N nodded and followed him inside, refilling her glass on the way. Harry handed her his, and she did the same, giving them both another glass of tequila to sip on while they listened to the circle of musicians. Someone had decided to do some Christmas tunes she Y/N smiled when she heard her father’s voice—he’d made it a bit country, just like he loved to do with popular songs. He’d grown up on a steady diet of folk music and country, just as Y/N had, and he always joked it was in his blood. Harry took a seat next to his friend who Y/N didn’t recognize—probably some producer her dad had met recently, maybe one of the guys from The Village if that was how they’d connected, and Y/N grabbed the seat her dad had saved for her next to him.

She joined in immediately, knowing this rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy” by heart, since it was the same one he had made up when Y/N was eight or nine. Karl was in the circle too, a plate of food in his hands and his bottle of red wine on the ground, and he gave her a warm smile. This was her favorite part of the night—feeling a part of something her father loved so dearly. When he gave her a kiss to her temple and introduced her to the group, she couldn’t help but find Harry’s eyes, his irises twinkling back at her under the lights.

At one o’clock, people finally began filtering out of the party, and Harry decided it was probably time for him to head. Jeff, who had invited him to come with, had already left, exhausted from the holidays with family, but Harry had stayed, hoping to talk to Y/N for a little while longer. He had unfortunately failed to catch her, though, the music running long and after it had wrapped up people had tugged her in for hugs and conversation. Despite knowing who she was through her father, he was still in awe of how intimately she knew all of these people. He overheard snippets of her conversations, asking about children and partners, parents who had cancer and career-defining moments she’d missed out on because of work. Harry was in this world too, but many of the people at this party were a bit older than his usual set—they belonged to the group of his heroes, rather than necessarily people he felt were his peers. He was still getting his solo career together, still only a boyband member in their eyes. He tried not to feel less than, but sometimes it was hard when you were sat next to Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks with utterly nothing to say but awe-inspired ramblings.

Finally, Y/N was alone, the older couple she was talking to having left for the door, and Harry seized the opportunity. “Y/N,” he said, and her head popped up from her phone to look at him. Her dark brown hair was soft against her skin, and he eagerly wondered what it felt like against his skin, brown eyes that searched his soul. “I loved talking to you earlier.”

She smiled and Harry loved it when she did. Lit up the whole room, just about. “Me too. Glad you came—with Jeff, yeah?”

He nodded. “He introduced me to your dad when we were at The Village.” Y/N nodded as well, obviously having figured out the story. “I—I was wondering, would you want to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to chat more, get to know you.” He restrained the urge to bounce on his heels, nervous in front of her. He felt like a kid asking out his crush, but that’s what this was, a crush. Even if it came to nothing, she was kind, interesting, and fit into the world he revolved in. It wasn’t the most important thing, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Oh,” she said, tone somber. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t date musicians. Get home safe, yeah?” She turned away from him, feet carrying her back into the living room, presumably finding her father.

What? She didn’t date musicians? “I’m sorry—what?”

Y/N turned back to look at him. “I just don’t. Bit of a rule.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Don’t feel the need to explain it. Bye, Harry.” Then, she walked away and Harry was left in shock. The abrupt change in tone was like whiplash—she had seemed so interested, involved in their conversation, only to tell him she didn’t date musicians? What the fuck kind of rule was that?

He huffed and tugged out his phone to tell his driver he was ready, and went outside, leaving behind Y/N and her confusing rule. But this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her, he decided. He wanted to know why she had this rule, this stupid rule that was stopping her from getting to know him. It wasn’t like he even asked her to date him, just to get coffee for Pete’s sake. Harry sat down in the car and pulled out his phone, composing a text to Jeff.

Could I write with Peter? Seemed like a great guy, really talented. Maybe if she got to Y/N’s dad, he could earn some brownie points. Maybe then she’d bend her rules for him, because despite their short conversation, Harry was intrigued.

Definitely, Jeff replied. I’ll text him tomorrow.

Harry closed his phone and smiled. Hopefully this worked, because Harry was dying to know more about this rule of hers.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed when she pulled into her dad’s driveway. There was another car sat in the drive, a black 4-door SUV she’d never seen before, the windows tinted so she couldn’t see in. It reminded her of those cars the FBI drives in crime dramas, which obviously led her to a part of her brain that was not necessarily a hopeful place. She scrambled to grab her bag from work and her keys, launching herself from her car and towards her dad’s door.

“Dad!” She called into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. “Whose car is in the drive? Didn’t tell me we’d be having company!” Gripping the wall for balance she toed off her shoes and set her bag on the floor next to the door, shrugging off her coat and setting it on a hook. “Dad?”

“He’s in the toilet.”

Her head whipped around and found Harry Styles standing in her hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. As much as she had planned to forget about him after the party, never really expecting to see him again, she hadn’t been able to. And now he was in her house, hair pushed back from his face, a grin painted on his lips. It was irritating how gorgeous he was. “The fuck are you doing here?”

A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck and for a second Y/N regretted being quite so aggressive. “‘M writing with your dad,” he explained. “Guess he didn’t tell you.”

“No,” she answered. She brushed past him into the living room where, as Harry had said, it was obvious they had been writing. Her dad’s treasured old Gibson guitar leaning against his favorite armchair where he’d set it, computers out with GarageBand up for recording demos, papers with scribbles strewn across the coffee table. “Good session?” She decided that there was no way he was here just to pursue her—he was there for professional reasons, after all. Her dad and Harry must’ve hit it off at the party last week. There was also the fact that her dad was a really fucking good songwriter, so of course Harry would want to work with him. Ever since he’d stopped touring, her dad had started doing mainly writing, his songs appearing on records from everyone from up-and-coming artists the label found him to John Legend.

Harry just nodded. Her eyes drifted to his own guitar, a soft brown wood that had obviously seen some heavy use and travel. She recognized it from her dad’s own guitars that he used to take on the road with him, the nicks and faded wood at the base of the bridge.

“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice fell through the silence of the room as he re-entered. He was wearing his favorite old UCLA shirt, where she’d just graduated from not too long ago. “Home earlier than usual. Was going to give you a heads up about this one,” he pointed to Harry then, “but I see you’ve already found out.”

Her eyes drifted to Harry, who stood awkwardly next to the couch, unsure if he should sit or stand. “Finished my projects early and didn’t have any meetings, so thought I’d get out early and surprise you.”

“Well,” her father said, giving her a quick hug, “glad you did. I’m getting hungry, how about you?” She nodded, she was always ravenous after work. “Harry, would you want to stay for dinner?”

No, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to sit at a table with a guy she’d rejected and her father and eat an awkward dinner on a Friday night. She just wanted a massive glass of red wine, her delicious romance novel from her bedside table, and maybe lighting a fire in the pit in the backyard.

Instead, Harry said, “Sure. Don’t want to impose though.”

“Nonsense! Y/N why don’t you go change and Harry and I can tidy up from working. We were about done anyway.” Her dad kissed the top of her head sweetly and she just did as he said, Harry a forgotten thought behind her as she went to her room upstairs.

It was her childhood bedroom which she had been residing in for a month now. How her landlord could put her out for this long was beyond her, but she hadn’t had the energy to fight it—plus, it was an opportunity to spend some quality time with her workaholic father. So she was spending her evenings in her light blue colored room, sleeping between her soft pink sheets, and picking her work clothes that butted up against remnants from high school she’d left behind as memories. Y/N pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt that probably belonged to an ex-fling from college—Daniel maybe? Y/N couldn’t remember. Slipping on a pair of socks to keep her feet warm from the tile floors of the kitchen, she left her room, tugging her door shut so if Harry went exploring he wouldn’t stumble into her room.

Downstairs, Harry was sat at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and a smile on his face, deep in conversation with her dad about Fleetwood Mac’s chord progressions. A glass of red was waiting for her on the counter and she picked it up, wandering over to where her dad was cooking

“Whatcha making?” She asked, peeking into the pot.

“Pasta,” he replied. “Now stop being a nosy Nelly and talk to our guest while I try to focus on not burning the pasta.”

“Dad you haven’t even put it in yet.”

Her dad shooed her from the stove and she chuckled, backing away. “Get out of here, ya pest.”

She turned to Harry, realizing her dad was actively trying to get them to hang out. He was so annoying sometimes. “How do you feel about a fire?”

“Positively,” he answered and she led him outside into her backyard.

It was chilly out, but nothing too bad. She set her glass on the table and went over to the stack of wood her dad kept against the fence, picking up some logs and carrying them over to the fire pit they’d had for years. At first it was so Y/N could roast marshmallows at home, her father trying to do anything to get her to come over to his house more after the divorce, and as time had gone on it had become her favorite place in the whole house. When her dad was out of town and she came over to check up on the house in high school, she’d bring her weed and smoke out here under the stars.

Harry sidled up next to her and picked up a few logs, following her to the fire pit. “This is cool,” he said, words breaking their silence.

Y/N dropped the logs into the fire and looked up at him. “Favorite part of the whole house.” A box of matches sat next to the door and she grabbed them, as well as some kindling, and brought it over to the logs, setting the kindling under the logs before lighting them. The fire leaped up, the wood nice and dry from the lack of rain recently. “So, who got in touch with who?”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

She settled into one of the chairs set by the fire, wine tucked between her fingers. “The writing. You or my dad?”

“Oh,” he answered, joining her in the chair next to her. “Me, actually. Through Jeff.”

As expected. “And?”

“He’s really good,” Harry said, to which Y/N chuckled.

“That he is.”

“What was it like growing up with him as your dad?” He asked, breaking the silence between them.

Y/N shifted in her chair. She’d been asked this question so many times over the years, but it still was hard to answer. “Hard, if I’m being honest,” she told him, truth surprising her. But she had a feeling Harry would get it to a certain extent. He was a hugely popular star, after all. She’d heard rumors that he was a part of a movie coming out this year, something historical. “Like, my parents are divorced, which I assume you know.” He nodded, probably having figured it out by now. “And with my dad’s tour schedule when I was in school, I didn’t see him all that much, especially in elementary and middle school. He was gone all the time, even missed my birthday a couple times because of tour dates, so I just didn’t really know him that well, I guess. Fuck, sorry, this is a lot,” she breathed out, realizing she was rambling. Harry was just surprisingly easy to talk to, his eyes steady on her, intently listening to her every word. Boys didn’t usually listen to her like this.

“S’fine,” he replied. “When did it change, if you don’t mind me asking? Seem so close now.”

The fire, having grown by now, crackled in front of them. “Late high school, but mainly when I was in college. My mom moved to San Francisco for a job and I went to UCLA, so my dad was closest. Came over to do my laundry sometimes, have a home cooked meal, he’d take me to dinner, that stuff. Came to football games with me, sometimes, which he always tried to be interested in but never succeeded.” Harry chuckled at that and Y/N smiled at the sound. Harry was obnoxiously pretty. Like, impossibly pretty in this way where you couldn’t help but look at him again to make sure that yes, he was a real person. And it was really fucking distracting. “His touring kind of stopped when I went into college too,” she added, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Started writing mainly, putting out music only when it suited him. He’s a lot happier now, I think.”

“That’s good,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m glad you guys were able to have that kind of relationship, even if it was later.”

Y/N blinked at him, his words so kind and honest. “Me too.”

“Always been one of my fears, if I’m being honest,” he said, words soft in the cool night air. Sun was starting to set and it was getting dark around them, the light of the fire putting an orange ember to his face. “About having kids with my career, you know? I want to be a dad, but it’s like…how do I do that while being gone all the time?” His honesty shocked her, but then again Harry Styles seemed to be excelling at that in every regard. “Sorry, that’s a lot to unload on you.”

“No it isn’t,” she reassured him. “Just told you about all my daddy issues, yeah?” He chuckled, and it lightened the mood just enough. “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his wine and she did the same. It was her favorite, the one her dad bought multiple of whenever she came to stay. Even though they’d gotten closer over the years, his desire to make his house perfect for her never seemed to fade. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“The rule—I—why is that?”

Well, fuck. This was the exact conversation she didn’t want to have, the one she was hoping he wouldn’t bring up. “It’s actually related to what you were just saying,” she said slowly. He’d get it after everything she’d explained and the fears he shared, right? “I don’t date musicians because they’re always gone.”

Harry was quiet, absorbing her answer. It was true, they always were gone—she had every right to her rule, she told herself. She didn’t want a repeat of what her parents had experienced, what she’d experienced. Her dad’s job had ruined everything in their family, ripping her parents apart, keeping him away from her for more of the year than he was home. She didn’t want the same thing for her kids. “That’s a pretty broad stroke, isn’t it?” Harry said though, pushing back against her. “Like all musicians. Kinda a generalization ‘bout us.”

“You said it yourself,” she said, leaning forward in her chair and resting her elbows on her thighs. “You’re gone all the time. How do you build a life with someone who isn’t there half the time?”

“Devil’s advocate,” Harry said, setting his wine on the arm of his chair, “but hypothetically you’re dating someone who tours all the time. But they make you a priority, coming home and seeing you, putting your relationship first. That wouldn’t matter? You wouldn’t even take the chance that it could work out okay?”

This time it was Y/N who was quiet. “I mean, musicians only have so much control over their schedules,” she said, remembering the excuses her dad used to tell her. “Plus, it’s not the relationship that’s the problem. It’s the part when you get to marriage and kids.”

“…So it’s better to just avoid the whole thing entirely?”

Y/N nodded, her logic laid out in front of her. She’d never had to do this before—most times, guys just took her at her word and dropped it all together. Harry pushed though, wanting to understand in a way the others didn’t care enough to do. “It’s safer.”

“But then you miss out on the opportunity to fall in love with someone,” Harry says, his words like rocks in her stomach. “And what if that person was a musician?”

Y/N had a feeling they were no longer talking in hypotheticals. “We can fall in love with tons of different people.”

“No soulmates and shit for you, then?” She shook her head. She didn’t believe in all that crap, never had. Relationships were about work, effort, time. The person was important, but the life that person led mattered more to her. How much they’d prioritize the relationship, the kind of life they wanted to build. “That’s kind of depressing,” Harry said.

The fire crackled and popped. “I don’t think so. It’s…practical.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be practical, Y/N.”

Y/N found herself speechless. She didn’t have an answer for him. She’d never been in love before, that was for sure. Hadn’t found that kind of love that people like Harry write songs about and she’d often found herself wondering when it was going to happen for her. There just hadn’t been any guys that were right for her yet.

“Y/N! Harry!” She turned and her dad was in the doorway, pasta sauce splattered on his shirt. He’d always been a messy cook. “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N took one last look at Harry before grabbing her wine and heading inside, Harry following at her heels.

After dinner, Harry decided this was his last chance at Y/N. He couldn’t exactly use the same excuse twice and after understanding her rule, he was determined to be the exception. He helped Y/N clear the plates while her dad settled in at the TV in the other room, telling them it was his time to watch the nightly news and they could clean up since he had cooked. Harry had missed being in a home like this, the kind where he got told to clean up from dinner and there was calm and normal conversation at the table, Y/N talking about her day at work and Harry sharing about his activities from his mum’s visit. It brought him a kind of peace he didn’t know he needed.

The plate clattered on the counter as he set it down, Y/N turning, her hands soapy with the water from the dishes. “Gonna break our dishes,” she said with a snort. “Be careful, please.”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. He’d cleared the table, so he grabbed a dish rag from the peg and joined Y/N at the sink, taking the clean dishes from the rack and drying them, stacking them on the counter since he didn’t know where they belonged in the cabinets.

They worked in silence, the only sound her dad’s TV from the other room. He could hear Rachel Maddow’s show on NBC, the same one he liked to watch, learning from her commentary on American politics that he was still trying to wrap his brain around.

“Y/N,” he said when they’d finished the dishes. “I promise I heard everything you said earlier.” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes, trying to figure out where he was going with this. Harry tried to pick his words delicately, wanting to make sure she knew he did hear her, he was just entranced by her and couldn’t give her up. “But what is the likelihood you would be willing to give it a shot? With me?”

She took the dish towel from his hands and dried her own, considering his words. The waiting was killing him, but he didn’t want to rush her. He knew what her worries were and he was asking her to put them aside.

“We’ll take it slow,” he told her, stumbling over the words. “Promise. You set the pace, you decide about commitments. I just…” Can’t stop thinking about you.

But then Y/N surprised him by saying, “I know. I feel that way too.” His eyes widened, not believing the words from her mouth. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said slowly. “Better make the date good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask again unless you’d like me to change my mind.”

“Can I get your number then?” She nodded and read it off, Harry typing the numbers into his phone next to her name. Then Harry shut up and just smiled at her, following her like a puppy dog into the other room where her dad sat watching TV. She curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket her dad had so it would cover part of her and his heart softened at how sweet she looked. He loved seeing her like this, at home, comfortable in her space. “I’m going to head out,” he said. “Thank you so much for dinner, Peter.”

Y/N’s dad turned from the TV and gave him a wide smile. “Of course, Harry. You’re welcome anytime—wouldn’t want you to get lonely out here!”

His eyes drifted to Y/N and he knew that with her around, there was never anyway he could be lonely.

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NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 4TH @ NOON CST

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

Heat Waves

weed dealer!mgg x reader

masterlist | requests

word count: 5.5k | warnings: 18+ content! drugs and alcohol mentions and usage. no smut but partying!

summary: your brother has a new roommate, and fuck, you might be in love with him?

song inspo : heat waves - glass animals

an: this gif is how i imagine him in this fic like w glasses but way less nerdy ahahha ok well whatever idk if im gonna continue this or just leave it as is lmk what yall think ok byeee

You stumbled up the steps of the subway, the heavy cardboard box you were holding slipping out of your hands as you made your way above ground. You tried to adjust your grip on it and almost fell backwards, shaking your head in frustration. The box was filled with all the random shit your brother had left at your place over the past few months as he was trying to find a place to live, sleeping on different couches of random friends. It was almost all useless stuff, which made the fact that you had to hand deliver it all to him even more frustrating.

You walked tirelessly down the street, gripping harshly on to the box. You pushed your way through people, not caring at all that you probably looked insane as you yelled for people to move so you could just get there and fucking put this box down. You finally came upon the building, sighing with relief as you set the box on the steps and rang the buzzer.

“I’m here,” you groaned into the speaker, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Hello!” A cheery voice responded over the intercom. A voice that was definitely not your brothers. “Who exactly is here?”

“Oh, sorry- I might have the wrong apartment. Is this 4B?”

“Yeah! You must be Danny’s sister. Come on up.” The door buzzed loudly as it unlocked, and you grabbed onto the handle quickly, lugging in the box behind you. You were extremely grateful when you saw the elevator, quietly thanking the universe that you didn’t have to walk up four flights of stairs with this thousand pound box.

You took the elevator up to the fourth floor, your body exhausted as you leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. You closed your eyes, hoping that maybe a five second nap could give you your energy back. But unfortunately, the elevator stopped and opened its doors, urging you to once again pick up the box and be on your way. You dropped your head to the floor and sighed, using the last of your energy to pick up the box and walk down the long hallway to apartment 4B.

Thankfully the apartment wasn’t too far from the elevator, and you only had a short walk until you came upon the door of his new place. You noticed a welcome mat on the floor that read ‘Bachelor Pad’, and you rolled your eyes at the pure douchiness of the thing. God, your brother was a prick. But, nevertheless, you loved him, he was family. Despite being one of the most annoying people you’d ever met.

You knocked slowly on the door, excited to throw the box into someone else’s arms and run home. It was your day off from work, and all you wanted was to throw on some sweats, eat frozen mac and cheese and watch Jeopardy until you fell asleep on the couch. The perfect day.

The door swung open, and the man who was definitely not your brother stood on the other side, a large smile plastered across his picture perfect face. His messy curls hung across his face, and he pushed them away before reaching out to you to grab the box.

“Let me get that for you,” he said quietly, literally lifting the weight off your shoulders as he grabbed it effortlessly. The muscles in his arms protruded as he set the box down on an old dining table they had set up in the kitchen, a cluster of mismatched chairs along with it.

“Thanks,” you said back, your eyes still trailing over his body, watching him closely. “Is, uh, is my brother here?” You stuttered to get your words out, your eyes still locked on the model-like man in front of you.

“No, he just ran out actually. Went to pick up a couch or something.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. He told me he would be here!” You shook your head in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest, which pushed out your cleavage slightly. You caught the man glancing at your breasts, and felt your heart start beating a bit faster. He wasn’t even trying to the fact that he was staring at you. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. He really was supposed to be here to get this.”

“It’s not a problem at all. He told me you’d be stopping by. I’m Matt, by the way. I’m sure he’s told you about me.” He stuck out his hand, and you reached back and grabbed it. His hands were soft, but the tips of his fingers stained black, the familiar site of a smoker. The air hung the smell of stale pot smoke, so it was pretty easy to put together that he was a heavy weed guy.

“I’m (Y/N). And, uh, no, actually. He hasn’t told me, like anything about you. Just that he knows you from work and you’re a ‘pretty decent guy’,” you laughed, letting go of his hand but desperately wanting to hold on to it forever. You didn’t really understand why, but something about his touch was so comforting, it made you feel like coming home after a long day.

“Uh, I was just about to smoke a bowl actually, if you’d like to join. Your brother told me you smoke,” Matt said, motioning to the coffee table covered in various paraphernalia.

“I don’t make a habit of smoking with strangers,” you responded sharply, realizing immediately how bitchy you must’ve sounded and wishing you could take it back. You scrunched your face a bit, cringing as you replayed the sentence over and over in your head.

“But I’m not a stranger! I’m Matt! Besides, this is fantastic stuff- I just got it from my guy the other day, knocks your socks off,” he giggled, his eyes wide as he wanted to desperately for you to say yes.

“Well, I guess I really can’t say no to free weed,” you shrugged, following him over to the old couch they had set up in their under furnished living room. It was exactly how you pictured your brothers apartment to look- disappointing and not at all coordinated.

“Sorry about the place, we’re trying to make it look nice but we’re not exactly interior decorators.” He shook his head as he looked around the room, before picking up his freshly packed bowl and lighting it.

“Yeah, it looks pretty frat-housey in here. I would expect more from you, but not from my brother,” you giggled, taking the glass pipe from Matt’s hands and enjoying it yourself.

“Why me?”

