#but i did ask off for my birthday on saturday even though my manager wanted me to work

[treecakes]

just did some cleaning and now i’m relaxing. later i will take a quiz and do the online portion of one of my finals. and watch natsume :)

[writingwithciara]

Casual ~Chris Sturniolo~

summary: chris and y/n begin a 'casual' relationship

word count: 1.9k

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

notes: first official full part of my 'mcconnell chronicles'. this is based off THIS song by ian mcconnell, and the rest of the series will be based off ian mcconnell songs. enjoy!

previous part

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chris had dreamt of his perfect girl for the last 10 years of his life. he knew exactly what he wasnted.

but he wasn't expecting to meet her the way he did.

-----

y/n had been out at a party celebrating her best friends birthday. the girls were dancing together and at this point in the night, a few drinks had been consumed.

she had excused herself from her group to go get another drink.

on her way to the kitchen, she felt a pair of eyes on her. it didn't stop her from making her drink.

as she exited the kitchen, she bumped into someone and her perfectly curated drink fell to the ground.

"oh, i am so sorry." she looked up at the person she bumped into and noticed some guy she barely knew.

he glared at her and just walked away. y/n's shoulders fell and she turned back towards the kitchen, intent on making herself another drink.

what she wasn't expecting was a cup already being handed to her. she didn't think twice as she took a sip from the stranger.

her eyes widened as she realized that it was the exact mix of drinks she had just made for herself.

"are you stalking me or something?" she looked up at the stranger and was not expecting to be looking into the most mesmerizing blue eyes she had ever seen.

"nah. i really like this drink. surprised someone else does too. thought i was the only one." he sipped his own beverage and smiled. "plus i noticed how upset you were that your drink got spilled. thought i would be kind and make you another one."

"wow. thank you." she smiled and looked at her cup. "and you didn't put something in it?"

"of course not. the people who have to resort to something like that are the most horrible people in the world."

"i agree. but i still don't know you so i'm not sure if i believe you or not." y/n raised an eyebrow playfully while continuing to sip on the drink.

"well, my name is chris. and seeing as how you're still drinking the drink, even though you're a little suspicious, i'd say you believe me. at least a little bit anyway."

"either that or i'm just really thirsty." she retorted, smirking as she finished her cup without flinching. chris admired her.

"okay. i'll give you that one." he chuckled. "so, do you got a name?"

"y/n." she reached for the bottle and looked around before beginning to chug it.

"oh. should've guessed that someone as beautiful as you would have an equally beautiful name."

"you're lying to me right now, aren't you?"

"i swear on my life." chris crossed his heart and smiled. y/n passed him the bottle and smiled.

"i like you. think i'm gonna keep you."

----------

over the next few weeks, y/n and chris spent every free moment together.

everyone was convinced they were together but they weren't.

they were best friends, nothing more.

until one night, it changed.

it was a saturday night and they were getting ready for their respective dates. chris had met some girl at a party and y/n was going out with a random guy as a favor to her friend.

neither of them wanted to go but they had made a commitment.

luckily, they had managed to get their dates to agree to a double date.

chris watched as y/n put the finishing touches on her make-up. he admired everything about her but could never tell her his true feelings, fearing he would only drive her away.

he knew she didn't feel the same. she told everyone multiple times that chris was her best friend ad that was all he was meant to be.

"alright. done." she put her mascara on his bedside table and turned to face him. "how do i look?"

"you always ask me this and the answer is never going to change." chris stood up and walked to her. "you're beautiful, as always. i don't know why you even need make-up."

"that's such a cheesy answer." y/n giggled while shoving chris playfully. she couldn't deny the blush that crept up on her cheeks so she turned away from him. "we're gonna be late."

chris followed her out to his car and they drove to the pre-selected location.

they were the first two to arrive, sitting on opposite sides of the table and waiting patiently for their dates to arrive.

chris' date showed up 10 minutes later than planned and to y/n, they seemed to be having a great time. she was a little envious of it. but not because of the girl being with chris. she was jealous that he was having a time of his life while her date didn't even bother to show up.

an hour into the date, while chris' date was telling him a joke, he glanced over at y/n. the way she looked so upset broke his heart.

y/n didn't know why she even stayed at the restaurant for as long as she did. she was torturing herself.

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom. be right back." chris' date stood up and headed to the washroom. y/n sighed heavily and chris looked at her again.

"i can't believe your date didn't show up. what a dick."

"it's alright, chris. i was only doing it as a favor for a friend." she stood up slowly. "i'm gonna head home. i'll see you tomorrow."

"no, stay. we can all have fun."

"no. i wouldn't want to intrude. besides, your date doesn't seem to like the fact that i've been hanging around all night."

"she can get over it." chris grabbed her wrist lightly as she went to walk by him. "please stay?"

"sorry, chris. but i'm tired. i should head home."

"at least let me drive you home then, since i drove here."

"i can-"

"you are not getting in an uber with a stranger."

"you can't abandon your date, chris. just because i got ditched, doesn't mean she deserves it too."

"she'll understand." chris stood up. "i can always reschedule with her anyway."

"you're not letting up, are you?"

"fat chance." chris chuckled, earning a smile from y/n.

"hey, what's going on? we leaving?"

"y/n and i are. i'm sorry, elizabeth."

"you're ditching me because she got ditched? what the hell, chris? i thought we were having a good time."

"and we were. but i'm not leaving because y/n got ditched. i'm leaving because she's not feeling well. she's been out of it all day, constantly throwing up and shit." he sighed. "i like you, elizabeth and i really want to see you again."

"you're lucky you're cute." elizabeth cracked a smile and grabbed her purse. "feel better soon, y/n." she offered the girl a smile before disappearing out the door.

"okay, let's get you home." chris guided y/n back to the car and headed back to his place. thankfully for him, nobody was home so nobody needed to question why they were home so early.

y/n got changed into some extra clothes and joined chris on the couch. some random movie was playing on the tv but neither of them cared.

y/n looked over at chris and began to think. she didn't realize she was staring or that she had zoned out until chris snapped his fingers in her face.

"what?"

"i was just checking to see if you were listening to me." chris chuckled. "clearly not."

"sorry. i was just thinking."

"well, you must've been thinking about me because you were staring at me for a while."

"shut up." she looked at him and smiled. "okay, yes i was staring but i wasn't thinking about you."

"then what were you thinking about?"

y/n avoided the question and looked down at her hands before speaking. "why did you ditch elizabeth in favor of me tonight?"

"what do you mean?"

"i was fully capable of getting myself home. i didn't need to be pitied by you."

"whoa. i was not pitying you. have you forgotten the number 1 rule we came up with when we became friends?"

"clearly i have forgotten it, chris!"

"we promised that if we both went somewhere together and one of us wasn't having a good time, we would leave. and you clearly weren't having a good time."

"but tonight could've ended really good for you." y/n glanced over at him. "and i mean really good."

"as in sex?"

"yeah probably. no offense but elizabeth looked like she would've been easy for you."

"well, unfortunately for her, i like a challenge." chris looked up and smirked.

there was something about the way chris looked at her that made her insides burn with desire.

before she knew it, she was pulling him into a kiss. it took chris a second to register what was happening but in no time, he was returning the kiss & pulling her closer.

y/n climbed onto his lap and looked in his eyes.

"tell me this isn't what you want and i'll stop. we can forget this ever happened."

instead of answering, chris went back in for another kiss.

neither of them were drunk when it happened so the fact that they were both sober made it easier to remember the next morning.

y/n was the first one awake. she looked at chris and smiled. he really did look cute when he was asleep.

he opened his eyes not long after that and when he saw y/n staring at him, he couldn't help but smile.

"so, last night really happened, huh?" y/n began to gather her clothes and get dressed. chris did the same and instead of handing y/n the shirt she was wearing last night, he handed her one of his hoodies.

"yeah it did." he looked at her for a moment and then looked back at his feet. "i don't regret it."

"me either. it was fun." y/n smiled. "maybe we could do it again sometime."

"uh, yeah. yeah that sounds good." chris was surprised at the suggestion but agreed to it anyway.

"okay, cool. i'll call you later, chris. have a good day." y/n kissed his cheek and left the room quietly.

their one night turned into many more. they were together more than they were apart and to any outsider, it would seem like a normal romantic relationship. the only people who knew they weren't actually together were y/n and chris.

and that's the way it was supposed to be.

chris knew y/n didn't have the same feelings for him that he did for her but that was okay. he still had her in ways nobody else could.

he wanted to tell her. he tried to but it was never the right time. he always felt the need to tell her after a shitty date but chris could never get the words out before clothes were being thrown around the room.

their hookups after a shitty date happened so often that chris was starting to believe that part of y/n was always picking the shittier men just so she could come over to chris' place and get the release she needed..

he started to feel used and the day he was going to bring it up to her, everything changed.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @carolinalikesthings @fearfam69691

[janicho88]

When It All Falls Apart -Chapter 4

Pairing- Jensen x Padalecki Reader

Word count- 2,648

Warnings-Pregnancy talk (Will last a good chunk of the story) But it's not the reader. Some language. Implied smut. Jensen isn't the best boyfriend. I warned before this started posting it would contain angst, if you need another reminder, here it is. If I missed something let me know!

A/N-A little off canon, SPN ended after 10 years. We still got all the characters in during that time though. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural.  Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns.  Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right?  While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere.  Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

“You’re back, you’re back, you’re back!!” A small voice screams while climbing on your bed way to early Monday morning.

“I am, and I was sleeping Tom.”

“Wanna come play with me?”

Rolling over you squint at the clock, and almost swear out loud when you see it says 5:15. “Thomas, I love you, but no. I will play with you later, Aunt Y/N had a long weekend and would like a little more sleep.  Why are you even up so early?”

“Scary noises in mommy and daddy’s room.  I called mommy but she didn’t come, do you think they got hurt.?

“No, but they’re going to,” you mutter to yourself.  To your nephew, “how about you lay with me for a bit and I’ll play with you later, after breakfast, okay?”

He huffs out his agreement, and the two of you manage to drift back off to sleep.  Two hours later you are following the little guy down to the kitchen.  No one else is up yet, so you help Tom get his breakfast and pour yourself a glass of juice before sitting down next to him. 

A perky Gen soon makes an appearance.  “Hey, how are you two doing this morning?”

“Aunt Y/N got me breakfast,” Tom answers.

“Oh she did, that was nice of her.”  She turns to you, “thanks for helping him.  I’m surprised he’s up so early, he was trying his best to stay awake until you and Jared got home last night.

“Scary noises woke him up, he came into my room a little after 5.”

“What scared him?”

“From what he said it was you and my brother doing something I don’t even want to think about.  But Tom just thinks someone was getting hurt.”

Her jaw drops at your words, “Oh, snap.  We didn’t mean to wake him up, it's just these dang pregnancy hormones have me all…”

“Nope, nope, nope, there are some things that go on with you and my brother, I don’t need to know about.  At least someone is getting some.”

“What don’t you need to know about your brother,” Jared asks, walking into the kitchen.

“Apparently, we got a little loud this morning and woke Tom.  He in turn went and woke up Y/N.”  She then turns to you, “what did you mean about that last part?  Didn’t you just see Jay?”

“Yeah, but we had separate rooms.  Wasn’t exactly the weekend I was hoping for, but he said he’ll be here this weekend.  So, I’ll be clearing out of your house for the weekend.”

“What are your birthday plans for Saturday?” Gen wonders.

“I don’t know, Jensen didn’t say.  I’ll try and get it out of him later this week.  I’m good with a day hanging out at the house, I don’t need anything special.”

You grab a muffin from the counter as you are leaving the kitchen.  Walking into the living room, you listen for Tom, trying to figure out where he ran off too.  You hear giggling behind the couch and decide to sit down there.

“I came to see if Tom wanted to play, but I guess he isn’t here.”  Next thing you know he is running around from behind the back.  

“I’m right here!”

You spend some time with him before taking a trip to the grocery store for Gen.  Back at the house you spend a little time out by the pool before helping her with dinner.

The three of you are sitting on the patio after eating watching Tom play in the yard, when Jared turns to look at you.

“So what do you think of Ackles’ news?  I think it’s about damn time, I’ve been telling him he should do that for years.”

You turn to your brother in confusion, trying to figure out what he means.  Nothing comes to mind.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The album.”

“What album?”

It’s Jared's turn to stare.  “Are you just pretending not to know?  You don’t have to, he told us about it at dinner Saturday night.  Dude seems pretty excited about it.”

“Jared, again, what album?”

“You really don’t know?” he asks.

“That’s been established, babe.  Let’s move on to the explanation,” Gen cuts in.

“Ackles is making an album with his buddy Steve Carlson.  They’ve been working out the details and writing over skype calls.  You seriously didn’t know?”

“No, he never said a word.”  Great, you think, one more thing to keep him busy.

“Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you, make sure you act surprised alright?”

“Sure.”

The conversation dies down, and you spend a few more minutes watching Tom before you excuse yourself to head to your room.  You don’t even try to reach out to Jensen tonight, what Jared has told you shows you are just moving further down the list of his priorities.

Thursday comes around, and you hadn’t heard from Jensen since you’ve been back.  You have texted him, two you saw were read, another one still hasn’t been.  That evening you give him a call, trying to figure out your weekend plans.

“Hey honey, how’s it going?” you ask when he finally picks up the phone.

“Fine, I’m just walking into my place.  It’s been a long week, the scenes we’re filming this week are something else.”  He goes on to tell you a little more, without giving many spoilers away.  “So what’s up?” he finally turns the conversation back over to you.

“I had a few questions for you.  First one, what time are you flying in?  I’ll come pick you up.”

“You don’t have to drive all the way over there.  I’ve already got it covered.”

“The airport is just half an hour away.”

“I’m not flying into Austin, I’m going to Dallas.”

“Oh.  Stopping to see your parents before coming home?”

“I’m staying in Dallas this weekend.  Mack and Josh want to have a family get together on Sunday, they have been hounding me about coming home this weekend.   I’ve got some meetings on Saturday, and I’m flying back here Sunday night.”

“Oh.”

“Jared said your parents were coming back to Austin Saturday night, so I figured you’d be busy all weekend.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Did you have another question?”

“Nope, not anymore.”

“Okay, I’m filthy and beat, so I’m going to go hop in the shower.  Have a good night.  Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too, Jay.”

That phone call definitely dampened your spirits.  Maybe he was still going to surprise you Saturday, and he didn’t really have any meetings.

Gen takes you out for a mani/pedi on Friday, then out to lunch.  While you are sitting in a quiet corner booth she starts talking about your plans for the next day.

“Any idea what you and Jay are doing tomorrow?”

“No, he said he wasn’t coming to Austin.  He has meetings in Dallas and then is spending time with his parents.  I think he’s just trying to surprise me.”

“I’m sure.  After all the craziness I bet he just wants to do something special for you.”

You smile and nod, hoping she is right, but something in your gut has you wondering.

“Well, we’ll be home all day hanging by the pool if the two of you want to join us.  His pool isn’t open yet, right?”

“No, since he wasn’t going to be around and I was busy and mostly spending time at your place.”

“I didn’t think so.  We can order from your favorite Italian place for dinner.”

“Thanks, I’ll see what tomorrow brings and what he is thinking.”

Your food comes and you discuss some of the plans for Father’s Day on Sunday. 

Saturday morning hits you like an almost four year old tornado.  You are sleeping soundly when your door bursts open and Tom is throwing himself on your bed.

“Happy Birthday, Aunt Y/N!!  Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks, Tom,” you groan, rolling over.

“Thomas Padalecki, didn’t I tell you not to wake her up?” Gen scolds her son from the doorway.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but happy birthday since you’re awake now,” she says, turning to you.

“Thanks Gen, it’s alright I should get moving anyway.”

“Daddy said he’d make breakfast this morning.”

“Is he even awake yet?” you question looking at the clock, surprised when it actually says 7:48.  Tom wasn’t as early as he could be some mornings.

“He’s in the kitchen with his grown up drink.”

You look over at Gen, too sleepy to understand why your brother is drinking this early.

“He’s downstairs with his coffee.”

“That makes more sense then I was thinking.”  Tom rolls off of you so you can crawl out of bed. Throwing a sweatshirt over your pajama top you follow your family downstairs.

“Morning birthday girl,” Jared greets you with a smile.

“Morning, I hear you are cooking breakfast,” you reply, sitting down on a kitchen stool next to Tom.

“I made your favorite, blueberry pancakes and a cup of hot chocolate.  Gen says you need to go all out for birthdays, so she cooked some orange cinnamon rolls.”

“Wow, thanks guys.”

Tom hops down and runs off all of a sudden, you look to the other two in the kitchen, both of them shrugging.  Then you hear his little feet running back.  “I made you a card,” he yells out, as he waves it in front of you.

“You did, thanks buddy.”  

You enjoy a nice breakfast, before going up to shower and get yourself ready for the day.  Throwing on shorts and a tank top, you throw a few makeup things in a bag you might need if you have to dress up later to go out.  After saying your goodbyes you leave for Jensen’s.  Gen is sure to remind you of her offer again.

You pick up a few things around the house, water the plants and go through a few of your things.  Your phone has gone off multiple times with text messages from friends, your parents have called, but no Jensen.  Changing into your bathing suit you go out back to lay in the sun until you hear something.

Your phone rings as you are walking into the house for a cold glass of water, “Hi Donna, how are you?” you greet Jensen’s mom on the other end of the line.

“Happy Birthday, sweetie.  I’m fine, how is your day going?”

“It’s good.  I’m just hanging out at Jensen’s house right now.”

“Are you doing anything special today?”

“I don’t know.  Jensen just told me that he had meetings today, I think he’s hiding his plans.”

“He left this morning, but didn’t tell us what his plans were.  I hope you have a wonderful day. Alan wants to talk to you, I’ll talk to you later.  Love you sweetie, happy birthday again.”

“Thank you Donna!  I’ll talk to you soon, enjoy your weekend.”

Alan gets on the phone next to wish you a happy birthday, you talk to him for a few minutes before wishing him an early happy Father’s Day and saying your goodbyes.

A short time later another call comes through, “Hey,” you answer.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!!” is yelled from the other end of the line.

“Thanks Mack, how are you?”

“I’m good.  Wasn’t sure if you were going to answer, or if you were busy with my brother.  I’m glad I caught you.  How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.  I haven’t seen your brother yet, I’m just hanging out at the house right now.  How is that new husband of yours?”

“He’s good.’

 “Any big summer plans?”

“Not really.  We need to get together soon.  When do you wrap that mini series you’re doing?”

“We finished last week, I’m out of work until Walker starts.”

“Okay, we definitely need to figure something out then.  I won’t keep you.  Have a fabulous birthday, talk soon.  Bye girl.”

“Thanks.  Bye Mack, take care.”

You get off the phone with a smile. You and Mackenzie weren’t too far apart in age, and had always gotten along very well.   

As you are walking back outside, another text comes in.  Looking down, you are quickly disappointed to see it isn’t Jensen.  As long as you have been together, if he isn’t with you in the morning he has always been the first phone call you would receive in the morning. 

Another hour passes and it’s almost 2 o’clock now.  Gen’s name comes across your screen as your phone lights up again.

“Hey, just to see if you know your plans for the night yet.”

“I don't know. He's not here, and I haven’t talked to him today.”  You refuse to call him at this point.

“You haven’t heard anything?  Y/N, come back here and hang out with us.  He can find you when he comes to town, but I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Alright.” 

Grabbing your things, you lock the house back up and make the short drive back to your brother's place.  Jared and Tom are out in the pool when you arrive and Gen is waiting for you in the house.  She gives you a big hug when you walk in.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, peachy.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, there is nothing to discuss.  I’m beginning to think he really did have some meetings today.  I’m not going to call and force him to talk to me.  Besides, if he doesn’t answer, it’s just going to frustrate me more.

You spend the afternoon with them, your parents arrive early in the evening.  Somehow you miss Jared sneaking out to get you a cake and your favorite ice cream.  Dinner is ordered from your favorite Italian restaurant.  You open your present from your parents.  Once Tom goes to bed the adults gather in the living room to watch a movie.

Gen catches you when you are walking out of the living room.  “This is from Jared and I. We got it a few days ago, but I wasn’t sure you would want to open it in front of your parents.”

 Taking the envelope from her, you carefully tear it open.  You laugh when you open it.  Disney princesses are around the number 5 on the front.

“Your brother picked out the card.  I made him put the ones about unicorn farts back.”

That has you snorting, “Sounds like Jared.”

You open the card and a plane ticket falls out, you look up at Gen.

“Jared called Eric last week to see when Jensen might have a lighter filming schedule.  He gave him those dates, it’s next weekend.  We weren’t sure how long you would want to stay, so it’s just four days right now, but you can change your return flight.  I really hope this helps you two straighten everything out.”

“Thank you.  I really hope so too.”

When you are getting ready for bed, your phone dings again.  Checking the notification you see Jared has tagged you in an Instagram post.  It’s a birthday message from him and Gen with some pictures from the day.  You scroll down the home feed and see Jensen also has a new post from today.  It’s not the usual birthday shout out he has done in the past, but a picture of him along with his friend Steve.  The caption underneath says `Good time catching up with an old friend, making big plans.’

That must be a nod to the record Jared had mentioned.  Closing your phone, you lay down and try to fall asleep.  It’s a bit of a struggle. Your mind is racing with many thoughts tonight.  After the last few months, should you really be surprised how today played out?  How is your trip up to Toronto going to go?  Will it help fix your relationship, or be the end?

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 5

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[thistle-bone-and-sharp-stones]

what are your headcanons for little Doyle?

This is actually very good timing for some Doyle headcanons anon, but you've inadvertedly asked for an essay here so I hope you're ready lol. 👀

Young Doyle was a very sweet kid, shy, affectionate and very much not like canon Doyle lol. Became an orphan between the ages of 3 and 5.

Small for his age.

If he was on the younger end of that there's a lot he wouldn't have known when he was orphaned, potentially just his first name and not even things like his actual birthday or his parents' name. Which is extra heartbreaking because Drew would then be the only one who can tell him this info 27+ years later.

Drew did manage to get some of his baby photos from a relative or two, they do not disappoint and often get used as blackmail in the saturday household lol.

Kid Doyle was a total Mommy's boy and Drew was a Daddy's girl.

He ended in homes/orphanages in numerous unsavoury places so he would have definitely experienced child neglect and poverty which contributes to his attitude in later life of not getting on with authority figures, having trouble forming actual meaningful attachments with peopla and covering up insecurities with humour or crude behaviour.

Going off the rails a bit from talking about kid Doyle but if adult Doyle is going to talk about his past, he has to joke about it first. I can geuninely see him getting drunk with Drew and Doc some point post canon and going on a tangent about a terrible childhood experience meanwhile Drew and Doc are just sitting there and shock and he's like "just me then? ...okay."

Becuase he deserves it, he did have some nice foster families but either A. they couldn't keep him or B. they had him when he was a troubled teen. Teenage Doyle was an absolute menace to society and a horrible person to be around probably.

Despite this, he always had a soft spot for young kids so would try and stick up for them when it mattered.

Probably got into criminal activity when he was around Zak's age, petty theft, vandalism etc. that eventually escalated into organised crime.

Though he didn't get into the ludicrous, high paying jobs until he starts meeting Van Rook.

Headcanon about that is that they first met when older teen Doyle tried to pickpocket and/or rob him and Van Rook turns around and starts criticising his technique and how he needs to do better than that if he wants to make real money.

Adult Doyle's fixation on money came from not having anything to his name as a kid and a lot of the time having to worry about where he'd get his next meal sometime. Which is why he gets offended when people like Doc who are very rich try and call him out on it.

I probably have more but this is the stuff I can think of off the top of my head.

