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mochegato · 3 years

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Even the Losers

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Monday morning came both too soon and too distant for Marinette’s taste. She looked up at the dark, intimidating Wayne Enterprises building as she and Max walked past it on their way to the cafe and swallowed hard. She should have figured she would have to pass by the Wayne Enterprises building at some point, but she still wasn’t ready to see the dominating building so close. They were a few blocks away and she still had to crane her neck to see the top.

Of course M. Fox would want to meet near his office. He was already being beyond considerate having the meeting outside of the office building, expecting him to meet far away from his work was excessive. She could stomach it. It was just a building. This meeting was important. This was Max’s chance to wow M. Fox and get an amazing position. She took a deep breath and continued forward despite it feeling like wading through increasingly deep water the closer they got to the WE building.

Max touched Marinette’s forearm to gain her attention. She nearly jumped at his touch but quickly covered with an embarrassed smile and inquisitive hum. “Are you okay?”

Marinette glanced toward the WE building but quickly looked back to him with an unconvincing smile. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she tried to assure him. Judging by the frown forming on his lips, he was unassured.

“Is there anything I should know?” Max asked uncertainly.

“Nothing of consequence,” Mari promised with a weak smile.

Max adjusted his glasses nervously and darted his eyes between Marinette and the sidewalk ahead of them a few times, trying to work up the courage to ask the question on his mind. “Marinette,” he started slowly. “You didn’t do anything illegal for the plan. Did you?”

Marinette whipped her head toward him wide eyed. “What?”

Max cringed under her gaze. “I just… you’re a very devoted friend and…” He sighed and looked away. “I just need to know if we need to worry about the Waynes coming after us. I’d like to be prepared.”

Marinette's dour expression turned giddy as she started laughing joyfully. After a minute, she wiped away a tear that had started to form in the corner of her eyes and fixed Max with a sincere look. “No. I didn't. None of us did. I would have, but no laws were broken in the making or execution of this plan.” She grinned and looped her arm through his, pulling him forward with a lighter step than before. “I just presented your work to M. Fox and he was extremely impressed. Come on, the cafe is just around the corner.”

Max gave her an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I may have violated a few laws tracking down the call you had me trace last week.”

Marinette suddenly froze, her smile becoming significantly weaker. “That wasn’t part of the plan. That was a separate quest,” she tried to joke.

“And it just so happened to be M. Wayne’s phone number.” His skepticism was clear in his voice even if he was too polite to call her out directly.

“It wasn’t part of the plan, really,” she promised quietly. “That was… It had nothing to do with getting you a job.”

Max opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by Marinette’s phone ringing. Marinette pulled it out and rolled her eyes at Alya’s name lighting it up. She hit the button to ignore it with a shrug. “She’s probably really excited to see how your meeting went and didn’t convert the time correctly,” she laughed to Max.

Max smiled and nodded in agreement. He opened his mouth to comment but Marinette’s phone started ringing again. She furrowed her brow at it this time and groaned. “Very excited,” she grumbled, hitting the ignore button again.

Max opened his mouth again but again was interrupted but this time by his phone and Marinette’s phone. He pulled it out and looked at it. “Nino?”

“What the Hell, Alya,” Marinette grumbled. She was about to hit the accept button so she could yell at Alya to leave them alone but got interrupted by a loud cry right in front of her.

“Hey, it’s you!”

Marinette and Max looked at each other with matching confused looks. The man that had said it pulled out his phone and switched on a recording device. “Do you have any comment on the story in today’s paper?” the man, likely a reporter Marinette decided, demanded, shoving his phone in her face so violently, it would have hit her if she hadn’t jerked her face back in time.

Marinette stared at the man for a few seconds, her face scrunching in confusion before quickly smoothing over into an impassive mask. “I haven’t seen the paper this morning. So no, no comment on a story I know nothing about.”

She tried to push past the reporter only for him to move immediately into her path. She looked around as more people joined, not reporters, she didn’t think, just people interested in finding out what was going on, rather than helping them. The reporter pushed further in front of her, refusing to let her pass. He held the day’s Gotham Gazette in front of her face. Marinette had to back away in order to actually be able to read the headline.

She had to consciously force her eyes to stop from widening in front of the audience. She forced her breathing to slow as her eyes scanned the headline and picture. Across the top of the page in bold, block font was the headline ‘More than One New Wayne Introduced’ above a picture of her and Adrien speaking with Bruce Wayne. She glanced at the caption below the picture, her nose wrinkling in annoyance at the words. “Newly discovered Wayne, Marinette Cheng Wayne introduces fiancé Adrien Agreste to her father, Bruce Wayne.”

Max gasped at the headline and cocked his head to the side in confusion. He looked between it and Marinette a few times. He opened his mouth to comment on how ludicrous it was but decided to defer to however Marinette wanted to handle it. Instead, he gripped her arm in an attempt to show support and looked around them, calculating different plans to get them out of the crowd.

Marinette took a calming breath and looked back at the reporter with a cool gaze. “You couldn’t even be bothered to get the names of the people involved correct. I have little interest in reading the rest, which is likely as poorly researched. Now if you will excuse me, I have an appointment to get to.”

She tried to move around the reporter but he stepped in front of her, only centimeters between them as he did, and leaned closer to her. “Why haven’t we heard of you before Ms. Cheng? Embarrassed about your family’s history with crime in our city,” he cocked his head to the side and gave her a vicious grinned. “Or was it your family that was embarrassed about you?”

Marinette bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood and glared at the man. “It sounds like you are insinuating the Waynes are associated with crime in Gotham. Surely you didn’t mean to insinuate such a thing, right? Such as slanderous comment,” she tutted in a condescending tone. “I’m sure whatever publication you’re working for would not appreciate such a careless, defamatory, negligent comment.”

The man puffed out his cheeks, which were quickly becoming red with anger. He tensed his body. Marinette tensed hers in response. What he intended to do exactly, she’d never know because just at that moment, the man froze as a hand settled hard on his shoulder. “I can assure you that is exactly the kind of allegation Mr. Wayne and Wayne Enterprises would both pursue legal action over. Now, I believe the young lady said she had an appointment,” Lucius Fox said with a cutting smile.

The reporter scowled at Lucius, but backed away. The crowd of people around parted at his presence. Marinette shot him a grateful smile. “Ms. Dupain Cheng, Mr. Kante,” Lucius nodded to them both. “Are you ready?”

Marinette and Max nodded and moved toward the café ahead of him. The host led them to a spot toward the back where they could have some privacy. Marinette touched Max’s shoulder. She gave him a concerned look. Max’s eyes darted forward to Lucius and back to Marinette. He nodded then jerked his head toward her. The smile she plastered on was even less convincing than her earlier one, but Max pretended like it wasn’t. He leaned closer to her, speaking quietly enough that nobody could hear him. “You should let Adrien and Alya know.”

Marinette sucked in a breath and looked toward her phone warily. It was still ringing and chiming nonstop. She turned it off and leaned closer to Max. “Markov, can you text Alya and Adrien and let them know we’re all okay but I turned off my phone for a while. If they need me they can text you or Max and we plan on returning to the hotel immediately after this meeting. If you both are okay with that.” Max nodded and lifted the flap for his messenger bag to reveal Markov sitting atop her folded up gala dress. Markov looked between the two of them and gave Marinette a resolute nod.

“Thank you, Markov,” Marinette whispered, trusting his sensitive sensors to hear her.

When they arrived at the table, Lucius waited for the host to retreat before looking over to Marinette with a concerned look. “Did you need a break for a few minutes or to call anyone?”

Marinette gave him a tight, strained smile and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” She would make it through this. She wasn’t going to cry. She could wallow in self-recriminations later. Right now, she needed to focus on making sure Max was given his shot.

Lucius nodded and looked down at the menu the waitress brought over. After a few minutes of silence he glanced over to Marinette. “Always something going on in Gotham.” If Marinette didn’t know better she would think his tone was apologetic.

“Certainly has been full of surprises,” she stated instead, focusing on the menu.

“Certainly puts certain interactions at the gala a new perspective,” he observed carefully, keeping his eyes on his own menu.

Marinette’s focus sharpened on the menu in her hands. Her jaw tensed and her lips thinned. “I’m sure you will understand, M. Fox, when I say my private life is not something I care to discuss with people I do not know well.”

Lucius nodded. “I do.” He looked over the menu for a few seconds, keeping his face buried in the menu, he lifted his eyes to observe Max, noting his stiff posture. His eyes were darting over to Marinette every so often and worrying his lip. “You understand you could have just gotten him a position. One phone call is all it would have taken. You didn't need to go through all of this.” His eyes flicked over to Marinette as he spoke.

Marinette met his eyes, a fierce set to them. “He doesn't need somebody to get him a position,” she snapped. “He's brilliant. He just needed somebody to see him. He just needed an even playing field to shine. He didn’t need me calling in favors. He’s earned the attention he gets.”

Lucius stared at her for a few seconds, analyzing her before finally coming to a decision. He set his menu down and nodded curtly. “No, he does not need help. His work speaks for itself. I spent the weekend researching you, Mr. Kante, and I have to say, you are an impressive young man. You are exactly the kind of talent we seek out. The fact that we didn’t speaks to the utter failure that our recruiting staff has been. And I must apologize for what happened to you. We will be reviewing Mr. Rabler’s actions since he was employed by us to properly deal with any other incidents such as yours.”

Max nodded, adjusting his glasses with a satisfied smile. He was saved from trying to come up with a response when the waitress came back to take their orders. There was a brief lull after the waitress left, Max and Marinette both uncertain where to push the discussion next and waiting for M. Fox to drive the conversation.

“Now, if I did my research correctly,” Lucius started with a secretive smile, “then I expect you have someone else with you.” He looked pointedly at Max’s bag.

Max’s smile turned sheepish and he opened his bag to let Markov come out. “This is Markov. I was hoping he would be able to work with me.”

“Of course,” Lucius nodded in agreement. “It is nice to meet you, Markov.”

Markov zipped up higher in excitement. “It is very exciting to meet you, M. Fox. I have found very exciting information about you and Wayne Enterprises.”

Lucius chuckled. “That is good to hear. We will have no issue with Markov working with you, but we have added several sections to your contract to cover what Markov is allowed to do and what he isn’t. We have a lot of sensitive material, as I’m sure you are aware. We are quite paranoid about protecting it. We have also come up with a contract for Markov, but legal says we have to add sections to your contract as well since legally, Markov is not considered his own entity.”

Marinette beamed at Lucius and squeezed Max’s hand under the table, never more certain than at that moment that Max was going to be taken care of. Max pretended to adjust his glasses so he could wipe at his eyes. He looked over to Markov to gauge his response. Seeing the weepy eye display, Max smiled and looked back at Lucius. “Thank you, M. Fox for your consideration. It means a lot to us both.”

Lucius gave him a soft smile and looked over to Marinette. “We also have a contract for you, Ms. Dupain Cheng. I had legal draw it up yesterday. Not excited to work on a Sunday,” he shrugged guiltily, “but we gave them a lot of compensation for their time. I drew it up before I knew of any other… associations so Mr. Wayne may want to modify it, but it is there if you are interested. We will need a designer for the project, someone with intricate knowledge of fabrics and a demonstrated ability to work with them. Given your involvement thus far and your work on the dress for the gala, you seemed like the natural choice.”

Marinette looked down and took a breath. She looked over to Max to see how he was faring. He gave her a supportive smile and nodded to her. “As I said before, that is kind of you to offer but I have other plans that do not involve Wayne Enterprises. And my ‘involvement’ thus far has been getting your attention. It would likely be better for the project if you continued without me.”

“That is not strictly accurate,” Markov spoke up.

Max nodded in agreement. “Your help was invaluable, Marinette. Not only your insight into different characteristics in different fabrics and how changes affected the elements of the fabric, but also the different approaches to problem solving. I could not have done this without you,” Max stated earnestly. He turned to Lucius. “She worked with me to explain tensile strength and different weaves and how that would affect how the fabric appears and what you can do with it.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she looked over to Lucius quickly. “He’s being modest. He did the work. He came up with the formulas. He…”

She was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress with their food. Lucius waited for the waitress to leave before he sent her a soft smile. “I understand collaboration, Ms. Dupain Cheng. Mr. Kante’s words don’t make me doubt his work. If anything, it confirms my faith in him. I also researched you this weekend, Ms. Dupain Cheng. You are quite talented. Your designs are elegant and bold and you personally have always gone out of your way to help your community. Those are all ideals Wayne Enterprises strives for. Along with what Mr. Kante said, you should know, I’ll be pursuing you and it has absolutely nothing to do with your…. With Mr. Wayne.”

Marinette looked down to her plate with a blush and nodded. “Thank you, M. Fox. I will consider it, but…” she furrowed her brow in frustration, not knowing how to say what she was thinking and not knowing if she should even if she could.

“You have time to consider it, Ms. Dupain Cheng. But for now, we should eat. The food here is extremely good.” Marinette’s shoulders relaxed and she sent him another grateful smile. She looked over to Max and Markov and smiled before taking a bite of her breakfast. “Now, Mr. Kante, I would love to hear more about your invention, unless you would prefer to wait until the contract is signed.” Max smiled excitedly at Lucius and pulled out the dress as he described the process for working on the fabric while Marinette and Markov looked on proudly.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - identities

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wroteasongabouther · 4 years

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can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

a/n: thank you all so so sooooo much for the love on the first part of cstsyl ❤️ i hope you guys like part 2 just as much, and please reblog/leave me any feedback if you can as if really just makes me smile and helps with the engagement and blah blah blah u know the drill lol

and thank you to the lovely jill @havethetimeofyourstyles, jess @arrogantstyles and wendy @bookwormandtea for beta reading for me!

word count: 15k

warnings: mentions of death, couples fighting, awkward silence in elevators, and addicting candy cane pretzels.

fic page // let’s chat! // cstsyl playlist

They were fighting again. Y/N’s voice was booming through the walls, her boyfriend’s echoing after hers. Harry tries his best to focus on anything but their voices, but he can’t. It doesn’t make him feel all that great listening to the girl he had only seen smile and had been making laugh over the past two weeks, now yelling on the other side of the wall between them.

Harry plucks a soft melody on his guitar as he lounges on his couch. His hands absentmindedly playing the four chords that have been stuck in his head all morning while he attempts to write lyrics to the melody. Only, he was having a bit of trouble doing so as he listened to Y/N’s voice again.

“Honestly, Mark! Really?” Y/N’s shouting is muffled, but Harry hears her still. “You really think that it doesn’t bother…” The rest of her words are a bit harder to hear as she quiets her voice. Harry never imagined he’d hear her raise her voice like that. That soft, sweet and gentle tone that he has spent dreaming about for weeks now.