“Well... I don’t know...” you stuttered, shaking your head and trying to pull together a sentence. “You just seem to have... more style, I guess. Seem more put together.”

“I appreciate that. I do try extremely hard to not look like a douche.” He smiled kindly at you, his eyes shining with the reflection of the lighter as the two of you continued to share the bowl.

You made small talk for a bit, feeling the calm of the marijuana taking over your body. The old couch suddenly became much more comfortable as you sunk back into it, staring at the patterns on the ceiling. Matt was talking quietly behind you, trying to tell some story about him and your brother; but you were only half listening, losing yourself in your own thoughts of him. Thinking about the softness of his lips as he inhaled and exhaled, watching his hands flex tireless to work the lighter, noticing how his body seemed to relax more and more with each hit.

He tilted his head towards you, flicking the lighter with his thumb and escaping in the flame. He had lost himself in it, a comfortable silence coming down over the room. You watched the flame, too, trying to see whatever beauty he saw in it- but you weren’t feeling anything, and getting pretty antsy. You turned away from him, staring into the kitchen and hoping to see something edible from this distance. You weren’t sure what kind of food two men like this would bring into their home, but you were sure it was nothing good. Your stomach grumbled at the thought of something to eat, and you fell back into the couch with a groan.

“You okay?” Matt whispered, turning his face towards you and staring at your eyes.

“Mhmm,” you responded, not having the energy to respond at the moment.

“You are extremely beautiful,” he mumbled, his eyes exploring your face, finding themselves locked on your lips no matter how hard he tried to look away.

“What?” You snickered, replaying the words in your head, feeling your heart pounding out of your chest.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be weird. It’s just shocking to me how beautiful you are. Like a piece of art; I can’t take my eyes away.”

“You’re joking.” You rolled your eyes at him and pushed his arm playfully, trying to hide the obvious delight in your face.

“Why do you think I’m joking?”

“I just don’t hear that very often.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” He frowned, looking down at his hands and playing with his over bitten nails.

“Sorry, I mean, I appreciate it of course. Fuck, sorry, I get so awkward when I’m high. Not very good at holding conversations.”

“Well, now that we’re friends I’ll make sure to remind you how beautiful you are as often as I can.” Matt placed his hand on yours lightly, at first only as a friendly touch, but feeling a comfort in the embrace. His thumb moved slowly, the small movement between your flesh overwhelming you with desire. Your eyes were locked on his, an intoxicating silence overcoming the room. You opened your mouth to speak, not sure exactly what to say, but the sound of the door unlocking breaking you from your daze. You pulled your hand away from his quickly and jumped off the couch, watching as the door opened and your brother walked in.

“Heyo!” Danny, your brother yelled, greeting the two of you with a large smile. “I see you’ve met my sister!”

“Yes, uh, yeah. We were just chatting,” Matt said defensively, trying to avoid eye contact with you.

“I was just waiting for you to get back. That’s all.” You responded, nodding your head quickly.

“How sweet! Just in time to help me get the new couch up!”

“Absolutely not. I brought your box, that's all the free labor you are getting out of me.” You laughed awkwardly, looking back at Matt, who was still avoiding you.

“Alright, whatever, but don’t ever ask me for anything ever again.” Danny rolled his eyes, throwing his phone down on the counter and grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

“Well, I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow night for my party?” You asked, heading towards the door.

“Oh, right! I almost forgot. Is it cool if I bring Matt?”

You looked at Matt, who finally looked back at you, and you nodded slowly.

“Of course. I’ll see you guys then.” You smiled at the two of them, gave a small wave and left, closing the door loudly behind you. Fuck. What the fuck was that? Was he flirting with you? Or was he just high? You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall, trying to compose yourself before heading home.

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

There was nothing that stressed you out more than when your roommate threw her chaotic ‘get togethers’ every other Friday at your place. It was always an exhausting mess, and now you had to think about Matt coming along as well. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your weird intimate moment together, and the thought of seeing him again made your stomach do backflips.

There was something about him that made you feel so comfortable, so at home. But he’s friends with your brother... he has to be a scumbag. Right? And what kind of guy just walks around telling random girls they’re beautiful. He was definitely just trying to sleep with you. Which of course you wanted to sleep with him too, obviously. But he was the kind of guy that you could find yourself falling for, and getting hurt, badly. He was the kind of guy that would break your heart. You could tell. And you could not let him in, no matter how much you wanted to.

Tonight has to be all about ignoring him. You cannot let him be alone with you, because the moment he’s alone with you and starts calling you beautiful again with his pretty face and intoxicating voice and touching your hand... you were playing a dangerous game. You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, trying to push the thoughts of him out of your head when you were interrupted.

“What are you doing? I told you to get the cups set out like 20 minutes ago!” Your roommate rolled her eyes, pushing you to the side and laying out the cups herself.

“Sorry, Callie. Just a bit distracted today.”

“I can tell. What’s going on with you? You were weird all night last night.”

“Just tired I guess. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go set the drinks out.” You walked away quickly, hoping she would be too focused on her party planning to ask any more questions. Whenever you told her about a new guy, she was stupidly optimistic. And you really didn’t need her telling you to go for it when your brain was giving you the exact opposite advice. She just shrugged, turned around and went back to mindlessly setting up. You felt relief wash over you as she looked away, and you could once again get lost in your own thoughts and anxieties.

You mindlessly laid cups and other dumb decorations out, Matt’s face continuously crossing your mind. You found yourself smiling every time you played his words over in your head. His voice like silk as it wrapped around your body, warmth flowing through you as his lips whispered ‘You are extremely beautiful’ over and over again. You felt your heart racing, and you took a deep breath as you were brought back into reality by the vibration of your phone in your pocket.

You grabbed it, only to see you had multiple missed calls from your brother. ‘Fuck’, you thought. He knew, he somehow knew about your little flirt session with Matt. You shook your head in distress, preparing for the oncoming conversation as you reluctantly pressed the answer button and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut to bear the impending rage from your brother.

“Jesus, I've called you like 18 times? What’s your deal?” He laughed, his voice full of his normal light and cheery tone. You took a sigh of relief after you realized he didn’t know a thing.

“Sorry, uh, helping Callie set everything up. Must’ve put my phone down and forgot it somewhere.”

“Well I need to know what liquor and illegal substances you’d like me to bring tonight- I’ve only got like an hour!” He said urgently.

“Uh, honestly whatever you want. We’ve got a few bottles here but nothing you’d like, probably.”

“You sound distracted, you all good?” You could head the concern in his voice, and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“Everyone keeps asking me that today and it’s pretty annoying. I’m just trying to set up a party I don’t really want to be involved in and everyone keeps bothering me!”

“Jesus, grumpy pants. Looks like someone needs a nap... or a blunt.” Danny laughed quietly, and you bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling at him again.

“Sorry. On edge today. Don’t want to talk about it.”

“No worries. I’ll see you later, okay? Try and cheer up a bit by then, I’d like to make a good impression on Matt.” Danny hung up quickly after that, and the word ‘Matt” kept ringing in your head over and over like a church bell. You put your phone down on the table and looked up at Callie, who was adjusting your work on the cups table.

“I need a drink,” you groaned.

“A little pregame shot, I love it!” She squealed, prancing over to the bottles and pouring shots for the two of you. You downed yours quickly, letting the liquor burn through your insides. You were hoping, after enough of it, it would burn through any thoughts you had of him.

After another shot, the next hour before the guests arrived flew by. Callie put on some music and you danced your worries away, deciding which outfit to wear by rampaging through your closet. You kept fighting the urge to look as sexy as possible, one half of you wanting Matt’s jaw to drop as soon as he saw you, and the other half wanting him to ignore you all night. You couldn’t resist the temptation, though, and chose an extremely well fitting and low cut dress that accentuated all of your best features perfectly.

“God, you are literally the perfect specimen,” Callie giggled as you walked out of your room to show off. “Who the fuck are you trying to impress?”

“No one!” You responded, raising your eyes at her. “Can’t I just look good for myself?”

“Not that good. That is for someone. I know you.” You were saved by the ringing of your doorbell, and you smiled, relieved.

“Whatever you say. Go welcome your guests,” you motioned to the door. Callie just rolled her eyes and walked gleefully over to the entryway to welcome your first partygoers.

A few more groups of people rolled in, and you paid no attention as you were too busy making yourself another strong drink. You poured sloppily into the cup, giggling as splashes of soda and vodka spilled down the sides of your cup.

“You better watch out there, pretty girl. Making quite a mess.”

You turned around quickly, Matt’s voice making you jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled brightly, his perfect face begging to be touched, adored, kissed. You looked at every part of him, every beautiful part of him, stuttering to get words out.

“No... you’re... it’s okay. Sorry.” You put the bottle back down on the table and picked up your cup, taking a large swig, and nearly gagging on the taste of the strong liquor.

“Can I get in there and make a drink?” His eyes travelled up and down your body, his lips slightly pursing at the sight of you. You felt your heart pounding through your chest and he eyed you. His eyes finally locked on yours, his gaze paralyzing, your body refusing to move.

“Of course. We have lots of options. Anything you want,” you managed to squeak out, still unable to draw yourself away from his gaze. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and he smiled slightly, reaching his hand out to grab a bottle. For a split second you thought he was reaching out to touch you, and when you thought about the feeling of his skin on yours, you felt yourself melt. Desire and craving washed over your body in a wave that you couldn’t push away even if you tried.

“Thank you. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).” He finally looked away, and began walking back towards the small group of people who had gathered in your living room, including Callie and your brother. You felt relief as you were able to breath again, your body relaxing as he got farther and farther away. You waited a few moments before following him to join the rest of your friends.

“Ah, there you are, my sister!” Danny yelled, wrapping you in his arms so abruptly that you almost spilled your drink everywhere.

“Hey bud!” You hugged him back, grateful to have someone here to take your mind off of Matt.

“We were just about to play a fun little ice breaker game, since Matt is new to the group and all,” Danny motioned to Matt, who smiled and waved awkwardly as everyone stared at him.

“An ice breaker, really? What is this, college orientation?” You joked, taking another swig of your intensely strong drink.

“Shut up. Don’t be such an ass.” Danny rolled his eyes and pointed to an empty seat, and you realized it wasn’t worth fighting him. He loved to play stupid little games like this, that everyone else dreaded. But you have to admit, everyone always ended up having fun at the end of the day.

“What’s the game, Danny boy?” Callie cooed, getting comfy on the couch between a few of your other friends. She always had the biggest crush on him, although you forbid her from ever getting near him. It wasn’t her, you loved her and would love it even more if she was your sister. But he was such a dick, you knew he would break her heart, and you would not stand for that.

“Easy, everyone shares one surprising fact about themselves.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I have any,” someone moaned, and Danny just laughed.

“No worries, plenty of time to think. I can start. Uh.... I slept with my professors wife in college as revenge for him giving me a C- on my final.” Danny smiled proudly and took a long swig of beer. The group around you just groaned in disgust and laughed, but you knew the story. That wasn’t the entirety of it at all, in fact, Danny had fallen desperately in love with this woman and she crushed his heart by choosing her husband over him. But he would never tell all of that, because that doesn’t sound cool. Apparently you weren’t the only one who knew the truth, though, because Matt instinctively turned to you and looked at you in a way that read, ‘This guy is so full of shit.’ Apparently Matt and your brother were closer than you though, if he told him his biggest secret.

“Hmm, Matt, I think you should be next. Only fair since you’re the new guy.” Danny turned to Matt with an excited face, like a little kid on christmas.

“Oh man, alright. Well, I guess one thing that people have a hard time believing about me is that I am a bit of a hopeless romantic. I believe in soul mates, love at first sight. All of that bullshit. I’m a sucker for it.” Matt looked right at you as the words spilled out of his mouth, not even trying to hide the obviousness of what he was trying to say. You tried your best to look away from him, but you couldn’t pretend his words weren’t entrapping you.

“That’s super corny, bro,” Danny laughed, pushing Matt slightly. He just shrugged, and took a sip of vodka straight from the bottle. Danny bothered a few more people about their secrets, and you listened intently to stories about shoplifting and coke addictions, trying to avoid his obvious gaze. You knew he was staring at you, his eyes burning holes in your body as the liquor started to flow through him. He wanted you, he craved you, in a way he had never experienced before.

Love at first sight had always been a myth to you; something in books and movies. Fiction. Until you heard the words slip from his mouth. Love at first sight, soul mates. It was all impossible. But why couldn’t you stop thinking of him. Why did his state send shivers through your body? Why did it feel like you had been waiting for him your entire life, even though you just met?

“(Y/N)! It’s your turn!” You heard Danny yell, bringing you out of your thoughts once again.

“Uh... what’s going on again?” You murmured, the alcohol overcoming your brain as you tried to remember the dumb activity you were being forced to participate in.

“Alright, you might need to slow down on the drinks girl.” Callie laughed, pointing at the cup in your hand.

“I’m fine. Just lost my train of thought!”

“Tell us a surprising fact about yourself,” Matt chimed in, a flirtatious smile plastered across his face.

“Uh, right. Well... I have a really huge record collection. It’s kind of my hobby.” You shrugged, nodding your head slowly as the group around you seemed let down by the less than flashy secret.

“You’re kidding! I collect vinyls too. I have like a thousand,” Mattresponded, his eyes lighting up at the realization that he finally had a way to talk to you.

“You should show him your collection, (Y/N), it’s ridiculously impressive,” Callie said, nodding in excitement. Your heart stopped at her words, hoping that Matt would say ‘Another time!’ and you would forget about the entire interaction. But you knew he would take up any offer to be alone with you; and a part of you was hoping he would.

“I’d love to see it,” Matt said slowly, his voice now a serious tone as he waited nervously for your response.

“Uh... of course. Does anyone else want to see?” You asked, in one final last ditch effort to protect yourself from being alone with him. But the room had already moved on from you, and no one even heard you ask the question. You looked up at Matt, his perfect smile once again showing itself.

“Guess it’s just you and I, pretty girl.” He whispered to you, his hand on your shoulder. He leaned in as he spoke to you, as if to keep the nickname a secret. You looked around in hopes that someone noticed, someone would put a stop to it. But everyone had already moved on, started new conversations, brought themselves deeper into a state of inebriation. No one saw either of you, and you could easily slip away into the night with him.

You stood up slowly, and motioned for Matt to follow you into your room. He eagerly followed behind, not a single soul in the room even realizing you were leaving. You felt your heart pounding in anticipation and nervousness, not knowing how the next few minutes would play out. You took a few deep breaths to control yourself before opening the door to your room and letting Matt follow.

“Open or closed?” He asked, his hand gripped on the door handle as he awaited your response.

“Closed. I don’t like people seeing my personal space,” you said, moving over to the shelves that held your vinyls. Matt nodded and closed the door lightly, following you over to your collection.

You walked to the corner of your small, cluttered bedroom. Sat in the corner was multiple shelving units, all packed high and bending under the weight of your numerous records. Next to the shelves was a small desk, which your record player sat beautifully on top of. Your room was overwhelming to a stranger's eye, but every single thing in there had a purpose, to you. It was your sanctuary. And it wasn’t a place you regularly invited strangers. You barely ever let Callie or Danny in there. But seeing him stand there, gazing in fascination at your records, felt very comfortable. You knew that he would respect your space, and not question it. It was a nice feeling to be able to share something so private with someone.

“Wow... this is amazing (Y/N)... you have fantastic taste in music,” he whispered, running his hands up and down the records.

“Thank you. Some of them I don’t really listen to, they’ve just been collected from garage sales and thrift stores over the years.” You watched him in awe, every feature glowing in the low light of your room. He smiled at certain titles, pulling things out delicately to look at the covers. He was beautiful, perfect. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Do you wanna smoke a blunt?” He asked, turning to you in excitement as he pulled out a bag of weed from his pocket.

“Of course. Just crack the window,” you responded, your eyes still locked on him.

“Perfect! Let’s listen to something, too. Do you mind rolling so I can pick something out?” He asked, handing you the plastic bag. Your hand touched his as you grabbed it from him, and you felt time freeze as your skin made contact. He was warm, soft, angelic in his touch. You wanted more, you craved more. But you let go, pulling yourself away.

You watched him pull out various records and contemplate what to put on as you carefully rolled a blunt to smoke. His face was focused and concentrated, and the furrow in his brow made you smile. You couldn’t help but smile around him. He finally pulled out an album you immediately recognized as (Y/F/A).

“How did you know?” You asked, watching him as he delicately took the record out and placed it on your player.

“What?” He giggled, biting his lip as he looked up at you.

“That's my favorite album.”

“You’re joking. It’s mine, too.” He looked up at you, your eyes once again meeting. You didn’t need to speak to know what was going through his mind. The two of you were both thinking the same thing. He broke the stare first to start playing the music, his hands gently placing the needle on the record.

The music began quietly, but filled the room around you. You lit up the blunt and began to smoke, a wave of happiness coming over you as you took in your surroundings. A beautiful boy, your favorite music, some fantastic weed. It was paradise. It was pure bliss.

You smoked the blunt in silence, both of you taking in the beauty of the music, no need for words. You watched him, his movements, enthralled by his every move. The light from the blunt lit up his face in an almost angelic way, making your heart race every time he took a puff. The more high you got, the more you wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him, love him. Love at first sight, it’s bull shit, right? But what if it isn’t? What if it’s sitting right in front of you?

“Dance with me.” Matt said, standing up quickly and reaching out his hand.

“I... what?” You asked, giggling slightly at the man who was standing in front of you.

“Dance with me. You know you want to.” He raises his eyebrows at you, hand still stuck out waiting for you. You rolled your eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips as you grabbed his hand and stood up. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. The smell of smoke and mint immediately overtook you, the warmth of his body wrapping you in comfort. Being in his arms, it was the most calming feeling in the world. It was the best feeling in the world.

In that moment, nothing else mattered to you except being with him. You would do anything to hold on to that moment. You reached your hand up to his face and touched it gently, the softened of his skin flowing on your fingertips. You brushed the few stray wisps of hair away from his face before bringing your lips up to his.

There are many different types of kisses in the world. You first kiss, which is awkward and usually terrible. A sad kiss, one where you know it will be your last kiss for a while. A lustful kiss, where you can’t keep your hands off of each other and want nothing more than to rip clothes off. But this kiss... this was a kiss you had never experienced before. It was a kiss that filled your entire body; flooded you with light and calmness, made every bad thing you’ve ever felt disappear into thin air as your lips pressed against his. It was a kiss that you knew was saved especially between two people who were meant to be. A kiss between soul mates.

As your lips worked effortlessly with his, everything else in the world disappeared except for you and him. You melted into each other, two paints seamlessly coming together to create a beautiful piece of art. You never wanted to let go of him. You never would, if it was up to you. But you needed a second, a second to catch your breath, a second to ground yourself back to reality.

You pulled away from him, your hands still locked in his hair and his on your waist. “We should go back out there. We don’t want to look suspicious,” you whispered, suddenly remembering the circumstances that led you in here in the first place.

“Of course, that’s for the best. But I promise you this is not the end of us.” Matt kissed your cheek and winked flirtatiously before heading back out to your living room. You sat quietly for a moment, your heart racing and your breathing unsteady. In that moment, you knew that was it. That was the last first kiss of your life.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

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ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years

Text

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Five (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia, @btssmutgalore, and @junghoseokit for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 6.54k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: angst, infidelity, oral (m receiving), heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, mention(s) of therapy/counseling, arguing, drug use, alcohol use | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Taglist: @dariangarcia @apurpledheart @itsgottabeyoo-ngs @hytibm @namjinsbaby @ggukkieland

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Four (M) <- | -> Chapter Six (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist

~#~

“Is it something we discussed now? The truth got you in disgust now, ‘cause I’d rather we just fuck now.”

THEN.

Sitting at your desk at work never felt so somber as you remembered how it all changed. The chain of events that led up to your fight with him the previous night were too hard to ignore anymore.

You remember fighting for him- for the both of you.

The tears flooded your eyes and, thankfully, blurred your vision from the scene before you.

Jungkook sat on a couch placed in the corner of the club, completely inebriated and high out of his mind. But that’s not what hurt you.

What completely ripped your heart from your chest was the woman draped across his exposed lap with her hair held in one hand while she used the other to wrap around the part of his dick that she couldn’t reach whilst she closed her lips over it.

Blinking your tears from your eyes on instinct allowed you to see that another set of eyes was looking at you. And they weren’t Jungkook’s.

Taehyung’s scowl, paired with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes, was another image from that night you couldn’t get out of your head. There was no shock nor surprise on his face- he was expecting you. Taehyung knew that you would see. He didn’t try to deter you from coming to the club and he didn’t send any warning texts. He was the one who invited you in the first place.

The scene was an unforgettable one.

You should have taken Taehyung’s word for it from the start. He had given you hints that you simply couldn’t bother yourself to pay attention to.

While you possessed the knowledge and evidence that Jungkook cheated on you that night, you couldn’t bring yourself to properly address it. Each time you got around to speaking with him about it, you ended up brushing it off for another time.

Finding an excuse for yourself to defend him was easy.

The drugs and alcohol were the problem. You saw it yourself that night. He was in a completely different world when you saw him doing the deed. His eyes were glazed out with beautiful lips agape in complete, drug-induced ecstasy, unknowing of what he was doing. There was no way he was aware of what was actually happening or even what day it was.

But then came the day that it got so bad that you asked him to go get help. You were willing to forgive his negligence if he was willing to get it fixed.

It was the cause of your final fight.

“I’m not going to fucking rehab, Y/N.” He laughed spitefully. “There is nothing wrong with me. I’m a fucking rockstar. This is what rockstars do.”

“They also cheat on their girlfriends?” You sarcastically asked.

Jungkook chuckled darkly while looking at the floor. After a moment, he met your eyes in a cold gaze before he opened his mouth.

“Rockstars don’t have girlfriends.”

The weight of the statement pressured heavily on you in realization of what he was implying, pushing all of the air from your lungs. You were struck silent with an invisible smack offered by his words. No sound could escape your mouth as you stared back at him in a silent question: did it mean what you thought it meant?

“Yeah.” Was all he said in the deafening silence to answer your unspoken query, looking at the ground awkwardly. He was quick to add another few words to finally hit the nail on the coffin. “But if you still want to fuck, I’m down.”