[nebsstories]

The Birthday Bash

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Authors note:

I’ve conceptualized this scenario I think about a year ago, but hadn’t found the time or inspiration to write it down until now.

This story was inspired off of @cupcakeshakesnake’s Harbor Town AU, and the contents of this story is loosely based off another story I’ve read, please DM me for more details.

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Be me, I’m just right out of college and I have no idea what to do with my life; degree is utterly useless so I look at local businesses, wanted to find somewhere I can stay until I can get a better job. I happened to live 10 minutes away from the local rat casino known as, “Chuck-E-Cheese”. It’s better than nothing, I guess. Go in, do interview, really basic stuff; guy interviewing me asks, “When can you start?”

On that day I sold my soul to the Chuck-E-Cheese company. That day began one of the worst experiences of my life.

I started that following Monday, making $10 on the hour, so it’s okay, I guess. I spent most of my week up until Friday getting acquainted with my fellow coworkers. Free food’s also a plus, pizza’s alright but I’ll take it. I clock in that fateful Saturday morning, my manager greets me at the door, she tells me that Saturday’s are usually when it’s at its peak so we’ll be swamped today. Oh and, there’s a big birthday scheduled tonight, and all I can hear from the poor guy wearing the costume is a low, yet audible, “Fuck my life.”

I cannot even begin to imagine how awful it’d be to be surrounded by fifty or so grease coated crotch goblins all at once, all the while dying of heatstroke in a furry costume. At least the building was air conditioned, because I heard that the suit doesn’t have ventilation, meaning it’s hot as the devil’s asshole at times. I was tasked with setting up the party area, the decorations were already provided to us and the theme was apparent from the skull and crossbones.

Around 4 in the afternoon, the rush starts to die down and we get a momentary feeling of euphoric silence, relief washed over us, though we were fools to think it’d last forever. We watched as tired parents dragged out their sugar high children, as the kingdom they’d lorded over was lost to them. In the wake of their foul dominion, the arcade games became sticky and greasy to the touch, they’d stained the carpets with spilled sodas and slices of mediocre pizza, in that moment I foolishly thought, “This can’t get any worse than the hell on earth I’d just witnessed.”

4:30pm on the dot, a man steps in. He looks like the sort of boho rockstar you’d see thrown up from the peak of 80’s rock and roll, with as much swagger in his step and a cool demeanor as he greeted the girl that gives all the kids the ink stamps (which are “invisible” until shown under a blacklight).

“‘Ello, I’ve a birthday reservation for Jackie, party of 40.” He follows up.

My heart stopped, my blood ran cold as the number echoed in my mind. He did not just say 40, I thought he was bluffing so I poked my head out to get a glance. Standing behind him was an army. An army of fun sized pirates. This man brought in an entire grade level to this Chuck-E-Cheese and we were at the brunt of it all.

Before I could dip my head into my manager’s office to fake sick, the kids flood the place. Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war, as instantaneously, children storm the restaurant; they take to the playhouse, the arcade, the party area. The place is nearly full and bursting at the seams with them, and as we pushed on, our manager cowardly hid within the confines of the office. Meanwhile, the rest of us are panicking, chefs are stressing - their nerves pulsating and brows glistening with sweat from the amount of pizza they have to keep pumping out. It’s a madhouse, it’s anarchy!

Rockstar here isn’t doing jack shit, he’s just leaning against the wall playing guitar and waiting for it to be over. Another adult - a biker looking man, just got jumped by 20 or so children. Proudly, one boy, with a wide brimmed hat adorned by a single plumed feather and a toy monkey around his torso, holds up the poor man’s wallet. “Gents! Our hope is restored!” The other members of his crew cheer loudly, leaving the man they’d just mugged on the floor to abuse his poor aching debit card in exchange for tokens.

Outside the restaurant, I spotted Mayor Swann with his daughter in tow and a birthday present in her hand, then him taking one look at the chaos and deciding in that moment to turn around and leave. No doubt lying to his child that the restaurant had closed. Forever. No wait, take me with you, Mr. Mayor!

My train of thought was interrupted when one of the children, a boy with his hair pulled back into a ponytail asks me, “Excuse me sir, when is the show?”

Another chimes in, this one must be the birthday boy, Jack. I’d never seen a kid look this smug my entire life, “Oi, we’ve invoked the right of Parlay, we demand to see Charles Entertainment Cheese.”

I stuttered for a brief moment to regain my composure. What have I just gotten myself into? “It’s coming soon, kiddos!” Luckily, that was enough to suffice, as they’d rush back to the arcade.

Eventually the animatronic show from hell begins, the band begins playing kids songs. I don’t know what these kids were expecting, but it’s clear that the works of Scott Cawthon had done a number on their minds, as one of the children in attendance - probably the one with the slicked back ponytail, begins freaking out. One of my coworkers has to swoop in to make the kid happy. Others that were paying attention kept asking, “Where’s Freddy Fazbear?” The kids are now chanting, “Freddy! Freddy! Freddy!” I’m surprised with the pirate theme they’re not clamoring for Foxy. One chubby kid, miraculously gets up to the Chuck E animatronic, begins shaking him whilst interrogating him on the whereabouts of Freddy and his gang. He’s shaken the robot enough times where it’s god damn head FALLS OFF. Screaming ensues. I’m amazed this kid didn’t put Chuck E”s head on a pike a la Lord of the Flies, though even then I’m sure half of them will need therapy after seeing their fellow pirate brethren decapitate their beloved, cheese eating deity.

While most of the party was distracted, two of them have managed to SNEAK INTO THE KITCHEN and are stealing toppings off the pizzas. Not off the prep stations, but straight off the pizzas, I’m pretty sure half of them don’t even wash their hands. We had to remake them because we didn’t want the health department on our asses.

One of them managed to steal a whole pizza for himself and scarf it down near the ballpit. I think it was one with the wide-brimmed hat.

The birthday boy was easily the worst of the bunch; within two hours, he’d managed to hop behind the prize counter while the guy working there escaped for a bathroom break, took every miniature tote bag off the rack and used them to stuff as much prizes as he could carry. His little arms made him look like a coat rack as he waddled out from behind the corner with his treasure.

And I’ll bet you’re wondering, where was I in the chaos? Being tormented by a duo, the kid who decapitated Chuck E and another who wore an eyepatch, asking me question after question. You know, things a kid would ask like, “Whatcha doing?” Or, “What’s the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” Actually, the one with the eyepatch kept throwing those curve balls and it made me wonder what this kid was doing in his spare time.

Then the dinner bell rang, or rather, the rockstar parent called, “Pizza’s ready!” Finally, a moment of calm as slices are distributed amongst the group. But all hell breaks loose when the sodas are passed around. Oh god no, god please no, literally give them anything but soda. It’s too late now, that bastard knew what he was doing. It was like watching the fireworks at a Fourth of July celebration, as these kids practically exploded with sugar-induced adrenaline pumping through their little bodies.

Then the final blow: the cake. Ah yes, what a cake, I remember it fondly. No expense was spared for this occasion, when most parents provided a sheet cake from their local grocery store, rockstar here provided an elaborate cake worthy of 40 or so screaming children. A treasure chest; with chocolate gold coins, the strings of pearls made from modeling chocolate and candied necklaces, precious gems made from rock candy for that nice pop of color, and a delicate map made from marzipan that read, “Happy Birthday Captain Sparrow!”

It was carried in by a man who looked to be about my age, his hair pulled back into a ponytail like that kid from earlier - though I assure you, his was messier than in comparison to the kid, and he’d be wearing a dark blue shirt. Ah, now I recognize him; James Norrington, he was an elementary school teacher but he also worked the Tortuga Arcade during Winter Break. Really nice guy. A moment of silence fell once the door opened, all the children nearly gave themselves whiplash to stare at the newcomer.

“Oh look,” they’d think, “another adult we’ve yet to wear out.”

I’m just mentally screaming at this man, “Run! Run while you still can!!”

It was in vain, as the screech of, “Cake!” Coming from the birthday boy signaled the others to descend upon him. The man struggled to keep the cake out of their grasps, holding it high up and calling, “Mr. Teague, would you please provide me with some assistance? And where is Mr. Teach?”

Mugged and still laying facedown on the floor. That cannot look comfortable, but I suppose playing dead was miles better than the alternative, which was staying awake for this mess.

Finally, rockstar does something, casually getting past the crowd to retrieve the cake with a simple, “Thanks.” Manager asks me to do a headcount, make sure the kids were all still here and not somehow sneaking out into the rooftop or something.

37…38…39…oh shit. Where’s the birthday boy?

I couldn’t just make my panic known, so I started poking around the restaurant for him, I’d even asked one of my coworkers to check the roof for the birthday boy. And Mr. Teague was beginning to notice. God, I didn’t want to tell him I’d somehow lost his kid. But, then I realized that, he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking straight at the play area. And as luck would have it, there in the ball pit, I see the kid’s head poking out with a smug grin. Thank god.

After cake and presents was when the real damage kicks in, chairs are now flying, one of our front windows gets smashed into a million pieces, and now requires repairs. I don’t even know HOW they can even find the strength to accomplish that, so I’m mildly impressed. The manager’s office is then stormed and papers flew everywhere and into the party area. Of course Mr. Sparrow nor Mr. Teach don’t end up paying for damages, not like we’d want their money anyway. We want compensation for the emotional damage we had to endure that evening. Norrington fled not long after the cake was delivered, not like I’d blame him.

Eventually, parents and guardians come around to come collect their kids, even Norrington shows back up to pick up one of them, the one with the ponytail apparently. At least Teague tips us generously, seems he knows the sort of chaos this kid and his posse can unleash.

It’s 11, closing time. During cleanup, we take survey of the property damage that had occurred in the wake of that birthday party; your usual stained carpet, but also now featuring turned over furniture, ruined play area, arcade games now so stuck, I’m pretty sure they’d have to call someone in to clean them, raided prize corner, damaged animatronics. It was as if a bomb had gone off in here. It was over, the siege of port Chuck-E-Cheese had leaned in favor of Captain Jack Sparrow and his band of miscreants.

I left, but never came back for my next shift. I spend Sunday and Monday job hunting, and luckily I was able to land a job with the East India Trading Company.

I’d thought I’d seen the last of Jack, and his vast pirate army. Life as an underling in EITC was as mundane yet stable as one could imagine an office job to be, money flow is steady with a 9 to 5, paid vacation time, they’ve even got dental. I’d moved out of my crappy apartment and moved somewhere I could enjoy the peace and quiet; I vowed to never have kids. Life was good.

Until one Monday, I saw Jack again, he was pestering my boss, Beckett, asking him question after question. One of his little friends is aggressively flossing in another room, Jack has now gotten ahold of one of the company computers. Somehow he unleashes a virus. All the of work I’d poured in the past few hours gone the drain and now I’m openly mocked by a video of badly played recorder music. The bass is boosting hard, my ears are bleeding.

I’m going to put in my request for a transfer tomorrow.

[living-d3ad-gh0ul]

Sunday 11th June 2023, 02.00am

I've sat here for a couple minutes now, trying to think of how to start this post. But I keep coming up blank. So I guess I'll just start writing. I read your post before I came here to write mine, although I had actually planned to write to you tonight anyway. I've been thinking of you every single day since I last wrote to you. All the time, wishing you could be here too. Thank you for the birthday wishes, E <3 Don't worry, you didn't miss it, it's on the 28th of this month. And I'll be 28, too. I don't know where the times bloody gone haha.

The last month has been... wild to say the least. Literally everything has changed. So so much has gone on. When I last wrote to you, we were in limbo, waiting for dad to come around from his mini-coma (that's what I've been calling it, cause it wasn't quite a coma, but he was very very sleepy and couldn't be woken up much). Well he did. He came around. He woke up and he called me on the Thursday of that week, which was 18th May. I think it was only a day or two after I wrote my last post. But god was it good to hear his voice. I cried so so much and so did he. He kept telling me he'd been trying to call me, but I think he'd either been dreaming of calling me or thinking about it. I didn't care though, it was just so fucking good to hear from him and actually talk to him. We spoke on the phone for almost an hour, before he got tired again and I told him to go rest.

The specialist nurse also called me. The day before my dad came around, so the Wednesday. And um.. well.. I don't really know how to say this. She said that he wasn't responding as well or as quickly as they'd hoped he would. Or rather as he should be. So.. they were taking the biopsy and all treatment off the table. They had done some more scans and.. after careful consideration, they decided that my dad was already too far gone. That he is terminal and we're now looking at Palliative care and keeping him comfortable, rather than trying to cure anything. She explained to me that any kind of surgery would just be far too dangerous and that giving him anaesthetic could potentially be fatal. As well as any treatments could maybe him worse rather than better, even at that, they may not too much. They were now formally diagnosing him with a grade 4 malignant tumour. It's called a glioblastoma, which.. unfortunately is one of the most aggressive and deadly. I was devastated to hear this news. I'm still devastated. I asked her if I had to come down there right away, she said no, not right now.. but it'd be wise if I did come soon. Hearing that kind of thing, especially about your parent, is awful. The next day when he came around, they had me and my dad discuss signing a DNACPR (Do Not Attempt CPR). Which he wanted to sign. And I'm not one to go against his wishes, if that's what he wants then that's fine. It's his life and his choice, and he expressed that he didn't want to end up in a worse state if they did do CPR. So we signed it off, as per my father's wishes. It still makes me really sad to think of.

I ended up going down there to Nottingham on the Friday, 19th May. My friend and her partner drove me down to see my dad and I stayed in the guest room at the place where my dad lives, which was nice enough, it was just like a little hotel room really, but with the added bonus of having a small kitchen so I could make my own food and stuff. I saw him on the Saturday too up at the hospital.. and god it was so good to see him. He was obviously laid up in a hospital bed, but I still managed to give him a big cuddle and let him kiss my cheek. We held hands a lot and he told me all the things he wanted to make sure we had set in place, such as a power of attorney and a will and what songs he wanted at his funeral. It was difficult talking about some of it, but I knew it was necessary at this point. So I immediately got to work on all of it over the next few days, getting all the forms ready for the power of attorney (which.. I won't lie, it's kinda scary being in charge of someone else's life, nevermind my own. Cause once it comes through, I'll have control over everything to do with my dad's life. Health, welfare, finance, everything.) and setting up things for him on his new phone, to make things easier for him to access and use.

I was down there for two weeks, visiting him every single day up at the hospital, taking him things he might need or want, spending time with him. It was kinda strange being in a hospital ward every single day, but I didn't want him to go without a visitor at all, especially when I was in his city and my purpose of being there was to see him and make sure he was being looked after okay. It was a really really busy time, because I had to sort out all of his things, visit him and then also clear out his flat and stuff too. And then I had to find a way to get all of his things back to Scotland, because we'd made the decision along with his care team that we'd be looking for a nursing home placement back in Scotland, back home where he belongs and where he can be close to me and where he grew up. Dad was more than happy with this, he was just happy he could be close to me and I could go see him whenever I like, instead of having to travel 5+ hours to see him. I tried to make a little time while I was down there to just.. relax too. I seen some old college friends and old friends from when I lived down there when I was a teenager. I had a night out to a local pub/club with them and it was pretty good. I had felt guilty about it, but my dad told me I better go and have a good time for him and take lots of pictures and show him the next day. Which I did, and he had a big smile on his face the whole time I told him. Every doctor, nurse and care assistant in the hospital said that the minute I was mentioned or the minute he saw me, his face would just completely light up. It's kind of heartwarming to know that I mean that much to someone.

Like I said, it was a really busy time and I had a lot to do, so it passed really quickly. But it also felt like it lasted forever. This last month has felt so quick but also like it's been a year rather than a month. We managed to get dad a place in a nursing home that's only 10 minutes from me, so it's really really handy. I can literally walk to it from my house. We managed to get all his transport and stuff sorted out and he was moved up here on Tuesday of this week (6th June). I had an awful time of trying to find a way to get all dad's stuff up here, but one of my best friends mums actually really fucking helped me out and she came all the way down to Nottingham and picked me up, we both loaded her car up with all my dad's things and then we hit the road back home to Scotland. I made sure to thank the lady at the supported living place my dad lived at for letting me stay in their guest room for so long, she was really nice to me when I stayed there. My dad's family have been helping out a little too, my uncles and their families. But.. they're not very good with this kind of thing. My mother... Well let's just say, I'm currently not on speaking terms with her at all. She's been a little cruel and not compassionate at all. I'd rather not talk too much about that, she's just been a bit nasty about everything when neither me or my dad need it right now. Especially when I'm dealing with so much and basically having to do everything for my dad. I get her and my dad ended badly and that she doesn't like him, but in this kind of situation the least she can do is be a little supportive for me.

So.. dad is in his nursing home back in Scotland, all of the staff seem so nice and again.. they all knew me before I knew them. Apparently my dad does not stop talking about me and he's always telling them how special I am and how much he loves me. I've had so many of them tell me just exactly what he says about me and say that I am the absolute light of his life. Which.. I'll be honest, I don't know how to take haha. It's nice obviously, I'm just not very good at taking compliments. I get all blushy and shy, especially when it's strangers doing it. He's always telling me recently how proud he is of me too, how I'm doing a wonderful job of taking care of him and all his thing, how I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. He's full of other compliments too that he slyly slides in there every now and then too, calling me beautiful and saying how I'm so special to him. Again, I just get all blushy and roll my eyes and stuff and just go "yeah yeah I get it, you love me" lol. But it really is so nice to hear him say it all. Not that he didn't before, he absolutely did. But now it's moreso. It's like he wants to make sure I know exactly just how much he loves me before.. well you know..

His condition has.. kind of deteriorated slowly. Every day he gets a little more forgetful and confused. He can't stand or walk, so he has to use a wheelchair to get around, which someone has to push for him because he has no mobility in his left arm now too. His eyesight is getting a little worse too, especially in his left side. The tumour is pressing on the right side of his brain, so that's making everything on the opposite side not work as well or stop working. He sometimes has little hallucinations or delusions too, which is something that's started up in the past couple weeks. Which.. isn't nice sometimes, especially when he gets upset about them. He's so determined and convinced that they're real, he won't listen to anything anyone says. He's told me he always wants me to be honest with him though, to tell him what's real and what's not real, to keep him right if he gets forgetful or confused. Which I do, I just try and do it in a gentle way where he wouldn't get upset or anything. Especially when he starts thinking my stepmum is still alive.. those ones hurt the most, because they're so difficult to deal with and I don't want to outright tell him "she's passed away". I just feel like that would be cruel. So I try and jog his memory, ask him if he remembers that she was sick and what happened and stuff. That usually helps. But only for a few minutes, his short term memory is really bad and he repeats himself a lot. It's not his fault at all so I just remind him and repeat myself a lot too. Eventually the conversation moves on to something else and he doesn't even remember it happened. It's tough, it's really tough, but I'll do anything I can for him. I love my dad so much and I'm terrified for the end. It's so hard to sit and watch him get sicker and sicker every day. But I try so hard to stay strong for him, to show him how much I care and how much I love him and that he absolutely will not be alone through any of this. I simply will not allow it.

He actually bought me an early birthday present the other day. He paid for me to have my hair done and have a new tattoo (of which I'll attach pictures so you can see). He said he wanted to do that for me because he wanted me to have a nice birthday and to have some "chill time". He knows how much I love having my hair done and getting tattoos, so it was perfect. My dad loves getting tattoos too, me and him actually have a matching one and he has his favourite Moto GP riders signature tattooed on him. He met him one time at one of the races, asked him to sign his arm and literally within half an hour, he was sat in a tattoo shop getting it inked onto himself haha. My dad is a cool fucking dude. We had to sell his bike unfortunately. It was a really really sad thing for both of us, since my dad has never been without a bike for as long as I've lived. Hell even before that actually. But the lady we dealt with through it all was so helpful and she really made it all so much easier. We got the special engravings he had on his bike for my stepmum (one of them actually matches my thigh tattoo, which he had made when he got his new bike after I'd already had my tattoo done), so I decided I was gonna try and find something to do with them. And that's what I did tonight. I'll show you a picture of what I made. It's called a shadowbox. And the pictures in it are actually my dad on his old bike and his bike he just had.

I'm so glad that you're doing okay. And I'm glad you managed to sort out your GPU issue lol. I really want to build a new PC, but mine works fine for now, especially since I don't seem to be using it as much recently what with everything going on. Streaming is so much fun, I had done it for a little while a couple years ago and had a great time doing it. The only reason I stopped was because college got way too busy and then I was working all the time, so I didn't have much of a chance to do it anymore. I think you'd be really really good at it, I'm really excited for you and I'd love to know what you'll be streaming and more about all of that. I'm sorry you feel that way about your band. Have you guys tried writing some new material? Or is it just that as a whole, you just feel like things are a little stagnant? Whatever you choose to do, I support it. I support anything you want to do in life, because I know no matter what it is, it'll be great, because you are great. You really really are. And I am so grateful to you for being here for me, even just like this. I'll be honest, I did tear up a little (happy tears) when I saw you'd written to me again, just to let me know you're still here. It meant so much to me. You mean so much to me.

I really really am sorry that this post is so long again. I'm just about to go to bed and get some sleep, it's been a long day and I just got done making my dad's thing for him before I came here to write to you. I promise you I'm being safe and I know I can come here and write to you if I need to talk. I wish I could like.. actually talk to you right now. I miss your voice so much. But I can still remember it so clearly in my head. I wish I could just.. curl up and have you cuddle me for a little bit. Even if it was just for five minutes. I would really really like that.

I hope you and Chonky are doing well, I really really liked the picture of her. She's so fluffy and she looks so soft. I can't lie, when I seen her picture, I started doing all that baby talk that people do to cute animals and I just wanted to sink my hand into her belly fur and give her belly rubs. If my hand got torn to shreds from doing so, then so be it hahaha. Our little letters are really a bit of a lifeline for me right now. I've been reading yours over and over again a lot the past few weeks. They really do comfort me so much. Just to know you're out there and you're still here and you're thinking of me..

No moon for me tonight, it's been really warm and sunny here for the past few weeks, it's been nice actually. But tonight it rained and there's been some thunder and lightning, so I've been sat at my window watching and listening to that as I write to you.

I can't wait to hear from you again soon, E. And I loved the song. I love City and Colour so much. Dallas Greens voice is so soothing.

I'll talk to you soon. I miss you. I really really do. And thank you for all of this.. for being here for me and comforting me, even if only through our letters.

"Not to touch a hair on your head, leave you as you are, if he felt he had to direct you then direct you into my arms.."

N x

[reekierevelator]

After the Party

(a short radio play in three scenes)

CHARACTERS

Yvette                   Late twenties, smart clothes, carrying a handbag

Murdo                  Late twenties, smart-casual clothes

Jack                      Middle aged, jeans and polo shirt

Bob                        Late teens, jeans and polo shirt

SCENE ONE

Location - In a black taxi – FX taxi noise

Time – 4pm, Saturday afternoon, March 2023 (the new age of austerity)

1 Yvette

And the way that guy kept on about his yacht…  What was his name?

2 Murdo

Oh yes, that guy - Guy

3 Yvette

Oh yes, Guy – humblebragging about almost drowning himself when he fell overboard off St Lucia after drinking Cristal champagne all day.

4 Murdo

It wasn’t Cristal that Roger was pouring into our glasses back there.

5 Yvette

Some sort of fizzy plonk for the plebs I think. I saw Lucinda take a sip and she screwed her face up at him. And the place, I expected at least a decent three course sit-down – just a buffet – and nachos and melted cheese. I ask you, a ‘buffet restaurant’, and they called it a Swiss raclette or something. It was definitely cheddar. I thought that fondue business went out with the dinosaurs. Slices of cold ham, potato salad, French bread, and that gateaux was awful. I could have made a much better meal at home. To be honest, I think Roger and Lucinda are feeling the pinch.