Harry’s still plucking the chords he’s grown obsessed with, humming along while zoning out on the blank tv in front of him. He feels selfish, and rather ridiculous too, not wanting to imagine Y/N with another man. But he also feels selfish that he’s not upset over the fact they’re fighting for the third time in two days. Harry shakes his head and scolds himself for the thought. Regardless of his feelings, he shouldn't want Y/N to feel this way. He can tell these couple days must’ve been hard on her, working all day and then coming home to only end up in a yelling match with her prick of a boyfriend.

Harry rolls his eyes and notices that the shouting has stopped. The silence of his apartment, aside from his guitar, only makes him feel a bit sadder.

“I’m selfish, I know,” Harry sings, “but I don’t ever want to see you with him.”

Suddenly, his phone chimes from where it’s sat on the table, signalling an incoming phone call from Mitch. A picture of the two of them together in the studio last spring shows on the screen, Mitch tucked under Harry’s arm as they’re both slouching into the couch they sat on. Harry reaches for his phone and swipes his finger across the screen to accept his call.

“Hey,” Harry mutters into the phone, focusing on getting together his notebook and cleaning up the few torn crumpled pieces of paper littering his coffee table.

“Hey, you leaving your place soon?” Mitch asks. Harry can hear traffic in the background, meaning that he had already left his place that's located much closer to the studio than his own apartment is. Moving his shoulder up a little, he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands as he sets his guitar into the open case that’s sitting on the chaise lounge of his couch. Then scrambling around to gather the scrap paper and glass of water he had, standing up with his trash in hand to throw away and glass in the other to put in the sink.

“Just about to,” Harry answers honestly, making his way into his kitchen to clean up. He sighs after clearing his hands and returns his phone to his left hand to hold now.

“You get busy with that neighbour of yours again. Got a new crush, H?” Mitch teases him. Rolling his eyes, Harry brushes a hand on his light wash jeans before patting his pocket to make sure his thin wallet was still there.

“No,” he mutters, obviously lying to his best mate - which Mitch is very aware of as he hums in response. “I’ll be there in, like, 20 if the tube isn’t a horror show.”

“You’ve lived here for nearly 3 years now, think you can call it the subway yet?”

“Nope,” Harry sighs. There were a few things his British instincts kicked in for; many different phrases and words he knew would stick in his vocabulary despite how many years he’s been in the U.S. Harry’s grabbing his green winter coat and slipping on his boots as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear again. “Should I grab the gang some coffee on my way? Seeing as I’ll probably be the last to arrive,” Harry says in a tight voice, his annoyance from hearing Y/N and her boyfriend still clear even in his phone call with his mate.

“Don’t count on it. Tom hasn't answered his phone all morning, so something tells me he’s preoccupied,” Mitch suggests. Harry recalls the text he had gotten from his friend Tom, saying that he and the Missus were planning to celebrate their anniversary early this year. Mitch seems to be hinting that their celebrations have fallen into the morning too. Harry bets that Tom being MIA was because of his two children. The two of them knew how to gang up on their dad already at a young age—he couldn't imagine how they’d be when they grew up.

“He’s a dad, Mitch, that's probably what he’s preoccupied with,” Harry states. After putting on his coat, he walks over to clasp the case for his guitar closed and heaves it up before heading for the door.

“Point being, don’t bother with coffee. I’m in line at Starbucks anyways. Did you want anything?” Mitch asks.

“A slice or two of the banana loaf, please,” Harry requests, his stomach growling at the thought of food. Time had slipped by him this morning, listening to Y/N and her boyfriend argue, and he hadn’t eaten more than an apple for breakfast.

Harry double checks the lights are off in his apartment before shutting the door behind him, setting his guitar down to rest on the wall to his left, and locking it quickly. Mitch is complaining in his ear about some Karen at the front of the line. Harry chuckles at his friends colourful words and picks up his guitar, not sparing a glance at Y/N’s door as he walks to the elevator and hits the down button to call it to his floor. Not even a ten seconds go by and he hears someone exiting their apartment behind him. Harry doesn’t want to look over his shoulder to check, not wanting to see Mark and Y/N walking hand in hand towards him. So, he keeps his eyes trained up on the red numbers rising above the elevator doors, signalling it’s arrival, soon hopefully.

“Hey, Harry right?” Mark questions, pointing a finger at Harry as him and Y/N stepped up to the elevator. Y/N tries her best not to frown. She hates the way Harry doesn’t smile at her first before meeting Mark’s eyes and nodding.

“Hey,” Harry says. He turns his head and catches Y/N’s gaze. “What are you guys up to?”

Y/N knows he’s simply being polite, something Mark wouldn’t care to be - seeing as he’s already got his phone out of his pocket, and is staring at the screen as he answers. “Y/N’s driving me to the airport,” he states.

Harry looks at Mark, anger bubbling inside of him as he clutches the guitar case in his hand. The elevator doors open then, a light bing! coming from inside. Mark enters first, not even bothering to look at Y/N or Harry, but then Harry waves his free hand in motion to let Y/N walk in before him. She smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she walks into the small space and stands beside Mark.

“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice as Harry hits the button for the lobby. She takes note of the guitar case in his hand. “Are you heading to the studio?” She asks, pointing to the bulky item he’s carrying.

Harry looks down at his guitar case, “yeah, last day before everyone gets their break.”

“No more counting down the days then, huh?” She asks, mentioning their previous discussion about how people typically countdown the days till they have time off - her included this year. But Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t looking forward to his days away from the studio. He didn’t think she’d remember that.

“Counting the days till I’m back in the studio now,” Harry says. Y/N smiles and Harry’s heart bursts at the sight. Having heard her raised voice earlier today, being sure a scowl was etched on her face, he was glad to see her lips turned upward. Mark clears his throat then, causing both Y/N and Harry to quit looking into each other's eyes and step back into reality - her boyfriend was right beside them.

“Studio? What are you, a singer or something?” Mark asks Harry. His eyes catch sight of Mark’s arm snaking around Y/N’s back, resting lazily on her left hip as they stood there. Harry licked his lips and almost nodded, but was quick to catch himself and shook his head instead. “What kind of studio then? Movies?” Mark continues to question him.

“A music studio, I’m just a musician,” Harry answers.

“Oh,” Mark says, “cool,” he adds with a shrug. The elevator doors open and Mark guides him and Y/N out of the small space. “Well, see ya around, ‘Arry,” Mark says with a smug look, trying to mimic his accent. But he butchers it, of course, sounding more like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Mark then waves and turns himself and Y/N to the right of the lobby that leads to the stairwell that went down to the underground parking lot.

Y/N only gets to give Harry a quick smile before Mark turns her away. She wants to apologize for Mark’s ridiculous behaviour, feeling embarrassed by it. She also wanted to say that Harry wasn't just a musician, he was a songwriter too, which therefore meant he was a storyteller, and in her eyes songwriters were some of the most creative and talented people. Y/N wanted to shut Mark up and start bragging about Harry, like he was her boyfriend and Mark was just some dumb prick.

Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and licks them, glancing quickly over her shoulder before getting to the door. Her eyes meet Harry’s intense stare, him looking over his shoulder at her too, and her stomach erupts with butterflies. But then it flips and flops with nerves and her hands suddenly being tugged on by her boyfriend, holding open the door with his hip as he walks them through the doorway and out of Harry’s sight.

Harry finds himself thinking about Y/N the whole way to the studio—as if he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and her boyfriend over the past couple days anyways. Did she ever mention being in a relationship, even in the most subtle way? Did he misinterpret her kindness for flirting like an absolute idiot? These questions were on a loop inside of his head until he walked into the studio, flashed the front desk his ID badge, and headed to studio B where he and his mates would be working today.

“And he’s made it,” Mitch announces as Harry pushes closed the door and walks the few steps to his left where the brown leather couch was against the wall. Adam is sitting on the couch, the phone in his hand chimes as he types on it quickly, merely giving Harry a quick smile before looking back at the screen. Mitch is standing by the switch board, leaning back against it as he stares Harry down. Next to him is Tom, sitting in his chair and facing his many computer screens as he gets everything up and going for the day.

“And I see we were both wrong and Tom beat me,” Harry states. He sets his guitar down, leaning it against the side of the couch before sitting himself down beside Adam.

“I wasn’t answering my phone because I was already on my way over here way before any of you slowpokes, and then I turned off my ringer once I got in here,” Tom explains, leaning back in his chair while his eyes stay on the screen. But then he twirls around, facing Harry and Adam, and gives Adam a bored look. “Like we all agreed to do, right Adam?”

“Relax, I’ll do it after I send this last text,” Adam says.

“Sure,” Tom mutters, swivelling his chair back around and grabbing the mouse to continue his set up.

“Jeez, Tommy,” Mitch chuckles, “did you not get any last night or something? What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he takes in his friends stiff posture as Mitch’s words seem to sink in. “Wasn’t it your anniversary date last night?” He questions, keeping his voice light and not as daunting as Mitch’s had been.

Tom turns back around to face the boys and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but then our babysitter called and was all freaked out and of course Jenny got all freaked out too. I tried to tell her it wasn’t that big of a deal and they could handle it, but we still ended up leaving our hotel room at nine o’clock and dealt with our two crying children who just missed their mommy. I was in bed by eleven.” Tom explains his night, ending with rubbing a hand up and down his face as he was clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

“That’s just life as a parent, man,” Adam states. “Emi and I didn’t have a single date night till Spike was five,” he adds with a shrug.

“Yeah, I get it but it’s just upsetting to have this whole night planned and then it not happen,” Tom says. Harry knew that feeling; he may have not had a full anniversary night away planned like Tom did, but the other day he was racking up things to do with Y/N before he was introduced to her boyfriend.

Harry zones out, eyes glued on the coffee table in front of him as he sighs softly, leaning back into the couch as he was getting wrapped up in his thought of Y/N, again. I could still be her friend, he thinks. Even though it’d hurt to see her with her boyfriend, to hear about a date night or see them kiss. The ache already begins in Harry’s chest as the mere thought of it, and he finds himself bringing a hand up and rubbing over his heart subconsciously.

“Harry,” Mitch calls, forcing Harry to snap out of his thoughts and look up at where he stood. He raises his eyebrows, making Harry think that he had said his name more than once but was ignored.

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry.

“He’s probably thinking about his latest little crush,” Mitch smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who is it this time?” Adam asks in a monotone voice.

“His new neighbour. Supposedly, she’s rather beautiful in Harry’s eyes,” Mitch teases.

“Not just in my eyes,” Harry mumbles, looking at his lap and picking off an invisible piece of lint.

“What do you mean?” Tom questions.

Harry hears Tom’s chair squeak suddenly, making Harry assume that he must be leaning back in it again. Harry looks up to see he’s right - Tom’s got his arms crossed at his chest like Mitch while they’re both staring him down. Harry lets out a sigh and shakes his head, leaning further into the back of the couch while he licks his lips and looks anywhere but at his friends’ faces - not wanting to see their taunting looks when he tells them.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Harry says in a low voice.

Mitch inhales a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth as he walks over and clamps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s tough man,” he says.

Harry shakes his head again and sits up, causing Mitch’s hand to fall off his shoulder. “It’s not just tough. I get I have these crushes on people a lot, but I don’t know, there was just something different between us. We really clicked and I just thought we’d at least get to go out a few times,” he speaks softly into the quiet room,the support of some of his closest mates surrounding him.

“Have you written about how you’re feeling?” Tom asks. Harry nods and reaches for his guitar without a second thought, taking it out of the case and positioning the instrument in his lap.

“This is gonna be good,” Mitch nods his head and rolls over the second chair that occupied the room. Harry shakes his head at his friends comment.

“I’ve just had this tune in my head for a couple days now, and I’ve only come up with a few lyrics really, so I don’t know how good it will be,” he explains.

Harry plays the song he’s been playing all morning for the other three in the room. The soft acoustic guitar fills the silence, the twang from his guitar strings echoing off the walls. Harry shuts his eyes and lets his voice build up as he sings the two lines he’s been thinking about for a few days now. He feels it deep in his chest, the truth behind his words. Suddenly, more lyrics filter out of his mouth that hadn’t come up before.

“I’m selfish I know,” he sings, “I’d tell you but I know you’d never listen.”

It’s not entirely the truth, because he’s sure that Y/N would listen to anything he had to say. He’s also sure that if he walked up to her right now, ran out of this studio and back to the apartment and waited outside her door, begging for her to break up with him, that she wouldn’t listen. Harry believes that she’s a better person than that - that regardless if she felt what he had over their past few encounters, she wouldn’t listen to what he wanted and would figure things out herself.

“I hope you can see, the shape that I’m in,” Tom suddenly sings along to the tune that Harry’s still playing. Harry opens his eyes in a flash and looks at his friend, but Tom’s back is already to him as he’s facing his computer again. “I have the perfect piano and drums mix for this. I’ve had it kind of hidden away for the right time and I think this is it.”

And that’s when the magic happens. Harry puts down his guitar and gets right into the lyrics, pouring himself into yet another song. He lets his feelings out about the situation he’s gotten himself into with Y/N, and mixes it with some poetry he’s written previously in his journal. You flower, you feast, is something he’s had for quite some time but had never felt it really fit into any of his other songs. And yet somehow in this song full of duck noises, a guitar solo, and many lalalala’s, it somehow found its place.

Not to mention that Mitch absolutely murders the guitar solo. His long hair acts as a curtain as he sways to the music and lets himself go. Nearly every time that Mitch goes in for a solo, he doesn’t remember what he plays because he’s in such a trance, so Tom has to play it back for him if he needs to fix anything up. Overall, the song inspired by Y/N and her shit boyfriend is pretty great.

“Anything else you’ve got to bring to the table, Harry?” Tom asks after nearly six hours of working on perfecting their new song ‘Woman’ - named solely because of the repeating of the word in the course, which was chosen because he felt like he was calling out to Y/N in this song. Saying woman over and over again at her in hopes to get her attention. He simply shrugs and stretches back into the couch, sprawling his legs out in front of him while staring down at his journal that’s sitting in his lap.

“I’ve been writing this one based off a man I see everyday during my breakfast at the cafe down the street from my apartment,” he says. Harry clears his throat and sort of talk-sings what his idea of the melody is with the lyrics he’s got. “Nine in the morning, man drops his kids off at school. And he’s thinking of you, like all of us do. Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, around one thirty two.”

“Alright, I like it,” Adam nods his head.

“Who’s he thinking of?” Mitch teases, “like all of us do,” he adds with a smirk. His lips then wrap around the straw that was in the can of Pepsi he had gotten from the mini fridge a while ago. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks out his foot in order to nudge Mitch’s leg from where he’s sitting in the desk chair he’s gotten comfortable in.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. Adam, Mitch and Tom all chuckle at their friend’s pout, which just makes him smile. He knew that coming into the studio and writing and making music about his situation with Y/N would ultimately make it feel even a little bit better. During the making of their newest song, his friends did give him some advice.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out, H,” Adam had said with a smile.