“But- but I…” Your voice trembled weakly, feeling your eyes ache with incoming tears, but you fought them with every ounce of will that you had as your abhorrence was built up by his last words. The ground was swallowing you up and you were trying to claw your way free. “I waited for you to get better. You told me things would get better once you took off.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Y/N.” He laughed heartily.

Your heart was no longer beating. Not in your mind, anyway.

You felt as the life was torn from your lungs with the most simple and practical words; your world taken from you and all air seeming too thick to inhale.

Awfully, you couldn’t seem to listen to his words this time. You didn’t want to. Breathing seemed much too difficult as you felt him snatch the light from your life with one swipe.

There was no chance that you would let him watch you cry- no way he was going to watch the pain he delivered onto you take physical effect. You were disappointed and neglected- a pawn in the game he played. You were sick of playing now.

Instead, you turned around, grabbed your purse off of the kitchen table-

And left.

Sitting at your desk with all of the sadness that Jeon Jungkook brought into your life, you decided that it was finally time to leave. You needed to leave Korea. You needed to move on to bigger and better things.

Your hand was reaching for your phone before you could stop yourself from doubling back. It’s about time.

Googling for a moving company- any moving company- only took you a few seconds and you pressed the call button with a new sense of conviction.

“Good afternoon! Thank you for calling Team Wang’s Moving Company! What can I assist you with today?”

Making sure your voice was level and controlled, you spoke, “I’d like to schedule a move of items from a storage unit here in Korea to another country. Am I able to do that?”

“Of course, ma’am! We can get started on preparations for that right away! What was the location that you were referencing? We are limited on the countries we can ship to due to certain regulations.”

Without any further hesitation or pondering over the past, you settled on it.

“Italy.”

Jungkook

He sat in his room for a while with an empty lyric journal, letting the high slowly fade from his body as regret began pumping through his veins. Jungkook had put up the act for Taehyung, but after he saw his brother angrily storm out the door and he was left alone to the ever familiar havoc in his mind, the fight to maintain his mask was easily lost.

What the fuck did he do?

Seeing you cry was common for him; Jungkook had made you cry too many times to count, but that didn’t take away from the way it ripped apart the sinew in his chest every time he saw that look in your eyes as tears streamed down your cheeks.

He managed to convince himself of the belief that it was impossible for you to care that much anymore. You just couldn’t. Not when he had fucked up the first time. He had broken your trust and he didn’t trust himself enough to try and earn yours back, fearing that he would just fuck you up past recovery- like himself.

Jungkook was beyond rejuvenation and beyond any form of succor. Nothing could help him silence his demons except the cold and dark embrace of death. Even now, sitting in silence in his bedroom to let the remorse for you distract him from the torment of the empty organ beating in his chest, he felt them begin to criticize him.

Jungkook’s parents and brother died young, victims of a drunken asshole who decided that it was a good idea to get behind the wheel to try and get home to his girlfriend. What a fucking prick.

For some reason, Jungkook decided that it would be a good idea to stay home and worry about the girl that he liked at school, making little sketches to slip into her lunchbox once lunch came around.

Of all days he could have stayed home, it just had to be that one. He should have gone to the grocery store with them. He should have been in that car with them.

The voices in his head began three weeks after the funeral- when Jungkook reached the ripe age of twelve. Constantly battering him down, twisting his heart, and suffocating his head, he recognized that it was his own voice and his own psyche attacking the sanctity of his soul after he watched the three coffins sink into the cold ground.

It just had to rain that day, water filling the nice dress shoes his father bought for him a few months prior as mud covered the black leather.

He reached adulthood much too fast. Even under the care of his parents’ friends, he was forced by his own will to become independent. They tried to shower him with the same love and support that his family had, but it was no use- Jungkook was alone. No one could fill that gap in his heart once it was made empty.

He’ll admit, he was a bit more dramatic back then.

He was approaching his seventeenth birthday when he smoked for the first time, turning it into a habit by the time he graduated high school. He had been dragged out to an end-of-the-year school gathering by Taehyung, a senior who was much too silent like himself- who understood that Jungkook preferred the quiet due to the mayhem in his mind. They had formed a tranquil and mostly unspoken bond over the months that they studied together.

“Is it safe?” Jungkook muttered while looking at his older companion of the silence curiously.

“I’ve done it a few times and I was fine. Just take it slow at first. Try two hits and then wait like twenty or thirty minutes.” Taehyung’s contralto voice was somehow comforting to Jungkook, a beacon in the chaos that was the kickback they were currently separating themselves from. “If you don’t want to, that’s cool. You don’t have to.”

“Nah,” Jungkook’s desire to break out of his shell was a little spurred by Taehyung who seemed to aid him in the most odd yet unobtrusive way. “I’ll try it. Might be cool.”

The only two at the campfire while the rest of their year mates drank and danced to music in the house, Jungkook and Taehyung shared their first high together.

Then, the voices stopped.

Jungkook was shaken to his core, gripping the arms of the camping chair he sat in until his fingers ached and his knuckles turned white. For the first time in six years, his head was blanketed in silence.

Slightly panicked at the new sensation, he turned to Taehyung for help, only to find that his friend was sitting back with his head craned up, gazing intently at the stars. Jungkook followed his stare and struggled to see them past the glow of the flames in front of him, only to grow enraptured by the gorgeous twinkling of each small dot in the midnight sky once his eyes adjusted. Strangely, he was hit by a sudden burst of inspiration.

“I could write a song right now.” Jungkook told the sky confidently.

“You write?” He saw Taehyung turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Meeting his friend’s observance, he let a smile lazily grace his face for once as he replied.

“I do occasionally. I always wanted to be a singer when I was younger.”

“Me too.” Taehyung chuckled with a sense of wistfulness, fixing his stare on the small inferno in the fire pit. “Well, I wanted to be a bassist really bad. Maybe sing a little.”

Overcome with the emotions of maybe not being totally alone, Jungkook’s inner sageness spewed from his mouth without falter, wholly due to the graceful and relaxed feeling that he received from the high.

“We’re still young.” He reasoned. “We can still do it.”

“I’ll be studying music in university after my military service is over. My most realistic dream now is to become a studio bassist for some record company.” Taehyung laid his head back again, closing his eyes.

“Hey,” Jungkook called for his friends attention and the older boy looked at him with slightly bloodshot eyes. “We can do something with this if we really want to. I’ll follow you to university. Never really had a solid plan for where I wanted to go to anyway.” Jungkook stuck his hand out in a silent offer, hoping that his proposition wouldn’t be crushed.

Taehyung smiled mellowly, taking his younger friend’s hand with his in a handshake. “Sounds like a plan, my friend.”

After Taehyung graduated and enlisted, Jungkook completed his senior year with a new hobby- well, two new hobbies: writing and smoking.

With the impending date of his enlistment, he knew that he had to give it up as he was going to get drug tested. For two years, he kept up with himself without the help of the self-administered psychoactive drug therapy.

Service was a good distraction from the voices. Having things to do to keep him busy and writing in any free time he had, he was kept delightfully aloof from the dark corners of his mind. It also helped that he enlisted into the same garrison that Taehyung was assigned to.

Taehyung welcomed Jungkook into university with open arms. Now, at the age of twenty, Jungkook was a seasoned and trained man. The voices still loomed over him, but they were pushed to the back of his mind as he learned to deal with the emptiness.

He had highs to suppress his demons, he had his songs to communicate himself to others, and he had Taehyung.

Although it wasn’t nearly enough to fill his empty glass, it was empty no longer.

Jungkook lay in his bed as he watched the violet sky turn midnight blue, the already-set sun pulling the rest of its light away from his side of the earth.

Naked and vulnerable under the scrutiny of the world, he lay in the sheets with his head turned toward the window, presenting the sorrow brimming in his eyes right back to the invisible gaze of the universe. With no form of judgement in response to him, he was left to ponder over the things he had done.

Because even now, with a slight high from the drugs, he realized that he could still hear them- the whispers, murmurs, and dronings of impugnment continued to poison his mind. He found it funny that he was always pressing the voices away, yet whenever confronted by the menace that was his emotions, they were his safety blanket.

Pulling the sheets to his body while he curled into himself, Jungkook realized that he felt completely bare and exposed without the voices.

He’d keep them back to the point of a whisper so that he could call on them to protect him with a roaring intensity during bad times. There was never a time that he wasn’t manually suppressing them if he wasn’t high anymore.

With a shaken mind, he realized the only true way they were silent without true effort now. The drugs had stopped suppressing them a long time ago. There was no way he was able to have silence unless he was actually enforcing the lack of sound onto himself.

Not unless he was with you.

You provided light and hope and everything good to him, You gave him the things that were snatched away from him all those years ago- the things that he forced himself to live without. Unlike Taehyung, who gave him the sense of having a brother again, you gave him the love of everyone he lost. You acted like a sibling, gave him the comfort like a mother, and gave him the stern challenge and teachings of a father- if that made any sense.

Without you, he felt like his family; Jungkook felt lost and alone. Even as an up-and-coming rockstar with thousands of fans scrambling to get to know him, he felt like he was the last man on the planet who kept himself back while everyone else moved on to a better world.

The night at the club still haunted him, the truth of what happened chilling him to the bone- even if he didn’t exactly remember any of it.

Shit. Maybe he needed help after all.

NOW.

Sitting with his back to the door, staring at the night of New York City, Jungkook did not hear Namjoon enter the room with both of his bodyguards in tow.

“We’re staying another few days.” His older brother informed him, breaking him from his trance-like gaze.

“Goody.” Jungkook sighed, setting his empty glass down on the table in front of him. With a huff, he stood and stretched. Namjoon uttered a quick ‘give us a second’ to his men before the shuffling of feet and the door closing behind him signaled the beginning of a serious conversation.

“You know she’s still here, right? It’s not too late to go and talk to her.” Jungkook could feel the man’s eyes on his back, pity dousing the information that Jungkook was already aware of.

But Jungkook didn’t need Namjoon’s pity. It was enough that Namjoon saw his feelings on paper. Nothing more needed to be shared.

Still, he respected his brother’s wisdom and he remembered the words of his counselor. ‘Accept the silence. Then, do the talking from the inside. The only one truly speaking, inside and out loud, is you.’

“I know. I already spoke to her. Some things…” Jungkook’s volume died down for a moment, unsure of how to put it, as he turned his head to look at his brother in a silent plea for assistance. “…happened the other night. She came and saw me again today,”

“-I didn’t know what to do and I acted like a dickhead.” He looked back down and chuckled spitefully to himself, wisps of a shadow materializing back into the depths of his mind once he stopped speaking.

Namjoon exhaled after not realizing that he was holding his breath following his own comment. Carefully, he approached Jungkook so as to not trigger him into closing himself off. Despite having received professional assistance and counseling for two years, Jungkook was still as fragile as fine china.

The older man placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder before slightly forcing Jungkook to face him.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” Namjoon looked into his eyes, prying into the windows of his soul, to capture a glimpse of the storm clouds brewing in his brother’s brown orbs. “Do you still love her?”

Jungkook didn’t know how to answer at first.

The voices began permeating Jungkook’s mind ever so slowly as an automatic reaction to being emotionally jabbed. He didn’t like addressing his feelings; the voices were all he could fall back on when he felt threatened, deafening volume drowning out the possibility for anything to reach into him too deep. They gave him the things- the bad things- he needed to say in order to protect himself.

As he sifted through the past two years, however, looking back on the help he had received and the exercises he went through that allowed him to no longer fear the natural silence- to embrace it without the drugs- he knew that no one was threatening him and no one was going to hurt him. Jungkook was asked if he still loved you and he couldn’t have the negativity surrounding him if he was going to answer that question, so he moved his trepidation out of the way to see what was left for you.

Behind it all- the fear, meaningless women, music, loss- lay a withering yet ever-present being, its wings tattered and flayed at the edges. With its first glances of light, with no smog to block it, it beat its tiny appendages with potential and came to life upon Jungkook’s realization of what it was.

His arrant and perennial love for you.

Jungkook briefly remembered the meadow- your meadow- and all of the tiny butterflies that were living out their lives in the beauty of the world that day. A butterfly adorned with blue and black splotches of color on its wings had managed to land on your head for a split second when he adjusted your hair. The particular memory and the events that followed on that day relocated as the tiny butterfly inside his mind fluttered upwards.

Jungkook’s heart soared with newfound beginnings- a second chance.

“I do, hyung. I do.” He whispered, voice wavering under the force of the emotions that came bubbling up from his chest. Tears filled his eyes, prompting his older brother to pull him into an embrace.

Jungkook’s body racked with cries at the feeling of comfort and warmth, unable to stop himself from feeling the raw emotions he had delayed for too long. Instead of needing to push the darkness out of the way, it came pouring out of him in radiating waves much too intense for him to handle alone.

“Hyung! I love her! I love her!” He chanted into his brother’s shoulder. “I hurt her! She was all mine and I tossed her away!”

Namjoon, although shocked by the psychological state and emotional outburst of his usually stoic bandmate, held him with care and waited until his brother’s breathing calmed before suggesting his next move. “Then go and get her, Kook.”

“She’s-” Jungkook had to swallow to wet his dry throat. “She’s with Taehyung right now.”

“Then wait until morning. From what Jin-hyung said, she’ll be here until the end of the week.”

So, wait is what Jungkook did.

He woke up at eight the next morning and called your personal assistant, finding his number easily on your company’s preliminary email to everyone in his organization for the whole UN ordeal. After two rings, the man answered.

“Halo! This is Brian Morena, representative and PA to Ms. Y/N Y/L/N. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook stated his name lowly and unsurely, cautious as to how to approach asking him about your schedule.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon! It is a pleasure to speak with you! I’ll just verify your phone number really quick. It will only take a moment.” The line went silent for a few seconds and Jungkook waited on the edge of his bed with a bouncing knee and a fingernail between his teeth. After a few more seconds, the man was back on the phone. “You’re good! What can I do for you today?”

“I was just wondering if I could possibly get my hands on Ms. Y/N’s schedule for the day.” Jungkook heard how weird the request sounded the moment it flew from his lips. Quickly, he came up with a lie to soothe the request with reasoning. “She left her jacket in the elevator and I wish to return it to her- personally.”

Jungkook added the last part, knowing that the man would just tell him to give it to an employee of your own building, and Jungkook couldn’t have that. He wanted- no, needed- to see you.

“I see.” Brian responded thoughtfully. “Well, in that case, I’m unable to disclose her whereabouts due to security reasons.” Jungkook’s heart dropped a little at the notion of being unable to speak with you while his heart was still flying open. Then, Brian spoke again.

“But if she is in her hotel during her free time, she will be in her penthouse and I will assign you a temporary elevator key so that you can get to her door. It won’t unlock the door, but it will get you in front of it. Does that sound alright, Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook smiled triumphantly. “Yes, that sounds lovely. Thank you, Brian.”

“It’s no problem, sir! Though, I do suggest you move quickly because she only has the next two and a half hours before she has her first scheduled event of the day. Your key will be ready for you in the next ten minutes. Have to wait until your status change goes through properly.” Brian was busy clacking away at his keyboard while he spoke, but Jungkook couldn’t be more overjoyed that he had succeeded in his plan thus far.

Things will work out. I’ll get her back. However much and however long it takes.

He dressed casually and indiscriminately with a mask over his face so as to not draw attention. After searching for it on google and exiting the hotel onto the street, he hailed a cab to take him to the first flower shop he could find to order you a bouquet of white tulips- obviously, he had to google that too. Jungkook had no idea what the best flower for apologies and hopes of new beginnings was. He was no botanical genius and that was a fact.

Once he had the flowers in his hand after a grueling wait, he stopped by the closest coffee shop to buy your favorite coffee- with two creams and three sugars if he remembered correctly. Despite the amount of time the florist had wasted, he made his way back to the hotel on foot so that he could properly practice what he was going to say to you. If he was going to make it right, he needed all the practice he could get.

Take off the mask. Don’t be a dick. Take off the mask. Don’t be a dick.

Jungkook let the incantations fill his head so that the haze of negativity didn’t have a chance to snap back into place over his single, delicate emotion. He was vulnerable and fighting the mental pressure with everything he had so that he could bare himself long enough to at least get back on good terms with you.

By the time he was back in front of your hotel building, it was a quarter to ten and he was left cursing the florist for taking so long. He stood awkwardly on the pavement, allowing himself a few breaths before he decided to enter the glass doors. Jungkook knew that he would be attracting attention by standing in front for so long, yet he couldn’t help but need a moment to send a prayer to whichever god was watching over him.

Closing his eyes, he craned his head up and took one last inhale whilst sending a silent plea for things to work out. To see you smiling and happy again. To hold you in his arms and hear you silence every one of his demons once and for all.

What he didn’t expect was one of his prayers to be promptly answered.

As he opened his eyes to look at the late morning sky, he caught sight of you immediately, sitting on the restaurant balcony- laughing and smiling. But you weren’t laughing and smiling to yourself.

You were giving your joy and happiness to Taehyung whose hand was covering yours above the table, grinning endearingly and adoringly back at you.

Jungkook’s hands grew numb, warranting the flowers and coffee to slip from his grasp onto the sidewalk, as he drowned in smog once again.

NOW.

You

“He never wanted you to leave.”

You sat, dumbfounded for a moment, as Taehyung said the words. You didn’t let the shock last for long, knowing that what he said must have been a lie.

“There’s no way.” You chuckled scornfully. “He told me himself, Taehyung. He didn’t want me anymore.”

“Y/N, take it from me. I loved you. I wanted to see you happy.” He grimaced briefly, most likely from the personal statement, while turning his eyes down to place his gaze on his empty plate in front of him. “But I knew that he made you happy even though he made you sad. He made you happy in a way that I never could. And he wanted to see you that way- happy.”

“I’m sorry, Tae. I- I should’ve-” Your heart ached for a moment as you tried to find the words to say, wishing for the first time that you had been in love with him instead.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. You can’t force feelings like that and I sure as hell was not going to force you into anything that you didn’t want.”

A question burned behind your eyes, tugging your heart to remember the past.

“Then why did you let me see?” Your eyes turned cold. The drop in your tone nor the change of your mood were directed at him, but they were caused by him nonetheless.

“Because I was young and thought you had a chance to find that happiness elsewhere.” He sighed, taking the opportunity to place his hand over yours on the table while his words distracted you. “And for that, I’m sincerely sorry. I know that friends are supposed to help each other out, but that was a situation that was out of my hands and not mine to handle or get involved in.”

“I’m not blaming you for my relationship issues. I never did and I never will. So don’t apologize.” You looked down at the way his hand covered yours. “I just wanted to know.”

Taehyung pat your hand in an attempt for you to look at him again. When you did, he continued his sentiment.

“Jungkook didn’t want you to leave at all. He has this… thing. It’s not really my place to say anything, but I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s had it a bit rough. I know that he’s a dick- believe me, I know-“ You quirked an eyebrow at his expression. “But he’s got something he keeps hidden behind that thick skull of his that you should probably know about.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” You asked, curious as to what he could be alluding to.

“Because you guys still need to talk. He was never good at talking to you about things.”

“I’m never fucking talking to him ever again.” You deadpanned.

“Please do it for me, Y/N.” His eyes begged with his plea, pulling you in.

“Oh? And why should I do it for you, hm?” You joked with him to steer the conversation away from the heavy subject, a small smile playing upon your lips. “I think you were the one apologizing to me.”

“Well, all I can say is that I’m sorry. I was supposed to be there for you- when you needed a shoulder to cry on and when you needed someone to binge watch TV shows with.” He smiled with his attempted joke that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“You’re the best TV show buddy.” You giggled and looked down at your joined hands again, rotating your own so that you could hold his. To be friends with him after all this time… is it possible?

“Oh, I know I am!” He laughed loudly again, prompting you to quickly look around the restaurant area and the street below you, mild panic setting in once more. You tilted your head in confusion and pity at the sight of a few white flowers lying on the pavement next to a splattered drink.

“Poor flowers.” You muttered to yourself. “They’re so pretty.”

You watched Taehyung turn to look where you were staring from the corner of your eye. “Oh yeah. Would you look at that? Such a waste.”

Instead of taking any more time, you stood and straightened your blazer to remove the wrinkles. “We should probably get out of here. I have a security meeting in a little while.”

“How long is a little while?” Taehyung asked as he stood and pressed his hands to his own coat. You made eye contact with Jay who was already stood and ready to go, nodding to him as you answered Taehyung’s question.

“About an hour and a half. Why?”

“Damn. That’s not enough time. Maybe tonight then?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, lips forming into a thin line.

“Enough time for what? What’s happening?” You grabbed his elbow when he began walking away without answering your question.

“What time are you going to be done for the day?” He asked.

“Taehyung,” You warned lowly. “What’s going on? I won’t tell you unless you give me something to work with here.”

“Oh, nothing.” He smiled and removed your grasp from his arm. “I’ll just ask Brian again. I’m sure he’ll be upset if you dodge your schedule.”

“Brian?” You watched as he walked away through the tables while hooking his mask back onto his ears. You wanted to get to the bottom of the situation fast- so you quickly followed him. “You’ve been speaking with him?”

“Of course I have! Isn’t that right, Jay?” Taehyung turned to the man in question.

“Of course, Mr. Kim. You’ve been very in touch with the staff.” Your bodyguard, once he joined you and Taehyung walking together, let a small, smug grin pull at the corners of his mouth. What a traitor. A slight sense of mock-betrayal filled you.

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

“For research purposes.” Taehyung deadpanned, grabbing your hand in the process. “Now come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“I have to go back to my room and get ready for my meetings.” You said quickly. Taehyung only chuckled lowly.

“Alright. Then let’s go!” He tugged you towards the exit. “I’ll take you to your door.”

You had no option but to stumble behind him while you stressfully surveyed the area, careful of onlookers.

~∞~

“YOU ALMOST LOST IT?” Kate’s voice was shrill and slightly distorted as it burst through the speakers of your phone at an ear-splitting volume.

“I’m sorry!” You briskly apologized. “It wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

“I spent weeks- weeks!- planning and making that jacket for you! I-” She bleated weakly before her tone leveled to nonchalance. “Wow. So this is what being chopped liver feels like.”

“Kate! You are not chopped liver, I swear.” You rushed the statement as you sat back in your office chair, glad to have a conversation that wasn’t work-related after a long and grueling day.

Your friend only grumbled in response. “It sure feels like it.”

“Well, you aren’t. I swear on my job.” You said.