6 Murdo

I got that impression too – though admittedly they were paying for everything.  Guy could have stumped up. I heard him virtue-signalling, telling you his usual story about how he started out as a brickie’s hod carrier and ended up owning the whole nationwide company. It’s sort of true. He did work on a building site for a couple of weeks during college vacations. But it was in his uncle’s building firm. His uncle never married. No kids. Guy inherited everything. But anyway, it was only a Saturday lunchtime get-together. Roger just wanting to mark his birthday with some old pals.  

7 Yvette

Saturday night is more appropriate. Shame  about Lucinda’s working – what did you say – second job driving nightshift taxis?  Lunchtime is more like something for kids, a children’s birthday party. The only thing missing was candles on that dreadful cake.

8 Murdo

Maybe they didn’t think about it? They haven’t got any kids.  Kids are such an enormous expense, aren’t they?  If you were keen we could maybe think about children in a year or two. Roger’s NHS salary must be worth a lot less that when I first met him a few years ago. But at least he’s managed to get on the housing ladder – huge mortgage – Lucinda’s taxi work must help pay for it. He was gobbling food like he hadn’t eaten for weeks. What is it Wodehouse says – ‘getting himself outside of’ - whole platefuls of cold ham, pakora, sausage rolls and samosas.

9 Yvette

Not quite the haute cuisine you’d led me to expect. What does Lucinda do?

10 Murdo

She was waitressing for a couple of years after graduating. Hotel receptionist now… I got some hot runny cheese on my best shirt. One for the dry-cleaner’s. Even dry-cleaners charge a fortune these days.

11 Yvette

At least we can drop the forced smiles now and have a pleasant evening with a glass of decent wine and some chocolates.

12 Murdo

That’s true. We may not be in Guy’s league but we aren’t quite counting the pennies yet.

13 Yvette

Well, as we agreed when we moved in together last year, you count your pennies and I’ll count mine – except of course for the big things, like me being lumbered paying the rent.

14 Murdo

You’re not going to bring that up again are you?  We agreed. You’re the rent -and your phone contract of course - but I’m everything else – council tax, gas, electricity, water, broadband, tv licence, tv subscriptions – Netflix, Disney+, Prime, -food, drink, taxis…

15 Yvette

No need to rattle on about it Murdo. I sometimes think dividing up our finances this way suits you because whenever we’re out with other people you can give the appearance that you pay for me, for everything - meals, alcohol, entertainment,  - that certainly seemed to be the impression that bitch Sophie had when she joked that if we were a business partnership I must be the sleeping partner.

16 Murdo

She was talking about herself, her own business Yvy, not us.

17 Yvette

She was implying I sleep with you in exchange for financial support. How does that Sophie besom manage to live so well anyway? What does she do?

18 Murdo

Her dad made money. Spent years buying old flats cheap, doing them up then selling them at a profit. He moved on to letting them out instead of selling them. Then he let Sophie take over. These days I think there are more than a dozen properties she lets out.

19 Yvette

Sounds like easy money to me. That man Cameron she’s with. Grinning like a hyena. ‘Isn’t it great how house prices keep shooting up’ he says. I just smiled sweetly. I know you said Cammy’s parents bought that place for him when he was a student but it doesn’t help. I tried talking to him about my work. He said he was sure I made a wonderful shop assistant – I am not a shop assistant Murdo!

20 Murdo

Of course you aren’t Yvy. You’re in retail, you’re the deputy manager of a classy little boutique in the St James Quarter.

21 Yvette

There’s still that prat James above me; thinks he’s God’s gift. But I could hear that Sophie sniggering behind my back, implying to your friends that I was some kind of kept woman.

22 Murdo

That’s a little paranoid Yvy.  You make it sound like she was trying to undermine you, gaslighting you.

23 Yvette

She sort of threatened to come into my shop and make me serve her while she tried on the most expensive dresses – talked about haute couture – wouldn’t know haute couture if it fell on her head. Well, anyway, gas lighting would be up to you. You certainly wouldn’t want to stump up for gas lighting.

24 Murdo

You’re right there. The way fuel and food prices have been rocketing up I think I got the worst of the bargain when we divided up our overhead costs.

25 Yvette

The rent’s not cheap Murdo.  I think they’re planning to put it up again soon.

SCENE TWO

Location  – Front door of flat on arrival home

Time – 4.30pm, Saturday afternoon

1 Murdo

[about to put key in door]   The fares black cabs charge is really getting beyond a joke Yvy. 

2 Yvette

Well I don’t understand why you’ve let the garage keep our car all this time.  That must be three weeks now they’ve been working on it.  I mean how much repair work needs doing after an MOT?  Unless you make a fuss tradesmen are just in no hurry at all these days are they?

3 Murdo

I know Ubers and minicabs look a bit cheap to you Yvy but honestly these days you can make a good case for just taking the bus – a proper and sensible thing to do - fighting climate change and so on.  The bus would have been just as quick. ….   Wait a minute, did you forget to lock the door? 

4 Yvette

No, of course not. And you were last out as usual.

5 Murdo

[peering closely at the lock]   Well anyway, it’s still open. Hells bells Yvy, it looks like the lock’s been forced. 

6 Yvette

Oh God, has someone broken into the flat?

7 Murdo

There’s a light on inside. I can hear people talking.  We should call the police.

8 Yvette

[striding into the flat]    Oh for God’s sake Murdo.  These days the police won’t bother getting here for hours, maybe days.  I pay the rent on this place; I pay for that door. I’ll bloody well sort this out myself!

9 Jack

[rising from a kneeling position in the hall]     Oh, ah, hullo there.  Just back are you eh?  Been on holiday? 

10 Yvette

Holidays? … [aside  how do we divide the cost of holidays?] ….You’ve been caught red-handed, give yourself up…

11 Jack

Knocked and rang the bell.  No answer.  Let myself in.

12 Yvette

[threatening to hit Jack with handbag]    Let yourself in? Who the hell do you think you are breaking into my flat? … 

13 Jack

Ah, hang on, see missus, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick there…

14 Yvette

[Yvette startled as Bob pokes his head out from the under-the-stairs cupboard]  Another one! And who the hell is that?

15 Jack

Ah, well this little chap would be Bob. We work as a team see, I…..

16 Yvette

A bloody gang of thieves.  Murdo, there’s two of them!  Don’t let them escape.  Block the door.  [She searches in her handbag and pulls out a pair of nail scissors.]  Try to run and I swear I’ll poke your eye out with these.

17 Bob

Easy on there missus, we’re only swapping the meters aren’t we.

18 Yvette

What do you mean, ‘swapping the meters’?

19 Jack

Well we’re Northern Gas missus. [Jack turns and points to the writing on the back of his polo shirt – ‘Northern – it’s a gas, gas, gas’]  Just here to do the meters … gas meter…

20 Bob

…and I’m on the electricity…  

21 Yvette

[perplexed, brandishing scissors]    ‘Do the meters?’ ‘Do the meters?’

22 Jack

Yes, both … your dual fuel contract see…

23 Bob

You’ll have had all the text messages…

24 Jack

…Or emails…

25 Bob

…The envelopes with big red lettering.

26 Murdo

[slapping his forehead]    Ah, oh dear, my goodness.  Well, now I think about it I might be able to explain some of this Yvy.

27 Yvette

What do you mean, ‘explain’?

28 Murdo

Well, it’s true, there were emails – rather a lot of emails in fact – and then there was a letter… letters… – printed in red.

29 Jack

Yes, that’s right, see that’s how it works missus.

30 Yvette

Good God Murdo, are you trying to tell me that these… these people, really are Northern Gas employees, and they’ve broken into my flat…

31 Jack

Well not ‘broken in’ – that’s not right missus.  All legitimate, above board.  See gas, water, electric –  right of entry anytime – case of emergency and so on, so…

32 Yvette

…broken into my flat because, because, because they’re converting, force-fitting, turning our gas and electricity meters into prepayment meters, because, because…

33 Jack

Because the bills haven’t been paid, have they missus?  Payments stopped weeks ago.  Company left with no choice.

34 Yvette

[turning angrily on Murdo]    For God’s sake Murdo, is this true?  How could you forget to arrange the direct debits? That’s all it takes – a little bit of competent household management. No need to stand there looking like you’ve lost a pound and found a penny. Get it sorted!

35 Murdo

[shame-faced]   Ah, well, actually it is a little more complicated than that really.  I did set up the direct debits pretty well, but, well…

36 Bob

Stopped working, did they? - no money in the bank account? – [aside] that’s usually the way of it, isn’t it Jack?

37 Yvette

[stunned]   No money!?... but surely… automatic bank overdraft….

38 Murdo

Yvy you know when I said at least we aren’t quite counting the pennies yet, well it’s not quite true. To be honest…

39 Yvette

[hitting Murdo with her handbag]   No money?...No money in your bank account?...

40 Murdo

[squirming, ashen faced]  Sorry, even the overdraft up to the hilt. Financially embarrassed. Skint. Boracic…  See, it’s the job.

41 Yvette

What’s wrong with the job?  Working hard, going out to the Brewery’s offices every day, pottering about filling in computer forms and spreadsheets, - you say it’ll all be fully automated soon, but not yet, no not yet, - then home by six-thirty every day. You’ve always enjoyed admin, clerical work. What’s wrong with the job?

42 Murdo

The thing is, when the government pandemic subsidies – furlough and so on – stopped, the beer prices still went up - drinkers cutting back, pubs closing, exports plummeting – bloody Brexit - they just didn’t need so many people to organise deliveries…

43 Yvette

You’ve lost your bloody job!?

44 Murdo

That’s the long short. Two months ago.  Negligible redundancy money - not there long enough. But then your shop re-opened and you were busy checking stock, encouraging sales, helping on the counter, still people with money out there… and I, well I’ve been, eh, hanging around, walking around the parks mainly, hoping my savings would stretch till I found a new job. Hoped your salary might tide us over if I had to ask. Actually, lots of vacancies out there – hotel cleaners, burger flippers, call centres – that kind of thing - zero hours – how do people live on those wages?  I even looked at fast food bicycle delivery... 

45 Bob

Your legs aren’t strong enough guv, nothing personal, just saying.  Amount of deliveries you got to do to make a living wage… needs strong legs…

46 Murdo

And people cutting back anyway – can’t afford delivery – cost of food up nearly 20% - Just Eat, Deliveroo – all letting people go or forcing them to be self-employed again – companies never made a profit anyway, and…

47 Jack

Driving though? – You could drive a van – help clog up the streets like all those Asda and Amazon and…

48 Murdo

… and utilities company vans.

49 Jack

Here, somebody’s got to fit PPM. It’s a living.

50 Murdo

Maybe not for anyone with scruples? A bit morally dubious sometimes? Cutting off heating – kids – old people - disabled…left freezing, hungry…

51 Yvette

For God’s sake Murdo. You’re the bloody slough of despond. At least the rent’s still paid. I’m still paying the rent.

52 Murdo

Oh well that will keep Sophie happy at least – the only way I managed to find a flat…

53 Yvette

Oh, that’s great! Our landlady – that bitch!  And the car in the MOT garage – no doubt the repair bill’s still unpaid?

53 Murdo

[apologetic]  And the tax, insurance, not to mention petrol… One thing just leads to another…

54 Yvette

[aggressive]  Oh for God’s sake get a grip Murdo. Listen, it can’t be too hard to learn how to convert meters can it? – and it looks like there’s going to be a lot of demand for people to do these conversions for some time yet…so…do you want to eat or do you want to have scruples? 

55 Murdo

[brightening up]   You’re not wrong Yvy. It’s an idea. In fact you could be absolutely right. I’ll get on to Northern Gas right away. [Turning to the workmen] What are your names again boys - Jack, Bob is it? – Any chance you could put in a word, give me a decent reference?

SCENE THREE

Location – Pavement outside shop doorway.  It is raining. FX rainfall

Murdo - unshaven, dirty clothes, sitting cross-legged on pavement, paper coffee cup in front of him alongside a piece of cardboard with ‘Hungry and homeless’ scrawled on it.

Yvette - striding along the pavement holding an umbrella, suddenly stops, aghast, stands over him, staring down at him. FX footsteps coming to sudden halt

Time – One month later – 9am Monday

1 Yvette

My God, is that you Murdo?

2 Murdo

Ah, Yvy, yes, I’m afraid so. You never think it could happen to you, do you?  Then you fill in all the stuff to apply for Universal Credit and it takes forever.  You fall through the bloody trapdoor before you even realize it’s there. Penniless. On the street.

3 Yvette

You could have been fixing gas meters.

4 Murdo

Couldn’t bring myself to do it in the end.  Heart-breaking.  There again, they only hire and pay wages to people with a fixed address.  Bit of a catch-22 there, the old ‘no fixed abode’.  Couldn’t even get a job pouring coffee – mentioned body odour, wrong image for customers.  You know Yvy, they always said money is the main reason couples argue and break up, but I didn’t properly understand…  I know you chose the role of paying the rent but, well, I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously, react so badly to my new-found, er, impecuniousness… poverty…   I had nowhere to go. Are you still living there?

5 Yvette

I managed to get back in touch with Guy. He spoke to Sophie. She’s letting me stay in the flat rent-free for a couple of months until I find some flat-sharers.  Couple of people in the boutique are interested – shop takings are down – staff salaries not keeping up with inflation – employees rents still shooting up - lots of people  looking for cheaper places to live.

6 Murdo

James, by any chance?

7 Yvette

Well yes, he’s expressed a strong interest. With the rent going up and pay in the boutique not moving Sophie says I’d be better off working for her – property management assistant.

8 Murdo

[aside, under his breath] bloody rent collector putting the squeeze on. - Spare some change Yvy?  I can barely afford to eat – prices getting ludicrous. Citizens Advice gave me a voucher for the food bank but I’m soaked through Yvy, hoping to get enough for a hostel bed tonight.

9 Yvette

[dropping some coins into Murdo’s cup as she turns away] I’ve got to get to work.  Money’s a bit tight.  Cost of food’s high for everyone.  My present post may not pay too well Murdo, but look at you, things could be worse.  Maybe I’ll see you around.

10 Murdo

Maybe. Goodbye Yvy.  Hope James is good for you. [aside, peering into the paper cup] No need to despair old son, looks about enough there for a couple of cans – funny, working in a brewery I always fancied wine - but if special brew can blank me out of this for a while… help me forget the state of the world….well, oblivion beckons.

[ilyzuko]

let me be annoying frustrated and grammatically incorrect in the tags

[juuuuliee]

Broken promises

A/N: so... this is my first story I'm posting, so please don't be so hard on me hahaha... Constructive criticism is of course welcome! I'm working on a masterlist and other stories, so stay tuned if you'd like. I'm sorry if there are some logic and/or grammar mistakes - as I said, this is my first story. I hope you like it, have fun reading! See you soon :)

Pairing:young!Sirius Black x Reader

Genre:a lot of angst, a bit of fluff

Warnings:angst, family problems, relationship problems, jealousy.

Y/N felt bad. Not the kind of bad that makes you want to throw up, more like your stomach was knotting up and that queasy, uncomfortable feeling was getting bigger.

The common room had long been pitch black and only the fire, which was slowly dying away, gave off a small pleasant glow, but it barely reached the sofa where she was curled up.

He had promised. He had promised to be there and yet she had not seen him since lunch in the Great Hall.

Anger and disappointment kept bubbling up inside her, but she tried to ignore those feelings as worry about him grew and slowly took over.

What if something really happened to him?

Before she could think any more about it, she heard a creak and pulled up. The portrait door swung open and the fat lady could be heard cursing behind Sirius, who came stumbling into the common room, but stopped abruptly when he saw his steady girlfriend on the sofa.

"Y/N?" he asked, startled, looking at her with his eyebrows drawn together.

"Damn it, Sirius, where have you been?" she started, realising that the worry was just giving way to the anger that was rising at the sight of him.

"I was at the lake...well...it was someone's birthday from Hufflepuff and I thought...I could go...what did I do wrong, Love?" he told her hesitantly.

"What did you do wrong, Mister? I don't know, everything I think!" Y/N scolded back, theatrically throwing her hands in the air to express her frustration more.

"You said you were coming, Sirius! Hell, YOU even suggested we meet and still said, you’d had a ,,plan’’…I don't know if that was part of your plan, but if it was, I'm sorry, it's a shitty plan! I thought you would have hurt yourself or made it back to Filch's office."

"Y/N, I'm sorry, okay? I forgot, yeah? What do you want me to do? Invent a time reverser just so our ONE date can still happen?!" sneered Sirius, raising his own voice

"The ONE time?! Sirius I don't know if you've been counting, but this is the fourth time in a row you've forgotten or missed it!" now Y/N shouted too, at which Sirius took a step towards her, but she dodged him right back.

,,I know I'm probably overreacting, but I feel like I'm fighting for our relationship all by myself, Sirius. I'm tired of waiting for you all the time, even though I know you won't come and you probably don't even care. It just hurts, okay?" She had started crying completely now and pulled her jumper closer to her.

"Maybe it has something to do with your family problems," he interrupted angrily and raised his hand, which Y/N only looked at defiantly.

"I am who I am and that is how you should accept me, Y/N! I have apologised, what more can I do?!"

Silence.

Grey, angry eyes met e/c, staring at him with anger and disappointment.

,, "Maybe you should change your priorities if some Hufflepuff chick's party is more important than your own girlfriend, Sirius!"

,, "And maybe you should lower your expectations. You're not the most important person to me damn it!"

Ouch. It felt like Sirius had stuck a knife in your back and was very, very slowly turning it around.

"I didn't mean it, Y/N," Sirius said with a roll of his eyes, avoiding Y/N's hurt gaze and focusing more on her shoes.

,, "Yes you did and you know it very well!"

Sirius groaned and you could literally feel the anger bubbling up inside him again and he had to pull himself together very hard not to yell at her again. In the end, however, his temper won out: "You know what? I'm leaving! I'm tired of this kindergarten and this... this kind of you, Y/N."

"Fine!"

"Great!"

,,Fantastic!" sobbed Y/N, but Sirius barely heard it as he stomped up the stairs to his dorm.

Y/N sat back on the couch, exactly in the place where she had been sitting twenty minutes ago and everything was still "fine".

Had he broken up with her?

She didn't know, but she knew it hurt..., it hurt like hell. There was a hole in her heart and it felt like she was losing her boyfriend, who was moving further and further away from her into the mist, so that all she could see was his outline, not even looking back at her. She wanted to reach out to him, to run after him, but something that must have been her own pride pulled her back and tried to convince her that it wasn't her fault.

But she didn't trust that voice. If only she had stayed calmer... Maybe she could have talked to Sirius calmly about her feelings and thoughts....

——————————————————

"Y/N, wake up!" a voice called at her ear and Y/N slowly opened her eyes. Lily.

,, Lily, please! Let me sleep..." she muttered and turned around to avoid the red-haired witch.

"Forget it! It's Saturday...Hogsmead day," Lily purred excitedly.

"No!"

„Oh come on, Y/NN. We're going to Honeyduks and stock up on chocolate! James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are coming too, it'll be fun!", Lily tried to convince her, but Y/N just shook her head.

"I don't want to see him." "Who?" "Sirius." Lily furrowed her eyebrows questioningly, but quickly understood, "Did you two have a fight?" Y/N merely nodded her head and buried her face in her pillow.

"What was it about?" asked Lily, stroking soothing circles on Y/N's back to get the young witch to speak.

"He missed another date and was at some Hufflepuff party. I was so mad at him...I said things I didn't mean and so did he...His temper won of course...I don't know, it all just escalated. I don't think he wants to see me either." Y/N reported as she sat up and Lily nodded understandingly.

"That's bullshit. He knows he messed up, Y/N. Sirius isn't that stupid... and of course he wants to see you! Besides, it's Saturday, so if you two don't get along, you'll need some frustration food, Y/NN... chocolate! It'll be alright." Lily tried to persuade Y/N and she had to grin.

"Maybe you're right..." said Y/N hesitantly, "Of course I am!" laughed Lily and started to push Y/N into the bathroom.

,"I'm sure he'll be pleased." Repeated Lily, giving her friend a cheery smile.

Once in the Great Hall, the two girls headed for the Gryffendor table where all the Marauders were already seated. Lily gave Y/N's hand an encouraging squeeze before greeting the boys: "Hey!" she called and sat down next to James, who greeted her with a kiss. Y/N stood next to them a little indecisively before squeezing in between Peter and Remus, who greeted her with a quiet,, Hi."

She could literally feel the looks of the others lingering between her and Sirius and lowered her gaze to her plate to avoid the looks from the others and especially Sirius... unsuccessfully. She couldn't help but squint over at the black-haired boy. He had bags under his eyes and was also keeping his eyes on his plate, which was full.

Instead of chatting to the others, she followed James and Lily's relationship banter, which made her wrinkle her nose more than once... Cheesy as hell!

Fortunately, breakfast was over quickly and the group set off for Hogsmead. Sirius and Y/N were mostly quiet and only said something when asked. They all went to Honeyduks together first, where Y/N stocked up on lots of chocolate, at which Sirius just raised his eyebrows, but she avoided his questioning gaze and slipped unobtrusively over to Lily, who was sneaking a caramel into her mouth.

Are you okay?" she asked with her mouth full, eyeing her friend who was standing in front of her a little indecisively.

"He's not even looking at me, Lils... What if he broke up with me yesterday and I haven't even noticed?" whispered Y/N in panic and Lily quickly shook her head.

"He didn't break up with you... Sirius, even though this sounds weird, loves you... Even Peter can see that! Just go up to him and talk to him. But stop blaming yourself: HE messed up and stood you up, not you." She said urgently, piercing Y/N with her green eyes.

„It's okay, Lily," Y/N said, and moved away from her friend, again walking to the biscuit shelf, which was very close to her boyfriend. She looked over at him cautiously and noticed that he was peering over at her too, whereupon she quickly averted her gaze from Sirius again and pretended to analyse the biscuits on the shelf with interest.

After the group had paid for their things, they went into the Three Broomsticks. By the time they entered the pub, it was busy and noisy, making it difficult to find a table to seat them all. After a few minutes, Sirius waved the friends over, who had apparently found room at a table where two Hufflepuff girls were still sitting, giggling as Sirius sat down next to them as he grinned charmingly at them.

A wave of jealousy and frustration erupted in Y/N and she had to pull herself together not to flee the pub immediately. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and sat down next to Remus and James, opposite Sirius and Hannah, who probably considered Sirius's forearm her own. She batted her eyelashes and obviously(!) flirted with Sirius, who happily joined in her game.

Y/N quickly looked away, unable to afford to put up with this fuss any longer. Remus unobtrusively squeezed her hand under the table and, Y/N smiled at him gratefully.

Y/N sat awkwardly at the table, not knowing what to do or say next at the sight of her steady boyfriend apparently having already found a new one. Sighing, Y/N stood up and muttered: "I'm going to get us butterbeers, okay?"

Without waiting for the others to reply, she hurried away from the table. She noticed tears forming in her eyes but immediately wiped them away and made her way to the bar where many teenagers were gathered. Desperately, she tried to make her way through the crowd and eventually managed to do so.

She didn't notice someone squeezing up behind her and pushing in next to her until that person snapped at her.

„Y/N?"

Startled, she pulled up to look into the friendly face of Amos Digorry, who was looking down at her.

Oh! Hey, Amos," she greeted her seatmate in Divination and smiled at him.

"Is everything okay with you?" he asked with his eyebrows drawn together and Y/N nodded quickly as she wiped a few remaining tears from her cheeks.

‚,Everything is great, yes," she replied and was glad when Rosmerta put the buttebeer on the counter. Y/N smiled at her in thanks before turning to Amos, "See you around, Amos." She said goodbye and hurried away.