But there’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel when he bumps into her again, whether she’s with her boyfriend or not.

It’s been a tough few days for Y/N. Not only has work been crazy because not one, but two interns got sick with a stomach bug; meaning she was currently filling their job on top of her own and running around the city - but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry.

She is in her own head again as she walks into the Gucci store on Fifth Ave. for the third time in two days. As Greg approaches her, she appreciates his light pink suit with a white ruffled shirt underneath. His bald head shines under the lights of the store, but that smile was much brighter and obviously, professionally whiten. Greg gives her a kiss on the cheek, saying they are a bit behind with her packages since it’s such a busy time for them as well. Y/N just nods and gives him a smile, accepting the flute of champagne as she takes a seat and waits. This is honestly the first time she’s gotten a chance to sit all day, but of course, she spends it zoning out on a sparkly dress hung up a few feet away from her as her mind begins to think of anything but work.

Mark and her started dating only a mere four months ago. After meeting at a bar in the Upper East Side, he practically stalked her - which isn't too hard considering her social media following - and sent her flowers to work for three days straight till she agreed to go on a date with him. Turned out that he wasn’t just some business man out on the town with some work buddies, but an heir to one of the country's biggest companies. Therefore, meaning that when the gossip started of the two of them seeing each other, Y/N’s mom was the first person to call.

“You hit the jackpot, baby!” She basically screamed into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N only rolled her eyes at her mothers words. Her mother was the typical New Jersey girl that grew up with big dreams of pinning down a wealthy New York City man - and kudos to her for doing it. Her dad, bless his heart, was an older naive man who somehow managed to fertilize her mother’s gold digging eggs and voila, Y/N was born. But with that being said, Y/N was lucky enough to have family money, so she never felt the need to be in a relationship just because a man had more in his bank account. She also had better morals than her mother, and knew that money wasn’t a factor when you really loved someone. So no, Mark was not the jackpot because of his bank account. Y/N just thought he was really nice and attractive too, so she agreed to be his girlfriend those four months ago. But it wasn’t till a month ago that that nice streak ended.

All of a sudden Y/N’s cell phone is ringing. She blinks out of her daze to realize she’s finished her glass of champagne while so deep in thought. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the screen to see it’s Mark calling. His ears must be burning, Y/N thinks.

“Hey,” Y/N answers softly, crossing a leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Hey, babe,” Mark sighs. Y/N knows right away what he’s about to tell her, all by the tone of his voice and the use of that nickname. He used it when he asked her to drive him to the airport yesterday, which he forgot to mention he needed her to do till an hour before he had to leave - resulting in Y/N being very behind on work for the day.

“How’s Arizona?” Y/N asks politely anyway, mentioning the state he was in for business this time around. He was always traveling for work; his father wants him to know all the branch executives, so therefore he’s been to pretty much every state in the country over the course of six months. The moment they started to date Y/N knew he’d be working a lot, but she didn’t expect him to be working all over the country. She’s lucky if she gets a weekend with him, and honestly, she was looking forward to the almost two weeks work free they’d be getting together. But something told her that was not going to happen.

“It’s good, hot,” he says, seeming distracted by something in the background to which he moves the phone away from his mouth to respond to someone around him. “No, no, not those, the red ones,” he orders.

“Mark?” Y/N questions, keeping her voice down as Greg and one of his associates come from the backroom then with a few boxes in hand. “I’m just a bit busy with work, was there a reason for you calling, hun?”

“Right…Well, unfortunately my time at the Arizona office will be extended. So, I’m not going to make it back to New York before Christmas,” Mark explains. Y/N frowns at his words even though it’s just as she imagined when she answered his call.

“When will you be back?” She asks, her eyebrows pulled together and lip pouting out slightly.

“That’s the thing, there’s really no point in me flying back to the East Coast so close to the holidays when I’ve got to be in Los Angeles for my family’s big festivities.”

“Oh,” Y/N says. She’s only sad for a moment, noticing that Mark is distracted by something in the background once again as his voice is muffled. “So when exactly are you planning to come back to the city, Mark?” She asks as she sits up and projects her voice louder into her phone. Greg and his associate seem to notice Y/N demeanour change, his baby blue eyes widening slightly as he sets the boxes down on the couch beside her.

“I don’t know-”

Y/N doesn’t let him speak, though, her anger getting the best of her for what feels like the millionth time since she began dating Mark. It’s so unlike her, she thinks. She shakes her head and says, “you don’t plan to come back to New York and spend any part of the holidays with your girlfriend? Your girlfriend who very much loves the holidays, by the way.”

“I’m aware of your love for the holidays, Y/N, little hard to not know when your apartment looks like a four year old decorated it with all that crap,” Mark huffs into the phone, his voice matching her tone.

“Oh my god, whatever, Mark,” Y/N snaps in a low voice, having to take a deep breath as she stares down at the floor. “Just go and have fun on the West Coast, don’t worry one bit about me ‘cause it seems you haven’t bothered to to begin with,” Y/N finds herself seething into the phone, keeping her voice low before pulling her phone away from her ear and hanging up before he can say one more thing to upset her.

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Focusing on making her heart beat slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Did she just break up with him? No, no I didn’t say the words, I didn’t say it’s over and maybe I should have, Y/N thinks while letting out another short breath through her nose. She did not deserve this and she knew she didn’t, and yet she keeps putting up with his extended work trips and him disrespecting her opinions. Mark wanted a woman like Y/N’s mother. One that didn’t have her own hobbies and her own dreams, and who just wanted to be on his arm and live with whatever he put them through. Or did she even give him a real chance? That little voice in the back of her head, the one that was planted by her own mother, asks her.

“You look like you need another glass, mi amor,” Greg says softly, bringing her to open her eyes once more and realize that she did in fact just have a fight with her boyfriend over the phone in public. In front of a supplier too. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Thankfully, she thought of Greg as more of a friend than in a professional view. She smiles at him, forcing it, while he holds up the bottle of champagne and fills her glass.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he nods, turning to his left to grab the second tall glass and fills it as well. Y/N chuckles as he brings it to his own mouth and has a sip. “What? The holidays are stressful, I deserve a glass too every once in a while.” Y/N only laughs again and raises her flute, Greg lifts his own to cheers her before they both take a sip. “Did you want to talk about it?” He asks after a beat of silence.

Y/N licks her lips, tasting the expensive champagne all over again. “It’s just,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “I thought that Mark was different when I first met him. He sent flowers to my work and took me to nice restaurants. He seemed to be really into me, and now, he’s really into his work and he thinks my love for the holidays is childish, and that my opinions and my time don’t matter. So, I’m starting to think I jumped into this relationship, maybe a bit too fast all because my mom approved of his last name and Sammy thought he was hot.” Y/N rants in a rush of words, bringing her flute to her lips afterwards for another sip.

Greg doesn’t respond right away, instead he too sips his champagne and looks around the room they sat in. He sighs and brings a hand down on Y/N’s thigh, causing her to look at him. He smiles and gives her a comforting pat.

“You are a young woman in New York City who’s really got her shit together, you know your worth, Y/N,” Greg says. Y/N mirrors his smile, feeling the back of her eyes threaten with tears at his sweet words. “You’ll know what to do about this man,” he adds with a wink. Greg removes his hand and lifts his flute to finish off his champagne. “Plus, men are trash anyways,” he mutters as his eyes wander around the room that’s quickly filling up with customers.

Y/N laughs, “yes, Greg, they can be.” She agrees. But there’s one man that comes to her mind. One with enchanting green eyes, beautiful dimples, a contagious laugh, and a certain swoon worthy accent.

And yet, Y/N is not surprised when her thoughts drift off to Harry again. In fact, she thinks about him the entire way back to her office, the few boxes from Greg in her arms as she travels on the subway and walks carefully on the slushy shovelled snow that covers the sidewalks. What is he up to today? She thinks, knowing that he must’ve gotten home from the studio late yesterday - maybe even this morning. She worked late on emails last night, only having her Christmas playlist playing softly from her TV, and she didn’t hear him get home. She wonders if he sleeps in when he does that, or if he still manages to get up early and do whatever it is he does every day. She doesn’t know his daily routine, but she admits to herself that she’s curious.

Having done the errands that were needed for the day, Y/N ends up sitting at her desk for the remaining three hours of her work day. Her and Amanda go over new interns to hire, seeing as Y/N’s boss doesn’t want her away from the office doing intern work forever. And then she and Sammy are walking out of the building together at five o’clock sharp. They endured yet another eleven hour work day today. And this was one of the easiest days this week, since it was spent shopping around and organizing the office. Tomorrow there would be two A-list clients coming in for their last styling of the year, both finalizing their outfits for the upcoming Grammy awards too.

“You seem off today,” Sammy says as they walk down the stairs to the subway.

“I, um,” Y/N licks her lips and narrows her eyes at the screen that reads when the next stop would be. She looks at her friend and sighs. “I got into a fight with Mark earlier,” she states.

“Another one?” Sammy questions, raising a brow and giving her a look that said ‘really?’.

“Yup,” Y/N says, rolling her lips into her mouth and nodding. “He’s too busy with work to come back to the city for the rest of the month, said he doesn’t see the point in coming back even for a day before he has to go back home to the West Coast. So, I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the Gucci store.”

“Are you for real?” Sammy asks in shock, his eyes widening as Y/N explains what her boyfriend had told her earlier.

“Yup,” she repeats, nodding her head again too. “Oh, and he said my apartment looked like a four year old decorated it and it looked like crap,” Y/N chuckles, realizing now how stupid Mark’s fighting words were.

“Y/N,” Sammy sighs, “dump him,” he says while placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get that you wanted to give this guy a chance, but all you guys ever do is fight and I don’t want to say it but I’m going to,” he sighs again dramatically, “I’ve seen you smile over that new neighbour of yours more than Mark in the past few weeks. That’s a sign.”

“But what if I didn’t give Mark a real chance? And what if I’m just playing Harry up in my head-”

“No, none of that,” Sammy shakes his head and stares deep into Y/N’s eyes. “You are the most polite and sweetest person I’ve ever met. There’s no way in hell you didn’t give Mark a chance, hell you gave him a million chances, let’s face it. And as for Harry, you’ll never know unless you get to know him.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as Sammy drops his hand and tilts his head to the side. She notices the platform getting busier and louder then, as the subway makes way towards them from the North. This was her ride, while Sammy had to wait another ten minutes for the one that went to Brooklyn. Y/N thinks about what Sammy had said. Maybe she did give Mark plenty of chances and maybe their time was up, but that doesn’t mean she feels comfortable jumping right back into the game of dating with Harry. Plus, how bad would that make her look. Harry would probably think she didn’t care about relationships and typically shuffled around boys, which was so far from her case. In fact it was why she was so hesitant to date Mark in the first place - she didn’t like to give her time and love to just anyone. It’s just too bad she didn’t realize that Mark wasn’t worth it sooner.

“If I’m just getting out of this relationship with Mark, I can’t just start dating Harry,” Y/N exclaims to Sammy.

“I didn’t say date him right away, I said get to know him,” Sammy states, “hang out, be his friend, and if things happen then they happen. The world works in funny ways,” Sammy says matter of factly, pointing a finger at her while she starts taking a few steps towards the subway that’s coming to a stop. “We’ll talk later! Dump the fucking guy though!” Sammy shouts as Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes while getting into the mass of people cramming on the subway.

“Yeah, dump the son of a bitch,” a croaky voice startles Y/N as she gets through the door. An elderly woman is smiling back at her, her yellow teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she smiles wickedly at Y/N. She chuckles awkwardly and nods, walking across the space to an open seat.

Opening her purse, she finds her Airpods and puts them into her ears. They connect to her phone automatically and she begins to tap on her phone, deciding on which playlist she wants to listen to on her way home. Once she clicks shuffle on her ‘girl freaking power’ playlist, she turns it all the way up and lets the anger in Halsey’s voice fuel her own anger towards her shit boyfriend. She thinks of their fights that have happened recently the whole ride on the subway, then she thinks if it’d be too cruel of her to break up with him over the phone as she walks the few blocks to her apartment building. If he broke up with me over the phone I’d be a little upset, Y/N thinks with a frown as she walks across the lobby to the elevator.

Y/N, who was so in her own world with her music still turned up all the way as a new song by Olivia O’Brien, doesn’t even realize when Harry walks up beside her. He can hear her music blasting through her earphones. He leans forwards a bit, hoping to get in her line of sight. But she is still focused on the elevator doors, nodding her head to whatever song she’s got playing. Harry’s lips tug up into a smile. When he first saw her standing there when he entered the building he got a little nervous, unsure how this interaction between them would go. Should he apologize right away for not knowing she had a boyfriend and asking her for dinner?

“Hello?” Harry sings. “Y/N?” He calls in a normal voice. This time she seems to notice that someone is beside her. She jumps slightly, placing a hand over her heart and reaches up with the other to take out an Airpod which causes her music to stop completely.

“You scared me,” she breathes out.

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving her a timid smile. “I tried getting your attention a few times, it must be a good song.”

She looks down at the earphone in her hand and nods, “uh, yeah, just really into empowering female music today.” She states.

Harry hums and nods, then the elevator opens, revealing a few people inside which causes Y/N to step towards him as they move out of the way. If he hadn’t taken a step back fast enough she'd practically be right up against him. He breathes in and smells her perfume, the intoxicating scent of rose filling his nostrils with her being so close. Y/N gives a quick ‘you’re welcome’ to the people who step out as they thank them for moving before they both step into the elevator together. Harry was too busy thinking about how close Y/N had been to step up and hit the number six button before he could. He gives her a smile in thanks.

The elevator begins to ascend as the space falls into silence between them. They’re both overthinking. What should I say? Is what is on both their minds as they pass the first floor, and then the second. Harry lets out a short breath through his nose before leaning his back against the railing.

“I’m sorry for being so clueless,” he states, pausing when Y/N’s head whips up and her eyes meet his. “I didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend and I just didn’t think twice before asking you if you wanted to get dinner,” he says, finally getting the thought off his chest.

Y/N furrows her brows, “and why did you think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend?” She asks, teasing him, but Harry’s face falls and he stands straight once again, bringing both his hands up and waves them in front of himself as if in surrender.

“Not that you’re like not pretty enough for a boyfriend, or nice enough, cause to be quite honest I would be surprised if you didn’t have a boyfriend cause you are like the prettiest girl I’ve ever met and not to mention really nice and super cool too-”

“I was just teasing you, Harry,” Y/N stops him. But his words had caused quite the feeling inside her stomach, butterflies were multiplying like it was nobody's business while she swore she felt her heartbeat in the soles of her feet.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “right. Well, still, I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down to the floor, feeling his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. The elevator sounds a quiet bing! as the doors open for them on the sixth floor. Harry lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s once more, motioning with his hand for her to exit first. She smiles and walks out with him right behind her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything till she’s at her apartment door, her key in the lock, and she notices Harry is at his door a few feet away. She sighs and stops twisting the key, letting her shoulder sag as she looks over at Harry.