“Oh wow. Holy shit. Okay, yeah that means a lot.” She stuttered playfully. “But something tells me you didn’t call me just to tell me you almost lost one of my most prized works of art- which, by the way, is my best seller. So, what is it?”

“I- uh…” You didn’t know how to word it. You had spent the entire work day using security updates and board meetings as a distraction from the open debate in your head, so now that your day was over and you had nothing left to do, the thoughts came back. It’s why you called Kate; you needed a third opinion.

If what Taehyung said about Jungkook was actually true, then maybe you should talk to him so that you could hear his side of the story. The bad bitch part of you told you to fuck off and forget about him, but you couldn’t help the softer and more curious side of yourself that begged to hear him out.

Realizing you had gone silent for a moment too long, you blurted out something random. “I’d like for you to design a hat for me.” A hat? Really? That was the best you could come up with? At least ask for some pants or something.

“Bullshit,” She chuckled in response. “But I’ll take that until you’re ready to tell me what’s actually going on.”

You heard her rustling some paper in preparation to take down design ideas, triggering panic to rise within you. You didn’t want her to put in work for an imaginary hat that you really had no desire of having.

“Hypothetically!” You shouted before she could get into it.

“Okay…” You heard the hesitation in her voice, clearly weirded out by your outburst. “Hypothetically what?”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that you had an old flame who broke your heart and acted like a dick years ago, but you just recently learned that there were, maybe- I don’t know- some other things going on that made him act that way. Would you want to talk to him about it?”

“Hell no.” Kate laughed. “Just because you’re going through some stuff doesn’t mean you can act like a dick to other people. There’s no excuse for being a shitty person.”

“That’s what I thought.” You replied strongly. In your head, however, the war within you was brewing, weakening your composure.

“You’re not one to usually think about things like this.” Kate added. “What’s going on with you?”

“Just dealing with some stuff from the past. Nothing huge.” You didn’t want to overshare and Kate understood, knowing that she could never ask you to tell her about your past. She would wait until you were the one sharing it with her.

“Just let me know if you want me to come over there. I could definitely use some quality time with a quiet person for once. These idiots are so loud.”

You laughed in response. “I will. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. We can watch movies or something and eat pizza and drink wine.”

“Oh my. That sounds like the perfect date!” She squealed. Her giddiness was infectious, spreading a soft smile across your lips.

“Won’t Brian get jealous?” You jab at her playfully.

“Not at all. He’ll probably end up attached to his video games anyway.” Kate snorted. “Shit! Speaking of! I need to call him! I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Talk to you later.” You sat up in your chair.

“Bye!” She chirped.

As you sat alone in your office, building lights dark and the lights from the city the only form of illumination in the room through the window, you let your friends’ words rifle through your head.

On one hand, Kate catered to your stone-cold side, encouraging you to forget all about Jungkook and move on. Despite not knowing the situation and understanding all of its facets, her opinion was unbiased.

Taehyung, on the other hand, encouraged you to speak with Jungkook. He was aware of both sides of the story and understood what you and Jungkook- whatever the hell it was- were going through. He supported the side of you that was eager to understand and desperate to love again.

The decision was, ultimately, yours to make. What were you going to do?

The thoughts in your mind weighed heavy on your heart while you prepared to leave. You stood, packed your brief case, and made your way out of your office and onto the sidewalk to hail your driver so that you could go back to your hotel.

You couldn’t worry about it for long, though, because your phone vibrated three separate times as three notifications lit up your screen on your way back. Taehyung texted you.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

Wear thick socks.

And a coat.

With gloves.

You stared at your phone in confusion, trying to figure out what he was getting at. Just what in the world was this boy planning?

~#~

Sorry this took so long, everyone! Please remember to like/reblog and comment if you want. I’d like to know what you guys think!

Don’t forget to check out the Series Masterlist if you want to read the oneshots that I have published.

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satoruvt · 4 years

Text

the color of you - gray (1)

HI IT TOOK ME 3 HOURS TO WRITE THIS AND I KNOW THATS LONG BUT I’M SOSOSOSO PROUD OF THIS AND THE ENTIRE SERIES SO PLEASE LIKE IT!!!!

pairing → hawks (keigo takami) x bakery owner!reader

word count → 1608

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → poser by grace vanderwaal and the lights cover of hold on we’re going home by drake!!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

It’s been a rough day already.

You’re late, your pants are still damp even after throwing them in the dryer twice, and there wasn’t even enough cereal for you to have a decent breakfast. The sky is clouded over in gray and normally you like the rain but given that you have to walk to work and because you’re late and your pants are damp and you’re hungry you didn’t even think about getting an umbrella and it’s too late now to go back. Your pace is fast, but you’re not sure you can outrun the darkening clouds.

You reach into your pocket in hopes to at least pass the commute with some music, but all you find is your phone. You remember picking them up as you walked out the door, where the hell are they? You run a hand over both of your back pockets to feel for wires but there’s nothing - could they be in your jacket pocket? They’ve gotta be -

Your train of thought is interrupted when you collide with something head-on.

Dull pain blooms in your nose as it squishes against something - warm, you note - and you feel your body start to lose balance, but a pair of hands steadies you. The realization that you ran into another person hits you and you back up, putting as much distance between you and the person as you can.

“God, wow, I’m so sorry,” you start, but the gloves look familiar. You look up at the person and blink once, twice. “Oh. You’re Hawks.”

You’re fucking mortified.

Hawks offers you an amused smile, taking his hands away from you. “Yeah,” is all he says, and your brain will not shut up, because of course you had to literally run into the Number Two hero on a day that’s already heading downhill. It doesn’t help that you consider yourself a fan, either - nervousness pits in your stomach at the fact.

“Hey, you okay?” Hawks asks, putting a hand on your shoulder. You snap back into reality and nod, vigorous.

“Yeah, um -” oh, you sound stupid, “sorry. You’ve got enough on your plate as a hero, I bet you don’t need random people bumping into you everywhere.”

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Worse has happened.”

“Yeah?”

You’re expecting some villain horror-story, since you’re sure he has plenty of those. “Yeah. You know how many times KFC’s gotten my order wrong?”

You laugh and it’s genuine, not the unfortunate-small-talk laugh. “Sounds a bit like cannibalism,” you tease, motioning to his wings, and Hawks scoffs playfully.

“You seemed rushed earlier, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

His tone is sarcastic, lighthearted, but he’s right. You nod once, walking past him in a few steps. You turn around, facing him again as you walk backwards.

“See you on TV, hero!”

He turns to wave back at you, smirk on his lips. By the time you get to your bakery you’re twenty minutes late, but you figure you don’t really mind since your mood is better than before. When the rain falls, well after you’ve gotten to work, the sounds of it pattering against the concrete help you dream in monochrome between batches of cookies and cakes.

You sigh when you close the door to your apartment, letting all of your things drop to the floor. You don’t bother to pick them up - minus your phone - as you trudge to your room. Low daylight seeps in through the window, coating your room in pale light.

It doesn’t take long for you to change out of your outfit and into a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable hoodie, and after you do you flop onto your bed with a gentle thump. You turn on your phone, scrolling through social media, letting yourself enjoy a relaxing comedown from a busy day.

You show up on your own timeline on Twitter, and it first you brush it off as something you posted, but then you realize that you definitely didn’t take those pictures.

It’s you, this morning, standing outside with Hawks. The pictures look like they’re taken from across the street, but it’s definitely you. The first one is of Hawks holding onto you after you bumped into each other, and the next few are of each of you laughing and why the hell is this on Twitter? Who took these?

The account that posted them is just an update account, you find - the caption reads “Hawks and an unknown woman in Tokyo today!”; unbiased, simple. The comments are mean, though, a bunch of angry fangirls screaming about how you’re probably a slut and a total bitch. It doesn’t bother you - there’s nothing between you and Hawks to be jeopardized by fifteen-year-olds - so you place a short, direct comment among them: “that’s me lol.”

Within a short time - fifteen minutes while you leave your phone to make yourself a simple dinner - your notifications are blowing up, likes and replies showing up everywhere. The situation itself is minor, it doesn’t affect you, so you simply turn on do not disturb as you shove a forkful of food into your mouth.

That should do it.

The next day is basic - few customers, few employees, it’s no different than any other day. You’re in the kitchen most of the day, making donuts and bread and anything else that a bakery needs. It’s not until closing, when one of your employees tells you they’ve finished cleaning up and they’re about to leave, that you really step outside of the kitchen and into the front of house for more than a few minutes.

You’re throwing away the items in the display window when you hear the bell by the door ring.

You turn to tell whoever’s come in that you’re closed now - though it might be your fault since you forgot to switch the sign over from open to closed - but when you turn around you’re speechless for a moment.

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” you manage to get out to Hawks. “Much less when I’m perfectly fine and not being terrorized by a villain.”

Hawks chuckles, and you notice another man beside him. He introduces him as his publicist, and you nod, but you can’t help from furrowing your eyebrows because why are the two of them here?

You’re at least ninety percent sure you didn’t ask that out loud, but Hawks’ publicist answers your question without any prompt.

“I’d like you and Hawks to establish a fake relationship.”

The bakery is eerily silent as you try to process what’s just been said, and you blink a few times before licking your lips and speaking. “I’m sorry, um - what?”

You cast a gaze towards Hawks and he sends you a sympathetic look, shrugging as he stands behind his publicist. I can’t help you, his eyes say, and what the hell is going on?

“I really don’t think I’m the right person for this -” you start to say, voice quick, but the publicist cuts you off quickly.

“I disagree, I think you’re the perfect candidate.”

Hawks steps into the conversation as he hoists himself up onto a table, not bothering to sit on one of the chairs. “It’d be easier,” he says, “there are already a bunch of pictures of us all over social media. I know you’ve seen ‘em.”

Ah, right, your brain says. “And you’re okay with this?”

Hawks smiles, unashamed, and you know firsthand now why everyone says he never takes things seriously enough. “Public image is the most important asset a hero can have.”

They’ve got a point about you being a good candidate, and you can’t deny that. The pictures are already on the internet, everyone already knows who you are by now, and it’d be a shock for someone else to suddenly come into the picture after rumors are already floating around. And Hawks is right about public image - whether you’re aiming for the top spot or not, you have to rely on the population to support you.

“If it makes any difference,” the publicist starts, “the publicity would help your business. You started it on your own, right?”

How the hell is he getting this information?

“Yeah,” you say, and you mean to say something more, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. He’s right, you realize, and then, and I need the publicity. Running your own business is no easy feat, and with how little customers you have… “Can I - can I have some time to think about it?”

The publicist hands you a business card with a prompt “please let me know your decision by tonight” before walking out of your bakery like nothing happened. You look at the card, flip it between your fingers gingerly. Hawks gets up from the table.

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I won’t make you do anything,” he says. “But this could help both of us, so I hope you do think about it.”

You nod at him, muttering a “yeah, I will,” before he too walks out of the bakery. The room is silent again, and you put the card in your back pocket as you finish cleaning out the display case. The walk home is quiet, calm, and it’s not until you get there, sitting on the couch, that you look at the card again.

You stare at the number on it, flipping and bending it through your fingers. He said to call him by the end of the night, you still have a few hours before you really have to decide…

You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone to dial the number.

#HAHAHA #IM SO EXCITED!! SO EXCITED!!!#bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #hawks x reader #bnha hawks x reader #hawks bnha x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #x reader #reader insert #imagine

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shuahoonie · 4 years

Text

you. [tom holland] - six.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! mentions of alcohol! a bit of fluff, a bit of angst. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish!

WORD COUNT: 2735

SONG INSPO: can’t take my eyes off you - emilie mover

A/N: hiya babes, again, sorry if this chapter is posted very late. i have absolutely no excuses this time, it’s just me really. times are tough and if i’m being honest, i’ve had a rough couple of weeks. my academics really hit me in the worst possible way and i’m really am sorry if i wasn’t able to uphold my promises to post over the break. 🥺 also, beware of my plot timeline! i had a rough plan that i wanted this to take place during pre-ffh days! anyway, enjoy chapter six and happy reading! x

UPDATES EVERY SATURDAY 11 PM CST WHENEVER I CAN [I’M TRYING TO POST EVERY SATURDAY, I REALLY AM]

gif credits: @parkerpunology

Two months. You and Tom were already dating for two months. The last two months were a whirlwind for both of you, more so for you. Once the news broke out that you and Tom were dating, it was expected that people would lose their minds over it.

However, like how news typically withholds its relevance these days, it died down a week after. You both actually didn’t mind it since it put you two at ease. You and Tom see each other for thrice a week, dropping a few nuggets that you two are together.

Some days, Tom would drop by at your filming location.

“Y/N,” Steven, a stunt coordinator, sang your name with a teasing look painted on his face. “Guess who’s here.” He was helping you with your scene, making sure that you were safe as you did your stunts.

“Please tell me it’s Charlotte with my phone,” You moaned as you fixed your shirt as Steven began unbuckling your harness. You were standing on top of a high platform and had just finished doing your stunt for the show, the Alchemist.

“Honey, do you think I’d be this excited if it was your assistant with your phone?” Steven rolled his eyes. “It’s your loverboy,” He teased, pointing to a figure.

Based on the state of altitude you were in, you could practically see everybody. You can see some of the crew were busy with fixing the set for the following scene. You could see the producer busy speaking to whoever’s on the other side of the phone. You could also see your ‘loverboy’ talking to the director.

Tom was standing next to Alissa, the director, as they talked animatedly. He was wearing a grey shirt that hugged his body like a second skin and a pair of black joggers. He looked very casual, but as much as you hated to admit it, he still looked good.

Catching your gaze, Tom gave you a smile and a wave.

You were still getting used to the idea that you were seeing him, so you turned your head as fast as you could. It’s as if your crush caught you staring at him in middle school.

Steven let out a small giggle, “You guys are so cute. You two are like grade-schoolers.”

“Oh, shush.” You said as you felt your face burn, embarrassed that Steven caught what just happened.

“Shush yourself, hon,” Steven laughed “It seems like Tom found it absolutely adorable.”

You turned your head back to look at Tom and there with his arms crossed, he was laughing softly. He had his complete attention on you.

You signalled him to give you a minute as you descend from the platform to greet your ‘boyfriend’.

Seeing that you both were actors, you had to use your skill sometimes.

“Tommy,” You’ve grown to love that nickname for Tom, knowing that he absolutely despised it. “What are you doing here?” You asked, your tone sickeningly sweet, as you greeted him with a hug.

For a moment, his eyes flickered upon hearing the nickname you just called him. “Came here to surprise you, princess.” He said with a smirk as he squeezed you in a hug. He knew you hated that nickname too. It was obvious that you two were playing the same game.

“Oh, but you didn’t have to, Tommy,” You said with a huge smile, the words practically gritting in between your teeth.

“I know,” He replied. What he did next caught you off-guard being that you two never really displayed that amount of PDA out in the open. “However, I do miss my girlfriend and I wanted to surprise her.” He said before he held the side of your face and placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

Boy, you were surprised alright.

Some days, you would drop by at Tom’s filming locations.

Tom had just finished his scene with Jake Gyllenhaal. You decided to visit your ‘boyfriend’ at his set for Far From Home. As soon as the director yelled cut, Tom caught your eye and gave you a wave.

“Are you getting bored, babe?” You turned to the figure who just asked you the question and saw Zendaya wearing her MJ clothes. You’ve grown a huge liking towards Tom’s castmates ever since Tom introduced you to them, especially Zendaya since she’s been nothing but nice to you.

You gave Zendaya a small smile and shook your head no. You’ve sat and watched them shoot for a little over two hours now, and it was only reasonable that he’d ask how you were doing.

“You know, you two are absolutely adorable.” She commented as she gave you a playful nudge, sitting next to you.

“We’re absolutely not,” You chuckled, feeling shy.

“It’s true,” Zendaya laughed “Tom seems like he’s at his happiest whenever he’s with you.”

As if on cue, Tom started jogging his way towards you and Zendaya with a huge smile on his face.

“Hi, princess,” Tom engulfed you with a huge hug. “Are you still good? What are you two laughing at?” He asked in the middle of the hug.

The intimacy you two had to show in public was still something you had to work on-not so much for Tom though. You weren’t used to displaying affection even when you used to date your ex.

“Oh, we’re just laughing at you.” You said nonchalantly, a teasing smile hanging off your lips.

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’ve got it bad for Y/N,” Zendaya answered cheekily, “You’re happier around your girlfriend, Tom.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Tom acknowledged making you roll your eyes playfully. “I am at my best whenever I’m around Y/N.” He said as cupped the sides of your face and planted a small kiss on the top of your nose.

You begged to differ. Tom had to act like he’s at his happiest whenever he’s around you.

“Liv, I look ridiculous. I don’t even have the boobs for this.” You said as you finished putting on the bridesmaid dress and examined your chest, as the dress sported a deep v-neck. You and Veronica were standing in front of a mirror, wearing a floor-length burgundy chiffon dress.

“Shut up, Y/N,” Veronica said as she fixed the delicately pinned flowers on your hair. “You look great, I think Tom might actually fall in love with you.” Ronnie teased.

“Fuck off, Ronnie.” You mumbled. “I can’t believe you actually let me invite him, Liv.” You told Olivia, who was busy getting into her wedding dress.

“Uh, of course. He’s your boyfriend, ‘ya doof.” Olivia, who was putting on her dress behind the dressing panel, said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Also can you two help me with my dress? I need someone to zip me up.” Liv went out wearing a gorgeous wedding dress. It was an off-shoulder sweetheart cut white dress with touches of lace and glimmer.

“Oh, you look gorgeous, Liv.” Veronica sighed as she stared at Olivia with tears brimming her eyes. “I still can’t believe you’re getting married this soon, girl.”

“I know,” Olivia agreed, fixing her hair, “but I just love him you know? He makes me a better person. I’ve never felt love like this before.” She said while trying to fight off the tears that were forming on her eyes.

You and Veronica rushed in to give Olivia a huge hug, tears were close to shedding and all of you didn’t want to sit in the makeup chair again.

You were so sure that Olivia was rushing to get married, that maybe she wasn’t thinking things through. However, as you saw your best friend be at the happiest she’s ever been, you figured that getting married was probably the most adamant decision Olivia has ever made.

At 24, Olivia found herself in the arms of the person she’s bound to spend her whole life with.

“I gotta walk down that aisle before I ruin my makeup completely,” Olivia said half-jokingly, fanning herself.

And so she did. Olivia managed to walk down the aisle without completely crying her makeup off, Josh, however, lost it. He was fully sobbing as soon as he saw Olivia walk.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the two of them, you saw two people so full of love that the only way to express it was to cry.

As the ceremony proceeded on, your thoughts were somewhere else. You’ve always wondered if ever you’ll find someone who’ll make you feel the same way as them, that tears would start falling because you were so in love.

However, that would have to wait as you were currently tied with the person you were sure you weren’t going to be in love with. Your gaze automatically went to Tom, who was coincidentally staring at you. You turned your attention back to the couple who were getting married in front of you, your cheeks burning.

Your mind was about to come up with different possible reasons as to why Tom was staring at you, but you had to stop yourself. You don’t need that in your life.

“You okay, Y/N?” Ronnie asked as she took a sip of her champagne. You nodded your head and finished your third glass of champagne. “Are you sure? Because I’ve known you long enough to know that you start to drink heavily when something’s bugging you.”

The reception was over and the newly-wed couple has had their first dance as husband and wife. People were now just letting themselves loose on the dancefloor.

“I’m fine, Ronnie,” You assured her as you called the waiter to give you another glass. “Don’t mind me, you know how weddings make me feel.”

“Yes, which is why I’m terrified.” Veronica murmured.

“Don’t be silly, Ronnie. I can handle myself really.” You said as you scanned the crowd. You saw Tom talking to a couple of girls, seeming like he was desperate to get out of the conversation as soon as possible.

Soon enough, he caught you staring and it seemed like he was relieved to see you. Not long after, he was practically running to you.

“Looks like prince charming is coming to get you,” Veronica chuckled as she grabbed her purse and drink from the table. “I’ll see you later, babe. Text me if you’re leaving.”

“Where are you going and why are you leaving me?” You practically whined. Veronica wasn’t surprised, you were whiny after three drinks.

“I have to go and meet Josh’s parents, they wanted to see me after mentioning that I was looking for a place that I could do my internship,” Ronnie explained “Besides, it looks like you’re going to be taken care of. If you aren’t, call me ASAP.”

You huffed and dismissed your friend. As soon as Veronica left, Tom arrived at your table.

“Oh, thank god I saw you Y/N. It was brutal out there, some people just can’t get a hint-”

“Why are you here?” You asked as soon as Tom sat down next to you. Tom was caught off-guard by your hostility.

“I-uh, what?” Tom wasn’t really sure what’s happening, sure enough, what he did wrong to have you act this way. This wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he knew that he pressed your buttons way too many times, however, that wasn’t the case.

“Aren’t you busy talking to those girls over there?” You asked, now grateful for the newly filled glass of champagne that was just handed to you. The waiter was about to give Tom too but he kindly refused.

“Actually, I was desperate to leave the conversation. It was getting annoying and they kept insisting that I’m just dating you for clout.” Tom explained as he massaged his temples.

“They weren’t lying.” You mumbled before taking a sip from your glass. “You looked like you were having fun though-which I didn’t mind, by the way.”

“Y/N-”

“Tom, you know you can just leave all of this, right? Like no one is forcing you to stay this long because you won’t get the short end of the stick. It’s me who's going to get most of the damage.”

“That’s not true, Y/N. I’m just as affected as you will be.” Tom stressed. “Where is this all coming from?” He asked, getting frustrated.

Much like Tom, you were getting frustrated too. Why are you being hostile around him? It’s not like he’s actually dating you, you have no reason to act this way.

“Alcohol makes me see things more clearly,” You muttered. It was all that you could say. After all, nothing was making sense for you.

“That’s what got us in trouble in the first place,” He claimed as he grabbed your glass and placed it far away from you. Tom stood up and offered his hand to you. “Come, let’s dance. It’ll clear your head.”

“I don’t want to,” You moaned as you threw your head back. “I planned on drinking so if you’re not going to join me, then just leave.”

Tom shook his head no. “I got a note from Ronnie that I need to stop you after three drinks and apparently, you’re on your fourth so ‘nough is enough, princess.”