Arriving back at the table, her eyes immediately fell on Sirius and Hannah, who were still talking to each other. Hannah giggled and Sirius seemed to be perfectly comfortable in the company of the beautiful brunette too.

Y/N knew her, she was her seatmate in Potions. As she took a closer look at her, a wave of insecurity gripped her. She had everything one imagines as 'perfect'. She was tall and thin, with a small waist and an elegant posture. She just fitted into the toxic beauty ideals that existed and Y/N hated so much. And the worst part was that there was actually nothing to not like about her. She was sweet and helpful and super nice.

Even though Y/N knew that your weight, your smile, your general appearance, how many friends you have and whether you get good grades doesn't change your worth as a person, she suddenly felt so small and superfluous that she couldn't take it anymore.

She noticed tears welling up in her eyes and stood up abruptly, causing her to bang her knee against the table.

Pained, she screwed up her face and looked at the questioning faces sitting at the table, staring at her. Great... Embarrassed, she brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear and smiled consumingly, but it looked more like a 'I'm going to cry' smile.

"I- I think I forgot my... uh my- something in Honeyduks, I think... I have- so yeah... I'll go..." she stuttered awkwardly, though she realised all her friends knew she was lying.

She quickly hurried away from the table and Sirius, unable to suppress the tears in her eyes. Hastily she wiped them away, but more kept coming. She didn't notice how Lily called after her in vain and Remus got up from his seat and tried to run after her, but James pushed him back into the chair, looking hauntingly at Sirius who sat frozen. When she got to the crowded alleyway, Y/N just stumbled through the crowd and was glad when she got behind Honeydukes, where there was a path that led to the howling hut. The path was snowed in and would have been beautiful if Y/N had paid more attention. She trudged along the path until she finally arrived at the howling hut. She just stared at it and stopped in front of it. She focused on the small cracks in the wall that looked like small branches of trees moving in the wind.

She heard footsteps coming closer and closer and turned around. Sirius. His black hair was a mess and he hadn't even zipped up his jacket. He was panting and apparently out of breath when he started to speak: "I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry, yeah? You have to believe me when I say I'm sorry... Please Y/N, you have to believe me."

She said nothing and just looked at him urgently until he began to speak again: "Please say something. You can yell at me too, you can yell at me all year and the years after, but please say something." He pleaded, looking at her pleadingly as he wiped his face.

"You don't know anything, Sirius." , she started and he nodded to get her to talk further.

"You don't know how much it hurts to wait for a person that you- that you seem to love. You do know what it's like to not feel loved and- and to feel insecure... you know exactly what that feels like. And I always get so mad at the person who makes you feel that way because they hurt you! And I think I can say that I'm there for you then!" she gulped and Sirius nodded to agree with her, "But you're never there..." she sobbed, letting her tears fall again.

"I know you love me and I can't compare your family to our relationship. I feel good in your presence and- and that's how it should be... - that's how it should be! But- but it always hurts so much when you stand me up or ignore me and I don't even know what I- what I did wrong...I wasn't the one who stood you up, Sirius. It was you...and so many times!" she continued in exasperation and Sirius wasn't sure whether to let her finish or give her a hug. But before he could make a decision for himself, Y/N continued: "And today was even worse! Lily told me all the time that it wasn't my fault and now I know that it wasn't or isn't mine either. But then when you were flirting with Hannah and you-you were having such a good time, I was so sad! Why can you talk to her and have fun but not with me?! Why are you happy to see her but not me?!" asked Y/N desperately and Sirius opened his mouth to stop her from having those thoughts but she continued with a sad look: "You once promised me you would never make me feel small or insecure. You once promised to always be there for me. You once promised me that I was the "only one" and that you loved me. You promised to be there for me so many times, Sirius. But somehow you broke them all and I don't know what to do with these broken promises. I love you and that's not going to change, but I- I just don't know what to do with it when you- you hurt me so much and make me feel so insecure... So actually, you do know what that feels like...just differently." She confessed to him and completely burst into tears.

Sirius, who had tears in his own eyes, looked at her with a pained smile, which made her cry even more. He broke the distance between them and took her in his arms. He pressed her tightly against him and had to bend down to put his face in the crook of her neck. She clung to his shoulders and pressed her face into his chest to breathe in his familiar scent.

They stood like that for a while. Both crying, holding each other as close as possible. After a few minutes, Sirius slowly detached himself so he could look into her eyes.

"You don't know how sorry I am, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you! Merlin, when I think about the fact that I did it, I want to hurt myself. You're- you're- Damn, I'm not good with words!" he laughed and even Y/N had to smile a little.

,,I love you. For everything you do and for everything you say. I love you for who you are and for those little things you do for others. And I will- will never stand you up or break the promises I made to you ever again. I swear I will do my best, Y/N....and I am so grateful that you love me because I never wanted anything else in my life! You don't have to forgive me now...I understand if you don't, honestly." He said softly so she could just hear.

She smiled slightly at him and said laughing: "So if you kiss me now, it'll make things a bit better."

Sirius grinned and closed the distance between them, placing his warm lips on hers. He kissed her softly and lovingly, as if afraid to scare her away, but she didn't go. She deepened their kiss a little and sighed into his mouth.

As they kissed there like that, in front of the howling hut with dried tears on their cheeks, Y/N knew that everything would be allright again....

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[cherrycheridarling]

happier | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: swearing and sad. fluff if you squint

summary: you wish tom the best with his new relationship in your new song. {listen to happier by olivia rodrigo (if you want)}

wc: 3.6k

'We broke up a month ago,'

"I've been thinking," your heart sunk at his words, "I'm always working." he grabbed both of your hands.

You locked your gaze in his. Sat in the living room of his shared flat. Inches apart yet you could already feel the separation between the two of you growing.

He avoided your eye contact, "I-I can't be in a relationship unless I can give one hundred percent of myself to the other person. A-and I know I haven't been doing that to you, which is c-completely unfair." he wiped away a tear from your cheek that you didn't know had fell, "You've been so, so good to me. I'm sorry I wasn't better, but I can't keep putting you through this." his voice was barely audible.

You finally tore your eyes away from his face. His tear soaked face. Choosing to stare at a spot over his shoulder instead. You took three deep breaths. In and out. Something about his words made you confused, but your pain overpowered it.

"Please say something. Anything." he whispered against your knuckles. Holding your hands to his lips.

You gently removed your hands from his grip, "Thank you for being mature and honest with me." you started with a sniffle, "Thank you for all of our memories and for showing me what love is," you cupped his face, "Thank you for everything, loser." your light laugh lacked any humour, but it still brought a slight smile to his face.

He held your hand that was resting on his jaw, "I love you more than life itself, darling." he kissed your palm and you felt your heart shatter. "Never hesitate to call, dummy."

You nodded with a sad smile. "I love you, too." You stood up and made your way out of the door. A year and a half down the drain within ten minutes.

'Your friends are mine, you know I know you moved on. Found someone new.'

"Do you guys wanna do something on Saturday? I don't have work. Maybe karaoke?" you asked the group without looking up from your phone.

Harrison made a confused noise, "Did you forget? We have Nadia's birthday par—" you heard a loud smack, "—Ow! What? Oh, shit."

You looked up to see Zendaya, Jacob, Harry, Sam and Tuwaine all glaring at Harrison.

"Absolute div." Tuwaine muttered.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Who's Nadia?" you looked at all of them as they avoided eye contact. "Daya?"

She let out a long sigh before clearing her throat, "Um, Nadia is- Well she's kind of- you know, um—"

"—Tom's new girlfriend." Sam finished for her.

Your mouth formed an 'o' shape as you processed the information. His new girlfriend. It'd been a month and four days since he ended your relationship. And he had a new girlfriend.

It took him a month to move on. A month to be able to give a hundred percent of himself to someone.

You couldn't tell if you were more angry or sad. Maybe a mixture of both. Angry that your friends were hiding information from you, but at the same time you understood their intentions. Sad and upset because the boy who told you he wasn't ready to give a hundred percent of himself was already with someone new.

You slowly nodded, "Oh, okay. Well, I hope you guys have fun." you gave a tight lipped smile before looking back at your phone.

Everyone glanced at each other worriedly before allowing their gazes to fall on you again.

"How do you feel?" Jacob asked cautiously.

You locked your phone and set it on your lap, "I'm fine." you faked a smile, "I think I'm gonna head home, though. It's getting late and I have an early studio session. Bye." you quickly grabbed your purse and left with a small wave.

"Y/N! Wait—" the slamming of the front door cut Tuwaine off.

It was three p.m. and you weren't supposed to be in the studio until noon.

'One more girl who brings out the better in you,'

"Y/N/N. You need to talk about it sooner or later." Zendaya reminded you as she sat at the end of your bed with Harrison beside her.

You removed the covers from your face, revealing your tear stained cheeks, "Does she make him happy?"

There was silence from your two friends before they hesitantly nodded. Both weren't completely sure, but they assumed she did.

"Does she bring out the best version of him? Does she stroke his hair while they cuddle? Does she cook with him? Does she walk Tessa with him?"

Harrison sighed, "Y/N/N, we—"

"—Because that's what I did. I brought out the best side of him. I stroked his hair while we cuddled. I cooked with him. I walked Tessa with him. I did it all. Every single thing." your voice broke towards the end as you let the sobs rack through your body.

Harrison and Zendaya went to either side of you and held you. They just held you. Because even they didn't know what to do.

'And I thought my heart was detached from all the sunlight of our past,'

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Zendaya asked as you walked towards Tom's front door.

You nodded and smoothed down your sundress, "Yeah. We ended on good terms. It's been two months or so. We're friends. Plus, I miss hanging out with all of us." you assured her.

She sighed before knocking on the door, "Alright."

A few moments later the door swung open revealing Tom. Dressed in black jeans and a white button-up. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Curls dangling over his forehead. A sweet smile on his lips.

You felt your stomach lurch. Air leaving your lungs involuntarily. Heart rate quickening. You could smell his cologne and every single memory with him clouded your mind.

"Hey! It's great to see you guys—"

"—Sorry. I-I think I left something in the car. One second." you rushed out the words before turning on your heel.

Zendaya let out a long sigh, "Fuck."

Tom frowned, "Did I do something wrong?"

'But she's so sweet, she's so pretty. Does she mean you forgot about me?'

"Y/N!" an unfamiliar voice called out to you from somewhere in the boys' backyard.

It was Harrison's annual barbecue get together. Nearly three months since your break up with Tom.

You turned towards the source of the noise and found a girl walking towards you. Brunette. Tight black dress with black heels. Body and face of a model.

"I've been dying to meet you! I'm such a huge fan. I basically live off of your music." she giggled as she hugged you.

You smiled, "Aw! Thank you! That means so much to me. You look amazing, by the way."

She laughed, "Thank you! But you're absolutely gorgeous! Sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself. I'm Nadia, Tom's girlfriend."

Of fucking course.

You raised your eyebrows, but managed to keep a smile on your face, "Oh! I've heard so much about you! Well, Tom's one lucky guy," you chuckled, "I'd love to chat some more, but I need to use the washroom. Excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you." you gave her a hoaxed smile before quickly walking away.

You were two feet away from the washroom when Zendaya grabbed your arm, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

Your breaths were coming out in short puffs, "I just met Nadia?"

Her eyes widened before she dragged you towards Tuwaine's room, "Okay. Let's sit down."

'Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me. I'm selfish, I know. I can't let you go,'

"You should move in here." Tom mumbled against your shirt.

You let out a small laugh, "You already have four roommates, love. One more might turn this into a barn."

He lifted his head off of your chest, "I'm serious. Driving from Manchester to Kingston all the time is such a hassle for you. We have recording studios here and it would make me the happiest man in the world if I could wake up to your gorgeousness everyday." he planted kisses on your forehead, nose and lips.

You chuckled at his boyish grin, "It's only a three hour drive and I'm sure the boys don't want me imposing on your time with them."

He quickly shook his head, "I already talked to them about it and they want you here, too."

You raised your eyebrows, "Well, if you're sure it'll make you the happiest man in the world, I'll think about it."

"You already make me the happiest man in the world, but I needed something to convince you." he rested his head on your chest again as you laughed.

'So find someone great, but don't find no one better. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.'

"Are we ordering pizza?" Harrison yawned from beside you on the couch.

"Sushi?" you grinned hopefully.

Tuwaine shook his head, "We had sushi last night."

"Tom and I are making dinner for you guys!" Nadia reminded you from the kitchen.

Her arms wrapped around Tom's waist as he stirred whatever was in the pan he had on the stove.

You really hated their open floor layout at that moment since there wasn't a wall to block them from your view.

"Oh, yeah. What're you making?" Sam asked.

"Salmon with rice and steamed veggies." Tom answered without looking up from the pan.

Everyone made noises of realization as you turned to Harry, "Aliens or a tiger. Which do you think you could beat in a fight?" he asked.

You laughed before replying, "Hmm, depends. Are the aliens small or—"

"Tommy!" you heard a girly giggle and turned to see Tom with Nadia over his shoulder as they laughed and ran around the kitchen.

You quickly diverted your gaze to the coffee table. Forgetting about Harry's absurd question. All eyes were on you.

"What?" you asked when you finally looked up at your friends.

"Are you okay?" Harrison frowned from beside you before resting his head on your shoulder.

You let out a dry, quiet laugh, "Of course. As long as he's happy."

The looks of pity you received were almost as painful as the scene you witnessed moments ago.

'And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean,'

"Premiere day!" Zendaya walked into your shared hotel room with a bright smile, Nadia following behind her.

You faked a smile as you applied another coat of mascara, "You girls look gorgeous."

Zendaya was in a red and black sequin gown. Hair down and heels on. Nadia was dressed in a maroon silk dress with a slit on the side. Black heels dawning her feet. Both had makeup and accessories on matching their attire.

You were in an emerald green gown with a slit running down your left leg. Silver heels and silver jewellery to match.

"So do you!" Nadia exclaimed as she sat on Zendaya's bed.

"Are the boys coming soo—" Zendaya got cut off by three loud knocks on the door.

"I'll get it!" Nadia jumped up and opened the door.

Tom was stood before her in a maroon suit. Matching her dress. Black dress shoes. Matching her heels. Glasses on and a bright smile.

You watched as Tom ran his eyes down Nadia's outfit, "Well, aren't you just the most beautiful girl in the world?" he planted a kiss on her lips as you witnessed with envy.

"Aw, Tommy. I love you."

"I love you more, darling." he grinned before looking behind her.

Heart wrenching pain struck you again.

You watched as his mouth fell open by the slightest bit. Eyes growing wider.

He quickly snapped out of his daze, placing a pearly white smile on, "You two look absolutely stunning."

You acknowledged his compliment with a curt nod.

Zendaya let out a laugh, "Yup. About to out do you at your own premiere."

'Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?'

"Green or white?" you held up both dresses against your body.

Tom looked up from his phone, "Both of them will look amazing on you, love."

You sighed, "I appreciate the compliment, but I am meeting Sebastian Stan tonight. Now is not the time for indecisiveness. One of them will make me look bad and I need to know which one."

The Infinity War premiere was in two hours and your anxiety was growing by the minute.

"C'mere." he motioned you towards him with a 'come hither' gesture as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed. You made your way towards him. Standing in between his legs as he wrapped his arms around your waist, "You are the most beautiful girl in the world. Absolutely gorgeous. You could make the ugliest dress look like something from a fairytale."

Your smile grew as he kissed your stomach, "Thank you, mi amor." you bent down and placed a peck on his forehead, leaning your head against his, you whispered, "Now, green or white?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips, "White."

You smiled before making your way to put on the white dress, "I love you."

"I love you more, darling."

'And now I'm picking her apart. Like cutting her down will make you miss my wretched heart. But she's beautiful, she looks kind. She probably gives you butterflies.'

"I don't like her." you murmured.

Zendaya chuckled, "Nadia? You barely know the girl."

You nodded, "And I don't like her. I don't like her giggles and her nickname for him. I don't like her hair."

You knew you were looking for things to dislike, but there weren't any. She was a fan of your music, she complimented you all the time. She was genuinely a great person.

She sighed, "No, you don't like the fact that she's dating Tom. If she wasn't, you wouldn't be saying any of this."

You rolled your eyes and glared at her, "Can you let me be angry?"

She laid herself down on your mattress, "Nope. If you wanna be angry, be angry at Tom. Nadia hasn't done anything to you. You're better than this."

"God, I hate your optimistic side sometimes." you threw a pillow at her.

She laughed, "One of us needs to be the optimist."

You sighed, "Do you think he misses me?"

"Yes." she replied without hesitation.

You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows, "What makes you say that?"

She let out a long breath, "You need to talk to him about that."

'I hope you're happy. I wish you all the best, really. Say you love her, baby. Just not like you loved me. And think of me fondly when your hands are on her. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.'

"And you're dead." you dropped the controller on your lap as you defeated Harrison in Super Smash Bros again.

He huffed like a child, "Unfair. I taught you how to play, how'd you get better than me?"

"Actually, I taught her how to play. And I am ten times better than you." Tuwaine corrected him.

Harrison scoffed, "Whatever. Sweaty nerds, the both of you."

Nadia spoke up from Tom's lap, "Can I try?"

You nodded, "Who do you wanna go against?"

She chuckled, "I think I'll verse Harrison. Seeing as how Y/N just kicked your ass, I wanna at least have a chance."

Her comment made you laugh as you handed her the controller and watched them pick their characters. You watched as Tom set his phone down and focused on the screen where his girlfriend chose Pichu.

"Choose Kirby." Tom told her.

She furrowed her eyebrows, "Why? Pichu is so cute."

"Y/N always plays as Kirby and she always wins. With that stupid power absorbing ability." he chuckled as his eyes landed on you.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the small detail he remembered before you played it off with a light laugh, "Not my fault you thought Luigi could beat Kirby everytime we played."

'Ooo-ooo, ooo-ooo, ooo-ooo,'

You pressed on the keys of the piano in the boys' home. Singing your heart out. You still had your spare key and Harrison told you no one was home.

You were waiting for them to return from golfing so you could have your Sunday night dinners. It's been nearly four months since your breakup with Tom. Your album was due to be released on May twenty-first and you were letting the still evident pain fuel your lyrics.

"I hope you're happy, just not like how you were with me. I'm selfish, I know. I can't let you go. So find someone great, but don't find no one better. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier." you faded out the piano and pressed stop on the recording on your phone.

Writing down small notes about the song and things to tweak, your thoughts were quickly interrupted.

"I'm not."

Your head snapped up. Tom was leaning against the doorframe behind you. Tears escaping his eyes.

"T-Tom. I'm sorry. Haz told me the house was empty and I just started playing and- Wait. What did you say?" realization dawned on you.

He stepped closer and sat beside you on the piano bench, "I'm not happier. Hell, I'm not even happy." he gave a pathetic attempt at a laugh, staring straight at the black and white keys.

Your mind was trying to catch up with everything happening, trying to register his words, the state he was in. Grey sweats, black tee. Messy hair and red eyes.

"Why?"

He released a heavy sigh, "There's so many things you could be asking 'why' about. Why did I break up with you? Why am I with Nadia? Why am I not happy? Why the hell am I crying? Which one is it, Y/L/N?"

You blinked a few times, "All of them."

He sniffled and rubbed his face, "I felt like I was holding you back." he started, catching a glimpse of your confused expression, he continued, "You hadn't released any music in over year. There were so many articles saying that I was the reason that the biggest pop star in the world was quitting music. I didn't want to be the reason for that."

"You weren't and you aren't." you assured him.

He shrugged, "I just felt like you would do a lot better without me. And you are. Look at you, your fifth album is coming out next month." he nudged you with his shoulder, "I'm proud of you," he smiled.

"T-thank you."

He nodded, "Anyways, why am I with Nadia? Um, a few days after we broke up, I went to a friend's place to distract myself, as one does. She was there. She was a distraction. I never meant for it to get this far. You know, she actually asked me to be her boyfriend." he chuckled dryly to himself as you listened intently. "I guess, I thought it'd be easier to move on if I had something else to pour my love into?"

You nodded slowly, "Okay, I somewhat get that. So you really do love her?"

He quickly shook his head, "No, no, I don't. I mean, I can't. No one can truly love two people at once. And I think that answers the question of why I'm not happy." he paused and faced you completely, "I'm crying because hearing that song and hearing how evident your pain in it is, that will make anyone cry. I'm crying because I miss you and I miss us. I-I miss what we had and what we were. I miss your kisses and your stupid jokes that only you laugh at. I miss going on walks with you and Tess. I just miss you."

There was a long period of silence after his confession. You were trying to process all the information he was giving. He was cursing himself for being so straightforward. The longer it went without a response from you, the more anxious he got. He grabbed your hands, holding them to his lips.

"Please say something. Anything."

Déjà vu.

You swallowed, "You want honesty?" he nodded, "Okay, I was so mad at you. I-I was infuriated. Y-you told me you weren't ready to give a hundred percent of yourself and that you couldn't be in a relationship until you could give all of yourself to that person. Then a month later, you're with her. Making me feel like you just couldn't give yourself to me." you paused and shook your head, "You could've told me the truth. You should've told me the truth. We could've talked about it. We could've avoided months of awkward run ins and no communication." he nodded, still holding your hands in his, "I'm not gonna lie and say I don't miss you because I do, I miss you more than anything, but we shouldn't be doing this or saying these things while you're with her." you removed your hands from his.

He spent a moment looking down at his fingers. Releasing short breaths. "I don't want to be with her."

"But you are. And I don't want you to break up with her for me. Because that's not how things work, Tom. But you shouldn't stay with her either. Especially if this is how you're feeling. That's just unfair to her." you shook your head and felt your mind clear.

He nodded and met your gaze, "This is the end of us, huh?"

You shook your head, "I don't think there will ever be an end to us." you laughed dryly.

He agreed with a smile, "For forever and a day, remember?"

You nodded, "For forever and a day."

[mercy-burning]

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

[bopbopstyles]

BEHIND THE BAR

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, lots of cursing, heavy banter)

WORD COUNT: 17.3k (she long and you may need to read on desktop)

CATEGORIES: bartender!y/n, fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | Y/N’S LINGERIE | TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE BITS OF BANTER | BLURB MASTERLIST | DRABBLE TAG

a/n: the long awaited bartender!y/n fic has ARRIVED! thank you to my fabulous anons who dreamt up bartender!y/n and made me fall so in love with her and fratboy!harry’s dynamic that i had to write her. she is tattooed, sassy, and full of spunk and i ADORE her. if you need more of her and harry, check out the inspo tag which has all the discourse. concepts for these two are ALWAYS open. s/o to @harrystylescherry, @stellarboystyles, @harrysclementines​, @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for beta reading and @bfharry​ for providing harry’s dad joke 😘

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

or

Y/N is a bartender and Harry’s obsessed with her

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

In hindsight, perhaps taking a job as a bartender at the campus bar as a freshman wasn’t your smartest idea. You had to spend most of your weekend nights behind the bar trying to hear orders from slurring frat boys ordering the cheapest beer on tap and got shit tips because apparently your classmates didn’t care about tipping their bartenders. But at the same time, it was a great way to always drink for free and make friends, both with the other bartenders and with students who frequented the bar, as well as the neighborhood regulars earlier in the evening.

The thing you loved most about it, though, was the power you held behind the bar. It was your space, space where you made the rules and could throw out any person who messed with you. Which, as a stunningly gorgeous 21-year-old girl serving alcohol at a popular bar, happened plenty. You and Mike, the bouncer who usually shared shifts with you, had a hand signal that you could give him whenever someone was causing problems, and he would happily come to the bar and throw out whatever obnoxious man was giving you trouble. You frequently considered that Mike actually enjoyed throwing people out of the bar.