“I’m sorry too, by the way,” she says. Harry looks up at the sound of her voice, thinking she was simply going to take in her apology and go about her merry life with Mark. He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips as she leans into her door. “I should have mentioned Mark, even just in a quick comment, but honestly our relationship is sort of new and even a little non-existent at times, it seems, so I guess I was just enjoying making a new friend. I didn’t even think about it,” Y/N explains herself.

Harry takes in her words; that her relationship is new, and non-existent? He wonders what she means by that. But he can’t help but smile at her mentioning that she enjoyed becoming his friend. Harry nods his head and let’s his smile grow wider, knowing his dimples would show.

“I’d like to keep being your friend,” Y/N adds, “if that’s okay?”

“It’s totally okay,” Harry nods. Y/N smiles and nods back.

“Okay,” she says softly.

Harry fits his key into the lock without looking, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s as he notices her cheeks glowing a shade of pink. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow? If you’re not busy, of course,” Harry suggests, twisting his key and unlocking the door.

“I think I’m free. It’ll have to be Christmas themed, of course,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge Harry to fight her on it - like Mark would.

“Well, yeah,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows pulled together and head shaking in faux disbelief. “Wouldn’t have it any other way during the month of December,” he adds.

Why couldn’t I have moved in like six months ago? Y/N thinks to herself as she smiles at Harry. She finds herself liking him more with every word that comes out of that pretty mouth of his. If only she had met him before she met Mark. Things would be easier, that’s for sure.

The two of them agree on a time for tomorrow, six in the evening, before saying their goodbyes and walking into their homes that were side by side. After Y/N takes off her shoes and coat, she walks towards her bedroom to get changed into some workout clothes for a quick at home video before she ate dinner. Just as she’s changing she hears the muffled sounds of Harry’s guitar - something she’s grown fond of hearing through their shared wall. Maybe she’ll get him to play her something tomorrow, she thinks with a smile.

Y/N makes her way back into her living room and starts up her workout video. She does some jumping jacks to get her warmed up, but honestly, her heart is already pounding in her chest from her interaction with Harry and the plans they have made. Without a doubt she knows she’ll be counting down the hours during her work day tomorrow till six o’clock.

Elf or Polar Express? Both were very different Christmas movies, and they were the two she was torn between taking over to Harry’s. They hadn’t talked about who’s apartment they would hang out in, but as it was ten minutes to six, she hoped to get out the door and knock on his first, in order to get the chance to ask him to play his guitar for her maybe. But that’s not how it’s going to work out because Y/N’s too busy being stuck between two of her favourite movies when suddenly, there’s a knock at her door. She frowns knowing that it’s Harry and wouldn’t get to hear him play guitar, but gets up from where she was sitting crossed legged on the floor to answer the door.

Her fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floor as she walks to her door, peering through the peephole quickly to double check to see it was Harry. She smiles at the sight of his floppy brown hair and unlocks her door before swinging it open. Harry looks up as she opens the door, meeting her gaze for only a moment before he watches her take in his apparel.

He had thought about it for way too long, what he was to wear to hangout and watch movies with the girl he liked, but ended up staying dressed down as he was all day. Y/N liked how the plain white shirt he wore fit him, only a small brand logo that was over his heart, but she really liked the pastel rainbow coloured sweatpants he wore too. He looks comfy and ready to lay back and relax for a few hours with her. He’s not wearing any shoes though, which makes Y/N furrows her brows for a second.

“I didn’t really see any point in putting on shoes for the few feet out of my apartment,” Harry states quickly to let her know. Y/N nods, chuckling under her breath, but understanding what he means. She steps back and lets him into her home.

Harry takes in the atmosphere of Y/N’s apartment for the second time now. The glow from her many Christmas lights makes him feel warm inside, and her Christmas tree was the focal point of it all. He likes the odd ornaments that are littered among the branches, and he can’t quite make out what they all are, but something tells him that they each hold a special meaning to Y/N. Maybe some from her childhood, others from some trips she’s had - he could see her collecting them from anywhere she’s travelled to. Harry makes a mental note to ask her at one point.

“I was thinking of making some hot chocolate, and I have a bag of, like, this candy cane and white chocolate pretzels that I’ve been obsessed with lately and was going to munch on that during the movie, but I have a bunch of other snacks too, honestly,” Y/N starts to explain to Harry. He turns on his heels to see she’s already locked her door and is now moving into the kitchen.

“I’m cool with some hot chocolate,” Harry nods, “and I’ll give the pretzels a try, they sound good.”

“They are so good, oh my god,” she moans at the mere thought of eating them. Bending down to open her bottom drawer, she reveals a well organized array of munchies that looked like a stoner's heaven.

As she’s ruffling through the drawer Harry takes in her outfit. She’s got on a pair of Christmas themed pajama bottoms with little snowflakes scattered along the dark blue material that matched with her plain dark blue shirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, wispy hairs falling around her face as it looks as though it’s been up all day and she hasn’t cared to fix it. Overall, she looks comfortable and at ease - as she should be in her own home. He had wondered if she ever dressed down, seeing as he had only ever seen her after a day of work dressed in trendy high fashion, but somehow casual clothing. Christmas pajamas suit her, he thinks with a smile.

Y/N gets a hold of the bag of pretzels she’s talking about and opens it, taking one out for herself right away to bite down on before turning to Harry who’s standing in her kitchen. She smiles at the pretzel and lifts the bag to him. Harry takes a few steps towards her before reaching into the bag and grabbing one for himself. He brings it to his mouth and Y/N watches for his reaction. His jaw flexes as he chews down on the sweet yet salty treat.

Harry hums and nods, reaching into the bag again, “not bad,” he says before chewing on another one. Y/N smiles and passes him the bag all together, turning towards the stove top to turn on the kettle already filled with water.

“Can you find two mugs in that cabinet?” Y/N asks Harry as she looks to her left and sees him standing in front of the cabinet that held her many mugs and glasses. She points to it and Harry nods. He puts the bag of pretzels down after sneaking one last one into his mouth, and opens the cabinet door to reveal Y/N’s collection of mugs. He goes for the two at the front, which were Christmas themed, of course; one shaped like the Grinch and the other like Santa. As he sets them down on the counter in front of him, beside the bag of pretzels that he sticks his hand into again, he notices a glass container full of brown powder that he assumes is her hot chocolate mix.

“Is this your hot chocolate mix?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, “I honestly make myself a cup almost every night during the colder seasons.”

“Are you a coffee or tea person?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes on the container as he twists it open and sees a metal teaspoon measuring cup inside already. He starts to scoop some into each mug as he waits for Y/N’s answer. Although he is very aware of her possibly liking coffee, considering how he’s seen her with many Starbucks cups before.

“Yeah, I enjoy both too. I have way too much coffee during my work days, and tea reminds me of the days at my grandparents,” she explains, watching Harry scoop her preferred amount of mix into each mug without even asking. She smiles softly, seeing him reach for yet another pretzel too.

“Are you saying tea is for old people?” Harry questions, raising a brow as he peers at Y/N in the corner of his eye. Y/N rolls her eyes, a smile still on her lips. Her kettle begins to squeal into the air, but she’s quick to turn and take it off the heat. She turns off the stove and uses a tea towel to bring it over to the mugs - Harry steps back out of her way, but not before grabbing the bag of pretzels.

“Old people and the British too, of course,” Y/N teases.

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says in agreement. He waits till Y/N fills the mugs and sets the kettle back down on the stovetop before he steps back to the counter and wraps a hand around the handle of the Grinch mug. Y/N is quick, stepping towards him and gently slapping his hand.

Harry flinches his hand away and raises a brow at Y/N, jokingly taken back by her action. Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling over how cute that look on his face was.

“I have whipped cream that’s in a can, but it’s still good,” Y/N states, giving him a look that said ‘back off and let me do this’. Harry only chuckles again and nods. “Also slow down on the pretzels, if I don’t get any during the movie I’ll be very upset.”

“They’re addicting, sorry,” Harry mumbles through his mouth full of pretzels, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Trust me, I know. That’s like my fourth bag this week, I swear,” she states with a chuckle.

As Y/N walks to her fridge Harry steps up to the mugs once more and takes a chance on the drawer directly under them for a spoon. His instincts are right as he pulls the drawer open to see her utensils; he grabs a teaspoon in order to stir the hot chocolate. Y/N turns back from the fridge with the whipped cream can in hand, turning around to see Harry focused on the mugs. She smiles, tilting her head as she watches him nudge the drawer closed with his hip, and begin to stir the contents of them till the powder was all mixed in with the water. Look at them being all domestic, she thinks. Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little and walks up to Harry, shaking the can of whipped cream and waits for him to finish stirring. He sets the spoon in the sink and watches as Y/N tops off the mugs with a heap of whipped cream.

“You better actually eat the whipped topping this time,” Harry says to her teasingly, referring to when they had hot chocolate in the park, and she let her whipped cream melt. Y/N chuckles and brings the tip of the whipped cream can to her open mouth.

She puts pressure on the top again and makes the sweet cream pile into her mouth as she tips her head back, the aerosol can is the only noise in the room as Harry watches her do it. His breath catches in his throat and he blinks several times as he imagines an entirely different scenario with this whipped cream can and her mouth. Y/N brings the whipped cream away from her mouth and swallows, watching Harry do the same thing - did she make him feel uncomfortable? She thinks to herself as she licks her lips and looks down at the ground. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, she thinks while walking back to the fridge to return the whipped cream to the shelf. When she turns back, she sees that Harry has both mugs in his hands.

“Maybe I should just have both of these, since you’re probably full from that mouth full of whipped cream,” Harry teases her, bringing both mugs to his lips, acting as if he’s going to slurp up the whipped topping that’s nearly flowing over the side.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N gasps, reaching forward quickly for the Grinch mug, but Harry moves it out of her grasp faster.

“I want the Grinch one,” he says with a slight whine to his voice. Y/N can’t stop the giggle this time, blushing afterwards as she thinks of how freaking adorable he is.

“Fine,” she sighs and takes the Santa mug from him instead.

Harry grins and lets her lead the way back into her living room, the bag of pretzels in his other hand. Y/N sets her mug down on the coaster on the coffee table, just like she had with her glass of wine the last time Harry was over. He watches as she sits cross legged on the floor in front of her tv stand. Y/N grabs the two movies she was debating over earlier in each hand and lifts them up for Harry to see. He loves them both of course.

“Which one? I can’t decide,” Y/N states. Harry hums and lifts his mug to his lip to slurp up some whipped cream.

“Elf,” Harry answers, “I’m in a Will Ferrel comedy kind of mood,” he adds.

“Alright,” Y/N chuckles under her breath and turns away from Harry to open her DVD player and then open the case for Elf. He liked that she had the movies on physical DVD, not just clicking away on a streaming app. She places the DVD in the player and then closes it again before standing up quickly and skipping over to the couch, plopping down excitedly but gently that Harry isn’t even scared that he’ll spill his hot chocolate.

“We can watch the other one next time,” Harry suggests, feeling brave in the moment as the trailers start to play softly on the screen and Y/N is reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table. She looks at him and smiles.

“‘kay, yeah, next time,” she pauses but then points the remote at Harry. “But next time you’re hosting, I feel like we should switch it up sometimes,” she adds and waits to see Harry nod with a smile before she turns to the TV and gets to the main menu of the movie.

“Fair, I just think my place lacks the holiday cheer that we would want,” Harry explains. Y/N stops her from hitting play right away and leans back into the couch, flopping her head to the side to look at Harry. He’s still holding his mug, which reminds her that her own is sitting there untouched, so she sits up again and grabs it.

“Well you know what would fix that?” She questions, bringing the mug to her lips and slurping up some of the whipped cream that was in fact already melting. Harry watches her as her eyes are glued to her mug, focused on not spilling it over the sides it seems.

“Decorations?” He asks, still watching her. He smiles as she licks her upper lip that’s covered in melting whipped cream.

“Exactly,” she nods enthusiastically. She takes another few sips of her hot chocolate before leaning back into her couch once again, getting all snuggled up before lifting the remote to the TV and hitting play.

“I’m not really good with decorating - my sister and mom did my apartment to be honest,” Harry admits. Y/N watches the opening scene of one of her favourite Christmas movies, feeling all giddy inside as it’s the first time she’s watching it this holiday season. She gets like this every year with every holiday movie.

“Well, I can help you out. Maybe we can do a little trip to Target before our next movie night. Then do a quick set up and then watch the movie after,” Y/N suggests, nervously peering over at Harry over the rim of her mug after. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing a line or anything. She just wants to spend more time with him, even if it’s just as friends.

Harry gives Y/N a half smile, one of his dimples making an appearance as he looks into her eyes. He would love that, honestly. The idea of them wandering through the Christmas isles at Target as she gives him advice on what decorations would go together and fit his apartment style; they would set up the decorations after and he’d watch her be in her element. Maybe he’d put on some Christmas music and hope she would dance around. Harry gives Y/N a short nod.

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her.

Y/N smiles and nods back at him. “Then it’s a deal, we’ll set a time after the movie. It’s about to get good,” she says, looking back at the TV screen again as Will Ferrel’s character makes his appearance.

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states.

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him, taking another sip of her drink and keeping her eyes on the movie. Harry smiles and watches her watch Elf. He notices her hand gently tapping the cushion between them after a moment. Harry chuckles under his breath and nudges the bag of pretzels open, taking a few for himself before facing the bag her way. Once she’s got one between her teeth she feels completely content.

She’s got a cup of yummy hot chocolate, her favourite snack, Christmas lights are twinkling around her, one of her favourite Christmas movies is playing, and she’s with good company too. In fact, she finds herself not once thinking of Mark the rest of the night. Even in her dreams, it’s Harry, again.

They exchanged phone numbers. It’s not a big deal, Harry thinks to himself as he gets a third text from his newest contact in his phone. But it felt like a big deal; it was an easy way to get a hold of her whenever he needed to or wanted to even. Not that he would just bother her for no good reason. As much as he’d like to text with her all day, he knows that they really just exchanged phone numbers in order to plan to hangout easily. Like for today, Y/N had a long work day, but still wanted to take Harry Christmas decor shopping, so she was asking him if he could just meet her at the closest Target.

There’s one a few blocks away from the apartment, I’ll send you the location, are you able to meet me there? She texts along with a Google Maps link to the store. Harry tapped out a response right away, letting his focus sway away from the TV show he had on when her name lit up his screen.