“Even if I’m not going to drink, I’m still not dancing with you.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“Wanna bet?” You just sat there and listened. You were interested as there was no way in hell he can make you dance.

“That wasn’t fair, you practically set me up.” You grumbled as Tom happily led you to the dance floor. The jig was if you stood up, you’re automatically going to dance with Tom.

Being the ‘sneaky little shit’ (Veronica’s choice of words) that Tom was, he secretly texted Ronnie and asked her if she could potentially lure you into assisting her to the washrooms.

You were skeptical at first, but you eventually obliged. It was Ronnie’s choice of words that made you do it. “Y/N, I swear to god, I’m about to pee. If you don’t help me unzip my dress, I will physically hurt you.”

Tom was now short of 50 bucks because of that favour.

“Oh, c’mon, princess. You know that isn’t true.” Tom tried to keep a straight face but obviously failed as he was now grinning at your annoyed face.

“This is ridiculous, you know that I’m a horrible dancer right?” You said as Tom put your arms around his neck and he placed his hands on your waist.

“I think I’ll manage, princess.” He chuckled.

“No, I’m not kidding. You will leave with a huge bruise on your foot-feet. I might step on both of your feet, there’s a huge possibility.”

Tom stared at you for a moment before saying, “I guess it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

They were playing a slower version of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” and you groaned softly. “What’s wrong, princess?”

“You’ll never let that pet name go, won’t you?” You asked, rolling your eyes.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He answered cheekily.

You two slow danced to the melody of the song and you couldn’t help it but say, “God, I love this song. Why did they have to play it?”

“I guess it was meant to be- Oh god, it’s them again,” Tom said as he saw the girls who were trying to steal his attention all night.

You took a look at the girls and sure enough, they were watching the two of you and were whispering amongst themselves. You didn’t know who they were so you were assuming they were on Josh’s guests.

You weren’t one to start fights however, you were extremely petty though. It’s a habit you’re trying to get rid of. “Hey, Tom?”

He hummed in response. “Do you want to finally get them off your back?” You asked him. He stared at you for a moment before nodding.

“I’m going to do something but promise me you’ll forget it as soon as it’s done.” You disclosed, not even knowing why you’re actually going to do it.

“Okay...” You knew he was getting curious. “What-”

You grabbed the side of his face and kissed the corner of his lips. To say that both of you were surprised was an understatement.

TAGLIST:

@thomasthetankson @autty0314 @marvelous-tswiftfan @averyfosterthoughts @theolwebshooter @jackiehollanderr @sltwins @herondalescecilys @notjustpenandpaper @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife @gothicwidowsworld @heartofholland @stxfxniexreads @peruvian-bae @hollands-osterfield @thenoddingbunny-blog @galacticstxrdust @sweartomendes @itsjstz

Can’t tag:

@sectusempried

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #tom holland reader insert #tom holland and reader #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and you #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x you #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

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dast218 · 4 years

Text

Assassin’s Heart pt 2

Part 1

Dodging and aiming for a high punch, Jason, or currently better known as Red Hood, let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as he kept failing in pinning Damian down. The little Demon has been keeping up with his attacks for the past twenty minutes with no sign of sweat, frustrating Jason to no ends.

“Hood you should spare yourself the embarrassment once you land face first on the platform.”

Canceling out the cheers Jason mouthed “bring it on little brother”, receiving a tisk and a full force punch in his ribs. Stumbling back, the cladded in blood red and black vigilant continued the taunting, aiming to distract the little demon until he leaves a side unguarded.

Rolling onto his side, Jason avoided becoming a punching bag and swung his feet under Daman’s. The urge to pull out a gun started to become unbearable.

Huffing in irrigation, he couldn’t up but wonder how the heck he got pulled into this shit-show. Being an attraction and following guidelines was borderline neglect. Why do people find throwing hands so fun to watch, like I am trying to kill someone not liberate them.

He should probably mention that the rules of this match were borderline neglect: No weapons, no killing, make it entertaining and keep up the distraction.

All because of a stupid bet.

Oh right context:

Damian and Jason found themselves on opposite sides of a bet. The typical bickering in the noble house of the Waynes had gotten out of control, ending with blood and knives scattered at every inch of the dining room. The argument over who had the rightful claim of the newly golden trimmed weapons escalated, and in hopes of calming down the tension a bet was made. Whoever wins will get their prized possessions.

Who in their rightful mind thought that a bet would calm down the Waynes boys? Dick ficking Gayson, that's who.

But of course things couldn’t go smoothly. That would have gone against the whole lifestyle of the Waynes, and the universe just wasn’t yet prepared. Honestly speaking, it probably will never be. Scoffing, Jason dodged another kick and started recalling the series of unfortunate events that got them in a fighting pit of all places. Somewhere along the lines he ended up going to the market in hopes of interrupting an illegal shipment of gunpowder. He couldn’t have the guy come in 2 days before his placed bet. Then the Demon would win and that was simply not happening under his watch. And yes for all those wondering, they placed a bet about a delivery date, the most sane thing the Bats did in a very long time.

Arriving at the scene, to Jason’s utter disappointment, the youngest Wayne was already perched on the side of a rooftop.

“How?”

Ginning, Damian curtly answered “Alfred.”

Before Jason could counter Damian’s response (like he could ever go against the Alfred argument), shouting and cursing erupted in the streets below.

From there the details blurred. One moment they heard the dealer screaming that his lot got stolen and the next they were down breaking apart a fight. Hidden under masks -hey living the noble life is way too boring- the Bat boys dealt with the situation fairly quickly. They found out that the dealer was only left with a few scraps of powder, meaning that Damian won.

Jason couldn’t believe that the brat had his toys and on top of that is currently beating him in the ring. Why couldn’t Bruce just dump the little rotten back to his mother. Curse his adoptive nature. Even if the brat is his, that man adopts too many!

Anyways upon further questioning, people claimed to see a woman in black running around the city. At first Jason didn’t make anything of it, as that was not the weirdest thing they witnessed in Gotham. A few hours later the news of Malnesias lord’s murder reached the manor, prompting the lord of Gotham to send the noble houses into action. With a lead from a few drunk soldiers and traveling merchants, the undercover Waynes found themselves on a trip to the Kingdom of Adan.

While traveling, Damian slipped information that he had personal business with this infamous Shadow girl, who a few months ago decided that releasing his herd of sheep from their “prison” - as she put it in a lovely letter - was a good idea. The Wayne boys kept snickering every few miles, everyone understanding why and joining along. Heck, Jason was dying of laughter even hours after the reveal.

That was a week and a half ago.

Somehow getting more information on this Shadow woman required creating a distraction. And that's how he found himself currently throwing a punch to Damian’s ribs.

It was way too early to deal with the wants of the king. On the other side of Marinette’s wooden door someone - by the sounds of it her maid - has been knocking for the last five minutes with no success.

“Madam please open up. You are going to be late for breakfast!” With a barely recognizable sigh she added, “Again”

Slightly smiling at the display of distraught, Marinette flipped onto her side, simultaneously pulling the gray cover over her face. Today is my sleep in day.

The next thing she registered were two sets of arms grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up onto her feet. Grumbling at the force, Marinnete yielded and allowed the girls to circle around her. She learned a long time ago that when facing a group of determined women, it's better to let them have their way. Thinking otherwise would have called her a hypocrite in ten different languages.

Looking at the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the person staring back at her. The tight blue dress hung her body, enhancing her curves and muscles. From a distance you could see that the material is expensive, sparking in the sunlight with a delicate touch. She knew that someone with her status had to look appropriate, but dressing all lady-like wasn’t at all her style. I can’t wait to change into a running outfit after this fiasco is over with.

Heading to the dining room her vision started to blur, with each step requiring more energy than the last. Marinette couldn’t help but grunt as she felt herself losing balance. Leaning against a wall, she tried to steady her breathing. In and out. In and out.

After a few counts, the lightheadedness disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving Marinette confused. Her headaches were getting worse by the day but each time she tried remembering why, the feeling of losing control came back. It was like something was blocking her memory. Frustrated, the blue dressed assassin continued walking.

Entering into the ridiculously expensive dining room, Marinette met eyes with the King. Without a second glance she sat down, thanked the server and started eating. The King was never the talkative type and with the morning she had, she didn’t feel like talking either.

After a while the emptiness started to bother her and with a lift of her head, she asked “Where is Adrien.” Marinette didn’t know what prompted her to ask as his whereabouts never interested her to begin with, especially after their argument few weeks ago. Matter of factly, staying away from the golden hair men was on her daily to do list.

“You mean Prince Adrien”

“No, you heard it right the first time”

“He came in drunk yesterday.” Gabriel finally said, short and indirect as usual. Fine two can play that game.

Humming in response, the assassin pushed her plate and lifted her legs to the table, her heals hitting the metal with a clack. She didn’t care if her actions were unladylike or down right rude. Leaning back and crossing her hands she irritatingly got to the point.

“Look Gab, I am in no mood to play along with your games today. Its way to early to deal with your pesky attitude.” Hearing few gasps she grumbled, apparently all it took was a few weeks out and suddenly everyone forgets that she doesn’t care what comes out of her mouth. Gezz cut me some slack, like hello I could have still been enjoying my sleep if this guy with a crown hadn’t woke me up.

“What the heck do you want from me?”

------

Finally done with school and got the plot down!

Disclaimer I got inspo from the Throne of Glass book series, just putting it out there. (Assassin’s Heart won’t be similar in many aspects butttt ... yea just letting you guys know)

Tag List: @thestressmademedoit @dreamykitty25 @loveswifi

@dorkus-minimus - not sure if u wanted to be tagged or not, let me know :)

#maribat #assasin's heart

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irwinkitten · 4 years

Text

brat tamer | poly!kayshton

notes: surprise! did u really think i wasn’t gonna post a fic of my mans on my own birthday??? lmao i know that this aint everyone’s cup of tea, HOWEVER it’s my birthday and I’ll post what I want to. I was gonna do another idea however it’s been shelved for now because i just couldn’t get my inspo going. a lot has been going on but this has genuinely been such a joy to write for this week. prompt was picked out by @sexgodashton and obvs it’s our faves. this was written more for us than anything and i’m not sorry about that lmao prompts: “Trust me.” | “You could have warned me.” warnings: smut, use of the word daddy so if it aint your cup of tea, don’t read it. word count: 2k oops

donate to my ko-fi here

(also not using my tagging list for this one as I know that there are more than a few people who aren’t interested and that’s fine.)

Your hands were clasped in front of you as you waited patiently for Ashton to get to the car. His jaw was tense and you kept your gaze on the floor, but Kaykay stood next to you, defiant and beautiful, smug and rightfully so.

She’d been winding both you and Ashton up, but you’d behaved, not feeling like playing up. Ashton has muttered how you were so docile and good for him earlier and your mind had it ringing around for the entirety of the day, unable to get it out.

You didn’t want to be his bad girl and he could see that. You’d even snapped back at Kaykay when she tried to push you. She didn’t try a second time.

The drive home was silent.

When you were in the house and the door was shut, a firm slap sounded and you tried not to jump at the noise. Kaykays whine made Ashton roll his eyes.

“You acted like a brat today, don’t think you get out of your punishment just because our little one was so well behaved. Get upstairs and if you’re not stripped when we get there, you will be in trouble.

This was news to you, but you remained still, waiting until Kaykay made her way upstairs dramatically.

“You know how you wanted to try and take charge little one?” Your breath caught.

“Daddy.” The word came out breathless as his hand cupped your face, caressing your skin gently. You leaned into the touch, watching his face soften at the small show of affection.

“I saw how annoyed you got at Peachy, little one. She managed to push your patience, so what better time? I’ll still be in charge of you, and I’ll direct if you want me to, but you’re handling her punishment today.” And you felt the anxiety disappear. As much as you wanted to try being in control, it was daunting to your mind. Knowing that you still fell under Ashton’s power and role eased any worries as you nodded to him.

“Trust me. Tell me what you want to do sweetheart.” The term of endearment was different, but you found that with this power dynamic, you enjoyed it.

“I want to ruin her orgasms. I wanted to enjoy mine and now I can’t since she’s being like this.” The pout on your lips made him chuckle.

“Any other ideas? Daddy won’t get mad if you use some of his, sweetheart.” And you felt your face flush at how easily he could read your face.

“Can we tie her up, use the crop till she cries?” It was a favourite of Ashton’s, to bring you to tears when you’d been bratty. And you were fascinated with the possibility of doing that to her, to see it from his perspective.

“Of course. It’s your show, and I’m going to enjoy this front seat that I have for it.” And then a wicked grin curved across your lips, making him pause.

“Wanna ride you, show her what being a brat made her miss out on.” And he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips that left you breathless.

“Oh we’ve definitely pulled out that small sadistic streak. Daddy can do that for you sweetheart. Shall we go see what our brat is up to?” And you nodded, allowing him to lead the way, his hand in yours as the thrill of excitement shot down your spine.

As you entered the room, a frown marred your features as a moan slipped from Kaykays lips, her fingers working herself. Ashton was quick enough to grip her wrist, a whine escaping before falling silent at the look on your face.

“Gonna punish me angel?” Her voice was sickly sweet and you glanced at Ashton who nodded once. And you allowed a grin to settle on your lips.

“Since I’m daddy’s good girl, I get to call the shots. Hands and knees, brat.” And the look of shock was worth it before Ashton forced her over onto her stomach.

“You gonna use the buckle ones or the metal cuffs, sweetheart?” He was giving you options.

“She’s gonna tug and I don’t wanna hurt her too much. So buckle.” And you watched as he took pleasure in teasing her, the way his hands trailed down her body as she gripped the headboard to steady herself.

“Daddy.” The whine from Kaykay made him laugh as he climbed off the bed, stripping down and slowly undressing you, his fingers and lips working your skin to get you moaning.

Then he took a seat that was within Kaykays eyesight if she turned her head, patting his lap.

“Want me to fuck you now or later?” He asked as you straddled a thigh, edging you closer to your orgasm. And you wanted to say now, but you knew this would be so much better after denying yourself a few times.

“Later.” You moaned and he stopped, allowing you to catch your breath. Glancing back, Kaykay hadn’t taken her eyes off you as you moved towards her. Your fingers grasped her ass, squeezing the flesh before pulling away. And she groaned in frustration.

Picking up the crop that was out of sight, you waited till her body relaxed and then you struck her skin, a startled yelp escaping her.

“Count for daddy, brat.”

If she wasn’t turned on before, she certainly was now as she started off mumbling the numbers, Ashton silently indicating to hit her harder. And then she was speaking loudly, a few tears trailing from the corners of her eyes. You stopped when you got to twenty five, her knuckles white from gripping the headboard. So you slid a finger into her and nearly moaned at how wet she was.

“Daddy, she’s dripping.” You gasped and he smirked, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

“Taste her sweetheart. Taste what you do to her.” And you did, a moan escaping before you dipped your fingers back in, sauntering over to Ashton, holding your coated fingers to his lips. He smiled as he took them into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he cleaned the digits with his tongue, your mind pausing for a second before his fingers squeezed your ass, pulling you back to the present, soft whimpers coming from behind you.

“Gonna apologise?” You hummed, being met with a few sniffles. Shrugging at Ashton’s curious look, you headed to the toy box the three of you had, pulling out the hitachi and plugging it in.

She whimpered as you set it to the most brutal feeling setting, trailing it along her back.

“I’m asking you again, are you going to apologise?” Silence was your answer so you dragged it so that it was resting on her clit. She was immediately squirming, so you smacked the flesh gently, causing her to hold still. You could see her legs begin to tremble as she started getting louder and you counted before pulling the wand away and a frustrated shout escaped her.

“Gonna apologise?” You taunted but she held firm in her silence.

So you repeated the process.

You changed the settings, making her squirm and then denying every single orgasm.

You got to seven before she started crying, begging you to let her cum and you simply smirked in return.

“I’ll ask you again, are you going to apologise?” She held her silence and you denied the next orgasm.

Only when you hit ten, did she break.

“I’m sorry, please I’m so sorry I’ll be good. Please please let daddy fuck me.” Tears were falling and you turned to Ashton who nodded.

“Cum all you want to then, Peachy. But daddy gets to fuck me.” You strapped the wand to her thigh, her entire body trembling as her first orgasm washed over her.

Ashton had readjusted the chair so you could watch her as you sank onto his cock, your moan mingling with hers as the wand worked her clit.

Ashton was ruthless, his hands holding you still as he fucked into you, leaving marks littered all over your body.

In the time that Ashton sent you over three times before chasing his own one, Kaykay was a quivering mess, you slid to her side, moving the wand once more and she whimpered.

“One more peachy. Want you to cum for me.” You whispered and she went, her entire body shaking as you turned the wand off, unbuckling her.

Ashton stepped in, scooping her as he indicated to the bathroom.

“Run the bath sweetheart. Let’s take care of our girl.” She was babbling her apologies amidst her tears and you felt mildly bad as you did so, Ashton bringing her in and telling you to climb in behind her.

Holding her body reassured you she was okay as you and Ashton cleaned her up.

Once all three of you were clean and settled into new sheets, she clung to you, and you simply did what she did with you, running your fingers through her hair before she fell asleep, your eyes meeting Ashton’s.

“You did good little one.” And you felt yourself settle as you relaxed into the warmth of your girlfriend and slept easily.

When you woke up, Kaykay was still pressed into you, but you could feel what woke you up, her lips on your skin and a soft ‘oh’ escaped you.

“Angel you were so good last night.” She murmured and you glanced at Ashton who was passed out, returning your gaze to Kaykay who smirked.

“I’m not gonna be a brat, angel. Daddy knows I wanna thank you for last night. Can I thank you angel? Leave my marks all over you like daddy did?” And you hesitated.

You wanted her, wanted her to reclaim her dominance and you wanted to submit. But you didn’t want to disappoint Ashton.

Almost as if he could sense the turmoil in your thoughts, he turned over, hazel eyes studying you carefully.

“Let daddy watch Peachy thank you, little one. You let daddy appreciate you, now it’s peachy’s turn.” His morning voice was gravelly but you relaxed into the mattress as her lips began to work your chest.

“You could’ve warned me he was awake and I wouldn’t have hesitated.” You moaned softly, your back arching into her touch.

“Daddy, can I fuck her with the toy you got us? Show her that she does it for me too?” And he must’ve nodded because suddenly his lips were on yours as she got off the bed and rummaged.

There was a telltale buzz of the vibrator. And then you felt the rounded edge of the dildo and you moaned into the kiss with no hesitation, making Ashton pull away to chuckle.

“Look at our needy little girl daddy.” And you can't help but whimper as your hips rise to meet her thrusts.

“So good for us. Taking control last night. Tell me little one, what do you want peachy to do to you as a thank you? Don’t worry about daddy, he’s just gonna enjoy the show.”

“Fuck me till I can’t think straight.” You whispered and you felt the vibrations go up a setting,

“Your wish is my command angel.” And you knew you were a goner as the first orgasm washed over you but she kept going.

Your body felt like a live wire as you met her thrust for thrust until Ashton held your hips down and Kaykay fucked into you. You could feel your coherent thoughts slipping and Ashton noticed immediately.

“One more peachy. Fuck one out of her.” And you could only watch as he jerked himself off, his own moans mixed with yours as you felt the euphoria fill your body, eyes falling shut as she kept her movements before shuddering over you, switching off the custom strap on.

“Thank you peachy.” You whispered as she used her tongue to clean you up, lapping at your pussy before crawling up your body.

“No, thank you angel. You put me in my place when I needed it. You feeling up to a day of just us?” And you felt yourself cuddling closer to her body, making her chuckle.

“Day of us it is. I’ll make some breakfast, why don’t you two clean up?” Ashton presses a kiss to your temple as Kaykay held you tightly.

“Sounds perfect. C’mon angel, maybe if we hurry, we can convince daddy to make some blueberry pancakes.” And the grin that spread across your lips relaxed her instantly.

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Seven, “The Tables Have Turned”

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and POV surveys

- Inspo tag

- Playlist

SNEAKYYYYYY PEEEEEK

“At least I had my orientation with Harry to look forward to that coming Friday, but I still wouldn’t start at his firm for another week after that. The anticipation was killing me, and so were the little moments Harry and I shared when I happened to remember them. Sometimes I wish the alcohol had stolen those memories away, because they hurt too much to remember, but then at other times I’d never wish them away, because they give me something irreplaceable - hope.”

Music Inspo: Everywhere by Niall Horan (click to listen)

“You think I like having you in here, destroying everything that was me until all that’s left is you and a dead shell? You're all I bloody think about ... dream about. You're in my gut ... my throat ... I'm drowning in you.”

- Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (S5 x E14)

“How’s yer dad doin’?” Harry asks me when I return to my seat across from him, the soda threatening to spill over the top of my cup.

“He’s doing good, thanks. It took a while for his energy to come back, and sometimes he gets tired easily, but it’s a process,” I answer, plucking a chip from the small white bag and drenching it in the yellow queso. “He’s pretty happy to have all of his hair back, and he’s started to get back into running and lifting weights. Late last summer he started back to work where he does construction.”

“Wow, I feel like I learn mo’ ‘bout yer dad e’ry time we talk ‘bout him. I didn’t know he was into weights and all that, good fer him. Bloody hell he’s like superman. Ya dunno how happy I am t’ hear he’s back on his feet, and doin’ well,” he murmurs with a gentle warmth adorning his features.

It spreads with a spark across my skin when I feel his fingers wrap around mine, squeezing my hand. I’m guilty again with an absence of words when I look back into his eyes, all syllables stolen away from me at the sight and by his gesture. I don’t need to say anything though because unspoken words pass between us as he stares back at me, memories unraveling from all of the times he showed up for me. I still don’t know how I could have ever doubted he cared about me.

“Thank you,” I reply emphatically, squeezing his toasty hand in return. His thumb brushes along the back of my hand before letting it go.

“Welcome, Becks. ‘m sorry I wasn’t there at tha end t’ celebrate,” he responds softly, sadness laced throughout his words as his head falls. His eyes avoid mine as he picks up a few pieces of shredded cheese that fell onto the wrapper laid in front of him.

“It’s okay, Harry, we both kinda forgot.” His head of curls goes up and down at my softly spoken words that only brush the surface. Regardless, I think that it did the job and he knows what I mean. We both know that we ignored the other and forgot, whether on accident or purpose. “I guess there are several reasons for our celebratory dinner and drinks.”