It was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week and nearing one AM. The bar was packed, bodies pushing past one another to get to the bar, girls drumming their fingers on the fake wood counter. Tendrils of your long black hair stuck to the back of your neck, the result of constantly being on the move from the moment the rush hit until the bar closed. A cropped black tank top stuck to your skin, the sliver of skin between the hem of the shirt and the top of your black skinny jeans not enough to keep your body cool. Your ponytail swung back and forth as you moved, winding around Matt, the other bartender tonight, with ease. The two of you usually shared shifts, both being students and having the same availability. Generally, he was a good guy, taking the drunk guys so you didn’t have to deal with them and always making sure people didn’t give you trouble. The one downside to Matt, though, was his frat brothers. They appeared every shift without fail, bringing with them chaos and an inordinate amount of drink orders. They loved to annoy you, asking you the contents of every fancy drink they could think of and asking about your love life.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different.

You noticed the minute they entered the bar, a collection of t-shirts, a couple of jerseys you despised, and a button down shirt or two, all of them talking and yelling at each other. “Matt, your fan club is here!” You called down the bar, and Matt laughed as he grabbed the vodka off the wall to make a drink for two girls that were staring at him with wide eyes.

You grabbed two shot glasses and the handle of tequila from where you’d left it below the bar. “Salt and limes?” You asked the girls who had ordered the shots. They were most definitely not twenty-one, but then again, serving underage college students was how the bar made any business. The girls nodded, and so after you had poured the shots, you grabbed the salt shaker and two cut limes, pressing the limes into the rim of the glasses and pushing all the items across the bar. One of the girls handed you her card and you heard the words “Keep it open!” over Taste by Tyga and Offset that was blaring in the bar. It was your playlist, one that you’d perfectly curated for the bar with input from the other bartenders, and you were pretty proud of it.

After swiping the girl’s card and adding it to the stack of open tabs, you whirled back around to take the next customer. The sight of his brown curly mop and gleaming green eyes made you sigh—it was Harry. He, frankly, was a bit obsessed with you, but he was Matt’s little so you let it slide. Also, Harry’s attention didn’t make your skin crawl, instead it made your belly clench and witty comebacks fall easily from your mouth. The two of you had settled into a consistently flirtatious banter and you didn’t mind it, frankly. Sometimes, it was the highlight of your night.

The first time you ever met Harry, you noticed him long before he finally spoke to you. He was sitting at a booth not too long after your shift started, so it wasn’t super busy yet. He had caught your eye because he wouldn’t stop staring at you and he had a weird bandana wrapped up in his hair. (Or was it even a bandana? Maybe a scarf? You couldn’t be sure.) It wasn’t the creepy kind of stare that made you call the bouncer over, but the kind that made you blush against your every attempt not to. When Matt came in, a bit late as usual, Harry beelined to the bar, sitting down in front of him.

“Y/N, this is Harry,” Matt had said, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the wall and pouring some in a glass, then adding Coke to it before pushing the glass towards Harry. “He’s my little.”

You leaned onto the bar, the surface still dry since it wasn’t packed yet. “I was waiting for you to say hi. Saw you staring for the past fifteen minutes.”

The blush that rose to Harry’s cheeks made you smile at him, and Matt chuckled. “Staring isn’t nice, H.”

“Wasn’t staring,” Harry mumbled. “Just watching you make drinks.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Have you never seen a bartender before?”

“No, fuck,” he said to himself and you internally grinned at making him a bit embarrassed. He was easy to mess with, especially now that you had confirmed that he had, in fact, been watching you. “You’re just good at it.”

You looked to Matt. “He thinks I make good drinks,” you informed your co-worker. “What do you think, Harry? Am I better than your big?”

Harry could tell he had dug himself into a hole, his eyes sweeping between you and Matt. “I—I don’t know—maybe?” Matt’s eyes widened and Harry stumbled over his words, trying to correct course. “No, no, Matt’s better. Matt is definitely better.”

You leaned forward a bit more, inching closer to Harry. “Thought you said I was good at it?”

You could feel his eyes drift to where your cleavage was exposed from the deep-v of your black t-shirt. “You are.”

“So which one of us is better?”

“You.”

Matt groaned and you moved away, a triumphant grin on your face. “Not fair,” Matt said. “Harry’s got a crush on you, of course he’d say you’re better!”

Harry choked on his drink and you raised your eyebrows at him. “A crush, huh?”

“Shit,” Matt said. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

You bumped your hip against his. “It’s ok, Matty boy. I figured that out when he wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

Harry blushed and you moved away, tending to the other customers at the bar.

That night had begun the back-and-forth between you and Harry, a playful dynamic of flirtation and jokes that usually left you triumphant and Harry blushing at the bar. He kept showing up early and Matt would tell you things like “Oh, he’s just coming by to drop off my charger” or “He just wants to chat.” All of them were excuses for Harry to be in the bar with just you, Matt, and a couple of customers, him having your relatively undivided attention. He’d tell you terrible jokes and ask you questions about your classes or family, most of which you ignored. You never asked him questions back, just let him talk and you listened, although you pretended like you didn’t, because you didn’t want to encourage him.

The truth was, though, you didn’t mind him. You kind of looked forward to those conversations. When he got really drunk he was a bit more annoying, repeating your name until you finally paid attention to him, only for him to say nothing except “You’re cute” or something along those lines. He entertained you, at least, and that was more than could be said for most of the patrons.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different than usual. “Y/N!” He said, shoving himself between two people who had managed to snag one of the green vinyl covered bar stools. His hair was messy, perhaps a bit sweaty, and he was swearing a black t-shirt, a silver chain tucked under his shirt. You could immediately tell he was decently drunk already, based on the glassy expression in his eyes and the grin on his face. “Want to hear a joke?”

You wiped off the bar with the towel over your shoulder before answering him. “Sure.”

“What did the therapist say when a naked man wrapped in cling film went into their office?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, resting your hands on the bar and looking at him dead on. “What did they say?”

Harry was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Clearly I can see your nuts.”

You groaned and Harry just guffawed. “Harry, that was horrible.”

“You just have no sense of humor.”

“Says the guy making jokes like that,” you shot back. “Now, what do you want?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “Five fireball shots.”

You had to take a second before replying because the thought of a fireball shot makes you want to vomit. The combination of the cinnamon flavor and the burn it sent down your throat was one you hated, but it seemed Harry enjoyed it. “Really, Harry? Fireball?”

“What? It’s good!”

You shook your head, but grabbed shot glasses, laying them out in a line on the bar. “You’re insane.” You turned, grabbed the bottle of Fireball, and then returned to him.

“Make it six,” he said, slashing you a smirk.

“If it’s for me I am not drinking it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you told him, cocking your hip. “And I have good taste in alcohol.”

“Y/N, please,” he begged, pouting slightly for you.

Sometimes he was such a child, you thought as you gave in, grabbing another shot glass. “Fine,” you told him. “But this is the only time.” He grinned at you, and you just poured the shots, drawing a line down the glasses with the alcohol.

He snagged one of the shot glasses and you took one at the end. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his shot, and you did the same, knocking the glasses together enough for a clink to ring out.

You tipped the shot back, letting the burn of the cinnamon whiskey fall down your throat. You swallowed, dropped the shot glass to the counter, and looked to Harry. He was grinning, his empty shot glass on the bar. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Then he picked up the shots, holding them together in his two massive hands, his rings clinking against the glass. You watched him walk away, his shirt disappearing into the throng of people, and then your attention was caught by another patron, asking you for a Long Island iced tea that made you laugh once you had turned away from them.

The night passed with many empty bottles of vodka and gin, the drinks of choice for all the girls who came up to the bar, and you nearly ran out of Budweiser, since it was on tap and the cheapest beer. You were bopping your head along with your playlist, Piece Of Your Heart by MEDUZA ringing through the speakers. The electronic music was supposed to help keep your energy up, but it was three AM and you were beginning to tire, the whiskey and coke you made yourself doing little to keep you going.

People were starting to filter out of the bar, groups heading to get a late night snack or head home. You were thankful for it—if you could start cleaning before official close you would be happy, perhaps being able to get home sooner.

“Can I get another whiskey coke?” You turned and Harry was sitting in a barstool at the bar, right in front of you.

You nodded, grabbing a glass and the handle of whiskey. “Where’d all your friends go?”

“They left.” He drummed his fingers against the wood, the light of the bar catching on the silver of his rings. You were a bit fascinated by them, if you were being honest. Why he wore them, where they came from, what they meant. The same questions rang in your head in reference to the tattoos that littered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt.

“You didn’t go with?” You pushed his drink towards him and returned the jack to its spot on the wall.

He shook his head, taking a sip of the drink you made him. “I was going to wait for Matt.”

You raised your eyebrows and then nodded towards where Matt was leaning over the bar, talking to some girl whose drink had long since been emptied. “I think he’s already got someone waiting for him.”

Harry looked to where Matt was and then shrugged, before turning his gaze back to you. “Guess I’ll just hang out with you, then.”

“Oh really?” You took some empty glasses off the bar where people had left them and dropped them into the bucket under the bar to be taken back to get cleaned.

“You’re more interesting than him anyway.”

You laughed, grabbing an empty shot glass and putting it in the bucket. “And why is that?”

“You’re hot.” He didn’t even pause before he replied.

He licked across his bottom lip after he said it and you couldn’t help but watch the action. It wasn’t like you didn’t know Harry thought you were attractive—you did. It was just that he had never outright told you, or been quite this forward. Usually he was skating around the topic and now that he wasn’t you didn’t quite know what to say. So you said the first thing that popped into your head. “Have you been behind a bar?”

“Only at the house.”

“Your frat house does not count as a bar.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It is not a bar, Harry.”

“Fine. Then no, I haven’t.”

You took a step away from him and waved your hand at the space. “Would you like to?”

This time, it was him raising his eyebrows at you. “What am I going to be doing?”

“I’ll teach you to make drinks.”

“I know how to make drinks,” he scoffed.

“Jungle juice doesn’t count.”

He huffed and then pushed away from the bar, standing to his full height. “You’re being mean,” he stated, but walked to the end of the bar and came around the side anyways. “It feels so different from back here.”

You turned, one hand on the bar and the other on your hip. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Feel…powerful, I guess.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “So, Mr. Bartender, what do you want to make first?”

Harry considered his options, looking around the bar and taking in the options in front of him. He looked a bit overwhelmed, if you were honest. You glanced around, checking on how busy it was, and you were thankful that it was pretty much empty, so no one would probably be bothering you and Harry. “I’ve always wanted to make an Old Fashioned.”

“Can do,” you answered, grabbing the proper glass from the shelf, and a bottle of your favorite bourbon, setting both on the counter in front of you. “Do you know what’s in one?” He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks, and you smiled to yourself. He could be so goddamned cute sometimes. “It’s whiskey, bitters, and a bit of sugar. Do you know how to muddle?” He shook his head again, and you nodded, grabbing the rest of the supplies you would need.

You spread it out in front of you, popping a sugar cube in the old fashioned glass. “So this is the bitters we’re going to use,” you informed him, passing him the bottle of Angostura bitters. “Put two dashes of that in the glass over the sugar.”

“What the fuck is a ‘dash’?”

“A bit,” you told him. “Just do it.”

He did as you asked, tapping bitters into the glass. “Is that enough?”

You nodded, and then grabbed the soda gun and pressed the button for water, adding a bit to the glass. Then, you passed him the muddler, which got very little use at this bar. In fact, you hadn’t made an Old Fashioned in ages—it wasn’t exactly the drink of choice for most college-aged people. “Now, you’re going to muddle this—like mix them together, crushing the sugar.”

“Why does mixology have the weirdest terms?” He said under his breath and you snorted. He did as you said, listening to your instructions, crushing the sugar and mixing it with the bitters in the glass, the sugar dissolving in the glass.

“Good. Now you add the ice.”

You pulled back the top of the cooler that held the ice, and Harry grinned as he picked up some  with the scooper and filled the glass with it. “Always wanted to do that.”

“And now you have.” You shut the top of the cooler and passed him the bourbon and a jigger. “An ounce and a half of bourbon,” you informed him.

He reached over and took the bottle and jigger, and his close proximity made you inhale. You could smell cologne, a bit of sweat from the party he was at earlier, and a trace of smoke as he moved. The scent had your spine straightening, your mind just as muddled as the contents of the glass. How did he smell so good? He was a college boy. Who gave him the right to be so goddamned attractive and smell this delicious? His long hair, the length not quite reaching his shoulders but close, swung slightly in your face as he pulled away, the tips of his curls brushing against your cheek. He was so close that if he turned his head, your lips would meet.

You tried not to think about that.

But he lingered close to you as he poured the bourbon in the jigger, your sides nearly touching, just half a step away from one another. If the music hadn’t been playing, you probably would’ve been able to hear him breathe and he could’ve heard your breath hitch when his bicep flexed as he held the bourbon. Your eyes trailed over the tattoos on his arms, dancing over the ship and the rose at his elbow, all the way down to the anchor at his wrist.

“Now you’re the one watching me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, where he was looking at you, smirking. “Pour the shot in, Harry.”

He looked back to the jigger he was holding, and tipped it into the glass, the amber liquid dropping through the glass. You handed him the stirrer and he twirled it in the glass, before setting it back down on the bar. The sound of his rings hitting the glass sounded in your ears as he grasped the drink, bringing it to his lips.

His eyes were on yours as he tipped it back slightly, letting the alcohol pass between his lips. You tried not to focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sipped. When he lowered the glass, his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and it made you tug your own into your mouth softly. Then you asked, “How is it?”

With his gaze trained on your mouth, he answered, “Delicious.”

“Y/N!” Your head bounced up to see Mike darting his head inside. “Time for close.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he was right—more time had passed than you realized. “Shit—yeah, sorry Mike. Matt,” you called down the bar to your co-worker who was very caught up in his flirtation. “Will you kick all of these people out for me?”

“Even me?” Harry asked and you roll your eyes at him.

“You can stay,” you told him and he gave you a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “As long as you help me clean up.”

While Matt kicked the remaining stragglers out, making sure the ones that are too drunk get in an Uber, you and Harry cleaned up. He helped you flip chairs on top of tables and pick up the glasses littered across surfaces, even in the bathroom. You filled the bin with the glasses and took them into the kitchen, filling the industrial dishwasher to the brim. He even took a rag and wiped down the tables, singing along to the Tame Impala you’d turned on and finishing off his Old Fashioned. You put the bitters away and the remnants of the drink he had made, and toss some lime rinds into the trash, wiping off the last bit of the bar.

“I’m going to head out,” Matt called to you from the door. He’s got his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces. “You good, H?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to walk Y/N home.”

This was news to you. “I drove,” you replied.

“Then can I snag a ride?” He asked, and you shrugged. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Also, the idea of making him walk didn’t sound like a good idea, even though the frat house wasn’t too far from the bar.

“Sure.” You grabbed your purse and leather jacket from where you’d stashed them under the bar, and pulled them on. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You waved goodbye to Mike, who was left to lock up, and walked around back to where your car was parked. It was a must have for you, not wanting to walk home at four in the morning after a long night of working. Plus, you never drank much while you worked—all you had had was that disgusting Fireball shot earlier in the night and a whiskey coke throughout the evening. Harry followed behind you, his hands in his pockets as he walked, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.

“It’s dark,” he said when you turned into the lot.

You unlocked your car and turned to look at him. “It’s four AM. Of course it’s dark.”

He moved towards the car, pulling open the passenger side door. “No, I just mean that it’s dark for you to be walking to your car alone.”

“Oh.” You tossed your purse into the backseat and slid into the driver’s side, flipping on the ignition. “Matt or Mike walk me to my car most nights.”

His long legs ended up a bit cramped in the passenger seat of your car and it made the corner of your mouth turn up. “Good,” is all he said before pulling on the seatbelt and clicking it. You reversed out of the spot, your phone automatically connecting to the Bluetooth as you flipped on your turn signal. “That’s the wrong way.”

You turned and looked at him. “Don’t you live at the house?”

He shook his head though. “No, I’ve got an apartment with some brothers on the West side of campus. Take a left here.”

You absorb this information and switch the turn signal. “Why don’t you live there? I thought most people did.”

“I like the privacy, I guess. When you live with all your brothers, they tend to know every bit of your business.” He was looking out the front windshield and you did the same, eyes on the dark streets in front of you. Being this close to him in the car had your body temperature spiking a bit, although you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Harry was just the boy who flirted with you every chance he got and was Matt’s little. He was just someone to entertain you on slow nights or when you were stressed. Right?

“Take a left at the light,” he said, breaking you out of your trance. You flicked on your turn signal and eased into the turn lane, swinging your car onto a side street. “I’m having a birthday party next weekend at the house if you want to come,” he suddenly said.

Your eyes bounced to Harry, who wasn’t looking at you, his palms resting on his knees. You could sense the tension in his body—was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? “Is it your 21st?”

He quirked a smile at that. “How’d you know?”

“Well, you’re a junior. I just assumed.” Matt also might’ve mentioned it once or twice, but you didn’t tell Harry that.

A blush crept across his cheeks. “I—uh—it’s on Saturday at nine. We’re hitting the bars after, but the thing at the house is just going to be brothers and drinks and some music. Pretty low-key, I think.”

“I’ve got work,” you told him. “But I’ll try and stop by before my shift. I’m not supposed to be there until ten.”

He nodded quickly and you tried not to think about the fact that Matt was never going to let you live this down. What were you even doing, saying yes to Harry? You weren’t even interested in him. He was just a boy to flirt with, someone who told you bad jokes and ordered Fireball shots. “It’s right up here,” he said, pointing to a house off to the right.

You slowed the car in front of a one-story bungalow, a couple of cars in the driveway and lawn chairs on the front lawn. “You live in a house?”

“Somehow it was actually cheaper,” he explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Plus, kind of nice not having people complaining about the noise.”

The area was definitely still on campus, but you didn’t know anyone who lived over here. “Are your neighbors all students too?”

He nodded. “Some other brothers have a place a couple houses down, there’s a house of Pi Phis over there. But yeah, it’s all students. On game days it’s a fucking mess.”

You put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. “I can imagine.” Harry didn’t make any moves to get out of the car, just sitting there staring at the dashboard of your old Toyota, his hands fidgeting on his thighs. “Harry?”

“Fuck,” he exhaled, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “I...” Then he glanced over at you, and under the dim streetlamp you could see the expression in his eyes. It’s one you knew well. It’s the look he gave you when you wore your favorite lace bodysuit that was conservative enough to wear out, or when you gave him just as flirtatious of a comeback as the one he served you.

Then, all of a sudden he was moving towards you, his hand curving around the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. It was awkward, the seatbelt holding back your shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from leaning towards him, meeting him halfway. His lips tasted like bourbon and bitters, a trace of Fireball when you nibbled on his bottom lip that was just tucked between his teeth. He was sweet with an edge of fire, and when he tilted his chin slightly to change the angle, rotating his head just enough to kiss you deeper, you knew you were fucked.

For so long, you had been trying to keep him at a distance. Just let him exist as a flirtation, nothing more than that. You’d ignored the thoughts that blazed through your mind when you were drunk with your friends and saw him at a party, his lips on some girl, and you wondered what they would taste like on yours. Now that he was kissing you and you knew what they tasted like, there was no way you would be able to forget.

Especially the way his fingers threaded through your hair, his rings cool against your warm scalp. How he tugged on your lip with his teeth and you let out a soft whine, pulling him closer by the neck of his shirt. The fact that it was nearing four thirty in the morning and you were in your car making out, your seatbelt still on, didn’t seem to matter. The exhaustion that had been all-consuming earlier was gone, your body rushing with adrenaline from the feeling of his mouth tucked against yours, his hands on your skin and the way his lips searched for yours when you pulled away for air.

“I should go home,” you said, breathing heavily as you moved back into your seat.

Harry was looking at you intensely, his lips slick from your saliva, his cheeks flushed from kissing you. His hands still lingered on your neck and hip, and you weren’t ready for him to let go. However, you needed sleep, otherwise the rest of the day was not going to be pretty. You had a paper due on Tuesday you had to write and if that didn’t happen this afternoon after you slept you were fucked. “Yeah,” he finally answered, pulling away. “It’s late.” He shuffled in the seat, turning to push open the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

You nodded, and with one lingering look at you, Harry slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. Under the dim lights you watched him walk to his front door, pulling open the screen door and unlocking it. Once he was inside, you finally turned back on your car and put it in drive, peeling away from the curb without a glance back.

On Tuesday, you were knee-deep in edits for your paper when your phone screen lit up with a text. Despite the fact that you told yourself you would be ignoring any notifications that flashed across your screen, you were intrigued by this message because it was from a number you didn’t recognize. So you leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair you were sitting in (chosen to make sure you stayed awake) and grabbed your phone.

The sight of the message made you choke on air.

Hey, Y/N, this is Harry. Matt gave me your number, I hope that’s ok?

That was it. The whole message. What the fuck were you supposed to do with that? “Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, because now you couldn’t ignore it. You had your read receipts on, something you turned on one time when you were breaking up with an ex and wanted him to know that you were ignoring his messages on purpose, and never turned off. So now Harry knew you had read his message.

So you typed back, hey! what’s up?

The typing dots appeared and you had the sudden urge to throw your phone halfway across the room as you waited for his reply. But you didn’t, because Harry’s text popped through before you could take any actions to make it seem as though you weren’t staring at your phone waiting for his text.

Just wanted to say thanks for the ride home on Saturday. Then, in a separate message, Also, the invite for my birthday party still stands, but no pressure.

You nibbled on the edge of your thumb nail, your other thumb poised over the screen as you considered what to reply. You decided on coy. i'll see how it goes :) you wrote out, and then thumbs up reacted to his thank you text.

Looking forward to it is what he replied with, and that felt like the end of the conversation, so you locked your phone, turned it on Do Not Disturb, and tried to re-focus on the paper open on your computer screen.

It took everything in your body not to check your phone a couple more times, just to see if he’d kept the conversation going. You had no idea what to say to him—he was the one who texted you in the first place. It seemed like his job to keep the conversation going, not yours. So you let the conversation linger, not even saving his number in your phone.

When Saturday rolled around, you considered for a long time whether or not you were going to go to Harry’s birthday party. Matt had texted you too, combining the text with a notice that he wasn’t working that night and Lucy was covering his shift, which meant you were going to be doing all the heavy lifting. Lucy was a freshman, new to bartending, and most definitely was hired so she would be ready to replace you when you graduated next year. The fact that Matt texted you told you that Harry must really want you to come, even if it was just for a bit.

So you turned on your getting ready playlist and grabbed your favorite bodysuit—it was long sleeved and high necked with a mesh leopard print, meaning that when you wore your black bralette underneath it, it would show through. It was enough to get eyes on you (you could neither confirm nor deny if you specifically meant Harry’s eyes), but not too much that you felt completely exposed, thanks to the long sleeves. You grabbed your black jeans, even though in an ideal world you would’ve chosen your leather skirt instead, but the last thing you wanted was alcohol stuck to your legs all night or some asshole seeing up your skirt when you bent over for ice.

You kept your makeup simple, but in line with the outfit—a light smokey eye, eyeliner, and a tinge of a deep red to your lips. Rhea, your roommate, let you use her dry shampoo, so you sprayed it at your roots, giving your day-old hair some revival. With a pair of gold hoops and a pep talk, you were ready, your phone and wallet slipped into the pocket of your trusty leather jacket.

You had never been to a frat house when you couldn’t hear the music pounding from outside. But as you walked up the grassy front lawn to the KDR house, it seemed quiet—all the lights on, even. You rapped on the door twice, running your hand through your hair as you waited for the door to open. When it did, a guy was standing there who you were pretty sure you recognized from the bar—he was close with Matt and Harry, you thought.

“You’re the bartender, Y/N!” He said, pointing at you with his index finger, lifting it from the red solo cup he held in his hand.