Sounds good to me, what time? Harry hits send and notices the bubble with three dots pop up right away. She must have a moment at work right now; he checks the time to see it’s just past noon, assuming she’s on her lunch break.

I should be leaving the office by 3pm today, then it’s like a 15 minutes subway ride and 5 minute walk to get there for me. So like 3:30ish, is that okay with you? Wait. Are you busy today? I didn’t even ask if you were working too, sorry. She sends the texts in a few separate bubbles, realizing that she didn’t even ask if Harry was working or not today. Y/N has no idea what the schedule of a songwriter was like. Harry chuckles at her little panic and types out his response.

Super busy…. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix. He adds a laughing emoji for good measure, to which Y/N replies with some of her own laughing emojis before saying God I wish that was how my day was going.

Y/N ends up texting Harry her whole lunch break. He asks about what she’s been doing today, his responses seeming very interested in the adventures she has had in the office being a stand in model since her measurements were close to a clients. She then asks what show he’s watching, to which he tells her about this Netflix baking show called Sugar Rush and he tells her about the challenge the contestants on the most recent episode endured. Y/N finds herself smiling at her screen, nearly forgetting to even eat her lunch. Sammy clears his throat just a few minutes before their time is up and causes her to look up at him, raising her eyebrows at his own.

“What?” She asks, stabbing her fork into the salad she had Sammy pick up for her earlier.

“Nothing,” Sammy hums, Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just noticed you’ve been quite busy on that phone of yours for the past, oh, I don’t know, twenty five minutes,” Sammy teases her, eyes widening slightly and motioning his hands in the air with his words. He did that a lot, talking with his hands, that is.

“So?” Y/N tries to brush off her friend's pushy behaviour.

“So? Really? We’re just going to act as if you’re not giggling at your phone screen like a little school girl?” Sammy questions.

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs.

“Yeah, sure, sweetie and I’m straight,” Sammy rolls his eyes dramatically and then pouts while shaking his body in his seat. Y/N furrows her brows at his behaviour. “I live off your love life. Please give me something, anything. Please just tell me that you’re talking to that hot neighbour of yours and let me continue on my merry little day knowing that your love life is about to be thriving while mine is dead.”

Y/N sighs and tries to ignore as her phone vibrates again, signalling that Harry had texted her back. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over his chest, covering the deep v-cut of her black body suit that she was wearing with a pair of red slim legged slacks, and a matching red blazer that was currently laying over the back of the chair she sat in. Amanda didn’t have any sort of dress code for work, merely to come in looking professional and stylish, which for Y/N, meant a good pant suit moment every once in a while. But with still keeping it sexy and young by pairing it with a bodysuit.

“Fine, I’m texting Harry,” Y/N tells Sammy, feeding into his gossip need for the day. “We actually hung out two night ago, he came over for a movie night-”

“What?! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Sammy questions, sitting up quickly and throwing his hands in the air. “What happened? Touching? Did you kiss? Oh my lord, tell me what his peni-”

“Sammy! Oh my god, relax, please,” Y/N cuts him off, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. “Nothing happened. Sorry to disappoint, but I am still in a relationship with Mark. Harry just came over, we made some hot chocolate and polished off a bag of those delicious candy cane pretzels.”

“Those pretzels are good,” Sammy nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but anyways, nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen. We’re just friends, and I enjoy being around him a lot. So, today after work we’re going to Target to buy his apartment some decorations, then we’ll probably order in some food and watch another movie.”

“Sounds pretty couple-y to me,” Sammy says in a high pitched tone. Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her friend again.

Y/N couldn’t lie, though. The few hours later in Target, they looked like a couple. Harry pushes the cart down the aisle while she tilts her head and debates which tinsel really fit Harry’s aesthetic. She brings the Starbucks cup to her lips and sips the warm caramel flavoured latte. Y/N was pleasantly surprised when she saw Harry walking up to her outside the Target with two Starbucks holiday cups in his hand. He gave her a timid smile and explained what both of the drinks were, saying he hadn’t tasted either and wanted to see what she wanted first before taking the other for himself. It was unexpected and ridiculously sweet of him to do.

“I think red would look really nice around your apartment, kind of spice up the place a little,” Y/N explains, her free hand skimming over the many different tinsels that were hanging up before her. Harry agrees, red would look nice in his apartment and spice things up a lot, except his mind is thinking of this red pant suit she’s wearing right now. He thinks it would look rather nice on his bedroom floor.

When she walked up to him and he took in her outfit, he nearly tripped over his own feet and spilled the two coffees he brought with him. But he kept himself together, well, sort of. He stumbled over his words, rambled like a fool about why he got the two coffees for her, but they finally got into the store, which now, he’s just been checking her out as they walked to the Christmas section. Get it together, Harry thinks to himself.

“Red’s nice,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly. So, he clears his throat and steps away from the cart to pick up a piece of tinsel that Y/N was looking at. “I like the bit of silver mixed in too,” he comments.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she says with a smile before grabbing four more of the same one and adding it to the cart. Harry does the same with the one in his hand and then puts his hands on the cart once more, pushing it back and forth just a few inches. Harry can’t stop himself from admiring that suit once more as she bends down to check out the many different boxes of tree ornaments.

“Which ones?” Y/N asks, quickly turning her body. Y/N catches his gaze on her body, but Harry blinks quickly and meets her stare. The corner of her lips tug up into a smug smile at the thought of Harry checking her out.

“The ones in your, uh, your right hand,” Harry answers her questions, clearing his throat again and watching as she stands straight before putting the ornaments into the cart.

They continue their way through Target, still looking very much like a couple as they grab a few bags of the candy cane pretzels that Y/N got Harry hooked on the other night before heading to the check out. Harry insists on paying for the few little items of Y/N’s in the cart, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t a huge deal. He almost doesn’t let her carry a single thing, but she quickly gets a hold of a standing Santa decoration that was too big for a bag and hugs it to her chest their whole walk home.

Harry unlocks his apartment door for them, noticing how their neighbour Mr Matthers is opening his at the same time to peer out and see who’s in the hallway. Harry holds open the door for Y/N, she thanks him in a small voice and smiles at him. Looking back out into the hallway, Harry waves at Mr Matthers, who simply returns it with a scowl on his face before Harry steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Suppose their neighbour is a bit jealous of Harry, he’s seen the way he looks at Y/N. Hell, especially today in that suit, everyone on the street was looking at Y/N with wide eyes and big smiles - Harry felt like quite the lucky guy, little did everyone know they were in fact not together. Just friends, Harry reminds himself for the millionth time.

“Oh, I love the tree,” Y/N states, her voice bringing Harry back to Earth as he locks the door and walks over to his coffee table to set down the many bags in his arms. Y/N is still holding the Santa decoration to her chest, looking at the fake Christmas tree he had purchased on Amazon yesterday on a whim. He was thinking about them decorating together again, and thought that it wouldn’t feel right if he didn't have a tree too. It’s a good thing he told Y/N over text, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten ornaments or anything for it.

“Yeah, I just got the first one that included lights on Amazon, to be honest,” Harry tells her. Y/N chuckles and walks over, setting the Santa decoration just beside the tree gently.

She brushes a hand over the tree and smiles, “it’s wonderful, really pulls the whole festive look together in my opinion.”

“I agree,” Harry nods. He grabs for the TV remote and turns it on, quickly turning the volume down before he sets it up to the music channels - clicking on the Christmas tunes without a second thought. Y/N watches Harry, her heart hammering in her chest as the soft sounds of Michael Buble fills the room. Mark would never do any of this - he wouldn’t voluntarily put on Christmas music, ever. In fact, he shut off the station in her car on the way to the airport. And he definitely wouldn’t decorate with her either, seeing as he thinks that her apartment looks childish. She pouts at the thought of her and Mark’s phone call the other day. He hasn’t called or texted her since.

“Did you not want to listen to Christmas music?” Harry asks suddenly, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts and turns to look at him. He’s taking off his jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a bumble bee and some blue writing around it, paired with his purple trousers and a pair of white socks on his feet after slipping out of his shoes too. Y/N loves his simple yet not basic style.

“No, no,” Y/N assures him, finally unbuttoning her blazer now and taking off the mittens and beanie she had worn in the cold. She stuffs them into the blazer pocket and slips out of it. “I love Christmas music so much, honestly maybe a little too much, Mark hates it,” she admits.

A shiver falls over her body as she realizes then she’s simply in the rather thin bodysuit that also dipped very low in the front. Y/N doesn’t look at Harry as she feels her nipples harder from the coolness of his apartment, embarrassed as she didn’t prepare for her attire after going out. Harry suddenly lifts up a hand, his pointer finger up as if to say ‘one second’, then he’s walking down the hallways and returns not even a minute later with a black sweater in hand.

“It’s clean, just washed today, I promise,” Harry tells her, holding out one of his favourite jumpers for her. He had been given a few merchandising pieces from the label over the years and this plain black jumper that read ‘Columbia’ on the front in white has been in his possession for a couple years now. In his opinion, it was very comfortable due to how much he’s worn it.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly while taking it from him.

She puts it on and is immediately warmer. Her hands cover completely because of how long the sleeves are and it falls down past her bum too, due to the large size. She looks good, Harry thinks as he takes in her wearing his clothing. Y/N smiles and turns to grab things from the Target bags they had just brought in.

“Okay, let’s begin with the tree then,” she says excitedly, trying to clap her hands together but just ends up smacking the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie together.

It’s just as Harry imagined it. The soft lights from the Christmas tree glow over the shadows of Y/N’s face as she wraps the red tinsel around the base of it before passing it to Harry in order for him to reach the taller portion of the tree. She dances when Jingle Bell Rock plays on the TV, his jumper swaying around her body because of how big it is on her. They’re both smiling and singing along to the music, jokingly of course. Harry wasn’t about to show her all his little secrets and start belting out White Christmas along with the singers of Wham!

“Can you pass me a couple of the silver balls?” Y/N asks Harry, her eyes on the tree as she put the last red ball ornament she had grabbed onto a branch. Harry raises his eyebrows in a joking manner.

“The what?” He questions, but still making his way to where the array of different coloured ball ornaments laid on the couch.

“Like two of the balls,” she says again. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his dimples fully showing as he does. Y/N furrows her brows, but then gets why he’s laughing. “You’re a child,” she scolds him playfully.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry states, grabbing two of the ornaments she’s asking for and passing them to her.

“Thank you for the balls, Harry,” she says. They both end up laughing this time, she can’t help it. His laughter is contagious with how his eyes squint up and his dimple somehow deepens, not to mention the little vocal ‘aha’ he does before laughing. It makes Y/N’s stomach ache, not from laughing too, but with the butterflies. Those stupid little butterflies that have made a home inside of her stomach since meeting this kind, handsome, British man.

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier.

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room.

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says.

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again.

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose.

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again.

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his.

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place.

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch.

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy.

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely.

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle.

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again.

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly.

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes.

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says.

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would.

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting.

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed.

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes.

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open.

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.

>> part three <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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human-do-a-worm · 4 years

Text

Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 2/?

Part 1 can be found HERE

The next day, the Unkall boy came back to the old soldier, sitting on the bench where he normally does, reading his data tablet. The boy had a rather happy look on him today.

“Ah, you’re back. I take it that my story wasn’t quite enough on its own then?”

“Not quite mister. It turned out to be more than enough for my first paper. After I turned it in, my teacher said I could go ahead and write the rest of my papers for the course since I had found a primary source willing to share their experience.”

“I see. How kind of your teacher. Back when I was in school, they would have told us to stuff it.”

“So, what other stories do you have to tell?”

“How about my time in the cycle after the Martian campaign?”

“That sounds wonderful. Let me start my recorder.”

The Unkall child pushes a glowing button on his data tablet, and a blue dot appearing on the screen indicated that the recording had started

“It was less than a month after the battle on Mars; that’s one twenty-fourth of a cycle in standard units. Reconstruction had begun on mars, and the war fleets which were now all massed around Terra had been split into five groups. Group Solar and Group Lunar were the two largest of the fleets, and as such were classed together. Group Pangea, Group Gondwana, and Group Oceana were the three smaller groups, and were classed together as well. The fleets were organized in this way by Grand Admiral Demetrius, to ensure that no one fleet would have to stand against the enemy for too long a time.”

“Since I’ve brought him up, I should probably tell you a bit about the Grand Admiral. Remember what I was saying about the preparations for the battle on Mars. All the meticulous planning done to move the civilians back to Terra, and keep morale up while being an effective fighting force? Well, that came from Demetrius, and was only slightly modified by individual units as the orders were passed down the chain. His odd decision making turned out to be one of the most valuable things that humanity had, because nobody could anticipate his plans; especially the Vrumoids. He was only a rear admiral, but after his commendation, and the first victory in the war, He was immediately promoted.”

“Back to the war now. The battle plan was simple. Keep a constant pressure on the enemy, working in a single spot, pushing the enemy back system by system, and planet by planet. Where to stop would be figured out as the fleets went along. This seemed to work very well. In most systems, Groups Solar and Lunar rarely had fire a single shot. The Vrumoids would either flee or be destroyed by one of the smaller groups before the heavy guns of the heavy class ships could be brought to bear.”

“The reconquest continued almost flawlessly until there was a single human world left to reclaim. Rexorb VI was nothing more than a rock when humanity last saw it, but after looking upon it, the armada called for the command group; Group Regal; to come and take a look. At first sight of the data scans, Demetrius broke down with laughter. Failing to find the humor in this situation, his second in command asked him what was so funny.” “These poor bastards. They’ve made this planet up to be just like Mars, hoping we’ll make the same mistakes they did. Have they never been told that it’s a bad idea to try using the tactics someone created against them? They’ve made themselves the easiest targets possible for us, and what’s even better is that they did it on a mining world. There were only a few housing units on that planet, and its riches lie deep inside. This is the perfect opportunity to try a new idea.”

“With that, preparations were made swiftly, and with much laughter all around. On the back side of Rexorb VI’s moon, groups Solar, Gondwana, and Oceana moved into position, mounting themselves with their primary propulsion systems poised to drop the moon from its orbit.”

The boy spoke up

“Didn’t the Vrumoid forces on the planet notice what was happening?”

Laughing, the old man responded

“Nope. That was a benefit of only showing the enemy one small and one large battle group at a time. According to Vrumoid intelligence recovered after the war, The defenders on Rexorb VI simply thought we were just deciding how to invade properly. They had no idea Demetrius was crazy enough to consider crashing the moon into the planet, and they would have to have been crazy to even guess that the rest of the fleet would just go along with it. I know Demetrius was expecting to do some explaining to the others.”