“Very true, bug,” he agrees, the dimples finding their way back onto his cheeks once again. The itchy nervousness abates when his eyes lift again to mine and he holds out his half-eaten taco, grease and warm sour cream dripping from it. “Cheers t’ yer dad’s recovery, catchin’ up with old friends, and tha best o’ all - Becks gettin’ tha associate position at me firm workin’ with me. ‘m excited t’ see what tha future holds for me new favourite lawyer.”

“Stop it, or else I’m going to start crying, and you’ve seen me cry more than enough,” I smile, blinking back the tears as I hold out my taco and bump it against his. “Cheers to new beginnings, Harry.”

“Cheers, Becks, and ‘s okay if ya cry. Happy tears are good too.”

“Very true,” I agree, taking a page from his book before I finish the rest of my taco, a silence falling over our table. It’s replaced with crinkling of wrappers, sips of soda, chewing of crunchy chips and chocolatey churros, and stolen glances at the other.

“How’re Skye and Robbie these days? What’re they up t’?” he inquires, squashing the wrapper of his third taco into a ball that he sets on the side of the tray for our trash. I watch as he plucks a quesadilla from the stack of dwindling food, but he stops and grabs a churro as well with a sly grin. “Hey, they’re fer me too.”

“Harry,” I warn teasingly, a giggle peeking out from my words which he quickly echos, although accidentally. “Um, they’re both good. Skye got a new job at a salon on the west side that she likes. It’s called Roots or something or other, and Robbie is still working at Black and Blue. He actually started dating a girl recently, but I’ve yet to meet her. God, it seems like everybody else is having luck with love, beside us. Myles told me he’s engaged now, and then Robbie’s girlfriend, and Skye said the other day she has a date this week.”

“Ya, we’re ratha pathetic, aren’t we? We haven’t even had any drinks yet and we’re gushin’ ‘bout bloody love,” he cracks, clucking his tongue before feeding the rest of the crisp churro between his rose lips. My oh my, is that a scenic sight right there.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” I remark, finishing my second taco and grabbing the remaining quesadilla, earning a disapproving head shake from him.

As the flavors of the tangy sour cream, fiery seasoned chicken, and gooey cheese melt on my tongue, our words hit a sensitive spot in my heart. I just hope we can avoid it for the rest of the night, or else I’m afraid I might blurt out some words I’ve been itching to say.

“Hurry up, ‘s bloody cold,” Harry titters, digging his hands further into the pockets of his matte black coat.

“How far are we even going?”

“Oh, hush, you. ‘s not very far, jus’ anotha block,” he answers, his lengthy legs far ahead of mine.

“Harry, that’s what you said like five minutes ago, and slow the fuck down!”

“Hey, watch tha language, there’s no need t’ swear,” he remarks, meeting my eyes over his shoulder with his brows quirked into a V. When we arrive at a busy intersection, our feet stop on the sidewalk, and a muttered curse falls from his lips.

“Oh, so you can swear, but I can’t?” I quip, poking his arm playfully.

“Yes, li’l one, I can. ‘m not bein’ a very good role model fer ya, am I now?” he replies, a hand leaving his pocket to pat the top of my head covered in a knit hat. I respond with a roll of my eyes as his sly grin graces my eyes. “Are ya shrinkin’ on me, Becks?”

“Don’t.”

He only giggles, turning back to the onslaught of moving lights around us. I’ve always enjoyed the sights of London like this, the neon and fluorescent signs hugging every street, and the towering buildings. Harry mumbles a ‘c’mon’, tugging on my sleeve until I follow him across the crosswalk. Soon, we come upon a pub with a green neon sign donning the front, reading ‘Murphy’s’ that Harry pulls me into. His long legs lead me through the entryway, across red-tiled flooring, and to the long wooden bar where boisterous laughs sound.

“Can I have two Purple Haze martinis, please?” Harry says to the bartender, a tall fellow with an interesting red mustache that curls at its ends. He nods and turns around to grab two martini glasses.

“What are Purple Hazes, like is it something Prince liked to drink?” I ask Harry, falling onto the black bar stool beside him.

“I dunno, but you’ll like it. Jus’ trust me,” he smiles as he slides off his coat, and I admire the new view of his side profile. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. Seven months both does and doesn’t feel like forever, especially compared to that day I found him standing at the front of that lecture hall. Yesterday, when I turned around to find him standing in Myles’ office, it felt like it had been years. I blame it on all of the hurt. “‘Scuse me, can we also get two Skittles shots? Thanks.”

“So, now you’re my drinking mentor too, huh?”

“Pretty much, ya,” he smirks, balling his hand into a fist that he lays his cheek on to look at me. The smile winding its way along his lips under the dim lights drills a hole into the armor around my heart that’s cracking more and more. “And yer not doin’ that sissy thing ya do where ya have a glass o’ water on tha side.”

“Harry, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow!”

“Becks, you’ll be fine! T’morrow’s a Saturday, anyways. What will it hurt?” he answers, shrugging his shoulders as the crinkles begin around his eyes. They almost disappear from my view when he looks to the bartender who sets the shots down in front of us, Harry mentioning adding it to his bill after thanking him. “Bottoms up, bug.”

“Oh, God,” I sigh, taking the greenish-yellow shotglass of liquid from his outstretched hand. “Stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?” he inquires with a furrowed brow, holding the shot close to his grinning lips.

“Like you know we’re about to get drunk.”

“Cheers,” is all he says, clinking his glass against mine before downing the liquid effortlessly. Shaking my head, I exhale loudly as the liquid nears my lips, and then it burns with hints of sweet and sour on the way down. “See, not so bad, was it?”

“Shut up,” I retort in the middle of a cough racking my chest, setting down the glass with a clunk.

“I have a question,” he announces after his giggling dissolves into the air. “Ya neva told me how you and Skye met, so how’d it happen?”

“You’re thinking about that right now?” I quip, carding a hand through my hair after I slip off my mauve-colored beanie. He shyly nods as he fidgets with a ring on his left hand, meeting my gaze only shortly. “We met in first grade. She was scary at first, because one day early on she got mad at me for stealing her friend, or something- I can’t remember. Then the next day, she came up to me and we were both wearing pink Hello Kitty shoes, and decided to be best friends. Like they say, the rest was history, and we were joined at the hip from then on. We were in the same class a lot throughout the following years, took the same electives in high school, and moved to London together to go to uni.”

“Sounds ratha picturesque, dontcha think? Or I s’pose that’s how it goes with five-year olds,” Harry murmurs, nodding to the bartender when he brings us the purple martinis. An awe leaves my lips when I see the ombre of purple hues filling the glass. “‘s vodka, Curacao, Black Raspberry Liqueur, and cranberry juice. I think you’ll like it. Go ‘head, try it, Becks.”

I obey and bring the chilly glass to my mouth, relaxing at the sweet taste of berries, filling me with the color purple. Then I wince at the harsh bite of the alcohol, eliciting a titter from Harry whose foot I kick with mine. Beside me, he gulps down a quarter of the drink, unfazed.

“How about you and Myles?”

“Good question, I dunno if ‘ve eva told ya that story,” he hums, tickling his stubbly chin with his fingers while thinking. Even the way the skin between his eyebrows disappears when he’s thinking is cute. God, everything about him is and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it to myself once all of this alcohol passes my lips. As another drink of the martini burns my throat, I think I may be warming up to that idea, but there’s the possibility it could all be for nothing if the alcohol steals our memories away.

“We met in high school inn’a class I can’t rememba tha name of, but we both hadd’a crush on tha same girl, and we both played guitar. So it was natural,” he mumbles, licking his lips and making me feel woozy all over at the sight.

“Sure, that’s a real natural friendship,” I giggle. “You know I’m a lightweight, by the way.”

“Oh I know, ‘m bettin’ onnit,” he returns with a wink, bringing the large glass to his bubblegum lips.

“You know what’s good?” I follow, watching his thick eyebrows hike up his forehead. “That Kinky stuff,” I respond, taking another sip. I almost choke on it when I glance at the shocked look screwing up his face.

“Becks.”

“No, God- t-the vodka, Harry . . . not that other stuff,” I chuckle, my entirety collapsing into nervous laughter. His own echoes mine as a prickly warmth spreads like fire across my body.

“My bloody God, Rebecca Holte, are ya already feelin’ that drink?” he hums, his bony knee knocking against mine underneath the table. The fiery nervousness abates briefly at the mention of my formal name, one I can’t recall the last time I’ve heard him say in its entirety. It comes as a shock to me, considering at times I’m convinced he’s forgotten it.

“No, I-I just thought a liquor connoisseur such as yourself would know what I’m talking about.”

“Sure, I totally don’t believe you on that one, love,” he replies, scoffing when I softly hit his shoulder. “Yer prolly into handcuffs and gags, arentcha?”

“Harry Styles!” I exclaim, squirming when his hand covers my mouth. It falls within seconds, but the spicy vanilla smell coating his body remains with me, along with the warmth of his touch. Most of all, the familiarity and safety wrapped all in it causes a pang in my chest. “I do not do handcuffs, or bloody gags, and nor would I ever tell you, if I did.”

Words fleet his lips as he drowns them with another swallow of his violet martini. I turn away with my hair tickling my cheek as it shakes from side to side. It flies in front of my eyes when his fingers plunge into my sides, yanking laughs from my mouth as he lifts his eyebrows at me with a look that tells me to be quiet.

“I missed you,” I blurt out at random, feeling his fingers still on my side and his expression relaxes. The happiness falls from his eyes and cheeks, and with it I turn away, unable to deal with the disappointment I’m sure I’m on the verge of.

“I missed you too, y’know . . . loads,” Harry concurs, his fingers dangling at my side until they wander to my hands clasped in my lap. He steals one of them away and holds it against his leg, rubbing circles into my knuckles.

If this doesn’t make me spill the beans, then I’m positive the following liquor just may, and it all might come crashing down in front of me.

The next shot, a Lemon Drop, didn’t go down as smoothly. I felt like I was going to hack up a lung when I feel Harry’s warm hand on my back.

“Alright?” he murmurs in a rush, patting my back firmly until the cough subsides. “Sorry, that lemon one ‘s kinda hard sumtimes, ‘s ratha sour.”

“Ya think?” I respond, trying to make it go away with the last gulp of the Purple Haze, but it’s only a few seconds of relief.

I exhale and only feel his hand leave me when he orders a water, and two Tequila Sunrises, his a stronger one.

“Breathe, love, a water’s on ‘s way,” Harry hums, squeezing my arm. I nod and swallow hard, embarrassment coating me like a musty sheet.

“I thought you said no water.”

“Hush, I gotta take care o’ me li’l one,” he assures me, bringing a finger to his lips when I dare a look at him. A smile returns to my lips and remains there when the cold water graces them, him sipping at the Tequila Sunrise sat between his ringed fingers.

Oh, what I’d give to be able to wake up to a sunrise with him by my side. Oh, Harry.

“Hey, wha’s that ya got there?” he inquires, soon his painted nail lifting the bracelets from my right wrist. “Becks has a tattoo?! Since when?” he exclaims, astonishment and shock mixing into a cocktail amongst his features. His eyes bug out of his skull and then narrow when they return to my wrist.

“It’s a Queen Anne’s Lace, Robbie has one too, just on his upper arm and bigger. We got them when we were eighteen, um . . . . after our Gran passed. Grandma Holte . . Ann Holte,” I explain, helping him by removing the bracelets from around my wrist.

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or just him, but my wrist finds a new home in his palm that he turns to better look at. The shock is replaced by a slow smile transforming his face, bleeding into his eyes that find their way back to mine.

“‘s gorgeous, Becks, truly. ‘ve always found tattoos o’ flowers t’ be so beautiful, yer makin’ me want t’ get anotha one even mo’ now. I mean, I have tha rose and anotha sumwhere I think, but now I want anotha thanks t’ you,” he hums, tracing the ink with the tip of his thumb, just a whisper of his touch. “‘m sorry ‘bout yer Gran, sounded like it was premature which ‘s always tha worst. Knew ya were strong, but fook, ya amaze me e’ry day, Becks.” Unannounced tears press warmly at the back of my eyes as he admires the sprawling flower, tracing each little petal until he’s tracked them all.

“You didn’t think I was that badass, huh?”

“No, ‘ve always thought ya were a badass, babe. A flower tattoo jus’ takes the cake,” he quips, looking me in the eyes and sending another crack down the case in my chest.

I don’t know how many more little shocks like this I can take, or my heart, before it breaks free from the cage I locked it up in so long ago. I hid it there to protect it from him breaking it, again.

“This ‘s me,” he announces, bringing us to stop in the parking lot. My confusion only grows as I look around, until my eyes stop on the black Harley Davidson in front of us.

“What? It’s the middle of winter, Harry.”

“I know, I know. That’s what e’rybody says, but I dress warm. I like t’ take her out e’ry once in a while t’ keep her runnin’ good. Maybe ‘ll hafta take ya onn’a ride when ‘s not too cold fer pussy Becks,” he coos, voice rising to a mocking tone.

“I’m sorry I don’t like the cold wind ripping my skin off,” I titter and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a groan. I stand there awkwardly, eyes following him as he grabs the helmet from the locked bag towards the back seat.

“Ya sure yer good t’ drive, bug? I can give ya a ride if yer not too much o’ a puss puss,” Harry remarks, turning to face me as he holds the buckle strap to the side, a smirk claiming his face.

“Yeah I’m good, thanks. Those four waters and twenty trips to the bathroom helped,” I answer, although regretfully as everything inside of me screams at me to accept.

Girl, how dumb are you?

Quiet, demon, I can’t take it back now.

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that, love. I uh, reckon ‘ll see ya inn’a week then?” he replies, sliding the helmet over his dark curls, fingering the chin strap.

“Yeah, the eighteenth.”

“Don’t miss me too much now,” he jests from behind the lack of visor that he had pushed up and out of the way. Even with the bulky metallic gold helmet, he’s so goddamn sexy it’s unbelievable.

“As long as you don’t miss me too bad either.”

“Eh, ‘ll try not t’ but it’ll be hard,” he echoes jokingly, squishing his lips to the side with a thought and suddenly they collapse into a pout. Then, he winks at me as he settles onto his bike. “See ya inn’a week, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry. Have a good weekend, and careful driving.”

“You too, bug, drive safe. ‘ll talk t’ ya soon, gotta get tha recipe fer that Kinky Blue drink from ya,” he tells me, the bike rumbling to life when he twists the key in the ignition.

“Bye,” I exhale, taking one last look at him before I turn around. I put one foot in front of the other and walk away from him, my least favorite thing to do of all things on this planet.

From behind my steering wheel a few cars down, I watch in awe as he slides on gloves before toeing away the kickstand and pulling out of the lot, looking more handsome than ever.

Just when I think he can’t surprise me, he does just that, and in the best way possible. Every time.

“Care to explain where you’ve been all night, missy?”

“It’s not even eleven, Mom,” I respond with a firmness trying in my voice, but I can’t muster it as I slide off my boots. No, there’s not really any reason in the world that I could be upset right now, or feign anything other than utter happiness.

“I know, I can read a clock, Ree. Hey, what’s that big smile for? I never got to hear how your interview went yesterday.”

“Oh yeah,” I realize aloud, the words falling automatically as I hang up my coat in the closet by our front door. Boy, is that a lot to unpack and rehash, and yet I look forward to relaying it all to her. That way, I get to relive all of it a little bit, and I don’t mind if I do. “Well, you were out all night partying too, so you can’t be mad at me.”

“You got me there, I’m guilty. Or can I say that yet, Ms. Lawyer?” Skye responds, a lightness showing in her words. After closing the door to the closet, I find the anxious eagerness waiting in her eyes, bringing elation to the front of my mind as I nod.

“I got the job yesterday,” I barely am able to say before she crossed the room, surrounding me in a hug. “Harry called me when I got home from work and told me the good news!”

“Oh my god, Ree, that’s so amazing! I’m so happy for you, holy shit!” she exclaims, amazing me at her strength when she squeezes me with her noodle arms. “Was he happy to see you?!”

“Yeah, I think so, and fuck he looked so good, Skye. He hugged me the first second he saw me.”

“Aww, that’s so bloody cute. So, when do you start?”

Pulling away, I look her in the eyes and revel in the happy celebration coating me in waves again.

“Monday the twenty-eighth, but I have orientation with him next Friday.”

“Oooo, lucky you!” she smiles, and I swear my happiness about the whole thing has only doubled since she stopped being angry at me for applying.

“And I may or may not have just went out for those belated dinner and drinks with him tonight,” I reveal slowly yet eagerly, watching more shock paint her face and her jaw drops.

“Ree, you basically went out on a date with him, that’s my girl!”

“Skye, it wasn’t a date!” I protest feebly, because once again any of the negative emotions have no chance at outshining the wonderful positive ones right this second. “It was just to celebrate my new job, and to make up for the dinner we never had this summer, and the drinks he wanted to get for my birthday which also didn’t happen.”

“Wait, what?!” she almost explodes, nearly all of the emotions under the sun covering her face, if only for a few seconds at a time. “I thought you didn’t talk to him on your birthday?”

“Well yeah, I didn’t besides that one text,” I answer, and then I slowly see the realization shine in her eyes.

“You opened his presents?!” she shouts, coming to grab my arms as I giggle with a nod.

“Yeah, after I got home and right before he called. Talk about a lot of happy tears yesterday.”

“No wonder you weren’t answering my calls, and I don’t blame you, you were a busy girl. Busy with Harry,” Skye notes aloud, the same sunny emotions showing in her words, but they die down as she nears her finish. “I told you he still cared about you.”

“I know, you were right all along, and it kills me that I ever believed he didn’t. He got me a mini purple piano keyboard, a journal to write songs in, the first season of FRIENDS, and wrote me the sweetest birthday card. Then, he called right after to tell me I got the job, and fuck, it all seems like a dream sometimes. But then I called him at work today to set up the orientation, and he had the idea to get together tonight, and it’s all like a dream come true,” I tell her softly, and slowly it all doesn’t seem so fake anymore, but instead it feels just like the dream I’ve always wanted my life to become.

“Girl, you are so lucky,” Skye comments, dragging me by the hand over to the sofa where we fall with a thud, heads resting on the back cushion. “Did you kiss him tonight? Because God, Ree, you are both so in love with each other, I dunno how you haven’t kissed him already.”

“I don’t know,” I muse aloud, staring at the ceiling, but really all I can see is him smiling at me at the bar. His hand on my back when I was coughing, bringing my hand into his when we said we missed the other, and all of those feelings sitting in his eyes that I’m sure he could’ve seen in mine as well. “I think I’ll wait until I get settled at the job, because starting a new job is always the worst part and overwhelming enough as it is.”

“If you say so, Boops, but I figure that’s not too bad of an idea.”

“Yeah, guess why?” I counter, turning my head to face her, finding strands of purple hair sticking out of her messy bun. She looks back at me, confusion etched into the lines in her forehead. “He’s my mentor for the next few years and I’m his mentee, so I get to work with him every day and all day.”

“Ree, you should’ve led with that! Holy shit, why didn’t you?” she exclaims, swatting my arm in disbelief as I dissolve into a happy laugh. “That’s amazing! You get to work with him and under him, it sounds like a pretty good deal,” she chuckles, her laughing lips falling into a please smile.

“I know, I really can’t believe the last two days sometimes. I hit the jackpot, the Harry jackpot,” I giggle happily, relaxing against the sofa, trying to remember his spicy vanilla scent. If I try hard enough, I can smell it when his hand covered my mouth in a joke, and the warmth of his touch the few times our hands met. It wasn’t nearly enough times, though. “I have to work with Myles my entire second week though, because he’ll be in Scotland to try the case I’m helping him prep for my first week.”

“That’s shitty,” she grimaces, crossing her arms over her chest clad in a fuzzy blue bathrobe. “Just ask him out when he gets back then, it’d be too annoying starting to date while he’s away. If you didn’t, I’m pretty sure you’d die from missing him, Ree.”

“Fuck, I already might, I’m dreading it,” I sigh sadly, not even wanting to think about how pathetic I already feel not looking forward to that week.

“I know you are, but don’t. You have so much more to look forward to just in the next few weeks, and maybe you can sneak your second and third date in there, and a kiss perhaps.”

“Oh my God, Skye, shut up,” I retort, but it’s soon consumed by my laughter as she pulls me into her arms and her chin rests on my head.

“I’m so blooming happy for you, Ree. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“So have I, Skye, so fucking long,” I recall aloud, trying not to let the melancholy find me as I lose myself thinking about how ungodly perfect he looked tonight. And how I get to see that handsome face five days a week for the near future; talk about lucky. Talk about a dreamboat finally lifting its sail.

The next few days seemed as if they took twice as long, and the mild headache I woke up to on Saturday morning didn’t help. Although relaxing, the day dragged on and soon it was Sunday, with another long week ahead of me. At least I had my orientation with Harry to look forward to that coming Friday, but I still wouldn’t start at his firm for another week after that. The anticipation was killing me, and so were the little moments Harry and I shared when I happened to remember them. Sometimes I wish the alcohol had stolen those memories away because they hurt too much to remember, but then at other times I’d never wish them away, because they give me something irreplaceable - hope.

One of the many things they don’t tell you about becoming an adult is how music makes everything all the more tolerable, and exciting. Air Hostess by Busted fills one of my ears as I pass the aisle for boxed pasta, pasta sauces, and the like. On an endcap, I grab a box of fettuccine that I toss into my cart. Lifting my eyes, my legs move again and come across a figure that walks right out in front of me. Our metal carts bang against the other’s as a warmth tickles my insides, and my lips.

“God, Styles, you’re an awful driver,” I remark with a tsk, removing the earbuds to stuff into my pocket.

“Oh, hey, Becks. ‘m sorry I didn’t see ya there,” he comments, turning his tired green eyes to mine. He messes with the gray knit beanie covering most of his messy locks, and it suddenly makes me hyper aware of my godawful just-fell-out-of-bed appearance.

“No duh you didn’t,” I snicker, kneading the plastic sheath on the cart’s push bar. “Wow, nice Sunday Best, I’m impressed,” I tease, running my eyes over the baggy gray sweats covering his legs and the cream Abbey Road crewneck on his torso.