“I am,” you replied. “Harry and Matt invited me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and you tried not to read into that too much. “Come on in, I’m Caleb, Harry’s little.” And that, you realized, was why he was always hanging out with Harry and Matt. You followed Caleb down the hall, which had composite photos on the wall going back to the 70s and 80s. It was weird being inside the house with all the lights on, because you could actually see everything for the first time. You saw what was usually a coat room and discovered it was actually a study of sorts, bookshelves with textbooks and random course books lining the shelves and a couple of old leather chairs in the corner that you usually stashed your jacket on.

He turned into the long living room and kitchen, which was where most of the parties happened in their house, and you were met by a pong table and a collection of boys, many of whom you recognized from the bar. Your eyes scanned over the group, and you found that you were, unsurprisingly, one of four girls in attendance. The others were next to brothers, an arm slung around their shoulders. You found Matt and Harry easily in the crowd, Matt saying something to Harry with his palm pressed to Harry’s chest, his other hand gripping a can of Natty Light. How he could drink such watered down piss while being a bartender you didn’t know and you quickly decided you would be ragging on him for it the next time you worked together.

“Bartender girl!” One of the guys called out, and that made Harry and Matt’s heads immediately swivel towards where you were standing. The discomfort that had been lingering was suddenly there in full force. You hated being the center of attention, something most people never expected since you thrived at the bar. The key part of being a bartender, though, was you had the bar between you and the patrons. It was a safety net, something that gave you power and confidence. Without it, though, you felt naked in a situation like this.

The sight of a tiara on Harry’s head, though, immediately made you feel more at ease. The words Birthday Princess were printed on the tiara in bright pink writing, and the sight of it resting in Harry’s hair brought a smile to your face.

Matt immediately broke into a grin and widened his arms, which you rolled your eyes at. “Y/N! You made it!”

You walked over to him, having nothing else to do, but didn’t give him a hug. “Barely. I can’t stay long—I’m supposed to be there at 10 so Lucy doesn’t kill someone with her heavy handed pouring.”

He chuckled, and then gave Harry a clap on the back. “I’m going to go check on the beer. Have fun, H.”

It left you and Harry alone—or as alone as you could be in a crowded room. Your eyes roamed his body, the black silky shirt drawing in your eyes, white stitching that spelled out his last name on the chest, the way it was unbuttoned low. It was the first time you’d been able to see his tattoos—the edges of what seemed to be wings on his collarbones that you wanted to see the rest of, and a silver chain with a cross hanging on it lying on his chest. You could feel his eyes on you too, and steeled yourself under his gaze, trying to remain confident as you stood in front of him.

“Nice tiara,” you said, breaking the silence.

He blushed, reflexively reaching up to touch it. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

“It’s literally a bright pink tiara on your head, Harry, how could I not notice?”

“Matt and Caleb made me wear it. My other little, Tyler, bought it and insisted.”

“Can’t let the family down?” You said, the corners of his lips lifting.

“Guess not.” A silence fell between you again and you busied yourself by investigating the space you were in. The worn couches on the wall, a massive dining table with alcohol covering it, dishes in the sink and a stack of red solo cups on the counter. It seemed like exactly what you would expect from a fraternity house, even if there wasn’t a party going on. Finally, he cleared his throat and thickly asked you, “Want to play pong?”

You blinked, not expecting the question, but shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ll drink any you don’t want to,” he said.

“Why? Think I’m not any good?”

“No—I just—you drove, right?” He was stumbling over his words and it made you give him a small smile. You decided to be a bit of a tease, and brushed your fingers over the stitches on his shirt, just to mess with his brain a bit.

“I did,” you answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be drinking too much.”

His eyes widened a tad and you watched as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Let’s see your skills, then,” he finally said and you followed him over the table, where they were setting up for another round. He set down his cup on the side of the table and you fiddled with the cups, making the lines straighter. “Ready?” He asked you, his body shifting closer to yours. There was just a hair of space between your hips and you sucked in a breath before nodding.

You hadn’t thought this through, you quickly realized, because pong meant that there was barely any space between the two of you, and he kept brushing against your back and arm as he moved around. When he passed you the ball his fingers touched yours and your eyes would flit to his, only to find his green irises looking right back. The scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath wrapped around you when he laughed close to your ear, the contact of his skin on yours when he gave you a high five and lightly gripped your hand for just a beat too long sent shivers down your spine. When he picked up a cup to drink from it, you watched as his lips—the ones you had kissed exactly a week ago—wrapped around the rim and the beer slid down his throat. You were actively trying not to think about kissing down the column of his neck as you looked back to your cups on the other side of the table.

“Can I get gentlemen’s?” You asked and next to you, Harry nodded, agreeing with your decision to re-rack.  The guys playing you quickly reshuffled your cups and you dropped the beer-covered ball into a cup of water to your right. When you picked up the ball and rolled it between your fingers, you decided to tease Harry a bit more, because it was your favorite pastime. You offered the ball to him, clasped between your thumb and forefinger, and looked him dead in the eyes. “Blow on it for good luck?”

His eyes widened, but then a cocky grin drifted across his cheeks. He leaned in and blew softly on the white pong ball, his pupils dark and focused on yours. Then, at a volume only you could hear, he whispered, “Sure you don’t want me to blow something else?”

Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had your pulse stuttering, you licked your lips and replied with, “Let’s see if you’re so cocky when I’m on my knees.” You turned back to the cups and with ease, you threw the ball as it sank into a cup. You peeked a glance up at Harry, only to find him already staring at you, blinking in rapid succession. “Your turn, Styles.” You grabbed the other ball and pressed it to the stitching on his chest and his lips quirked up, snatching the ball from your grasp.

“Kiss for good luck?” Your eyebrows lifted at his words and he was smiling at you, a cocky gaze fixed on you.

“In your dreams,” you answered with an eye roll.

“Oh, baby, you’re already in them,” he whispered as he tossed the ball. It hit the rim of your one remaining cup before falling in perfectly.

His words rang loudly in your ears as Harry raised his arms above his head in success, ignoring the words he just had said to you. You, however, couldn’t say the same. They were running through your head on a loop. He dreamt about you? You wanted to know more, wanted to know every bit of his dreams, what they looked like and what you did in them.

At the sound of your name you blinked, pushing yourself out of your daydreams. “Yeah?”

It was Harry, his palm resting on your lower back and burning the skin with his touch. “It’s almost ten.”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling your phone from your jacket. “I—shit I have to go. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’fine. I’ll walk you to the door.”

You waved goodbye to your opponents and some of the other boys you had been introduced to. Harry’s hand left your body as you both walked, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed. “Happy Birthday, by the way,” you said as you turned into the hallway, the chatter of the boys over the music fading a bit.

Harry dug his hands into his pockets and smiled at you. “Thank you. And thanks for coming. It—it was nice, having you here.”

The softness in his tone was in direct conflict with the banter at the pong table, but you didn’t mind. You kind of liked that the two of you had this duality, the ability to go each direction. “I had fun.” You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and turned the knob on the door. “I’ll have a birthday Fireball shot waiting with your name on it, Birthday Princess.”

That made his smile turn into a grin, his dimples popping out as you stepped across the threshold and onto the front porch. “Looking forward to it, love.”

As you walked away, you tried not to let his term of endearment fill your every thought, but it was hard, especially when you looked back and he was standing in the doorway, watching you walk to your car. You exhaled and opened the driver’s side door, realizing that you had dug yourself into quite the mess with this boy.

You had been watching the door out of the corner of your eye all night, waiting for Harry and all of his friends to arrive. Lucy had noticed and pestered you about it, but you hadn’t given in. You didn’t feel like the entire bar staff knowing your personal business—Matt was plenty. You busied yourself by serving patrons, making an absurd number of vodka tonics (which you despised, but you had found freshman girls preferred them to gin, for some reason) and opening bottle after bottle of beer.

You were humming along to Broken Clocks by SZA when the door opened and your name was called over the bar, Matt’s voice booming in the space. “Y/N, I need a shot for the birthday boy!” Harry was standing next to him, Matt’s arm thrown over his shoulder, a grin on his face.

You turned and quickly queued In Da Club by 50 Cent, before grabbing the bottle of Fireball off the shelf. When you turned back to the bar, Harry was standing in front of you, the Birthday Princess tiara unfortunately absent. “Where’s your crown, Birthday Princess?” You asked, pouring the dark liquid into a shot glass for him.

“It’s a tiara, Y/N,” he corrected, snatching the shot. “And Caleb accidentally broke it.” You could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the color in his cheeks that he was more than a few drinks in, no doubt doing shots with the rest of the party before hitting the bars.

“Good to know,” you answered, and just because he was so goddamned cute, you grabbed another shot glass and poured yourself a shot of Fireball.

“Takin’ a shot with me?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Harry was about to say something when the music changed and he let out a cheer, Matt and Caleb and another boy, who you assumed was Tyler, pounded on the bar on either side of him. Then, they began to sing and you could help but guffaw.

“Go, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty/It's your birthday/We gon' party like it's yo birthday/We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday/And you know we don't give a fuck/It's not your birthday!” They sang, and you couldn’t help but join in at the end.

“Shots, shots, shots!” Matt cheered, and Harry lifted his shot glass, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed lightly on his cheek, a pout settling onto his lips. “Shut up, Styles.”

“Meanie,” he said, moving back to rest normally against the bar. “You have to be nice to the birthday boy, didn’t you hear?”

“Not if he’s a prick,” you informed him, resting your hands on the lip of the bar and locking your elbows, leaning slightly forward. “Now, do you guys want anything else, or are you just going to annoy me all night?”

“Four whiskey cokes,” Matt told you. “And make ‘em strong.”

Throughout the night, their group achieved higher and higher levels of drunkenness. They started singing a Cheetah Girls song in their corner booth, much to your enjoyment, and Matt got on the table, something Mike only allowed because he was an employee, and made the entire bar sing Harry Birthday to Harry. When Mamma Mia came on, Tyler—who you were increasingly discovering was pure chaos in a body, perhaps even more chaotic than Harry and Matt combined—tried to start a conga line through the bar. Not only was he stopped by Mike, but also by the sheer number of people packed into the space.

Meanwhile, you were left behind the bar, fielding drink requests and racking up students’ credit cards with drinks they probably would forget ordering in the morning. You even had one Beer Baptism, an exciting element of the night, when some hockey player informed you he has drank every beer on tap, meaning he had achieved his Beer Baptism status. Harry and Matt lost their shit in the corner when you announced it and rang the bell over the bar, before grabbing two full pints of the hockey player’s requested beer of choice—Budweiser, for some fucking reason—and poured it over his head.

After three, the bar had started to empty out, but the four musketeers in the corner were still going strong. Harry kept coming up to you and asking for a shot of this or such and such drink, and even requested to make an Old Fashioned behind the bar again. You told him he was too drunk to make it right, but next time he could. Every time he came up he offered some sexual innuendo or bad joke, a lingering touch on your hand when you passed him his drink, or a wink that left u scowling at him. He even unbuttoned his shirt a few more buttons so by the time it was just him and his lineage in the corner, it was barely even on him. The whole idea of “No shoes, no shirt, no service” was quickly becoming a possible line you could use, especially when he kicked his feet up on the table and Caleb was trying to grab at his boots and pull them off, much to your amusement.

At 3:45, there were no patrons left except for the booth full of boys, so you had Lucy start cleaning up while you grabbed a beer—your first drink of the night other than the shot you did with Harry—and walked over to the boys. Harry was on the end, since he kept on coming and going from the booth, his knees spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the seat. At the sight of you approaching, he straightened up and set his drink down on the table.

“Hey,” he said, drawing out the Y as you slid in next to him, his arm falling easily around your shoulders.

“Hello,” you answered, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re man spreading all over my booth, Styles.”

Tyler snorted and Harry shifted, pulling his knees in closer together. “Didn’t know it was your booth.”

“I work here, you know.”

“I noticed,” he answered, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you. “I like this top you’ve got on.”

You sipped on your beer before replying, “It’s a bodysuit, actually.”

“So I’ve got a genuine question,” Matt said, leaning in towards you from across the table. “How do you pee with that on?”

“It’s got snaps on the crotch.” For some reason Tyler and Caleb blush at the word crotch and it makes you smile internally. “Can be a bitch to take on and off, though.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned his cheek on his palm. “I never fully understood the appeal.”

“Well,” you said, placing your beer on the table. “They tuck into pants and skirts so there’s smooth lines. But also it kind of feels like you’re wearing lingerie.”

That had all the boys blushing, including Harry, who said, “So that’s like lingerie to you?”

You glanced down at the lace long-sleeved bodysuit you wore and shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I always thought lingerie involved less material, not full on sleeves.”

You mulled this over, and decided to push his buttons a bit more. “So is a babydoll not considered lingerie to you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up and if you were being honest, the expression was positively adorable. You wondered if it was the face he gave when he couldn’t figure out a math problem or was looking at IKEA instructions. “The fuck’s a babydoll?”

“Other than a pet name?” You threw back and Harry quirked a smile. “It’s like a…sexy nightgown, I guess you could say.”

“Sexy nightgown.” Harry stated, mulling over the thought in his head, and you watched as he brushed a hand through his hair, considering the concept. “And that would have more material than what you’re wearing right now?”

You shrugged and took another sip of your beer. “Arguably.”

“Then yeah, I guess that’s still considered lingerie. A sexy nightgown, huh?” He blew out a breath of air and looked to the boys across the booth from you. “Damn, the girls I’ve been seeing have been holding out on me.”

The boys laughed, but you wanted Harry’s attention back on you. Maybe it was the close proximity of his body or the smell of his cologne that overwhelmed your senses, or the way you could see the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen and the low rise of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, but you wanted him. Badly.

So you reached down and placed a hand on his thigh, high enough to make his breath catch but not too high where you were actually touching him. Just close enough to make him consider the prospect. “You’ve been picking the wrong girls, then,” you said, the words low in your chest and Harry’s eyes were on you in an instant. Immediately there was movement on the other side of the booth, Tyler, Caleb and Matt sliding out one by one. “Leaving, boys?”

Matt nodded. “H?”

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left your face and the weight of his gaze had your heart pumping a mile a minute. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His fingers moved from the booth seat next to him to cover your hand that rested on his thigh, slowly inching it up his pant leg. “I’ll take him home,” you said, glancing back to Matt. “I’ll let you know when he’s home, okay?”

Matt gave Harry another look, and then nodded, obviously trusting you to take care of his friend. “Let me know if you need anything.” With that, he turned away, waving to Lucy and giving Mike a slap on the back on his way out.

Your attention turned back to Harry, who had somehow slid closer to you on the seat. “What was all that talk about lingerie, hmm?” He asked, the hand that rested next to your shoulder moving to rub the top of your arm, heat surging through your veins at his touch. “You always chew me out for sayin’ shit to you, and then you go and say that. In front of my friends, no less.”

You drummed your fingers on his inner thigh and caught the way he swallowed thickly at the feeling. “I wanted to see what you’d say, I guess.”

“And?”

“I now know you’ve never seen a babydoll. Or nearly enough lingerie.”

He sucked in a breath and then leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “Is that your way of asking me if I’d like to see your collection?”

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as he grazed your hair with his nose, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He had your insides moving in circles like they were on a merry-go-round, consumed in nothing but him. Slowly, you lifted your leg closest to his so it hooked over his knee, tugging yourself closer to him. “Perhaps.”

Under the low lights of the bar, the green of his eyes twinkled at you, your coyness making him grab at your knee, kneading his thumb into your skin over your jeans. “You told Matt you’d take me home.”

“I did.”

“What’s the likelihood we could change the destination on that ride home?”

Your hand moved from his thigh to his torso, skittering over his shirt and tucking against his exposed skin, his butterfly tattoo flexing under your touch. “I could be convinced. What did you have in mind?”

“Your place,” he said, hand squeezing your knee tightly when you scratched his skin softly. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“You’re drunk,” you told him simply.

With a combination of tenderness and need that had you desperate for him, he nudged your temple with his nose and said, “I won’t be in the morning.”

“Is that right?” The feeling of his breath in your ear made you grab at his side, pulling at his skin with your hand, wanting just to feel him in some way. You were sober and yet he had you feeling drunk, drunk on need and desire. “Then come on, Birthday Princess.”

The wood of your front door slammed against your back the second you shut the door behind you, Harry’s body pinning you to the door. His hands tugged on your hips and your hands were in his hair and the sounds falling from your mouth were positively sinful. The way he pulled on your bottom lip and sucked on it, making you press up into his body, hands tugging at his shirt, how his hands fell to your ass and squeezed, you squeaking into his mouth. How he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hips, allowing your centers to meet, and he shakily exhaled. It was consuming, kissing Harry, trying to keep track of what he was doing and then finally giving up and just losing yourself in him, in the way he touched you and made your entire body erupt in flames.

“Jump,” he said, pulling at your other thigh and you did so immediately, not even wasting a beat before hooking your ankles around his hips and letting him grind into you.

You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of the friction from your jeans meeting and rubbing into you, and from the way his breath caught, you knew he was just as affected as you were. His necklace swung on its chain as he pulled away and sucked a line of kisses down your neck, just as you had thought about doing to him earlier. When he prodded at your pulse point with his teeth and then licked over the spot you tugged on his hair, his name a broken whimper on your lips.

Hands met skin, both of you needing more and more. You pushed at his shirt, the predominantly unbuttoned garment falling easily from his shoulders and pooling at his elbows. The fresh skin served as an opportunity, and you took it, bending your head and licking across his collarbones, his head tipping back at the feeling. You sucked a mark onto the protruding bone, right over the wing of one of his swallows, and blew on it when you were done, Harry hissing above you.

From the way his fingers were digging into your jeans and you were panting in his hold, you knew that if you didn’t slow things down they were going to get out of hand—and quickly. So you lightly pushed at his shoulders, his gaze bouncing up to your eyes. “We should stop,” you mumbled, sucking in air finally. “Just—just sleep for now. Yeah?”

“‘m feeling more sober now,” he said, diving back into your neck, but you pulled on his hair, hauling him away.

“I had to literally help you walk to my car.”

He pouted at you. “That was a weak moment.”

But you shook your head at him, having none of it. “I want you at full capacity,” you told him, and his jaw dropped slightly, just enough to part his lips and you to press a finger into the space. His teeth tugged on your nail and finger pad, eyes on yours. “Want you fully sober so I can see what I’ve been waiting for.” Then you dropped your finger from his lips and ran it along his jawline, watching his eyes try to take in every one of your motions. “Plus, I want you to be able to remember my lingerie collection when I model it for you.”

When Harry groaned, it was deep and unrestrained, a demand from the most feral part of him. His head dropped to your chest and you pushed through his locks, his panting breath on your skin through your bodysuit. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep with that image running through my head.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed down on them so you could unhook your ankles and drop to the floor. “I think you’ll manage. Now, c’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

His fingers threaded through yours as you pulled him through your apartment, thankful Rhea was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so she wouldn’t be awoken from the giggles that left your mouth when Harry tripped over your shoes and the corner of your bookcase in the living room. You led him to your bedroom and left the door open, walking over to your dresser, kicking off your booties on your way. “Are you going to take this off?” His fingers graced over the top of your shoulder and you inhaled sharply.

“Yes.” You unhooked your hoop earrings and dropped them into your jewelry box. “Is that a problem?”

“Slightly,” he answered, fingers trailing down your arm. “I was hoping to do that myself.”

You turned around so he was facing you, eyes blown out in desire and cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed that night. “Then do it.”

His tongue darted out quickly, licking the center of his lips, and then he smiled at you, a boyish look of delight. “Is this my birthday gift?” Fingers brushed the top of your jeans and you nodded. “Goddamn, aren’t I lucky.” He popped the button and drew your zipper down, eyes fluttering to yours to make sure you were okay as he moved his hands to your hips, pushing the material down. “Holy fuck,” he suddenly breathed out and you glanced down.

The tattoo on your left hip had caught his attention, his palm resting just above where it started, his eyes trained on the ink on your skin. “What? You’ve got plenty of them.”

A chuckle left his mouth, and then he just shook his head. “You keep on surprising me.” His fingers crept down your skin, brushing against the chrysanthemums that covered from where your bodysuit sat on the rise of your hips to a bit down your thigh. “Does it mean anything?”

You nodded slowly. “It was my grandmother’s favorite flower.”

He must have noticed your word choice, because he quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before bending down and kissing over your tattoo. You inhaled sharply and watched as he tugged your jeans the rest of the way down your legs. Once you’d stepped out of them, he rose back to full height. “Can I take this thing off?” He asked, pulling softly on the hem of your bodysuit.

“Yes.”

“Snaps, hmm?” He ducked his head and you widened your legs enough for him to be able to tuck his hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit and you couldn’t help the whimper that felt from your lips, the sound of it making Harry smile. “I can feel you.” He pressed lightly to your center through the two layers of material and you gripped the dresser you were leaning against.

You hadn’t been this wet, this in need of someone in such an all consuming way, in ages. Most people would have probably been embarrassed, but you just nodded, affirming his statement. Yes, you were wet, and yes it was all for him.

In a flourish, he gripped your bodysuit where the snaps laid and pulled, the sound of the fastenings coming undone cascading through your silent room. “Convenient,” he muttered to himself. Then, his hands pushed the mesh fabric up, revealing your black lace thong and the stretch of your bare stomach. “You know,” he said, squeezing at the curve of your torso, “I quite liked this thing. All that mesh. Could see your bra all night and it drove me fucking crazy just having to watch and not be able to touch you.”

When he pushed it above your breasts, revealing your lacy bralette, you lifted your arms and let him pull it over your head, the fabric falling to the ground. “Well, now you can,” you informed him.

The gaze he fixed you made your skin tingle. Without another beat, his hands were on your breasts, fingers brushing across your skin and then dipping into the material. With your breasts exposed, he whispered your name, forgotten on his tongue when he leaned in and fastened his lips to your nipple, the skin hardening immediately from the wetness on his tongue.

Curses left your mouth in a string, hands tugging on his hair as he prodded at your skin. He didn’t linger there though, seeming to be too focused on the greater task, because he lifted his head from your chest after a minute or so. And then his hands were at your back, unhooking your bralette and pulling it from your body, revealing your nearly fully naked body to him. His thumbs brushed over the solar system tattooed on your ribcage and you shuddered at the feeling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, eyes taking you in. “Good god.”

The heat that rushed to your cheeks you couldn’t stop, so instead you distracted yourself with teasing him. “Take your shirt off.” His eyebrows raised, but he followed your directions, unbuttoning the final button and pulling the material off of his shoulders. As he was about to drop it to the ground you stopped him, taking the fabric in your hands. He watched in fascination as you pulled it over your shoulders, buttoned the middle two buttons, and then looked up at him. The shirt covered most of your ass, the tops of your thighs and your tattoo exposed.

“Like my shirt, huh?”

You nodded, and then decided it was your turn to touch his skin. Your hands criss-crossed across his exposed chest, brushing across the marks you had left and down, tracing his nipples until they pebbled, and then down to the laurels on his pelvis, barely peeking out from the top of his jeans. Then, you popped the button on his jeans, and when he didn’t stop you, you pushed them down his legs, struggling a bit with how tight they were, but succeeding finally. He was left in nothing but his briefs, a lion tattoo on his thigh exposed to your eyes and some small ink on his knees you thought was cute. You wondered how drunk he was when he did it, but decided not to ask.

“What happened to getting ready for bed?” He asked, hands running up and down your arms.

“We’re dressed for bed, aren’t we?” You turned around though, and led him out of your room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. “Go ahead—I’m going to get us some water. Use anything you want, except my toothbrush. There’s spares under the sink.”