“The High Admiral may have been absolutely insane, but he wasn’t heartless. He ordered a shuttle to take one squad and an emissary to give them one final chance to surrender. They of course, believing a ground war lay ahead, refused. That was the last mistake that the Vrumoids ever made when dealing with humanity. Exactly one planetary axis revolution after the shuttle returned to the fleet, all the pushing ships’ engines fired up. Each of the ships had worked out their individual point of no return for propelling the moon towards the planet, and had an order to pull off at what their captain deemed a safe time before reaching their point of no return. By the time the last ship pulled off, The moon was going faster than its own terminal velocity.”

“When that moon hit the surface of the planet, the entire thing cracked like a geode. After observing this from one of their comm stations, the Vrumoid Empire rushed to set up peace treaty negotiations. Of course, who was the Terran representative by unanimous vote from the United Terran Council? None other than High Admiral Demetrius. They figured that if nothing else, he could get the Vrumoids to leave humanity alone. But what he got us was something so much greater.”

“As you might have learned in class, our home system and colonies were entirely located within an isolated part of Vrumoid space. We had no knowledge of the Galactic Council Alliance, at least until one of the Vrumoid delegates at the negotiations made a mistake and asked one of his compatriots what the council would think of their actions if they ever found out. After learning that there were other intelligent species in the galaxy, Demetrius demanded that humanity be granted a swath of planets and territory directly to the territory of another GCA member.”

“This single achievement is what brought humanity forward. Demetrius did what no other Terran could do; he found sentient life that wasn’t actively trying to kill us, and he made sure we could get to them with ease. If it weren’t for him, we would have never known the GCA existed, and likely would have been either wiped out or enslaved by the Vrumoids after they rebuilt their forces.”

“Of course, after we made contact with the council, and they saw what we were able to do to a far more technologically advanced species, they demanded to see our battle reports and to speak with all the commanding officers. I remember standing there by High Admiral Demetrius’ side.”

The young Unkall spoke up ecstatically

“You were a commanding officer?”

“Sure was kiddo. Leading the charge of those bikers on mars was one hell of a brave thing, and Demetrius took note. When he got the chance to promote one of his soldiers to an admiral under his command for Group Solar, he spoke loud and clear to us and said “Where’s that crazy bastard that volunteered to charge a platoon of enemy tanks using nothing but motorcycles and bombs on sticks? I have a job for you!” That was the day I was no longer a simple marksman, I was an Admiral, and a damn good one too. My group didn’t lose a single vessel to the enemy.”

“I still remember the day I went down on that rock the day before we cracked it. The Vrumoid commander must have been watching the video recordings from when I charged the tanks, because the moment I walked into the room and she looked up at me, she looked all sorts of shaken up. When I told her that this was her last chance to accept a mercy never offered by her empire, a chance to surrender; she simply said that surrender would never come until she and her warriors no longer stood upon the planet. If only she knew the irony in those words.”

“I remember being at the peace conference, and although Demetrius had only been seen rarely by the Vrumoids, mostly in transmissions intercepted from Mars to Earth, they had seen me plenty. I think I scared them more than Demetrius did, because when I talked about how my motorcycle wasn’t out of fuel yet, they started agreeing to our demands.”

Curiously, the boy tapped something into his data tablet

“Wait a minute, are you saying that you’re Admiral Sturm?”

“Indeed I am. Admiral Jakob Sturm, service number 6556-0293-422-41, former commander of the Terran expeditionary fleet codename Solar. I proudly led my sailors, soldiers, and marines through some of the harshest battles that humanity has faced, and kept my fleet intact. I wasn’t lying when I said that I didn’t lose a ship in my group to the enemy. And after serving 10 cycles in service of my species, I left honorably.”

“So what did you do after you left? I’d imagine being an admiral is a hard job to top.”

“You’re right, admiral is a hard job to beat. I served as an ambassador of Terra for a cycle before I returned to the stars. I found some of the others from back on Mars that charged with me on that day. We were a mercenary group. We mostly took escort contracts or welfare and security for anyone we deemed especially needy. We did good work for a few cycles, but then I had to give it a rest.”

“That’s around the time your name stopped appearing in records of both the GCA and Terran reports. What happened?”

“I’ve been talking for too long. I think you might be able to get a few pages out of what I’ve said today. Better to not burn up all your content at once, right? I’ll be here again tomorrow, like I always am. I’ll tell you more then.”

“If you insist sir. I’ll be here.”

“Until then, take care. I may be old, but I still expect people to stick to a schedule.”

With that, the boy stopped his recording and went home. To meet someone as important as Admiral Sturm, who seemed to have vanished from most records 8 cycles ago, was entirely unexpected. Unexpected, but it will certainly make a wonderful paper for his teacher.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

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The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously.

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

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Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #drugged whumpee #drugged villain #villain whumpee #hero villain prompt #choose your own whump #choose your own adventure #nemesis

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

Method to my madness [Yandere! Switzerland x reader]

Word count: 4,144 Warning: NSFW content later in the fic. There will be a warning line before it starts, and another line to indicate its conclusion. So skip it if you don’t want to read it.

Synopsis: As a stereotypical Swiss, he never did anything unplanned and worshipped punctuality. But when it comes to you, he’d throw that all away and show up to your door unannounced. In another country. And in the middle of the school term. Why? Because he can. Because he doesn’t trust your neighbors, your raunchy one in particular. He was the polar opposite to him—lazy, sloppy, and disorganized. So when he tries to invite you to a party, Basch makes it a point to stop you from going—even if that entails doing exactly what he accused him of. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Crunching numbers occurred to him like second nature. Anything that could be explained in a book, he understood like the back of his hand. In fact, he didn’t have much trouble doing anything at all, but when it came to you, every fiber of his being would clam up. His infallible logic betrayed him like he never had any in the first place. Now was one of those times as he boarded a flight bound for California.

As he made himself comfortable in his seat, he gave the passengers around him a quick study. Already, they were stripping themselves of their outer layers. Windbreakers, jackets, coats, you name it. A middle-aged man removed his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt underneath, and with big, bold letters spelled ‘USA’, which popped out around his belly as if to emphasize it. A single thought occurred to him as he looked away with furrowed brows. Tourists.

They had their fun, and were on their way home, starting with preparing for the sweltering heat of Californian Summer. He folded his arms together and sank into his chair. He’d remove his knit later. At the moment, he had a more pressing issue in his hands. What was he supposed to say when he’d show up at your door without notice?

Hi, I felt a dire need to visit you all the way in America in the middle of your semester when I heard you were living in a dorm. But that’s not all. It would’ve been fine until you sent me a selfie with a guy in the background holding a peace sign. Then that other photo showing a different guy using your toaster. Which implies that there are numerous guys living with you. In other words, people I don’t trust alone with you.

So here I am.

Surely, that wouldn’t fly.

You’d known him as a man who had his whole life planned out in a diary. And this was hardly planned. It was spontaneous, even. Basch Zwingli, the stereotypical Swiss who looked at the clock for things to do, was being spontaneous? Hell may as well freeze over at this point. To say this would surprise you was given, but he didn’t see anything wrong with this, per se. He probably would’ve done this to Lilli, but the thing was, he wouldn’t have ever let her study abroad by herself in the first place.

She was his baby sister, but you weren’t. And that was probably why he was at your doorstep. He couldn’t oppose your choice of study, but he could sure as hell be part of it.

He knocked a few times. He could barely make out the faint ‘just a second!’, but the sound of the voice was so familiar, he froze up. But that wasn’t quite right. Hearing Lilli’s voice never made him feel this way. The door creaked open to reveal a less than presentable girl in her pajamas, an oversized shirt, and she had the messy bed hair to go with it.

And when you saw who your visitor was, the droop in your eyes disappeared.

“Basch!? Oh my god--what are you--” You could barely talk as disbelieving laughs fell from your lips. “I can’t believe it’s you! I almost couldn’t recognize your face because I didn’t expect you at all!” Reaching out to give him a tight embrace, he returned the gesture with a gentler hug.

His arms were slow to wrap around your form, but to even have your affection reciprocated at all spoke volumes of how he was feeling. It had been nearly half a year since he saw you last, and to realize he was spoiling himself with an unannounced visit sent chills down his spine. He really was pushing the envelope with this one. But he had a gut feeling he wouldn’t regret this at all.

When you pulled away, he caught you gleaming at him with the brightest of smiles. It was so infectious, he felt a light tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m here if that convinces you.”

You grinned. “What are you even doing here? My break doesn’t start until a month later! But I can say this is a good time you caught me in. I only have one more final to pull through.” Pulling him into your humble abode, you barely made it into the hallway when you failed to hear the sound of wheels. So you paused. “... Basch, where’s your stuff?”

Confusion contorted at your expression, but you looked more worried than anything. It would’ve made sense if he was planning to stay at a hotel, but that wasn’t possible. He’d rather sleep on the ground than spend hundreds of dollars for accommodation, and what was the point of visiting if he wasn’t under the same roof as you? He tensed up as he confronted how truly out of character he’d been acting.

Shit. Even he was shocked that he failed to bring the most fundamental of things for this trip. When he bought his ticket, nothing went through his mind besides the need to see you. It took up so much of his brain, it managed to block out the concept of a suitcase. Packing for a trip that was to last for months. How was he supposed to explain himself? “... They lost my suitcase on the way here.” Perfect.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you nodded in understanding. “Ah, that’s too bad. I’m sure they’ll find it for you, though. Otherwise, they’re gonna have one hell of a lawsuit.”

“... But where’s Lilli?”

Why was his sister not with him when they were practically sewed together by the hip? And for such an important visit, no less. But he came prepared in case you’d ask. “Lilli’s not here because she had school. And I saw that tickets were the cheapest during this time so I decided to come early.”

At the sound of that, any traces of worry left your face and you burst into a fit of laughter.

“Of course you did, you cheapskate. I was always wondering which trait of yours was the strongest, but now I know.” Blood rushed up to his cheeks and he forced himself to look away. But when he felt your hands settle on his shoulders, he slowly turned to you. He didn’t even know if he was supposed to regret that action, because in that very second, he realized he was wrapped around your finger.

“I’m just kidding, Basch. There’s nothing wrong with saving money. And if that means you get to visit early, I’ll love you for it.” You cracked a tender smile at him this time around, and seeing that look on your face while listening to you talk had him wondering if he was even breathing at that point.

It was almost terrifying how easily he could lose his head around you. And he thought he had a good one on his shoulders. Everyone did. How come he could barely even think straight when it came to you?

“... Right.” He tipped his head forward to let his bangs fall in front of his face. It was a gesture that was almost shy in nature, but his action revealed a small ponytail on the back of his head, which of course, stole your attention away in an instant.

You gasped to emphasize the discovery. “Aw, did you tie your hair up? It looks so good! Everyone’s gonna be asking about you now!” Giving him a teasing elbow, you watched his expression morph into dismay. “Hey, I promise it’s a good kind of curiosity. College has us all swarmed and we’re dying for something out of the ordinary. My friends will be excited to meet you!”

“Why, because I’m… European?”

“Are you asking that because I complimented your hair?” He heard a soft snort from you. “I’m from the same town as you, dummy. I think I’d count as European as well. But that’s probably what they’ll be so interested about.” That was right. “If they find out about you, they won’t stop asking about if we’re… You know what.” Your voice strained a little and you looked embarrassed, even.

He blinked. For someone so high-strung about you, he could sometimes miss the key points.

“I’m having a hard time following. About what?”

You sighed and pushed his cheeks together to muffle his words. “Why do you always have to make me say everything, hm? They’ll obviously ask if we’re dating. You’ve never met them because they always go elsewhere during the break, but everyone will be here this time.”

By everyone, he assumed that included peace-sign guy and toaster-leeching guy. Immediately, he frowned with the most potent kind of disdain he ever felt. To think they spent most of the year with you was almost disheartening. But he didn’t need to remind himself they were the reason he was here. Basch could admit he was an oblivious person at times, but he wasn’t ignorant to the promiscuous sex life in college. The men here were wolves, so he had to see for himself if he could really leave you alone here.

But he had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving your side anytime soon.

If that was going to give your friends the wrong idea, or perhaps, the right idea about you two, then so be it. He even wanted them to assume things. Even if he didn’t think much of it, flying all the way here for an impromptu visit was more than enough to get mouths moving.

He had yet to be on the same page as them. To realize that maybe, what he was doing wasn’t because you were like a little sister to him--like Lilli--someone to be protected. Or rather, someone he had strong feelings for. But given enough time around these so-called friends of yours, he’d learn it the hard way. And who better to press his buttons than your raunchy next-door neighbor?

The day after his unexpected arrival, he’d encounter this very neighbor who found the leisure in swinging by for a visit. Basch had his hands full with dishes in the sink when a few knocks were heard. He was generous enough to make lunch and clean up, though you had to wonder if doing chores was how he’d repay the debt from all the things you had to buy for him.

He never moved from where he stood as he could already hear you scrambling to answer the door. When it creaked open, a low and playful laugh greeted you. “There’s my girl.” My what now? Turning his head to the newcomer, he felt a pang of annoyance when he saw a man lean in from the doorframe. Said man reached out to give your hair an affectionate ruffle, and immediately, Basch decided he didn’t like him.

“Mornin’. Did ya eat yet? I was gonna go to a cafe for some grub. The one that has those killer vegan pancakes. Wanna come with?”

You hummed in disappointment. “Sorry, Al. I just ate. Maybe if you came in a little earlier, I would’ve been able to come.” Placing your hands on your hips, you placed emphasis on what you later added. “It’s two.”

No, he hated him. From that brief exchange and study of his physical appearance, he knew he was practically the polar opposite of him. A lazy, good-for-nothing slob. He had two full sleeves of tattoos. Piercings decorated one of his eyebrows, and as he spoke, he saw a small silver ball on his tongue. His fiery red hair wasn’t even long, but it was still unkempt as if he just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother checking the mirror. But then again, he did greet you with ‘morning’. Basch tightened his ponytail and made his way over to you, disgruntled. “...”

Sensing his presence by your side, you patted him on the back. “This is Basch, by the way. The friend I told you about.” When you exchanged looks with Basch, your smile faltered when you saw his expression. He looked almost upset, though you hadn’t the faintest idea why.

You figured you’d ask later.

The stranger was fast to acknowledge him, and with great enthusiasm at that. “Ohh, you’re the dude who flew over from Finland or something!” His striking ruby eyes widened with fascination, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, you’re pretty high-strung bout’ her, aren’t you? Makes the two of us.”

High-strung about you? Of course, he was--whatever the hell that meant. “... Switzerland.” The blonde clarified, to where Allen merely shrugged. “Close enough.”

While you laughed off his playful jibes and apparent forgetfulness, Basch couldn’t humor him. Between him and your neighbor, they were probably completely serious about the high-strung bit. He could tell in that brief side-eye Allen gave him, almost as if he was trying to stir some kind of reaction.