“You as well, Ms. Power Rangers,” he quips, nodding his head at my outfit that compares very much to his with black cheetah sweats, a hoodie, and beanie. “Which one was yer favourite since there was neva a purple one when we were li’l?”

“I know, I felt so ripped off by that,” I sigh, following him as he takes off and turns into the next aisle. “But I always loved the red power ranger, I don’t really know why.”

“Hmmm, interestin’ seein’ how he was always tha one in charge. D’ya have a thing fer bossy men or sumthin’, Becks?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh, tapping his bum with the front of my cart, earning evil eyes from him over his shoulder. “Who was your favorite Power Ranger, then?” I say, turning the tables to him. He comes to a stop in front of me, straying from his empty cart to grab a few cans of corn and peas.

“Green, I think. Can’t really rememba why,” he shrugs, placing the cans in the cart, soon returning to another section of shelves to pluck a large can of crushed tomatoes from it. “Which season was yer fav’?”

“Time Force, for sure.”

“Oh c’mon, Dino Force was far betta,” he scoffs disbelievingly, giving me another dirty look as he sets down the large can in his cart, crossing off something on the piece of blue paper he holds.

“Maybe you should be friends with my brother, seeing how you like all of the same stuff. The green Power Ranger was his favourite, and so was Dino Force,” I laugh, comparing two different brands of green beans, deciding on the cheaper one that I grab. My legs pass his cart and when I see him shrug his shoulders with a sly grin, I softly swat him on the arm, his name leaving me.

“Becks, ya betta watch it,” he giggles, catching my arm in his gentle grasp.

“Or what?”

“Don’t test me,” he warns, but the grin creasing his cheeks tells me otherwise, he’s harmless. I bump my shoulder against his after he lets go, but not without a tickle from him.

“Harry Styles,” I groan, grabbing a can of tuna from the shelf. His grin is wider when I turn around, rolling my eyes at him on my way back to my cart.

“Rebecca Holte,” he whines in a mocking voice, once again shocking me with his recollection of my name.

“Don’t, it sounds weird when you say my name like that.”

“It really does tho’,” he remarks agreeingly, words falling into a hearty laugh. I almost echo it until I spot the look on his face. Following his eyes to the shelves, I find his stuck to a display of Spaghettios. Some have meatballs in them, hotdogs, the pasta are in different shapes, and some cans are bigger than others. I’m not sure which one he’s looking at, but the absence of anything on his face whisks that question away. “Alright?” I ask softly, taking a few steps towards him, and he wakes back up when my hand touches his arm.

“Y-Ya,” he hums sadly, letting my fingers come around his forearm, almost as if I’m about to hook arms with him. God, I wish. “‘s been a while since ‘ve seen these, and even longa since I ate ‘em. I always used t’ eat ‘em at me granddad’s house with a piece o’ buttered bread,” he explains, nodding towards the arrangement.

“Oh, Harry,” I exhale, sadness bending my features as I squeeze his arm. He musters a forced laugh, carrying his eyes over to mine with apology held in them. “It’s almost been a year, hasn’t it?”

“Ya, this week. I can’t believe it,” he remarks softly, kneading his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger of his free right hand. “Almost think I should grab a can fer him, but I dunno if ‘d like ‘em now. I don’t wanna ruin that memory.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to buy it. You could buy or do something else to remember him, Harry.”

He nods beside me as I look up at him and watch the thoughts paint his face. It seems his face goes through every emotion within a minute - sadness, regret, confusion, frustration, grief, etc.

“Maybe get something you both like.”

“Ya, he loved those fudge-striped cookies, maybe I can find some o’ those instead,” he decides, tearing his eyes away from the lines of cans to meet mine. “Thanks . . Boops,” he smiles, that simple image calming the worrying of my heart.

I laugh and walk away from him, returning to my cart that I begin to push, but I find Harry’s in my way. With a playful groan, my lips part, “Come on, Harold, move it so we can go to the cookie aisle.”

“Hey, that’s not me name,” he responds, wrapping his bare fingers around the handle, giving me another glare over his shoulder.

“Well, neither is Rebecca, so don’t call me that.”

“But it ‘s actually yer name. Yer confusin’, y’know that?” he tuts, shaking his head as he looks straight ahead, moving down the aisle. “Hey, how’d ya eva come t’ be called ‘Boops’, anyways? I rememba Skye would call ya that sometimes when ‘d come ova.”

“God, I can’t believe you remember that nickname,” I groan, receiving a light chuckle from him ahead of me. On purpose, I bump the front of my cart against his bum again as he waits for somebody to pass.

“Becks- I mean, Rebecca, stop,” Harry says, turning halfway to meet my giggling eyes. One sits in his greens as well, but he only lets it show as a curling of one side of his mouth. “Ya I rememba, that’s all she called you. I think she did it on purpose.”

“Probably, knowing Skye she did it to bug me or embarrass me,” I comment, taking a right down the big aisle in between all of the smaller ones. Rows upon rows of cookies come before our eyes soon, along with baking supplies like flour, sugar, and chocolate chips. Dang, the amount of chocolate in this aisle is unreal, and somehow comforting. “My dad started it when I was a baby, or so I’ve been told. He’d tap my nose with his finger and it always made me laugh, I guess, so it stuck.”

“Aww, that’s adorable. Does he still boop yer nose when he calls ya that?”

“Sometimes,” I laugh, leaving my cart on the side as I pull out my phone, bringing up my shopping list. “So what are you all buying today?”

“That’s cute, y’know, and jus’ stockin’ up on some stuff. ‘m makin’ a pot pie t’night, so needed stuff fer that - carrots, an onion, celery, pie dough, broth, chicken, y’know,” he answers, bending down to squat so he can pull a pack of fudge stripes from the shelf. “Ah, here they are. I can’t rememba tha last time I had these eitha, but ‘m excited t’ try ‘em again, and think of Granddad when I have ‘em with a glass o’ milk.”

“Good idea,” I agree, patting him on the back as I tote a sack of flour in my other arm.

He finds me with his eyes over his shoulder, and those to-die-for dimples make an appearance again as his lips open with a smile, “Thanks, Boops,” he grins, tapping my nose with his finger. I want to tell him how original he’s being with that response, or the lack thereof, but the butterflies taking flight in my stomach consume all the bravery I had. “What’re you buyin’, hmm?”

“Same, just necessities.”

“Looks like yer bakin’ or sumthin’ with all that flour,” he comments, nodding to it as I set it down amongst the other items.

“Well, I’m going to make brownies, so yeah it’s a necessity, but that’s nothing new.”

“Ah, so Becks has become a baker, has she now?” he inquires, filling his arms with items up and down the aisle, because of course he is. I nod, joining him by a box of premade mixes, watching as he debates over which brownie mix to buy.

“I literally just said two seconds ago that I’m making homemade brownies, and you’re buying a box mix of them! Homemade is always better!” I exclaim, then groan with a disapproving shake of my head. “Harold.”

“Boops,” he returns, a smile winding its way up his cheeks covered in a light layer of dark facial hair. Now, that’s new, and what’s not to like? “I don’t mess with bakin’, so yes, ‘m buyin’ a box o’ premade. Unless ya’d like t’ make me some?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows at me with an idea forming inside of my head.

“Maybe if you stop calling me Boops and Rebecca, I will one time.”

“Noted,” he responds, winking at me as he replaces the box on the shelf.

“Good boy.”

He continues to smile at me, and quickly I remember what it’s like to stare into this sunlight, and how it’s not so bad sometimes. It’s quite wonderful, actually. The buzzing inside of my chest grows when his finger nears my face again, and then brushes under my eye.

“I like seein’ yer birthmark when ya don’t cover it up, ‘s pretty, Becks,” he hums, tracing his thumb over it, tickling my skin. A small ‘thanks’ drops from my lips at his words, and the buzzing only intensifies as he stares back at me. In that moment, I swear I could do it and I almost try to until he turns away. I attempt to find comfort in assuring myself that I don’t want our theoretical first kiss to be in the middle of the supermarket, lest anybody join us in this aisle. “I think that’s all I needed t’day.”

Thoughts are building into words on my tongue until the ringing of my phone interrupts my plans. This is definitely not all that I needed today, per say. Lifting it towards my face, I see my dad’s smiling face waiting for me, reminding me I haven’t spoken to him in days amidst everything going on. He’s already called a few times and I wasn’t able to answer, and he’s probably starting to grow concerned. I also really need to tell him about the new job. He’ll be so happy, and I can only imagine the suggestive things he’ll say about Harry. Oh boy.

“I should take this,” I announce, bringing my eyes back to his. He nods as he arrives back in front of his cart. “It was nice to see you and only one of you,” I snicker, alluding to the far too many drinks we consumed the other night.

“You too, Becks, it was nice runnin’ into ya. ‘ll try not t’ crash carts with ya tha next time,” he returns with a warm smile, coming towards me as he pushes his cart. The next time? Can you please not tease me like this, Harry? I want all of the grocery shopping trips with you, even if they’re only like this where I can’t have my arm hooked through yours. Maybe one time we’ll only need one cart, just maybe. He lifts an arm and squeezes mine on his way down the aisle. “Take care, bug, ‘ll see ya Friday.”

“Bye, Harry. Careful driving that thing!” I call out, and this time he doesn’t give me a dirty look when he looks back at me. Instead, he sends me that blinding smile of his I love so damn much. “And, I’ll be thinking of you this week, I know it’ll be a hard one.”

“Thanks, bug, I appreciate it,” he returns, winking at me before turning back around and rounding the corner, just as I press Accept on my phone.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, waiting to hear my dad’s comforting voice.

“Hey, Boops. How’s my favourite girl?” he asks, the warmth in his voice providing me with happiness, and stealing it away at the same time. God, I miss him sometimes, I realize inside my thoughts. As I still stare down the aisle, I miss another man too.

It seems I’m always missing these two every second of every day, and one of Harry’s hugs that I wish I’d stolen a few seconds ago.

As the numbers climb in front of my eyes, the last few days flash before them. Somehow, I’m amazed when the number seventeen appears before my eyes in a bright red font. The last week has dragged on at times, thoughts of Harry and standing in this very lift occupying my every thought. Checking my watch, I’m glad to see I’m early, just like I had planned.

The gunmetal doors part in front of me and I’m rewarded with the sight of Seventeen in all of its glory. The buzzing returns in my chest, and so do the multitudes of butterflies in my gut as I look around. It does and doesn’t look the same as before, but it smells the same, and in some ways it sounds the same. The Cubiclers are gone and now more offices line the walls, and a certain somebody sits inside of one this very instant. The very same person I get to spend the entire day with, and it’s the first of oh so many. I take a long look around, admiring the gleaming tiled floors and the dark wooden walls, a new cream chandelier or two dotting the ceiling. God, that remodel must not have been cheap, I think silently, and soon wonder if a certain somebody’s father in construction had anything to do with it.

I almost expect to see him round one of the corners of the large floor dedicated to the firm, but I don’t, and I’m unsure of how I feel about it. It’s all washed away when I find the door I’ve been looking for, and it’s open.

“Hey, stranger,” I announce, leaning against the door frame with a cheeky grin plastered across my face. “Look at you with the fancy new office all to yourself.”

Their tousled head of sandy hair lifts from their computer screen, and I watch his eyes change almost entirely. My name falls from his lips as he stands up and crosses the room to me, enveloping me in a hug.

“What are you doing here? Does Harry know you’re here?”

“Yeah, he knows,” I smile against Asher’s shoulder, pulling away after a moment of being surrounded by his crisp cologne. “I work with him uh soon - I got the associate job, and he’s my mentor.”

Again, the look on his face changes in a blink, and astonishment paints him in stripes. A nervous laugh falls from his lips as he grips my shoulders and clucks his tongue in disbelief.

“You’re always good with the surprises, aren’t you?” Asher replies and I nod, waiting for him to say more. “Becky, t-this is what you want?”

“Yeah, it’s what I want. He’s already been so kind to me, and we’ve been talking a lot. He picked me over everybody else, Ash!” I respond, watching the words register with him as he nods the slightest. “I’m not going to let him get away this time.”

“As long as you’re happy, and he’s good to you,” he insists, pointing a stern finger at me dotted with shiny blonde hairs.

“Yes, he’s already being good to me, Ash. We went out for dinner and drinks that we meant to do this summer, and things are already looking up.”

“Good, good. That’s already progress, Becky,” he hums, and I mumble a brief agreement. “But still, what are you doing here now?”

“Oh, I have my orientation with him today, but I don’t start officially until the twenty-eighth, after I finish my job at the courts,” I reply, and he nods a little harder this time, biting on his thumb.

“I see, it’s all making some sense now, thank God. So, when are you going to ask him on a date?”

“Ash!” I exclaim, following him further into his plain looking office where he sits on the corner of his desk. He crosses his arms over the ochre button down showing a white t-shirt underneath. “It’s not even my first day of work yet!”

“So? You’re wasting precious time!” he argues, his loud chuckle soon stealing away his words. I groan as my eyes roll into the back of my head, soon pushing up the sleeve of my dark violet blazer to find my brown leather watch.

“Yeah, sitting here arguing with you,” I giggle, returning my eyes to his summer blues.

“No, you’re right, because you could be talking to him right now. You know, flirting with him and asking him on a date.”

“Ash, stop!” I laugh, turning to walk away, but I stop when I reach his door. “I like the new office by the way, I’m happy they finally made you head of I.T. I’m really happy for you,” I say softly pointing to the words on his door, hanging onto the handle as he meets my eyes softly.

“Thanks, Becky, I appreciate it. It was about time Bitchie Trishie retired anyways, fuck was she old.”

“Ditto,” I smile and he returns it right away. “I’m really happy to be back.”

“I’m happy you are too, and I’m sure Harry is as well. You should get going, you don’t want to make a bad uh, second impression,” he notes, shooing me away with his hand.

We say our goodbyes and I return to the hallway, straightening my unbuttoned blazer over my long slacks the same color for probably the twentieth time this morning. What feels like for the fiftieth time, I smooth down the chiffon black blouse tucked in underneath, hoping I ironed out every single wrinkle. Skye’s words from his morning when we said goodbye come back to me with a warm smile.

“Ree, if he doesn’t realize what he’s been missing the second he sees you in that outfit, I’m going to be very disappointed in him,” she mused, shaking her head with pursed lips and arms crossed over her chest as I laughed nervously.

My black pumps echo with every step I take on the immaculate floors, soon finding Amelia at the front desk who I wave at, not bothering to check in again. Asher’s comment and its ambiguity comes to mind as I take a right through the lobby. What did he mean that he’s sure Harry is happy I’m back, too? Since when do Asher and Harry talk, or when have they ever spoken to each other with more than three words? Does he know something that I don’t know?

I don’t get another second to think about it, because soon I turn down the hallway. His hallway. The nerves of anticipation and excitement come over me as a smile grows hastily on my lips. I’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than I think I know, probably months, or even years. It’s hard to believe that the last time I was in his office, it was two years ago. The thought appears with a sting when I remember the last time I was in his office, because of him walking in on Amber well, assaulting me. A moment that I ended when I walked away from him, and here I am walking back to him, and I couldn’t be happier.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

I see his door first, and how it’s ajar, letting a section of his office peek through. Then, I hear the Paul McCartney song escaping from his office, followed by his humming. The humming doesn’t match the song oddly enough, but it transports me back to the hospital in Madley when I was wrapped in his arms. It’s the same song he was humming then that I still can’t figure out. God, those kinds of things bug me.

I see him first, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that, because I get a few extra seconds to admire him. It allows me to remember the way he absently twirls a piece of hair around his finger when he’s lost in a thought, how he always crosses his legs at the ankles under his desk bobbing a foot to the music, and just how incredible he always manages to look in a suit. A pastel teal number hugs his trim body with a cream button up underneath, giving me a peek at his thick chest hair underneath. Oh, I could just eat him up. If only.

Swallowing, I take the time for a silent deep breath before rapping my knuckle against the cold glass of his door with nervous lips, “Good morning, boss.”

His head flies up and I think I’ve scared him almost, but the happiness that consumes his face is instantaneous and contagious as ever. It spreads across his flushed skin until my favorite little things about his smile appear before my eyes, making this all the more real. The perfect little curls falling over his forehead make it all the worse, and the better.

“Mornin’. Are ya ready t’ get started, Ms. Holte?”

“Yes, I’ve never been more ready,” I reply, the anxiousness abating as he stands from his chair.

“Great, then let’s get started with yer official orientation as a lawyer fer Styles and Lawson,” he announces, firmness playing in his words until they end with sunshine dancing across them, his footsteps finding their way to me. “Y’know, ‘ve been waitin’ a long time fer this day, Becks, too long.”

Me too, Harry. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever for this new beginning.

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kristannarubbish · 4 years

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dodgeball (camp counselor!kristanna)

summary: a set of drabbles surrounding kristanna being co-counselors for a group of five to seven year olds at a day camp.

a/n: i am a counselor and this is my outlet. a lot of the inspo is coming from this list of prompts and my daily stress. s/o to @minnothebunny ‘s reply to get me to write this. hope you enjoy!!!

Kristoff was Anna’s favorite partner.

Not in the love way but in that he is the only other sensible counselor here way.

It only took her till lunch on the first day of the week to decide that he was her favorite. Since they changed partners each week, she was going to soak this up while she could. He stayed off his phone, cared about the kids and helped her clean up after each activity? He was a total dream come true. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the easy either.

“Anna?” Katie, one the girls in the group, looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Yes?” Anna bent down, snapping herself out of her day dream.

“Can I fill up my water bottle?”

“Yes,” the redhead sighed with a smile.

“Isn’t that the third time she’s asked to fill up her water bottle today?” Kristoff said from behind her as they watched their group play freeze tag.

“It is,” she said with a laugh, “and in ten minutes she will ask to go to the bathroom for the fifth time today.”

Kristoff laughed lightly, “She’s a special one. Uhm, anyway. I was thinking we could play dodgeball? They’re getting tired of tag and starting to lay on the ground like starfish.”

Anna hates dodgeball. One would think that is a fault of a camp counselor. One would be correct. They played dodgeball all the time and Anna always got out first.

“Sounds good!” Anna smiled, “I’ll go get the balls.” Maybe she could learn to like this devil game.

Once everything was set up, it was one of the boys' idea to do a counselor versus kid game. Neither Anna nor Kristoff thought it would be so hard to beat a group of five to seven year olds.

Anna could admit that Kristoff was doing most of the heavy lifting, but she hadn’t gotten out yet. She was trying so hard to get the kids out but she had only gotten two so far.

Kristoff looked over his shoulder while Anna struggled to get someone out, “You’re so adorable.”

The comment caught her so off guard she whipped her head around toward him.

“Me?” Anna asked, stopped dead in her tracks.

“Oh! Uh,” Kristoff kept throwing dodgeballs but turned to her, “Not in like a weird way! You’re just really good at being involved with the kids.” He started to blush, and not because they were outside in the middle of July.

Before Anna could answer, she got hit right in the arm.

“Anna’s out!” All the kids screamed. She laughed and gave him a sarcastic death glare.

Kristoff, genuinely feeling bad for being the reason she got out, stopped throwing with a worried look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Kris it’s fine! No big deal,” she put her hand on his arm and all the kids held their fire. The critters just stared at Anna's hand on his arm.

“Anna and Kris sitting in a tree!” One of the girls started.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” The rest of the group joined in as Anna took her hand off his arm quickly and blushed.

Maybe the week wouldn’t go by as quickly as they had hoped. And maybe that was okay.

#ok this is silly but its fun to write abt my job this way lol #and look i actually wrote!!#my fics!#camp counselor!kristanna #kristanna #drabble #kristoff #anna #frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna fanfic

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years

Text

You Deserve a Love... Chapter 7

Damian Wayne x reader

Tag: @slowlydrowningme @hhhellish

Link to Inspo Post: Post

Summary: Oh, to have a moment of peace . . .

Word Count: 451

So the weekend beach trip had mutated into a week beach trip somehow, and you were feeling more and more frustrated as the days passed without you and Damian getting a moment (or a room) to yourselves for any length of time. Dick had somehow managed to book a suite that only had double bedrooms, forcing everyone to have four people to a room. It was only once people started having to return to their normal lives that you were able to gain some semblance of privacy.

Steph and Cass had to return after day four due to some work they had to do. Jason bailed on day five much to your dismay. Babs had originally tried to bail but eventually took pity on Time and arranged to stay to keep from fifth-wheeling with the ones left. All that aside, since the group had condensed everyone decided to rearrange the sleeping assignments, and finally, fucking finally you and Damian had the place to yourselves. That little realization really hit the two of you while the others were picking up food for everyone to enjoy during the upcoming movie night.

As soon as the notion crossed Damian’s mind, he was smirking to himself. “You know what this means . . .” he purred right next to your ear.

You looked over at him curiously, one eyebrow raised.

For a second, Damian was stunned into silence by the sight of you. Everything was just so surreal and it just sort of crashed over him all at once as he gazed at you laying on your stomach next to him in the back of the van, skin left exposed by your swimsuit but still warm against his own from the sun you’d been in all day. I have to ask soon . . .

“Earth to my local demon,” you were saying as he refocused his attention. “You in there?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Took you long enough,” you laughed. “You just left me hanging. Again.”

“Well . . .” he leaned close to nuzzle at your neck. “What I was saying . . .” a nip to the underside of your jaw, “was that I finally get to make good on my promise.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but it was cut off by Babs saying, “Okay, kids. Keep it PG in the rental,” as her way of announcing their return.

You could only groan.

A sentiment you repeated more dramatically when you got a notification alerting you of a new post you were tagged in. Sure enough, it was a snapshot of Damian with his face conspicuously in your neck that Babs posted. Though, you supposed the caption fit.

[It’s always an honor to see love in such a pure form]

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul imagine #reader insert #robin imagine #batman imagine

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arianishinoya · 4 years

Text

~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°

Inspo: tiktok; amadis_v

Scenario: You and Mirko go to a club after resting at home with boredom. While you're there, you dance with a stranger.ater you see hawks and make him jealous, he takes you outback for some private time.

WARNING: dom!hawks, jealous!hawks, 18+, oral (fem receiving), semi public s*x, choking kink, brat!reader(kind of)

Gimme More

《Fem!reader X Hawks》

~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°

Y/n sat in her bedroom, waiting for anything interesting to happen today. She had woken up around 12pm, and had lounged in her pajamas all day, watching random shows on tv, and texting her friend Mirko.