You left him to his own devices and made your way through your apartment, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water, tucking a bottle of ibuprofen under your arm. He would need it in the morning. After leaving them on your bedside table, you headed for the bathroom where the door was open, Harry brushing his teeth at the sink. You slid in next to him and he moved to the side, allowing you to grab your face wash and splash water on your face, swiping the liquid in circles over your skin. After your moisturizer and eye cream, you started brushing your teeth, trying not to focus on how Harry was just leaning against the wall watching you.

“You good over there?” You asked, spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush before dropping it into the jar on the sink that held them.

He nodded. “This is going to sound weird,” he said, “but I feel…comfortable with you. Like this kind of shit,” he gestured to the bathroom, “I’ve never done this.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“No,” he grumbled, grabbing for your hips. “I don’t usually get ready for bed when I spend the night with girls.”

You tried not to read into that statement, to wonder if you were some normal hookup or something more. Instead, you leaned in and pecked his lips, before tugging him out of the bathroom and towards your room. “Water’s on the table,” you told him, shutting the door behind you as you stepped inside. “And some ibuprofen, if you want it.”

He walked over to the opposite side of the bed and gulped down the water, tossing some of the medicine on his tongue and finishing off the water. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” you answered, and then pulled back the covers on your bed. You settled in between the sheets, and watched as Harry slid in beside you, obviously trying to gauge what you wanted. Once he was comfortable, you shuffled towards him, and without thinking too much into it, you rested your head on his chest. He immediately brought his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Night,” you mumbled.

“Night, Y/N.” His voice was gravelly from exhaustion and alcohol, and you shut your eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

You blinked, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, as you woke up. Sunlight was streaming in your curtains, which despite being blackout curtains, could do little to hold back at the sun in the morning. As you gathered your senses, you realized that the other side of your bed was empty. Picking up your head, you took inventory of the room—Harry’s boots on the floor, your clothes haphazardly tossed in your laundry basket, your phone charging on your bedside table and a full water glass sitting there.

You had finished yours last night, if you remembered correctly. But you shrugged and grabbed the water, chugging it as you unplugged your phone and checked the time. It was noon, which was the normal time you woke up after a shift, meaning you’d had somewhere between seven and eight hours of sleep. You could’ve slept for hours, but what was more urgent than a couple more hours of sleep was where Harry had run off to. Slowly you pulled yourself up, Harry’s shirt still adorning your body, and walked out of your room and into the hallway, where the smell of coffee hit your nose immediately.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Harry said when you walked into the open plan kitchen and living room. He was sitting at the bar that divided the room in half, a cup of coffee in his hand and a bottle of Pedialyte on the counter next to him. “I’m glad you found the water. I was getting pretty close to waking you up.”

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising the glass to him. You meandered past him into the kitchen, where you grabbed a coffee cup—this one was from a National Park you’d visited the summer before with your family—and filled it with coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“Two hours,” he answered. “I have a hard time sleeping after a big night out.”

“Pedialyte?” You asked, nodding to the bottle on the counter.

He grimaced and set down his cup. “Yeah. I went out and got it while you were asleep.”

Sun was streaming in the white curtains in the living room, casting the whole apartment in a bright mid-day glow. Harry was in just his jeans, no shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had worn out. “Did you wear that out?”

He glanced down at himself. “Yeah. Stole one of your big sweatshirts, too.”

“Did you now?” You shifted away from the counter, rounding the counter so you stood in front of him. “Which one?”

Green eyes followed your hand as it landed on his knee, moving it away from the other one to create space. When you took a step forward, you could hear his breath hitch and gave him a coy smile, your free hand sliding up his thigh. “Your green one. Said Obsession on it, or something—it was the only one that fit me.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s my ex’s.”

He huffed. “S’mine, now.”

“Is it now?” You asked, setting your cup on the counter next to Harry’s. “Planning on taking over for him?”

“As an ex?”

You shook your head, hands drifting up his torso. “As the guy who gets to wear my clothes.” You tried not to think about what those words meant, what you were asking him, because your mind was too wrapped up in him to even be thinking about your intent.

“Happily.” His hands finally landed on your waist, ring-clad fingers pressing into the skin covered by his shirt. “You know, you look good in this.” Fingers slipped under the material of his shirt, the white Styles on the chest stretching over your breast as you breathed.

“It’s black,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing even. “Everyone would look in it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kneading your sides. “Dunno about that.”

Both your hands and Harry’s explored each other’s skin, taking inventory of every rise and fall, roll of skin, the places that made each other gasp just a bit. It felt good, being this intimate with someone just like this, nothing but one another’s hands. “Then what’s so special about me wearing it?”

Palms cupped your breasts, squeezing delicately, his full forearms tucked underneath the fabric of his shirt. “That you’re the one in it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “You, wearing my shirt, my last name on your chest.” He blew out a breath and you tweaked one of his nipples in reply. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a dream.”

“How about we move this to my bedroom,” you said, slipping your hands up to his shoulders. “And I finally show you my lingerie collection?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He was standing, your hand in his, and pulling you in the direction of your room immediately, a giggle leaving your lips at the sudden movement. “Somebody’s eager.”

“You’ve been talking about this lingerie for like twelve hours, love,” he said, shutting your door behind you. “I fuckin’ dreamed about it.”

You pulled out of his grasp and he fell down to your bed, where the sheets were twisted from sleep. His messy long hair and shirtless torso drew in your gaze, the way he leaned against your pillows, watching you. “Did you now?” You turned to your dresser and pulled out your top drawer, where your lingerie lived. “Close your eyes,” you told him, peeking back at where he laid.

Once he followed your instructions, grumbling about missing out on half the show, you pulled out your first item—a dark blue babydoll, lace appliqué covering the skirt and a bow nestled between the molded cups, a matching g-string that you slid over your hips. You fluffed your hair, suddenly wishing you had had the forethought to wash your face before you took on this endeavor.

“Open,” you told Harry, and turned in his direction.

“Holy fuck,” he said in one breath, sitting up immediately, as if a jolt of electricity had ripped through his body. “Is this a babydoll?”

“Good memory,” you replied, leaning against your dresser. You didn’t know what to do with your body other than just stand there and let his eyes trail over you. “Thoughts?”

“How would you feel about never wearing clothes again?” He asked, gnawing at his lip. “Just that.”

You blushed, and picked at the hem of it. “I think I might get cold.”

“I’ll give you a jacket.”

“How kind.” You turned around and when he whined, you turned just your head to him. “There’s more sets to show you, you know. Close those eyes, mister.” He did as you asked and you pulled off the lingerie, lovingly folding it back into your dresser. Your fingers ran over the lace in front of you, trying to decide which one of your, admittedly many, sets you wanted to show him next. Finally, you settled on a pink lace set that was essentially see-through. You’d never worn it before—it was one of your newer purchases, one you’d chosen after a successful test grade.

You pulled up the panties and hooked the bra behind your back, sliding the straps up your arms until they settled comfortably on the dip of your shoulders. Then, you turned and at the sight of Harry sitting there, patiently waiting, you decided to reward him a bit. You walked towards him, and when you reached his form, you settled your hands on his shoulders. The touch made his eyes flutter open, and the second he saw your body his eyes widened. “Wow,” was all he could say as he studied the material covering your skin.

“What do you think?” The more his eyes lingered on you, the more you loved how you burned under his gaze.

He licked his lips and reached out, thumbing across the top of the lace thong you wore. “How is this one even better?”

You tilted your head to the side and pressed closer to him, his palms falling down your sides as you stepped between his knees. “You’re the first person to see this one.”

“Really?” He seemed like a kid in a candy store after being told he could buy whatever he wanted. “I’m honored.” You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned, snatching your hips back between his hands. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got more to show you,” you informed him, pulling his hands off of you. “Patience, Styles.”

“Baby,” he rasped, the pet name falling from his mouth with ease, and you wondered if you would ever forget how it sounded. “I don’t know if I can survive much more.”

Your eyes fell to his pants, where you could see his hard-on, the outline of his dick straining against the tight denim. “Somebody’s desperate.”

“Tease,” he shot back. “I’m serious, though. I’ll let you finish later.”

You considered his proposal, but ended up pulling away. “One more. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

He groaned, but nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as you moved away from him. At your dresser, you found the set you were looking for, a dark green set. The bra was a balconette cut, lace appliqué covering the cups and running up the straps. You pulled on the suspender belt that matched, the straps dangling down your legs as you put on the thong next. Then, you grabbed a pair of black stockings and clipped them to the bottom of the suspenders. You fluffed your hair a bit and then turned back around.

“Open,” you instructed and when Harry’s eyes opened the moan that left his mouth ran down your spine like fire.

“Fuck.” The word was all he could say, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of you standing there. “Come here.” You didn’t move, though, wanting to hear him beg for you. This set had your confidence soaring through the roof, the combination of the material on your skin and Harry’s gaze making you want to see what you could make him do for you. “Please,” he finally said, shifting towards you.

So you walked over to him, slowly, keeping your shoulders back so the bra strained across your chest. When you reached him you placed a hand on his bare chest, pressing him slightly back so he rested on his hands, eyes staring up at you as you rested a knee on either side of his thighs, sitting down on his lap. “Worth the wait?”

His hands immediately moved, settling on your hips, sliding over the green lace. “You’re going to kill me,” he rasped, words rough in his throat. The sight of his pupils blown out in desire, chest rising and falling under your palm as he took in your body in this set made you grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips towards yours.

The two of you met in a blaze of fire, need flowing between you as he tugged you closer, your center brushing over the denim of his jeans. When you whimpered he suckled on your lip and you pulled at the roots of his hair, needing to hear him groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear every one of his sounds, to take inventory of him and store it away for later when he wasn’t right there in front of you. Lips met and parted, slotting together with ease as you both surged towards one another, begging for more.

His hands were covering every inch of you, pulling and grabbing and scratching at your skin, somehow bringing you closer and closer to him. When you began to rock against his jeans he let out a hiss, pulling your hips down onto his even more. Then his head dipped, nudging up your chin as he found your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin before licking along his marks, leaving you a whining mess in his lap. You were cradling his head, not wanting it to end, just to make him continue and continue and continue.

Now that you had him, you realized how long you had been waiting for this, even if you pretended like you weren’t. You had wanted him since the first time he made a bad joke and told you you looked beautiful, when he responded with a quick remark, countering your sass with plenty of his own. He met you tit for tat, ebbing and flowing with you like waves on a beach.

Your fingers wound around his cross necklace and tugged, just enough to get his lips to leave your skin and look up at you. “Tryin’ to get my attention?” He teased, squeezing at your waist, tight enough that he would probably leave marks but you didn’t mind. In fact, you looked forward to inspecting each inch of your body and seeing what he had left behind.

“Your jeans,” you mumbled. “I want them off.”

He chuckled lightly. “Now who’s the desperate one?”

“Shut up,” you said and he just smiled at you, his dimples poking out.

“Go on, then.” He watched as you slid back on his thighs and popped the button on his jeans, before getting up so you could pull them all the way off. Once they were on the ground, you moved towards him, but he stopped you. “Lay down for me, love,” he said, eyes trailing down your body as you stood in front of him.

You didn’t bother with sass, just falling to the twisted sheets and looking at him as he crawled towards you. His fingers found the clips of your suspenders, and you nodded at him, giving him silent permission to begin to undress you. When he released the stockings and began to pull them down, he kissed every inch of your revealed skin, creating a line down your calf that had your breath coming out in pants. “Harry,” you said, the last syllable of his name trailing off as he did the same thing to your other leg.

“Yes?” He asked, eyes popping up to you. His hair was a mess from your hands and you loved it—the sight of him with wide eyes and puffy dark pink lips, color in his cheeks and marks on his chest from your nails. When you didn’t respond, unable to even create words as he slipped his hands up your body and tugged down the suspender belt that sat at your waist, he said, “You’re going to have to speak up if you’ve got something to say, baby.”

That pet name. It was going to be the death of you and you had no idea why. Maybe because of the emotions swirling in your chest as you looked down at him, the way you wanted to simultaneously lie in his arms for hours and jump his bones, but also just hold his hand and hear him talk to you. Perhaps it was the fact that no one had ever called you that like he did, with desire and passion laced in the word, a tenderness and an edge to it that made you weak in the knees. “I need you,” you finally uttered.

“Do you now,” he responded, leaning forward on his knees so he hovered over you. “Can you be more specific?” Impatient, you grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers to your center, where you had soaked through your thong long ago. A low groan fell from his chest at the feeling of your wetness, and he peeked up at you from where he was touching you. “You’re soaked through,” he said in awe, brushing against your center and making your back arch up. “Fuck, Y/N. Is this for me? Did I get you like this?”

“Yes,” you drawled, pushing down onto his finger. Your mind was spinning, eyes fluttering shut and just losing yourself in the feeling of finally having contact where you needed him most. “Please,” you begged finally, rocking against him with your hips, chasing more.

Harry moved without pause, pulling your underwear down your legs and running his finger between your folds. The feeling of his touch on your warm flesh had you squirming, his name mixed in with curses as he rubbed softly in a circle. “That feel good?” He asked and you could feel his eyes traveling over your body even though your eyes were squeezed shut from the feeling. When he brushed his index finger against your hole which was dripping for him, you gasped, hips jutting down against him so the tip of his finger brushed inside of you. “God, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Then, he dipped a finger inside of you and you cried out, desperate and needy for him, unable to contain the sounds falling your lips as he built up a momentum, curling his finger inside of you and hitting your sweet spot. “Another,” you said, eyes finally opening so you could see him.

And the sight didn’t disappoint. His eyes were on your center, watching his finger move in and out of you, and you could see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, a small wet spot where his tip was. The fact that he was leaking while fingering you somehow just added to your pleasure. He added a second finger and pressed them deep inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your entrance and making you buck up against his fingers. You were squirming on the bed, unable to stay still because he was building an orgasm inside of you like no one else ever had. You could feel your belly tightening and your high was rising, sweat beads forming at the back of your neck.

When he rubbed on your front wall you let out a helpless cry. He had found the spot that made you go insane and you could tell he was happy, a smile stretching across his face. “I’m close,” you panted.

“What do you need?” His words were low and they just made you want him more.

“Your mouth.” The words were broken, but he seemed to understand because he shifted immediately, falling to his stomach between your legs and pulling you towards him. He decided to go harder, because he slammed his fingers into you at a brutal pace and matched it by licking at your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. His tongue was sin against your skin, circling your clit and making you cry out. You dug your fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands, his name tumbling from your lips in a beg and a whine and a prayer all in one.

It didn’t take long before you were coming, the feeling rushing up without you even realizing, your back arching and hips bucking against his fingers and mouth. He lapped at you through it, eyes open and watching your orgasm, the shudder that left your mouth and how you fell into the mattress when you came down. When he pulled his fingers from you, you hissed, and he just kissed your pelvic bone, before sitting back on his heels and dipping his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits that were covered in your juices.

“Get over here,” you demanded, hooking your foot around his hips and pulling him towards you.

He clamored over you, his lips finding yours once again, and you sighed into the kiss, pulling his mouth closer to you. You needed him like you had never needed anyone else, a feeling that took over your body and ran your mind. When his head dipped and he tugged on your earlobe you whined. “Can I have you,” he asked into your skin. “Please? I waited and I just…fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes,” you told him, hands falling to his waist and pushing down his briefs. “Condoms are in my bedside table.”

His head bounced up at that and he reached over, wrenching open the drawer and searching blindly for a packet. When his fingers found one he moved back over you, the foil falling next to your head. Then, he pushed his briefs the rest of the way down his legs, letting the material fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Next was your bra, his hands moving to your back and deftly unhooking it, pulling the lace from your skin. “Beautiful,” he hummed, nestling his face between your breasts.

You chuckled, brushing his hair back. “I swear, boys and boobs,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, picking up his head. “Don’t make me out to be some horny teenager.”

“Aren’t you?” You teased, picking up the condom between your fingers.

“No.” He took the packet and ripped it open with his teeth. “I’m twenty-one, baby.” Then, he rolled the condom down his length and you watched, absorbing his fully naked body for the first time. The cut of the muscles under his skin, the way his tattoos stretched across his torso, the full length of him that you decided you wanted in your mouth after.

He brushed his tip against your slit and you whined unabashedly, rocking towards him. “H,” you mumbled, “please.” That was all he needed, because without another pause he was pressing into you, bottoming out in one go. You let out an unrestrained moan, grappling at his shoulders as he sunk onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours. As he pulled out and pushed back in, a groan from his lips filling the space between you, you watched his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together and he bent his head, resting his forehead against your collarbone as he found his rhythm.

Once he did, it was heaven. His sweaty skin meeting yours as he drove into you at a brutal pace, but one that felt fucking incredible. Your ankles hooked around his hips and held him close inside of you, and you tugged on his necklace to pull his lips to yours, needing the softness of his tongue inside your mouth again. Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking on his strands when he pushed in particularly hard, and he groaned. He liked his hair being pulled, you discovered, and you decided to keep at it, threading your hands through his locks and pulling whenever he hit that spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Like that,” you rasped when he latched his lips to your neck, most definitely leaving a mark on your skin. “Yes, H, just like that. Fuck, you’re so deep.” Your words were a mess, just a stream of consciousness, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he slammed into you harder and pulled your leg higher, tugging it so that your foot rested over his shoulder and your hamstrings stretched. And when he pushed back in, you scrambled at his back, drawing harsh lines down his skin at the feeling of him reaching a new depth.

“Feel so good,” he mumbled, words broken as they spilled from his lips. “Y/N, god, so good.” His hands fisted in the sheets and you dug your nails into his shoulders when he swiveled his hips slightly, brushing every inch of you. When you squeezed him, his head tipped back, exposing his neck and you leaned up, ignoring the burn in your hamstring, and licked up his throat. He rasped your name as you pulled at the skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making a mark of your own for him to enjoy later.

You fell back down and slipped your leg from its spot on his shoulder, and pulled him close to you, wanting to kiss him again. His lips seemed to be your new obsession, wanting nothing more than to be touching them constantly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, slotting your lips between his and kissing you fiercely as he pistoned in and out of you.

There were going to be bruises on your inner thighs, you were sure of it. You would be feeling the impact of his hips on your thighs for days, every time you sat down the muscles would ache and you would remember this—him moving in and out of you and panting in your ear, mumbling about how good you felt around him, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved fucking you. The prospect of feeling him for days was one you looked forward to.

When he gave a particularly deep thrust you moved up on the sheets, grabbing hold of his neck to hold yourself steady, and he moaned. You peeked down at him and as he moved back in, you asked, “Did you like that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a broken confirmation. “Again, please.”

You’d never really done this before, so you decided to be careful with him, just a bit of pressure using your fingers. With four fingers on one side of his neck and your thumb on the other, halfway down his neck, you pressed down on his skin when he drove back into you and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. The heel of your palm rested on the hollow of his neck as your fingers squeezed on either side of his neck, watching in rapture as he fucked into you harder and leaned into your touch. Slowly, you loosened and then tightened your grip, changing it up to make sure he was getting enough air.

“Is that good?” You asked, trying to focus as he drove harshly into you, the sound of his hips slapping your skin filling the room. He bobbed his head and pressed into your palm, so you squeezed your fingers again, wanting to give him what he asked for.

“I’m close,” he said, voice husky.

“Me too,” you answered, kicking your heels higher around his waist and pressing up into him so he reached even deeper inside of you. You could feel that same high building inside of you, an intensity waiting on the brink as he pressed into you, your fingers pressing into his throat again and again.

Then he pulled away slightly, rising up so his arms were fully extended and you couldn’t quite choke him anymore, so your hand fell to his bicep, squeezing at his skin as he somehow moved both faster and deeper inside of you. His hands dug into the sheets and he drove in and out of you at a pace unmatched, your head falling back to the mattress. You were panting, eyes glued to the sight of his necklace swinging back and forth as he moved, the tension in his muscles and the sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and reached down between you two, rubbing your fingers over your clit because you were just seconds from the edge and you needed it. Harry’s eyes took in the sight in awe, and his jaw dropped slightly, a curse ripping through his throat as you clenched around him and threw back your head, a deep moan falling through the air. You were squirming underneath him, Harry’s hands having to hold onto your torso to keep you steady as he thrusted into you, finishing himself off as you came, tightening around him. His name left your lips in a beg and he picked up your hand, bringing it back to his throat.  

With a tight squeeze, your fingers wrapped around his throat like before, he bucked into you once more and then was practically growling as he emptied himself into the condom, body shaking against you. You unwrapped your hand from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him down to your chest, wanting him close as he pulled out of you. “Holy shit,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you laughed softly.

“You ever had someone choke you before?” You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his spine as he settled.

“No,” he said, his lips puckering against your throat, light kisses to your skin. “Kind of liked it, though.”

“Kind of?” You squeezed his butt cheek in jest, and he squeaked against you, making you fully laugh, body rumbling against him. “You literally picked up my hand and put it there.”

He tucked his face deeper into your neck and you could tell he was embarrassed. “Okay fine, I really liked it.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I did too. It was my first time doing that.”

“Yeah?” He picked up his head and propped it up on his palm, looking at you. “Was it okay?”

Pushing back the hair from his forehead, you nodded. “I thought it was really hot.”

A smile quirked up on his lips. “You mean you think I’m really hot.”

You whacked his shoulder and he feigned pain, jaw dropping slightly. “Stop fishing for compliments.” He rolled his eyes at you, but moved off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the trash. Red marks covered his back from your nails and you ran your hand over them, watching as he shivered from the sensitivity. “If anyone sees your back they’re going to think you got fucking mauled by a bear.”

He turned his head and raised his eyebrow at you. “A bear, huh? I thought it was just this really hot girl.”

“Good to know you think I’m hot too.” He laughed and turned fully around, crawling back into bed with you.

The sheets were sweaty but you didn’t mind, you just wanted to be close to him. He laid down on his back and pulled you in, your leg draping over his and your breasts pushing up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder and you let out a breath, relaxing into his hold.

After you’d been lying there for a few minutes, he cleared his throat and you looked up at him. “You know,” he said, “I don’t know if this was obvious, but I really like you.”

His ring-clad fingers trailed up your back, drawing circles against your skin. You considered his words, rolling them over in your head, and considered your own feelings. Where did you stand? You knew you liked him based on how you felt around him, this just constant desire to have his hands on you. The way you could joke around with him and the banter between you made you feel at ease, a kind of comfort with him that you hadn’t found with anyone else. He was gorgeous and kind and a bit of an idiot, but you found it endearing. You also, admittedly, loved how obsessed he was with you. “I like you too,” you replied, turning your head so you could fully look at him, your chin resting on his chest.

He looked down at you, sliding his forearm under his head. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, kissing the skin nearest to you. “Really like you, even.”

“Well thank god,” he said, pinching your skin slightly. “It would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

He smiled at you. “I might’ve introduced myself as your boyfriend to your doorman.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed up, moving so you could hover over him fully, hands on either side of his head. “Does this mean I have to go to all of your formals and shit with you?”

“Obviously,” he replied, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “And my drinks at 260 are going to be free.” You huffed at his request for you to make all his drinks at the bar you worked at to be free, but Harry was having none of it. “Come on, baby, I’ll come to every one of your shifts.”

“Fine,” you answered, sliding your knees up his sides so you could sit squarely over the laurels on his pelvis. “But you have to bring me a snack.”

“Oh,” he said, quirking up his lips in a smirk, “baby I’m a full meal.” You swatted at his chest and he laughed, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before tugging you back into him. You fell into him with ease, unable to hold up any walls to him anymore. Somehow, he had busted through each one of them and you didn’t want to rebuild them. Having him wrapped up in your heart was perfectly fine with you, you thought to yourself when he kissed the top of your head and asked if you wanted pancakes.

Yeah, you decided, you could get used to this.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for bartender!y/n!!!!