So be it. Two could play at this game. Unbeknownst to your raunchy friend, Basch could be just as outspoken.

“Anyways--” Rolling his head to you, Allen shot you an expectant look. “So… What’s your answer, doll? To the party this Friday? Is it a yes or a yes?”

“She’s not going.”

Your lips separated agape to answer, but he beat you to it. His invitation was shot down just like that. Shock widened your eyes and you gawked at Basch. You knew how protective he could get, exceedingly so, but it never got to the point of canceling plans without discussion.

“What do you mean, I’m not going? Basch, it’s fine!” You exasperated, but his only response was to squeeze your hand.

Something was wrong, for sure.

“... Yeah, it’s not like anything‘s gonna happen. Not when I’m around. So what’s the big idea, man?” Allen folded his arms disapprovingly. A shrewd light glinted in his eyes when he was struck with an idea. “If you’re so worried, you can just come with. Even though you’re not her boyfriend—”

Basch felt himself go red in the face. From both anger and mortification—because Allen was right.

“... Fine. I will go with her.” He relented, albeit reluctantly. Hardening his stare at the tanned figure, someone who sounded more persistent than he liked, he let his tongue slip. “And it doesn’t matter I’m not her boyfriend. I’m still her best friend, and I care about her more than you do.”

It was a given from how long you’ve been this close to him. But that didn’t change the fact blurting that out was unlike him. It left you in a blushing tizzy to hear him explicitly say those things, and you grew hyper-aware of his iron grip on your hand.

Being protective was one thing. But when was he possessive?

Allen laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You can flex that label all you want.” Making a move to leave by turning his feet, his lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. “I don’t want it. Not when a better label’s up for grabs. Boyfriend. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Shooting you a wink to reduce you into a stuttering mess, he took his leave.

And when he did, Basch lost his shit.

“How long have you been friends with that guy? Can’t you see he’s just trying to get into your pants? He’ll probably stop being so nice to you once he does!” He fumed, taking both your hands into his as if to secure you in place. But really, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you were about to receive the biggest lecture of your life. “You can’t hang around people like that, (F/N). You can’t trust him.”

You hung your head as a frown downturned your features. There was some truth to his words, especially when the man he spoke so ill of was a fairly new friend of yours. It was a shame to say the least because you did like having him around, but that wasn’t the biggest concern of yours at the moment. “You’re right… Kinda… I just really liked him as a friend, so I didn’t wanna say no…”

That didn’t come out right.

He thinned his lips as a grim expression contorted at his face. “... Did he do anything to you?”

You shook your head profusely. “No! God, no, of course not! Sorry, I put it weirdly. Nothing happened, really.”

Basch sighed, reaching out to pinch the bridge of his nose.

His bangs fell over his eyes to hide them. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this worked up over you, over a guy at that, but then again, he was beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than that. “... Okay. So are you gonna go to the party?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll probably go if you come with me, so…” With your free hand, you held onto the hem of his shirt. When he caught sight of the look you had on your face, he stopped breathing all over again. “I can tell something’s wrong with you. You looked really upset just then, and it’s not like you to just snap like that.”

He released you to dig through his hair, loosening the once tight strands pulled back in his ponytail.

That was right. Since when was he so possessive?

So jealous?

He bit his lip and looked positively defeated. As he fixated on the ground to avoid your gaze, he felt your hand gently cup his cheek, forcing him to look up at you. “It’s not like you to suddenly show up out of the blue, either. So tell me, why did you actually come here?”

Basch furrowed his brows and screwed his eyes shut. “... I don’t know. I just wanted to see you. That’s all.” You softened your gaze at that, feeling your chest swell up with warmth. He was always brutally honest, but he was more ambiguous when it came to how he felt.

So to hear him admit his troubles so easily had you almost worried about him.

As if he sensed this worry, he offered you a small smile of reassurance.

“Don’t worry about me. I swear there’s nothing wrong.”

Or that was what he wished, at least, because he was far from okay.

To make things worse, Allen wasn’t patient enough for today because he dropped by two more times after meeting Basch for the first time. Nearly a week had passed since then. This only proved his suspicions—that all he wanted was to get in your pants—and it left Basch positively restless. So restless that he couldn’t leave you alone.

It was finally Friday, and you were in your room browsing for outfits for the night. The man was sleeping like a log in your bed, and after a few unsuccessful attempts at waking him up, you decided to change with him in the room. How he ended up in your sheets wasn’t anything out of character, per se.

In the previous few days, he followed you around everywhere you went. That, you were perfectly fine with, but sleeping in your bed? He was pushing it. Despite your valiant efforts to get him back into the guest room, it was unparalleled to his own determination. What could you say? He was as stubborn as a mule. That statement would manifest into reality as he stirred awake.

Sitting up with the worst bed hair you’d ever seen, you found yourself covering your chest instinctively as he stared dead into your eyes with his own drooping ones. “Basch! Sorry, um, I couldn’t wake you so I decided to just…” Blood rushed up to your cheeks as he continued to stare, wordlessly. “Basch?”

You watched him slide off the mattress and saunter over. Holding your wrists and lowering them, he exposed your bra, but he never gave you the chance to complain. Instead, he loomed his head over yours and glowered at you. “You’re not going.”

Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when his hot breath fanned over your lips, and you were much too taken aback by his closeness to object. In fact, his face was so close, his nose was brushing against yours. “Wait, what are you--” Your whispers were cut off abruptly when he sealed your mouth with his.

He was kissing you. Albeit innocently as he parted frequently, pecking your lips over and over again. As gentle as he was, he still left you breathless, but flustered and confused all the same. But you didn’t have the heart to push him off you as your mind raced with questions. Why was he doing this? Had he always felt this way? There was a tenderness in his touch that told you he had.

But why didn’t he ever tell you?

When he finally parted, he kept his forehead pressed against yours. “Just tell him you’re not interested.” He frowned. “Say you already have a boyfriend. I’ll pretend if I have to.”

Because he’d been denying it.

“But--” Basch kissed you again, leaving a silvery strand of saliva connecting your lips as he parted. Your chest was rising and falling in a fervent manner as you struggled to breathe--the same plight he’d been facing for a while. Frankly speaking, you were at a loss from how much control you let him have over you. But you never tried to push him away. At this point, the throbbing in your chest had completely shattered your resolve. “--why are you kissing me if we’re pretending? There’s nobody here but us.”

His cheeks reddened before he tugged you along to your bed. Seating you on his lap, he attached his hands to your waist and squeezed it, making you yelp out in surprise. “If you’re letting me kiss you, then how are we pretending?” You blushed at that, realizing you had just as much of a part to blame.

Leaning in at that, he fanned his breath over your lips. “It just means it’s real.”

He still wasn’t processing the weight of his actions and just how out of line he was acting. But then again, he never did either of those things when it came to you. And it wasn’t like you were stopping him, either. So really, you were just as guilty for letting things go out of hand. Though you had to wonder if this was how things were supposed to be, especially when you continued kissing him in his lap.

*NSFW content ahead*

Said kissing escalated along with the heat of your bodies, all until he had his tongue in your mouth.

He never realized how much he’d wanted this until he had you under him, squeezing his neck as he left lovebites all over yours. Then, he made his way down to your shoulder and collarbones, chewing on your flesh until he memorized the taste of you. But he couldn’t say he was satisfied. Not until he truly crossed your boundaries and went all the way.

That was where this was going, after all.

Rather than going to that party Allen invited you to, you spent the whole night having sex with Basch. To say it was a psychedelic experience was an understatement.

As he held you down to make love to you, letting his arousal curve deep into your walls at every strong thrust he gave, he had you writhing in pleasure so good, the last remnants of your sound mind were completely destroyed. So while you would’ve been fussing about the fact he didn’t use any protection, you couldn’t, not when he fucked you silly.

To him, this was a culmination of everything he wanted. To have you for himself. And this rampant desire was so potent, it inundated him. Tugging apart the strands that held his self-control and reason together, he lost his head.

You never imagined he’d be so energetic and reckless in bed, even cumming inside you, twice, on purpose, when he was always so high-strung about safety. But as you found yourself on his thighs again, trembling as you sunk down to the base of his cock, you could watch him unravel with all sorts of animated expressions you’d never seen before.

Desperation, lust, and an aggressive infatuation as he bounced you on his imposing member. Bringing you close so he could bite your ear, you could hear the shivering in his breathing as he held back his moans. “You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes...” He whispered.

*NSFW content ends*

That was the first time you ever heard him curse, too. So maybe, you really were driving him crazy. This would become more apparent the next morning as he slept in past noon, something he hadn’t done in years.

And depending on if you’d remember or not, he’d buy you some morning-after pills.

Because something happening wasn’t a big concern of his.

In fact, it excited him.

#hetalia fanfiction #aph #aph switzerland #aph switzerland x reader #reader insert #x reader #switzerland x reader #yandere #yandere hetalia #yandere!switzerland #yandere switzerland #hetalia fanfic #hws switzerland #Axis Powers Hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア

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ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime · 3 years

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Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 4

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 4: U

I went home and opened my MacBook. While shivering in the cold, I clicked on the link sent by Hiro-chan. The letter "U" slowly emerges on a pitch-black screen with a wave-like sound. ".......U?" My tattered face covered in vomit was illuminated by the light of the monitor. The invitation page will be launched and a message will be displayed.

[ "U" is another reality

"Az" is another you

Reality cannot be redone

But with "U" you can start over

Let's live another you

Let's start a new life

Let's change the world ]

I forgot about the cold and was looking forward to it. The smartphone placed next to it was linked and the app started automatically. A registration screen appears on my MacBook monitor. It says "NAME".

"Name...."

I hesitated. There was a feeling of resistance. However, contrary to my feelings, I reach out towards my keyboard.

"S" "u" "z" …….

I type in steadily.

"U".

At that moment, a strong anxiety arose. I impulsively press the delete key. I slammed the keys to erase it and closed my MacBook.

[............]

I curled up and sighed, shivering. "I'm next to Luka" I found Luka on the bench in the courtyard. The girls are gathering together and surrounding Luka-chan. The first grade is almost over, so it seemed like everyone was going to take a picture.

"Mr. Watanabe's Yokozaro"

"Eh~? No fair!"

"I like Luka-chan's soba." Ako was envious of the shining Luka-chan from behind the pillars of piloti. I was jealous of the girls who could be photographed with Luka.

"Mr. Watanabe, look over here. I'll take a picture," urged the girl who played the role of the camera, and Luka looked in front of her. Then she waved towards us as she suddenly noticed.

"Ah. Suzu-chan!"

"Eh?" Luca beckoned to me, who was scared.

"Suzu-chan is also included!"

The girls looked at me all at once. Why? Is written on the face. I'm in a hurry

I hid in a pillar, then I looked a little and turned my palm.

"No, no, I", but Luca continued to beckon me.

"It’ll be fast!” Later, the image was sent. A group photo of girls with cute V signs, centered on Luca. There is my face full of freckles mixed with it. The position just behind Luka. Like the spirit behind her, I have an awkward V sign. When I tried to register for "U" again, I was asked for a photo of my face. I don’t have a photo of my face. I don't bother to point the camera at myself.

So, I used the image at this time for registration.

Face recognition markers are displayed on everyone. Which one are you? I moved the cursor and selected the freckled face behind Luka.

The text "A / I automatically generates a new Az" appears. At the same time, there is an annotation, "What is Az?". << The name of the avatar in "U" and another you >>

Another you.

Soon, the rendered Az was displayed.

"That ...?" There was a terrifyingly beautiful Az, far from me. You can say it's just like Luka-chan, not me. "Luka-chan? Why ..."

AI was confused with Luca, who was right next to my image. If so, what an awkward artificial intelligence! While the difference must be corrected. I hit the back button repeatedly.

"No. Back, back. Cancel ...", but suddenly I stopped pressing the button. Red spot-like patterns were clearly drawn on both cheeks of the Az.

"Freckles ..." I put my hand on my cheek. Isn't it my freckles? "Maybe I .....?" I slowly typed in each character in the "NAME" field of the registration screen. This time it's not "Suzu".

"B" "e" “l” “l” “e”

"Bell" = “Suzu”

When I decide on the name "... Bell", the Az in front of me suddenly seems to be adorable. "Cancel" and "OK" buttons are displayed on the screen, prompting you to make a selection.

"What should I do..…"

To make this beauty Az me, I'm not courageous and I'm afraid. On the other hand, no matter how far she is from me in reality, I also think. Rather, it is the world of the Internet that is far away. There are many examples of flashy names and icons on SNS.

"U" is a virtual world and Az is a virtual personality. Privacy is strictly protected. It claims that anonymity is strictly guaranteed. Then no one should blame you. Then, at the next moment, I'm at a loss. In the first place, why did AI of "U" automatically generate such a beautiful Az for me? Is it just a coincidence created by uncertainty? Or is it deep inside my heart? Are you seeing through your true desires? Or ...

It's time to select "Cancel or OK".

A late-night study room with only desk lights. In front of the MacBook screen, I decided to take a slow breath and trim. --Now, let's live another you-in my head, the message of "U" was refrained. "Click" I clicked OK.

At that moment, as if you were preparing, the "U" app on your smartphone started automatically. You can hear the announcement of a calm tone voice.

"Please attach the device"

As per the instruction screen, take out the earphone type device from the case and take it out. I put it on my ear.

"I'm reading your biometric information ..."

The letter "U" on the device glows blue and shimmers. With just one vise, you can get all the information about human beings as living things. It seems that you can do it. And in a very short time. "Done," the announcement said. Then I continued as if I was checking.

"Start body sharing"

It sounds like something is spinning at high speed. Head circumference. There was a feeling that the surroundings were covered with dense air. It seems that it was brought about by the strong magnetic field developed by the device, and perhaps because of that, the hair lifts up softly as if it were in a weightless space.

"First, vision comes under control."

The feel of the magnetic field seemed to concentrate on the back of the head. I slowly open my eyes. "Ah!" A dazzling white light rushed into my eyes.

It's a cloth. White cloths that were more than 10 meters long overlapped, fluttering and fluttering in the wind. I looked at my body as if I were checking my body, and was shocked. My feet are floating in the air. The announcement echoes, as if it were an announcement from heaven.

"Other cognitive functions and deep limb sensations come under control."

What do you mean? There were no words in that unrealistic space. Sweat gushes from the whole body, and the heart beats.

"The feeling of physical independence and physical possession moves to your registered Az." Something slowly approaches from behind. Pink hair. It was the "shadow" of Az that I registered earlier. However, it’s face is flat and white like a plate with nothing on it.

[.........]