The two girls had become friends when they crossed paths while fighting a villain, which lead to Mirko finding out her best friend was a vigilante, and not a hero. The h/c haired girl huffed out in annoyance at how slow her day was going, still waiting on a respond from her bunny hero friend. It felt like years when her phone vibrated next to shed as she mindlessly clicked on the random channels.

MIRKO 🐇♥️

There's this night club, it's called Rosette Flames. Get ready meet me there in an hour or so.

Y/n jumped from her bed, landing on the cold hard wood floor, but she ignored her pain and ran to her bathroom, showering in under ten minutes...and spent the next fifty minutes deciding on what to wear.

Finally she decided to wear a black lace bralette with a powder pink skirt, accompanied by black laced up heels. Her hair was done in messy curls, doing some final touch ups on her make up, going with a natural smokey eyeshadow with cherry glossed lips. Y/n took a final glance at her outfit and make up, before sending a text to her bunny friend that she was on her way, feeling a little bit bad that she would be thirty minutes late.

The two girls walked into the club, their eyes going wide to the size of golf balls. The ceiling of the club was pure glass, letting the silver moon shine through, lighting the dance floor slightly. The DJ stand looked something straight out of a retro movie, the whole place did, the bar was built like a semi circle, the purple lights making it look cyber retro. The dance floor was and LED tiled, as fairy lights hung above the dance floor.

Mirko linked her arm with y/n, a bewildered look on both of their faces at the sight. "Do you wanna dance!" Mirko had to shout over the loud music that penetrated their ears, making her voice come out muffled. The bunny hero took off her jacket waiting for her friend to respond, handing it to the bartender, asking if he could look after it.

Y/n looked at her friend, seeing her wear a white tight dress with red heels. Y/n has said this before, if Mirko wasn't seeing someone, she would try hitting on her. Which would always make Mirko say that of y/n wasn't interested in a certain winged male, Mirko would try making a move on the h/c haired girl. "Lets dance!" Mirko dragged y/n out on the dance floor, placing one hand on her waist as y/n swayed back and forth, feeling the beat of the music vibrating through her veins.

The vigilante had almost forgotten that she was in public, or that she was dancing with her friend at a club. All she could feel was the music coarsing through her body. The girl hasn't even noticed that her friend was dancing with a stranger with red hair, or that a raven haired male was dancing with y/n. She just danced to the music, feeling the male behind her follow her lead.

Unbeknownst to the two girls, the winged male sat at the bar, holding his gaze onto y/n, seeing her body sway side to side, feeling the rhythm of the music. But when the stranger came into view, he felt his anger boil at the sight of them two dancing close together. How the strangers hands roamed her body, or how he held her close to his chest. It made something dark grow in him, he wanted to be the one that would hold her like that, or be the one to be that close to her. He wanted her.

Ever since he talked to Mirko five months about how he felt around her, at first he thought he was poisoned, not being familiar to the whole liking thing. Only for Mirko to burst out laughing, finally telling him after ten minutes of her laughing. That he likes her. He looked at her with a blank stare, waiting for her to explain. The more they talked about her, the more he realised that he did like y/n. He likes y/n.

While Keigo was lost in his own mind, y/n had noticed him sitting there. She had felt someone staring at her, making the girl feel uneasy, but when she saw it was her friend, the guy she had feelings for, she felt at ease. Y/n excused herself from the guy, going over to her friend that was dancing with the red haired male. "Did you invite Keigo?" Y/n had to shout her question out. Mirko looked confused at first, but when she caught Keigos presence at the bar she shook her head no.

But her concussion faded into mischief, the sudden change in her mood made y/n worry a little. Especially after knowing what that look means, it meant something bad or interesting was going down. Mirko dragged y/n back to the stranger, "Make him jealous." Y/n was confused at what Mirko meant by that, not wanting to give their big secret away, so she played along. "Are you both that dense? He likes you! And you like him!." Mirko left her friend there with the stranger once again.

The stranger behind her asked her if she was okay, or that if she wanted to take a break. To which y/n shook her head and said she was okay. The pair went back to dancing, her hips pressed against his, as his hands roamed her body once again.

Keigo felt his anger rise to a wild fire. He wanted to be the one to dance with her like that. He could feel himself getting light headed at the sight of her though, it was very complicated, he wanted to be with her. But just looking at her for a certain amount of time made him toxicated, it made him weak to the knees and fuzzy minded. As he kept staring at her, he jumped slightly when he saw that she had caught his gaze. Not expecting her to look his way, but once she did, he was held hostage in her gorgeous eyes. He saw the mischief hidden in her e/c orbs. Keigo saw as she brought the strangers head down to her neck, as she threw her head back to his shoulder. The sight made him want to actually kill an innocent civilian.

Y/n turned her gaze to the stranger, not really minding his company, but silently preferred the winged males. The h/c haired girl spun around in his hold, his hands going on her a*s, a gasp left her lips when he lightly squeezed it. Tugging her closer to him. The two were oblivious to the looming winged male behind y/n, they were too captivated in their dance that Keigo had to pull y/n to his chest.

Y/n felt herself being tugged to a hard wall, making her look up at Keigos stone hard facial expression, his golden eyes glaring actual daggers at the male across from him. "I think that's enough." Y/n tensed up at his voice, even when fighting villains she has never heard his voice come out that threatening. It made her believe that keigo could most likely kill the male if he really wanted to.

The stranger rolled his eyes at keigo. "Dude we were just dancing, chill out." The stranger went to reach back for y/n, only for keigo to tug her further into him, and side step so she was further from his reach.

"I said. That's enough."

The raven haired male scoffed and walked away. Keigo held his gaze onto the male, making sure he was gone out of sight before tugging y/n from the dance floor. The girl behind him was actually surprised she was able to keep up with his speed. "Keig-" she cut herself off she saw keigo had brought her to the alley way of the club. "Okay...if you're gonna kill me, make sure you don't copy Jack The Ripper." She laughed lightly, trying to bring light into the current situation she was in.

Seeing that he had his back to her she reached for to him. Once her hand came in contact with his shoulder blade, he jumped and spun around in a quick movement. Before she could even blink he had her pinned to the brick wall, his body pressed against hers, trapping her between the wall and his body. Her placed his left hand on her neck, while his right hand was beside her hip. Y/n gasped out in surprise, feeling a fire pit grow in her abdomen at his actions.

"What the hell was that?" He growled out in her ear, his left hand squeezing her neck lightly when she didn't answer. "I won't ask twice baby bird." He looked into her e/c eyes, his golden eyes morphing into a rusted brown, they were practically glowing with rage.

"Mirko..." She gasped out when Keigo lifted her leg up to his waist to press harder against her. "Said to make you...jealo-" she stopped talking when she felt something hard pressing against her needy core. Biting back a moan, feeling his right right hand grip her thigh more.

"Make me jealous?" Keigo let out a harsh chuckle, it didn't sound like his normal go-happy-cute laugh, no. This one sounded empty, and filled with anger. It made a shiver run up and down her spine. "Baby bird, I'm not jealous. I'm pissed." She looked confused but when he started attacking her neck with his lips, she moaned out his name, making him dig his nails into her thigh.

"You let another man put his hands on you. Someone that wasn't me." He growled out in her ear, his left hand squeezing her neck tighter. Going back to bitting her neck, when he heard her moan loud when he reached her sweet spot, he stopped and abused it with all his power.

"What are you...talking about?" Y/n fluttered her eyes shut at his actions, confused on why he would be acting this way. She wanted to keep the innocent act up, finding it kind of funny. Mirko had wanted them to get together in the last three years they have known each other. When in reality they have been doing things like this for three months now.

Keigo used his strength to push her harder to the wall, a small gasp left her lips. "Dont." He unclipped his belt, along with his pants button and zipper, he grabbed her hand and put it in his pants, letting her feel how hard he was for her. "You don't get the right to act innocent right now." He groaned when he felt her rub him, enjoying the feeling of it.

Y/n felt the pit on her stomach grow by the second, wanting to tear his clothes off and let him have her. "I'm not acting, I really don't know what I did wrong." She looked over at Keigo, his eyes darkened, that they almost looked black. He stopped her actions, silently hating it. Y/n tilted her head confused on why he did that. Only for him to drop to his knees.

He lifted her skirt up a bit, seeing her black panties were drenched, "really baby bird?" He looked up at her skeptically, as y/n squirmed when she felt his fingers dance on the material that barely covered her needy area. She had wished she had something to hold onto when he kissed her thighs, leaving open mouthed kisses on her inner thighs slowly edging to her needy core. A loud gasp left her throat when she felt his tongue on her cl*t, a sharp scream when he inserted his fingers. "You mean to tell me...you didn't do anything wrong?" He mumbled against her area.

"Yeah." She could physically hear him roll his eyes at the sound of her soft giggle. She felt herself clamp around him, only for him to pull his finger out, making her whimper at the loss of contact she had with him.

"Why don't I believe you." He glared at her, kissing her hard, letting her taste herself on his lips, while she was distracted, he slammed himself into her, his left hand coming back to her neck. Her moans and his groan was muffled by their lips. "You really expect me to believe that songbird?" He hissed when she touched his wings, knowing how sensitive they were. He brought Her thigh up to his waist once again. Desperate to hit her deeper.

Y/n moved from his wings to his shoulders, needing to grip onto something, as his hips pounded into hers. "Its true~" Y/n barely managed to say that, already forgetting the whole English language, any language at that, the only thing she remembered was his name. So that's what she kept screaming out as his thrust became harder.

His lips went back to her neck, wanting to leave visible marks that she was his, as y/n scratched his back up, almost looking like he had gotten in a fight with a cat. "Keigo! Im...c-close~" she moaned in his ear, making him speed up his thrusts, she could feel herself clamp around him, wanting to finish. Y/n felt the pit in her stomach fade as she reached her high from him.

Keigo kept thrusting into her, desperately chasing after his own climax. Her thighs and hips started to ache in pain from how hard and fast he was going, but his moans and grunts that escaped his throat and collided with her ears made her almost faint in ecstasy. Y/n opened her eyes in time to see his wings flap behind him and flutter as he finished, every time they did it, that was her second favorite thing seeing them flutter to let her know he's done.

"That was--" she stopped when Keigo pulled out of her, fixing how he looks and how she looks, trying to look normal.

"Just wait till we get home song bird." He picked her up and winked at her fearful face, knowing damn well what always comes after that sentence.

NOTE:

I had to have one of my friends write the smut because well, it makes me awkward and cringe.

Also again, thank you amadis_v for the inspiration to write this, hopefully it came out kind of like you imagined. ♡

#Spotify #keigo takami x reader #hawks mha #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks imagine #mha hawks #my hero academia hawks #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #mha takami keigo #takami keigo smut #mirko #mirko mha #mirko my hero academia #x female reader #x fem!reader #x reader

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angryinternetduck · 4 years

Text

Sunflower, Volume Five

a teeny bit over 2.2k words on writing music, first impressions, and peppermint. no warnings I can think of. this is part five of the Sunflower Series! happy reading :)

part one | part two | part three | part four

Only Angel was, in fact, fun to record, although it got quite a bit irritating after playing through six or seven times, as all songs seemed to do. They got through it, though, and Carolina too, before setting aside a day for just writing.

Harry worked with Olivia and Charlotte to finalize the melody for the song Olivia had come up with a few weeks before, which actually worked brilliantly, and they were finished with the melody and sound the night they started.

Charlotte decided to head to a bar with the others, but Harry stayed with Olivia to start working on the lyrics. He was sat at the piano, a pencil behind his ear and his notebook propped in front of him.

As soon as Charlotte left the room, Olivia grinned and jumped onto the lid of the piano, sliding across its surface to sit in front of Harry with her guitar on her lap. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged innocently. “What?”

“Charlotte would have a fit if she saw you like that.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Olivia replied with a wink.

“Whatever you say,” Harry laughed. He handed her the notebook and asked, “Have any ideas, then?” Olivia sighed, slipping the pencil from behind Harry’s ear and fiddling with it. “Well, I was thinking about the whole…” She paused, tapping the eraser of the pencil against the piano before asking, “You know the whole, oh, it’s a sign of the times, thing?”

“Er - yeah, sort of.”

“What if we did something along those lines?”

“Yeah, it sort of sounds like that, doesn’t it? All sad and shit?” Olivia nodded, and Harry played the melody again. He frowned, playing it again, and then remembered, “Oh, and there was something Char and I were working on -” He started again, singing along. “Just stop your crying, it’ll be alright…”

“Yeah!” Olivia exclaimed. “It could be that and - and, uh - just stop your crying, and then, it’s a sign of the times.” Harry nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that works.” He played it again, twice, once with each ending, and then Olivia played the chords on her guitar and echoed softly, “Sad and shit.” She looked up. “Like the end of the world, huh?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“...just stop your crying,” Olivia sang, “it’s a sign of the times… now that it’s the - hope it’s not the final…” She frowned. “Welcome to the final show…” Harry nodded, playing the melody, and added, “Hope you’re wearing your best clothes…”

Olivia grinned and mimicked his accent, “Proper brilliant, you are.”

Harry scoffed, looking up at her. “I don’t sound like that at all!”

“Whatever,” Olivia murmured with a grin, picking up the pencil and writing something down in the notebook. Harry messed about on the piano, suggesting more lyrics, and Olivia added on.

They stayed up well past two am, just playing with words and phrases until the others came back from the bar. Olivia slid off the piano only after they’d gotten through a verse and finished the chorus, and Harry was tempted to kiss her when she said goodnight before walking into her room.

Instead, he told himself not to be a fool and went to bed.

♬♩♪♩

They finished Sign of the Times fairly quickly, but recording it took a while. The song Olivia had started eventually became Ever Since New York, which was recorded pretty fast. Jeff was pressuring them to finalize more songs, though, so they took off another day to dedicate to writing.

Unfortunately, Harry was pretty brain dead by then, what with staying up for hours with Olivia to finish both Sign of the Times and Ever Since New York, so he spent most of the day just resting and watching rom coms with Adam and Charlotte while Olivia and Sarah sat in the other room working on Comfortable Silence.

A few minutes into My Best Friend’s Wedding, a paper airplane landed on his lap. He glanced into the other room, confused, and Sarah was rolling her eyes as Olivia grinned and gestured for him to open it.

To Julia Roberts’s biggest fangirl in the living room -

Sooo I called my friend who just got dumped (heartbreak is the best inspo yk)...

I saw your friend that I met last year

They said you’re happy now

I see you gave them my old T-shirt

That really hurt like hell

They say it silently, no not with their words

But oh yes it’s written, it’s all over their face -

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why don’t you ever tell me straight to my face?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too…

idk about some of that but uhhhh idk

So. Thoughts?

From, the dining table

Harry read it over again and nodded, flashing her the thumbs up, but Olivia shook her head. She mimed writing, and Harry frowned, glancing around him for a pencil, and Olivia sighed, chucking a pencil at him.

Charlotte squeaked as it hit her in the arm, and Harry rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. “Sorry, Char,” he murmured, then scribbled out Like it before folding it back up and haphazardly throwing it back.

It didn’t quite work, but Olivia slid it towards her with her foot and opened it back up.

She wrote something down, and Harry watched her instead of the movie, and then Olivia threw it back. ur so boring, she’d written, and Harry scoffed, glancing over at her. He put a hand to his chest in mock hurt, and Olivia grinned.

Under that, she’d added more to the song.

I hope one day you’ll call me to tell me that you’re sorry too

But you, you never do

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Harry grinned and wrote, You’re awful dramatic, Liv - it was two weeks. He threw it towards her, and she unfolded it, read it, and flipped him off. She whispered something to Sarah, who laughed, and Harry smiled and turned back to the movie.

♬♩♪♩

Harry was starting to wonder if Olivia ever slept.

He’d come out on the porch a few days later, unable to sleep after a day long nap caused by a killer hangover, and there she was, smoking a cigar and playing her guitar softly. “Hello,” Harry said, and she looked up. “Hey,” she replied, sliding over on the bench swing.

Harry sat next to her, taking the cigar when she offered it, and inhaled deeply. “‘s good,” he said. “Sweet.” Olivia nodded. “Mhmm. Toffee, apparently.” She leaned back, fiddling with her guitar pick, and stared at the water.

Harry breathed another puff of smoke, handed it back to her, and asked, “What’d you think when you first saw me?” Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Why?” Harry rolled his eyes with a smile. “You’re always asking these deep questions - give me a chance, hm?”

There was a beat of silence as she seemed to study him, and it took all of Harry’s willpower to keep eye contact as she tucked her lip between her teeth and her brow furrowed, lost in thought.

“I thought you were awkward,” she finally said, and Harry scoffed a laugh. “You’re joking.” Olivia quirked a smile, looking back at the water and lifting the cigar to her lips. “No, really.” She smirked. “Awkward and desperate.”

“Right, well, now you’re just bullying me.”

“Oh, please,” Olivia laughed. “You didn’t even say anything! You were like, hi, and that was it! I had to, like, scramble to come up with something!” Harry scoffed again, shaking his head. “If I remember correctly -”

“Which you don’t,” she cut in with a grin.

He shot her a mocking glare and went on, “You were the one who didn’t say anything at first, and then I introduced myself!” Olivia sighed and shook her head. “We were both awkward,” she concluded, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Agree to disagree.”

“God, that show sucked,” Olivia murmured, exhaling and trying to make a smoke ring before smiling at him. “Still can’t believe you wanted me in your band after that disaster.” Harry let his jaw drop dramatically. “You were amazing!”

Olivia scoffed, shaking her head. “I was awful! I forgot half the lyrics and fucked up all the chords ‘cause I was staring at -” She cut herself off, shaking her head again, and Harry grinned. “Staring at…?” he prodded.

“There was this band there that night,” Olivia said, “and one of its members” - she breathed a dreamy sigh - “oh, he was just gorgeous! I couldn’t take my eyes off him!” She grinned, mocking curiosity and propping her chin on her fist. “I can’t seem to remember his name…”

“Does it start with an H, perhaps?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and mocking curiosity right back, but Olivia shook her head, fiddling with the cigar. “Nope,” she said with a giggle. “Think it was a Z,” she said. “Zach? Zeke? Ah - Zayn.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“Jealous, Styles?”

“You wish,” Harry replied with a grin.

There was a beat of silence.

Olivia leaned in a bit, her eyes flickering to his lips. “Harry?” she murmured.

“Hm?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t wanna be alone,” she whispered.

Harry smiled a bit, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to be, Liv.”

She met his gaze, her eyes wide and earnest. “Promise not to break my heart?”

“I promise,” Harry breathed.

And then she leaned forward, and Harry did too, and suddenly, they were kissing.

She tasted like peppermint, like toffee and vanilla and mint and smoke. She was sunshine and sugar, her lips fitting with his like puzzle pieces. She was smiling against his lips, and Harry smiled too, because she was perfect, because they were perfect, because everything was perfect.

♬♩♪♩

Harry woke up late again the next morning.

Olivia wasn’t next to him.

So Harry stood up, and stretched, and walked to the kitchen.

Olivia was at the table, on her mobile, eating toast.

“Morning,” Harry said.

“Hi!” she chirped.

“Where’re the others?” Harry asked, and Olivia sighed. “Went to the beach, according to Sarah…” Harry raised an eyebrow as he poured a cup of coffee. “Without us?” Olivia nodded. “I know. Ridiculous.” Harry smiled, stepping behind her and glancing at the screen of her phone.

“Ooh, dancehall,” he hummed, slipping the phone from her fingers. He clicked a random one, set it on the counter next to his coffee, and held out his hand. “Olivia,” he said, with all the seriousness he could muster, “may I have this dance?”

She slid his coffee towards her and took a sip. “Can’t. I’m drinking coffee.”

“Pleeeease?” Harry dragged. “I’m bored, Liv, and the house is empty. C’mon, then.” He began to dance as the music started and held out a hand. Olivia pouted. “I can’t dance,” she told him, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Prove it.”

She gave a reluctant smile and took it.

He spun her around, and she giggled.

They danced until Olivia somehow managed to end up on the kitchen island with Harry stood between her legs, snogging breathlessly, and Harry only realized the music had stopped when Olivia pulled back and murmured, “Gotta find another song…”

“Rather have a bloody song than me, hm?”

Olivia grinned, kissing his nose as she grabbed her phone. “Hey, it’s got a good melody,” she insisted, flicking through YouTube to find another video. Harry pouted, kissing her again, and said, “Want you more than any melody, Liv…”

“Fuckin’ sap,” Olivia giggled, finally finding a song and pushing her phone away to properly kiss him. Harry smiled, but Olivia sighed, pulling away again. “Others’ll be back soon,” she said, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t care,” he said, kissing her.

Olivia laughed, sliding off the counter. She held her hand out to him and, in a pitiful imitation of his British accent, she said, “Dance with me, Mr. Styles.” Harry grinned. “Only if you promise never to do that accent again.”

“Easy enough,” Olivia replied, and Harry took her hand.

And they twirled and laughed and kissed in the kitchen like it was a dance floor.

♬♩♪♩

Jamaica ended too soon.

Harry was on a plane before he knew it, heading back to rainy London.

It was good, though, he supposed. He was getting a tad home sick.

They’d written about sixty songs. Most of them were rubbish. Well, most of them weren’t even songs. More like notes mashed together that were sort of jokes but not quite. They’d gotten some good ones, though, and Harry considered the trip a success.

It was kind of strange being without the band, though.

It was very strange being without Olivia. She was going to come to London with him, but she was needed in America for something or other. But she’d given him a few cigars, and he smoked one when he got back home to London.

It was good. Tasted like peppermint.

♬♩♪♩

aaaannnnd there she is!!!! all finished!!!!! hope u enjoyed!

tell me:

1. your favorite song on hs1 2. your most recent dream 3. your favorite holiday or!!!! tell me anything your heart desires! feedback is always much appreciated :)

and if you like what you see, you can find the Sunflower Series’s masterlist here, Fine Line: Side A’s masterlist here, and my complete masterlist here!

sunflower, vol. 6

#aaaannnd that's a rap!#hope this didn't suck hehe #it's my first like....... long fic #so #here's this!!!!#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles x ofc #harry styles series #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles au #fine line #jamaica harry #sunflower

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