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 19}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Well, we promised a chapter today, so we decided to follow through on that. Even if we did post a surprise chapter last night. Oh, well. Enjoy! 🙃✨

Cassian sighed as he opened his eyes.

Another year older, another year wiser.

Well.

Another year older, anyway.

He blinked as he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 7:58. Two minutes before his alarm would have gone off.

He hated when that happened, when his mind woke him up just before his alarm went off. There was no time to go back to sleep, it was perfect sleeping time wasted.

It was bullshit.

With a yawn, Cassian swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He stumbled to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, just in time for his alarm to go off.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, quickly turning it off before flinging open his bedroom door.

It smelled delicious.

He meandered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Nesta was icing a giant cake.

Her eyes darted to his.

He blinked.

“Get out!” she ordered.

“What the hell are you-.”

“Out!” she ordered, yet again.

Nyx babbled something at the top of his lungs that closely resembled, YEAH!

He did as he was told, blearily blinking as he stumbled back into the living room. He dragged a hand down his face. “Can I at least have some coffee?”

“In a minute!” She called and he heard quick footsteps, followed by the back door opening and closing. It opened again and she said, breathlessly, “Okay. You can come in now.”

Tentatively, Cassian rounded the corner and he found Nesta placing a platter of cinnamon rolls on the counter in place of the—

“Where did the cake go?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Nesta was lifting a cinnamon roll onto each of the plates in front of her, cutting the one for Nyx into tiny bites for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He blinked again, half-wondering if he’d imagined the decorated monstrosity he’d seen on the counter, but he sniffed, smelling the air again.

It mostly smelled like the sweet and spicy scent of cinnamon, but—

No, that was definitely cake he smelled.

“Right…” he said, pulling forks out of the silverware drawer and setting one next to each plate. “You’re up early.”

“Had a lot to do before renovations start this morning. I’m meeting Helion and the contractor at the restaurant at nine.” She sipped her own coffee, not looking at him. Mixing truth and lies, it seemed, since he knew she was meeting the contractor this morning. As for a lot to do, he knew everything at the restaurant was already taken care of. She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early either.”

Cutting into the gooey cinnamon roll, he said, “I gotta be at the bar in an hour. I’m talking with Kallias this morning before my shift starts.”

She set her coffee down and finally looked at him. “You have to work today?”

“Yeah,” he replied, popping the bite of pastry into his mouth. He resisted the urge to moan. “It’s Tuesday. I always work on Tuesdays.”

She hesitated, deciding whether she should speak or not. “But it’s your birthday.”

He couldn’t stop his smirk. He knew there had been a cake.

“And who told you that?” He asked, leaning over to wipe Nyx’s face off. The poor kid had icing all over his face, all the way up into his hair.

“That’s not important,” she said.

“Elain, then,” Cassian went on with a grin.

Nesta pretended like she hadn’t heard him and took a giant bite of her cinnamon roll.

“I’ll take Nyx with me to the bar,” Cassian said. “Viviane texted. She has the stomach flu.”

Nesta cringed. “That sucks. I...wait - you’re taking a baby to a bar?”

Cassian shrugged. “He’ll be fine. I only have to stay until two or so.”

“A baby,” she repeated, blinking. “To a bar.”

“You prefer to take him into a construction zone?” Cassian asked. “One that you’re in charge of? That sounds stressful.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I can ask Elain to watch-.”

“I’m taking him with me and he’ll be fine,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I promise.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. And he held up both hands. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Fine. But call me if you need to and I’ll come get him,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll be in my office most of the day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around in a construction zone.”

“And I’ll take the carrier and physically wear him all day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around the actual bar.”

Nesta groaned. “Fine. Fine. But take the pack-n-play, his monitor and toys. He can entertain himself well enough.”

“Okay,” Cassian nodded, finishing off his cinnamon roll. He pulled Nyx out of his high chair, who was now playing with and wearing most of his food, rather than eating it, and said, “I’ll give him a bath while you get ready.”

“Okay.” He was nearly in the living room when he heard, “Cass?” He turned and looked back at her, still not completely used to the familiar nickname from her. She was blushing slightly. “Happy birthday.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks,” and turned to head up the stairs.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*

“Any birthday plans?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Kallias chuckled as he observed Cassian, a wiggly baby strapped to his chest, counting the liquor bottles that lined the wall.

“How old are you anyway?” he continued, wiping down the bartop. “Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“You wound me,” Cassian muttered, scribbling a number down on his clipboard, not bothering to tell Kallias just how close to thirty he was getting to.

“I would say we should do shots to celebrate your big day,” Kallias began, taking Nyx’s outstretched hand. “But, I think your little housewife would disapprove.”

Cassian snorted. “If Nesta Archeron ever heard you call her such a thing, you’d lose a very important body part.”

“Not interested in that, thank you very much,” he muttered. “She ever gonna stop in, so I can see this terrifying woman you’ve told me about?”

“About that…” Cassian pulled Nyx out of the carrier and carried him into the back office, setting him down in the play pen. Grabbing the baby monitor, he made his way back into the front room.

Kallias looked up from where he was cutting limes at the bar. “About what?”

He leaned a hip on the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nesta is going to be expanding the restaurant, adding a bar. That’s actually where she is right now, why I’ve got the kiddo with me. Didn’t really want him in a construction site.”

“Hot nanny couldn’t keep him?” Kallias asked, grinning.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No, she’s sick. But, uh-.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna be leaving and going over there, managing for her.”

Kallias eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. And I’d like you to come over there with me. Be my assistant manager at the new place.”

Kallias stopped cutting, mid-lime. “You do realize we are two out of five people that work here, right?”

Cassian nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I do. And I also know we can hire more people here.”

Kallias looked back down at his half-cut lime. “Assistant manager, huh?”

“It’s in a great part of town, we’d get amazing tips on top of already being paid more,” Cassian said. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“So I’d be stupid to say no, then?” Kallias asked, continuing to cut his limes.

“Incredibly stupid,” Cassian agreed.

Nyx’s happy babbling came through on the baby monitor.

“I’ll think about it,” Kallias said, at last.

“Think about it, then tell me yes, because I’m not going there without you,” Cassian said.

Kallias snorted. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re going, whether I go or not.”

“And why wouldn’t you come with me?” Cassian asked, facing his friend. He and Kallias had worked together for years, since Kallias came in at twenty-one, during his senior year of college. “You want to be stuck in this dive bar forever? I know you. You’re a creature of habit. If I leave you here, you’ll be here for the next twenty years.”

Kallias didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t true. He just shook his head. “I guess we better start interviewing people, then.”

*

The day did not go as planned. Cassian had to stay and help out until nearly five-thirty, and by the time Cassian walked in the front door, Nyx was knocked out cold in his car seat. He gently set it down and unbuckled him, carrying him into the kitchen. It smelled divine, like roasting herbs and cooked veggies, even if he couldn’t see anything radiating the delicious smells.

Nesta was also nowhere in sight, so he took Nyx up to his nursery and laid him down, setting the baby monitor back up where it usually sat. He slipped the screen in his back pocket and made his way back downstairs, hurrying out to his truck to get Nyx’s diaper bag and the folded up playpen.

As he was setting it back up in the living room, he heard the sliding glass door open and close and made sure he was making enough noise to alert Nesta of his presence.

“You’re home,” she said, leaning on the doorway. “Nyx asleep?”

“Out like a light,” he said, tossing the few toys he’d brought with him back into the pen. “He had fun though.”

“Good. Dinner is almost done,” she smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” he sighed and took another deep breath in. “It smells amazing.”

Turning, Nesta walked back into the kitchen. “Steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and green beans, and homemade rolls.”

He watched as she took the carrots and green beans out of the oven and placed them next to a plate of steak she must have just brought in from the grill.

Cassian’s mouth was damn near watering.

He looked at the spread as she spooned the mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Nesta tensed, then something like nervous laughter sputtered out of her mouth. “Well, I had to cook red meat for you on your birthday.”

“Does that mean you’ll be having yourself a steak, Archeron?” he asked, taking the full plate from her outstretched hands.

She gave him an amused look. “Hell no. You get both. I have a chicken kabob on the grill.”

Cassian licked his lips as he took his plate to the table. “Consider me a lucky man. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, clearing her throat. She piled her plate high with potatoes and veggies before going onto the deck and coming back with a grilled chicken kabob on her plate. She sat across from him. Cassian’s mouth was already full.

“How is it?” Nesta asked, cutting up a carrot before popping it into her mouth.

“Delicious,” Cassian said, mouth full. “So good.”

“If you don’t slow down, you won’t be able to enjoy the flavor,” Nesta said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t listen. Cassian practically inhaled everything on his plate within minutes.

He moaned, stretching back in his chair before running a hand through his hair. “I must say, Nes, you really outdid yourself.”

“Well, it was the least I could do after you worked and were on baby duty all day,” she said, popping a few green beans in her mouth.

They talked about their days as she finished eating. He told her about Kallias’ agreement to move to the restaurant, she told him about the beginning of construction.

They’d kept half the restaurant open, putting up a temporary wall to keep as much noise and dust out as they could, but the sooner the build was done the better. They both agreed on that.

“So, despite your switch with the cinnamon rolls this morning,” Cassian said from where he sat as she rinsed off their plates, “I’m fairly sure I saw a cake when I came downstairs.”

“Really now,” she said, and he saw the small smile on her face.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “And, you know, I like cake.”

“And why, exactly, would I make you a cake?” She crooned, that little smile remaining.

“Because I’m the world's best roommate and uncle, obviously,” he said.

Nesta laughed as she stood. “Yeah, whatever.”

After exiting through the back door, she returned a moment later with a big, homemade cake.

It was exquisite.

Perfectly decorated and topped with vanilla and buttercream frosting, it read Happy birthday, Cassian!

As Nesta placed it on the countertop, Cassian asked, “Nesta, when the hell did you find time to make this?”

She shrugged. “Stayed up later and got up early. Didn’t have to be too early since you decided to sleep in today, but…” Her words trailed off. “I figured it was the least I could do.”

His mouth tightened, emotion he wasn’t expecting hitting him and he cleared his throat. “You gonna sing to me?” He asked, cracking a joke to break the tension that was slowly growing.

Nesta threw her head back and laughed. “Absolutely not.”

Cassian bit back his retort and the monitor in his back pocket went off, crying coming from upstairs.

“I’ll get him,” she said, standing up. “I’m sure he’s hungry. Will you cut up green beans and carrots for him?”

He nodded, the cake forgotten as he did what he was told, and Nesta returned with a bleary-eyed Nyx a few minutes later.

“Hi buddy,” Cassian said, chuckling at Nyx’s hazy expression. He was already sitting at the table with a plate of cut up food.

The second Nyx saw the display, he was whining and reaching for it.

“Slow down, you need to be buckled into your seat first,” Nesta said, shaking her head.

“I can’t blame him,” Cassian said, as Nyx was strapped into his high chair. “I’m starving when I wake up, too.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Men.”

The second Nyx’s diapered butt hit the seat, he was stuffing his mouth.

“I guess we should wait for him to eat the cake,” Cassian said, looking longingly at the cake.

Nesta chuckled. “No patience?”

“When it comes to homemade baked goods?” Cassian scoffed. “No.”

She snorted, which had Cassian raising an eyebrow. She looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was just…cute.”

Nesta didn’t reply, but he swore she could see her cheeks heating as she turned to put the leftovers from dinner away.

Once Nyx’s plate was cleared, Nesta cut three slices of cake. One was barely a sliver, one was mostly icing and one was damn near a quarter of the cake. She took the one with extra frosting for herself, placing the small one in front of Nyx and the larger one in front of Cassian.

Again, Nyx wasted no time scarfing it down. Cassian didn’t either, helping himself to another, much smaller piece afterwards, but not touching it yet.

“You sure you don’t want to sing to me?” He asked, taking a bite of the cake. “It would complete my day.”

Nyx, an impending sugar crash, was already dozing again. Apparently, his day with Uncle Cassian had well and truly worn him out.

She rolled her eyes and wiped the excess cake off of Nyx’s face. Pulling him out of his high chair, she said, “No, I think I’m good.”

“I’m just saying,” Cassian pushed. “If you wanted to really wish me a happy birthday, a song would do.”

Nesta snorted, taking Nyx in her arms and swaying, back and forth. “You’ve never heard me sing.”

“If your singing is as good as your cooking, it must be amazing,” Cassian promised.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Have I told you that you’re full of shit?”

Cassian pretended to debate it. “Maybe once or twice.”

Nesta chuckled, and said no more about it. “Finish your cake, Nazari. This little monster is ready for bed. I’ll put him down. It’s your birthday.”

It wasn’t that putting Nyx to bed was exhausting. Although sometimes it could be a chore, Cassian nodded and took another bite of his cake as Nesta and Nyx disappeared.

In their absence, Cassian cleared his plate.

The cake was delicious.

He knew Nesta was an amazing cook, but didn’t know that her baking skills were just as good. It was the best cake he had ever eaten. He was even considering getting himself a third piece, but decided against it as she rounded the corner back into the kitchen.

She sighed, falling into her chair. “That may have been record time to get him down. He was practically asleep before I’d even pulled the curtains shut.”

“He had a big day,” Cassian said, eyeing the piece of cake on her plate that she hadn’t even touched. “Taught him how to make a mojito. He’s a pro. Maybe we should hire him on at the bar.”

Shaking her head, Nesta cut into her cake and took a bite. She chuckled. “I’m sure that doesn’t violate any labor laws.”

“Nah, we’re his guardians,” Cassian said, waving a hand. “We can certainly get some free labor out of him.”

She rolled her eyes. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” She took another bite of cake, and Cassian’s eyes dipped to her mouth. He was quiet for long enough that she asked, “What?”

He hesitated but said, “You’ve got a little—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead he leaned forward across the small space between them and swiped the frosting that was on the corner of her lips away with his thumb.

Nesta didn’t move.

She didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop touching her, either.

Cassian’s thumb lingered against her lips, and when she looked up, he was already watching her, quietly.

She opened her mouth to say something.

What? She wasn’t sure.

But, when her lips moved, Cassian’s did, too.

He kissed her, softly, slowly, and Nesta melted right into it.

[desiredmalfoy]

Days Like These

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Genre: I’m back once again with more fluff! Dad Draco Fluff!

Word Count:  1,111 

Summary: The reader enjoys a weekend with her husband & son. Where she walks into Draco using a baby carrier & cute moments ensue. 

{Draco Masterlist} { Main Masterlist }

(Credit to the owner of the gif)

The weekend was your favorite time of the week. Draco was off of work on these days and you were all able to spend it together. Some weekends the three of you went around a few shops. On other weekends you would go to visit his parents or yours. But on your absolutely favorite ones, the three of you spent it at home alone. Nothing but just the three of you for those two days of pure bliss. 

Sometimes on these days, you would play music throughout the house and dance the days away with your two boys. Twirling in Draco’s arms once again as if you were back at the balls the two of you attended in your youth. On this particular Saturday, you were tired. Scorpius had kept you up most of the night. He was currently teething and had trouble sleeping through the night. You didn’t mind staying with your son all night but you awoke very tired on days like these. Draco had insisted he would watch Scorpius while you napped for a while. You happily took him up on his offer. It had now been about three hours since you slept and you were finally awake looking for the two of them. Walking into Scorpius’s room and then his playroom, you noticed that neither were there. You looked out the windows into your garden and saw no sign of them.

Now, you were really curious as to where they were and what they were up to. The last time you had left them alone for a while, you walked into Draco attempting to bake a cake for your birthday. You walked into a baking cake but both covered head to toe in flour. According to your husband, while he had his back turned for just two seconds, Scorpius managed to grab the flour and throw it everywhere.

“Babe where are you”, you called out though your house in the search of its two current troublemakers. Draco being the main one and your baby just giggling along with his father’s antics. “Where are you two now? Better not be getting into trouble.”

“We’re in the kitchen darling.” You heard Draco call out to you in the distance. That wasn’t a good sign. You were hoping you weren’t about to walk into a mess. Coming down the steps quickly, you hurried down the hall in search of your boys. You turned into the kitchen and only Draco’s back came into view.

“What are you two doing now?” 

“Nothing making a snack. Want some?” Draco turned around and attempted to hand you a strawberry. But the strawberry isn’t what caught your attention, it was your son strapped to your husband’s chest. Scorpius giggling and laughing away without a care in this world.

“Are you using the baby carrier?” You laughed into your palm. It was really a sight to see your very tall husband with your tiny son strapped to his chest. Not only that but your dear husband who absolutely refused to dress casually was wearing one of his custom suits. It really tied in the look for you. “The same one I recall you saying was and I quote ‘babe we don’t need that thing! We can just carry him!’ when I wanted it.”

“It’s very convenient actually. I can do so much more with him here.” Scorpius was completely oblivious to his parent’s conversation as he reached for the strawberry in Draco’s hand. He quickly noticed what Scorpius was attempting to do and he placed a piece of it in his little palm. “Plus you still got it. Now I’m just borrowing it.”

“Well, that’s why I wanted it.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “Admit I was right Dray.”

“Well, I now see the convenience of it,” he mumbled under his breath. Even after all these years he still disliked being wrong. Such a stubborn man. Instead of admitting defeat, he turned his attention to giving Scorpius more strawberries. “There is no need to admit anything.”

“So you were wrong?” You raised your eyebrows playfully at him as you attempted to get him to admit you were right.

“I guess you were right.” He threw his head back playfully and laughed along with you. 

“See, it wasn’t that hard to say.” You walked up to him and stood on the tips of your toes to place a quick kiss on his lips. Your kiss was broken by a certain little someone who was currently tapping his strawberry against your floral dress. Leaving red stains on it.

“Can I help you?” Scorpius broke out into a fit of giggles as you tickled the bottom of his feet. You could never be mad at him over getting something on your dress. “Look at what you’ve done cutie pie.”

“What have I done? I haven’t done anything babe.” Draco smirked down at you. He again offered you a strawberry but instead this time placing it on your lips.

“Not you! The cutest person in this house.” You took a bite of the strawberry while also tickling your son’s side this time. 

“This looks good on you.” You stepped back once again to admire your husband with the baby carrier. “But that one is mine, you need to get your own.”

“We’ll go down to the shops tomorrow and I will get one that matches my clothing style.”

“Hey (y/n), so I have been thinking?” Draco asked suddenly.

“What is it?” Unsure of where this was leading.

“If we are going to have two of these baby carriers, shouldn’t we have another baby for it too?”

“Maybe in a year or so.” You laughed at his suggestion. You grabbed his hand and led him to the living room. You thought of how your house would be with another baby. The havoc the three of them would unleash upon your house.

“I think Scorpius wants to be a big brother.” He looked down at the baby who was gleefully enjoying his strawberry. He let out a squeal in response. “That’s a yes babe.”

“Well, then I guess it must be official.” You played along with them. You sat on the couch and pulled Draco down to sit next to you. 

Draco did end up getting his own black leather baby carrier to wear. He would use it everywhere around the house and in public. There was really no use for yours unless Draco wasn’t home because he always insisted on being the one to use it. Your son is going along happily for the ride.

Maybe you did need another baby to finally be able to use yours.

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[yoonjinkooked]

finger guns | myg

a request from @sunshinerainbowsbts​​ (sorry it took me a minute 💙)

Pairing: Yoongi x (f) reader

Genre: fluff, slice of life

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: one or two f words, domestic Yoongi

Synopsis: Just a fluffy oneshot where you wouldn’t change him for the world

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN

Nearly falling down as you kick your shoes off, you manage to balance yourself by leaning onto the wall. The relief of finally getting home relaxes you instantly, and the smell of something roasting in the oven only helps. Yoongi knows how crazy Wednesdays are at your office and he never fails to make sure you can properly de-stress when you arrive home.

“How was Progress Report Wednesday?” you hear him yelling from the living room - him using the same expression you and your co-workers use to describe the hell that is Wednesday makes you smile.

“It was shit!” you yell back, finally free of your shoes and bag, dragging yourself towards the living room with whatever is left of your energy. Yoongi smiles up at you from his spot on the sofa, obviously amused at the state of you. However, he’s not so amused when you simply drop on top of him, lying with your whole body over his lap. “I hate my job and I want to quit and buy a beach bar that we will run and be forever happy,” you mumble into the sofa cushion, not even sure if Yoongi could hear your rant.

“Hate to break it to you sweetie, but in order to do that, we need money,” Yoongi laughs. “And in order to get money, we need to work. So suck it up and work with me to make our beach bar dreams come true,” he emphasises his words with a smack on your ass - one that is not sensual in nature at all - nor painful in any shape or form. Sighing, you turn around, facing him as you move down on the sofa so that only your head is in his lap. “Dinner’s gonna be done in 10 and it’s your pick for the movie night tonight.”

“Ugh. Love me. Feed me. Never leave me.”

“Did you just quote Garfield?” he laughs at you.

“What can I say, he’s relatable in every way,” you smile up at him. “It’s been such a crazy day today, I barely remembered to text Namjoon a happy birthday text - speaking of which, did you call him?” you check, knowing that while Yoongi is in charge of cooking in your house, you are the one in charge of remembering your friends’ birthdays. Any date that is not connected to himself or you directly tends to disappear from his memory.

“Yup, called him and confirmed the time for his party this Saturday,” he nods his head. “It’s easy for me to remember his birthday though - it was at his birthday party that I realized that I wanted to ask you out,” he tells you. You sit up, facing him - this is brand new information to you.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, confused. “We’ve known each other for at least a year before we started dating and our anniversary is in November,” you mumble, wondering if the tables have turned on you and you actually managed to forget the day of your anniversary - which would be bad, seeing as you had already booked a November weekend getaway for the two of you to celebrate two years of being together.

“Yeah, because it took me more than two months to grow a pair and ask you out,” he laughs. “But yeah, it was at Namjoon’s party that I realized that I actually have a thing for you and that I should probably ask you out before someone else realizes that you’re a catch.”

“Oh!” you laugh. “So it’s just a two-year anniversary of you realizing I’m decent boner material. Thank fuck, I thought I actually forgotten an important date.”

“Hey!” he laughs as he pokes you in the sides. “I didn’t just see you as boner material that day! You were funny and beautiful and bright - the whole damn package.”

“Yeah,” you mockingly reply. “I was also funny, beautiful and bright long before that, but I didn’t wear that red dress for you to see, did I?” you call his bluff, remembering very well what it is that you were wearing that night. And although you might not be ready to admit that just yet, at least not to him, your choice of outfit that night was anything but accidental. It was the first time you had a chance to dress to impress for Yoongi to see - as Namjoon’s close friend, he was bound to be in attendance. And that red dress is mighty magical, seeing as you are now living together, with actual legitimate plans for your future together.

“Fine, but the dress is what opened my eyes and made me realize what I would be missing if I let you slip without even trying,” he admits and it makes you laugh.

“You are forgiven, I look fucking amazing in that dress.”

“You really do,” he agrees immediately. “You look amazing in anything, though.”

“I look amazing naked, too,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, smiling when it makes him laugh.

“I mean it,” he tells you, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Not asking you out would have been the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Give it time, you have decades to make worse mistakes,” you joke.

“Can’t you let me be romantic for once?” he laughs in disbelief.

“You’re making my favorite food and cuddling me, knowing that Wednesdays are hell to me. While words are nice and mean a lot, actions are always stronger than words - I feel loved every single day and I’m beyond happy you grew a pair and asked me out. But even if you hadn’t, I’m sure I would have done it at some point - I wasn’t gonna let you drop your chance, baby,” you add, clicking your tongue and pointing finger guns at him.  

“I love you,” he laughs, shaking his head at your antics.

“I love you too,” you smile, sitting up to cling onto him like a koala and kiss him. He lets you snuggle into the crook of his neck and for a little while, neither one of you moves, simply enjoying this moment - the moment of knowing that everything’s exactly like it should be.