I'm just stunned. "Shadow" overlaps. The feeling that another body gets inside me is unpleasant. The shadow of Az was fine-tuned by moving the position back and forth so that it would be in focus, but it fits perfectly immediately. Immediately, the discomfort I had just disappeared somewhere. Beyond the fluttering white cloth, I saw a large white door. I reach out my hands as I slowly approach. The announcement announced. "Welcome to the world of 'U'"

I pressed my hands against the door and opened it vigorously. When I jumped out, I saw a group of skyscrapers that filled my view. "Ah!" On the bustling boulevard that intersects three-dimensionally, a large number of people, not humans, Az-- are floating in the air. Az that imitate animals, insects, marine life, vases and set squares, Az that imitate bicycles, half-beasts and goddesses that are likely to appear in fiction, Az that imitate warriors ... , Az in all kinds of shapes are flying around while chatting loudly. When I look up at the night sky, the lights of countless windows blink, not from the twinkling stars, but from the skyscrapers hanging upside down. Another reality. Another world. Is this "U"? Powder snow is dancing. It's a little chilly. When I opened my hands to take the powder snow in the palm of my hand, I saw a white arm and long, thin fingers in my eyes.

[...]

I was surprised at the difference in physical sensation and looked as if I was checking my body. Her slender body and long legs are wrapped in a white dress that looks like a newborn.

Is this me?

Let's live another you.

The message of "U" was refrained in my head.

[............]

There, I noticed multiple eyes and looked forward. Some Az in the crowd are looking at me. However, as soon as I glanced at it, I went there. You may be a little beautiful, but this is "U". To that extent, nothing is unusual here. That was convenient. No one cares. Then you might be able to do what you've always wanted to do. When I raise my face, I take a deep breath and try to speak out.

The voice was undeniably my own voice. It's much more relaxed than I expected. I tried humming so that the nasal cavity would resonate instead of stretching. Sounds smoother than I imagined. Is it conveniently corrected because the body is virtual? But I don't feel that the sound is far from my consciousness. Is it because the scanned biometric information is accurate? Anyway…

I can't believe it. "I could sing ...!"As the powder snow dances fantastically, my voice rebels against the skyscrapers. It is echoing. How many years has it been since you sung properly? It was irresistible that I could immediately make a voice as I imagined, even though there was a blank and I hadn't done any preparatory movements. It feels like I've got a lot of freedom, and at the same time I'm a little scared. How is biometric information transformed into this output? What is Az? Anyway,

"Oh, I finally sang ...!"

I was very happy about this. I decided to sit down and sing a song with the lyrics properly. Of course there is no accompaniment, but is it okay?

[ I want to see a world where such a small melody pierces through a happy song

I wake up every morning and look for a future without you

I don't want to imagine the unpleasant singing ]

The lyrics translated into various languages around me. Many languages, it surrounds me as a belt. Gaelic, Thai, Persian ...

All languages overlap. If a song is detected, will it be displayed automatically without any settings? In addition, the synthetic voice singing in some languages sounds faint, although the types are limited. Maybe because of that, "Hmm ...?"

Az and others who should have ignored me, suddenly look back and look at me.

"Ah ...?" Many Az in the building area are standing in the air one after another. I didn't mean to do that. I was just trying to check the condition of the technology called body sharing. However, it seems that more Az are gathering and listening than I expected. It's very embarrassing to think of myself as a street musician in a virtual world. However, it cannot be stopped on the way. Let's sing to the end, for myself. I continued thinking so.

[But I don't know the correct answer anymore.

It seems that it's going well except for me. Will it still come tomorrow?

Song, guide me, whatever happens, song, beside me, love, approach ]

From the Az who were listening, balloons displaying comments one after another appeared.

"What is this?" "Who is singing?" "Mysterious song"

At first, the content was cautious, as if watching the situation.

However, it gradually became less reluctant. For some reason, the only people who made comments such as "noisy", "strange songs", and "don't be pretentious" were Az with a cute appearance that I couldn't say such a thing. Wearing a frilly pink dress, a little animal, or a baby holding a teddy bear.

"Her looks aren't bad" "What's that freckled face (laughs)" Various tweets fly while singing. I do not mind. I'm singing for me. However, I was hurt by the words thrown at me. It ’s hard to say that only a small number of people will say

You can see it from here as well. hard. It may have appeared on the face. Furthermore, the words escalated. "I feel bad" "Stop it!" "Stop it!" I managed to finish singing before my feelings broke down. The noisy Az sighed and sighed, sighing and leaving. I had no choice but to see them off with disappointment,

"Belle"

Called my name, I looked up.

"……ah"

Something slipped in, "Eh? ... Ah," once I sprinkled the glittering scales, and once I went all the way down, it slowly stopped on my hand. It was a mysterious Az, like a white fairy, like an angel, like a clionidae. If you look closely, you can see that the body is transparent with the delicacy of warabi mochi. While swaying the wings of both hands, he said in a slightly traumatic tone.

"You are wonderful. You are beautiful."

That said, I felt saved.

"....... Fufufu. Thank you."

When I woke up, it was morning. Before I knew it, I was lying on my bed. Was last night a dream? It still has a fresh feeling. I looked at my smartphone to make sure. I have a profile page for Belle. It wasn't a dream. If you look under the bell icon, there is a column showing the number of followers.

《Belle: 0 followers》

That number is zero.

"There are no followers ....." I muttered while staring at the screen. "The world doesn't change anything." I didn't ask for it, but I felt a little disappointed.

When I thought, a beep sounded. The number of followers became "1" in front of me. That angel Az. A comment balloon appears. It was a blank space with nothing written on it. I laid down my smartphone, lay on my back on the bed, and remembered last night. There were many unplanned things. However, "But I finally sang ..." Above all, my heart was refreshed. The light of the winter morning looked dazzling. It's been a while since I've had such a refreshing feeling. Then there was a second follow-up notice. It was Hiro-chan. A cute bird-shaped Az with a round hat.

In the comment of "Re: I tried it for the first time"

<< This is Hiro. Belle is the best. I'll do anything >>

-------------------

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

#belle #belle movie #ryuu to sobakasu no hime #ryu to sobakasu no hime #ryu #ryuu #studio chizu #mamoru hosoda #竜とそばかすの姫 #belle 2021 #hime

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jetaime-jespere · 3 years

Text

Prompt #15

#15: Don’t Tempt Me

Smut.

A special thank you to @sweetsecretskeptinside for the inspo pic (and the 3:30 AM conversation that led to this little thing)

In 7.21, Emily says, No, I don't have a fear of owning stuff. Turn me loose in a shoe store, I'll prove that. So, we know she loves a good pair of shoes. Well, what would happen if Emily were in fact turned loose in a shoe store, only to come home to a curious Aaron?

Aaron is about three quarters of the way through a basketball game on TV when he hears the door open, announcing her arrival. “I’m back,” Emily calls through the narrow hallway, keys jingling from her wrist as she closes the door behind her. “Aaron? Where are you?”

He hears the thump of her shoes coming off, the soft swish of her jacket being hung up. He smiles, because even though it’s only been a few hours, he’s much happier now that she’s back. “In here,” he calls over the hum of the game as he finishes the last of the beer on the end table. “Watching the game.” Not that he actually cares too much - but there isn’t much else on at the moment, and it’s been just a little too quiet.

“Someone had a busy day,” Emily says in jest when she takes in the sight of him sprawled across the couch, while taking note of the spotless living room with appreciation. All the toys normally strewn about are cleaned up and tucked away, blankets neatly folded on the back of the couch. There’s a bag dangling from each of her slender wrists - two long white handles, brown and nondescript, with elegant white lettering across the side. Emily sets both down next to the couch, coming up next to him and looping her arms around his neck. “Hi,” she murmurs, kissing the sharp ridge of his jaw. “I’m sorry I’m so late getting back. Traffic outside McLean was awful.”

“That’s Northern Virginia at rush hour for you,” He quips, looking slightly amused, because she was supposed to be home almost an hour ago. “Did you have fun shopping at least?”

“Yeah,” she says casually, settling on the couch beside him, draping her legs over his lap. “It was crowded though. You’d think it was a holiday.”

“Get anything good?” Aaron massages her ankles, trying to appear interested in whatever she’d purchased. She’d gone out with JJ and Penelope a few hours before, giving him a few hours to run some desperately needed errands. There’s hardly any food in his fridge - they’ve been slammed with cases one right after the other for the last two weeks - and his place was in dire need of a cleaning. With Jack at a friend’s house for the afternoon it was perfect timing, but he’s expected back home at any time. There are dinner plans to figure out; Aaron promised his son the three of them would watch a movie, one that Jack gets to pick.

“You could say so,” Emily says coyly, reaching for the magazine in his hands. She flips through a few pages, even if her attention isn’t on it at all. Instead, Aaron feels her stare from across the couch, the subtle shift of the weight of her legs in his lap. The smile on her face and the lift of her eyebrows tells him she wants him to ask just what she got.

He relents, because her insistence has his interest piqued, and he wonders just what could be so fascinating about a standard day of shopping with JJ and Penelope. It’s something they do fairly often, sometimes coupled with drinks and dinner, or sometimes with brunch. Those trips usually end with her slightly tipsy, something he finds endearingly adorable. And while he still isn’t completely comfortable with the fact this his name most definitely comes up more than once, he looks past it now. “What did you get?”

“Some shoes.” Emily says casually, with a slight shrug. “I didn’t see much else.” But she’s reaching for the bags on the floor, the brown paper crinkling under her fingers. “Want to see? You think you can tear yourself away from the TV for a few minutes?”

There are two boxes in Emily’s lap. Both are brown, matching the bag, with the same logo embossed in the middle. Each box is wrapped with a red ribbon on the ends, and he frowns, thinking the whole presentation is a little … ostentatious.

But she’s already undoing the ribbons, popping the lids off the boxes. The first box contains a pair of high heels, black, with high sharp heels and an unnatural looking arch. They look ridiculously uncomfortable, yet something tells him she’d pull them off without question. The other pair are even less than practical - a pair of slingbacks with bows on the back, with even higher heels. They look like the kind of shoes that could break an ankle. And yet she’s watching him intently, gauging his reaction with an expression that he might label as pleased.

Where the hell would she ever wear those? His mind starts to wander with possibilities, and it dawns on him they’re not supposed to be practical. They’re fuck me shoes. “Are they supposed to …” Aaron blinks with confusion as he studies the ridiculously impractical pairs of shoes, nestled in wrapping paper, both with red painted soles. “Are the bottoms supposed to be red?”

Emily laughs lightly, and Aaron can’t help but wonder if this is one of those things he’s just somehow supposed to magically know - not that he knows remotely anything about womens’ fashion. Haley’s taste in clothes had always been relatively practical, and given their line of work, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Emily actually dressed up, much to his chagrin. “It’s the designer’s trademark, Aaron.”

He narrows his eyes with confusion. “Red soles?”

“Mmhm.”

“But no one sees the soles of your shoes,” he points out logically. “Besides, don’t you have a few other ones that look just like this?” He isn’t quite sure he sees the need for multiple pairs of black high heels that basically all look the same, even though the more he stares at the shoes, the more he can’t help but think about what she’d look like wearing these particular pairs.

“So? Emily looks very pleased with herself. “They’re an investment piece, Aaron. Christian Louboutin is timeless and classic.”

“Christian Lou - what?” He completely butchers the word Louboutin, struggling with the French pronunciation that seems to roll off her tongue so easily. Emily laughs softly, patiently pronouncing the word again, and then again. Something about hearing her speak French makes his mouth go dry, and he swallows thickly as she neatly wraps the shoes back up in the boxes.

Something else catches his eye - the pricetag - and he makes a conscious effort to keep his jaw firmly closed. “Emily,” he says evenly, even though he’s certain he’s seeing an extra zero he shouldn’t. “Tell me those shoes were not seven hundred dollars.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with disbelief, a slight shake of his head. “You bought two pairs.”

“Actually,” she says with an air of indifference. “The ones with the bows were seven hundred. The others were on sale for six.”

“Six hundred dollars for a pair of shoes?” He sounds incredulous, probably because he is. He’s no stranger to the fact that Emily was raised with an abundance of wealth and with that, probably comes some appreciation for the finer things. And not that he cares one bit about how she spends her money, but the thought just seems completely absurd to him.

“You know,” she begins slowly, batting her eyelashes with a mere shake of her head. “I’m sure you’d appreciate them more if you saw them on me.” And then her fingers drop to her shirt, beginning to undo the top button, then the next. “What do you think?”

It’s his turn to smirk, the slightest lick of his lips with his tongue as he meets her gaze with a look in his eyes that matches her own. “What are you -”

“Daddy?” The excited voice coming from the foyer tears them out of the moment completely, and Emily practically bolts off the couch in surprise, as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Shit. She hurriedly buttons her shirt, taking a few precautionary steps away from Aaron out of habit. Jack is still hanging up his coat, chattering animatedly about his afternoon, running through a rather long list of potential movie options. Aaron gets up from the couch, pecking Emily on the cheek with a slightly apologetic look. “Next time?”

“Next time,” she agrees, practically purrs in his ear, pressing her body up against his. She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, letting her teeth scrape against his earlobe as she disappears with the boxes in her hands, putting an extra sway in her hips along the way.

…

“Not here,” Aaron tells her for the third time, this time more firmly. They’re milking drinks at a roundtop table in the middle of an ALS Benefit a few days later. They’re there for Dave, like every year, and for some reason, he’s just not feeling it tonight. It’s warm in the room, he doesn’t feel like dancing, and not to mention, Emily has been goading him since they arrived.

“Come on,” Emily coaxes him with a wink from across the table, a glass of red wine in her hand. “You’re no fun, you know.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, our colleagues happen to be in or around the vicinity of this room.” Aaron takes a sip of his drink, this time downing most of the glass. The drinks are a little too strong, the music is a little too loud, and he’s already having trouble concentrating on anything, thanks to the fact that Emily has stayed within his line of sight almost all evening. It’s intentional, that much he knows. The rest of the team has dissipated, spread out amongst the crowd, mingling with the other guests. He knows they should probably do the same. After this drink, he tells himself.

“But I’m wearing the shoes.” It’s the way she says it, locking her eyes with his. But he already knows - he’d noticed as they walked into the hotel two hours before.

“Don’t tempt me,” he hisses just a little more forcefully, wishing he had a fresh drink to occupy his hands. “We’ve got another two hours at this thing.” He’s doing his damn best to keep his eyes forward instead of staring at her, but that’s getting harder. She’d decided on the black dress after a careful deliberation, showing him the various options she’d pulled from the depths of her closet. They’d barely made it out the door on time.

“There’s plenty of open rooms,” she tries again. “Nobody will notice we’re gone.” As if to prove her point, Emily tips her head in the direction of the band, where Strauss and Dave are all but tearing up the dance floor. “Look at them.”

Aaron nods, stifling a laugh in his fist. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they’re together.”

“It’s been going on for years,” Emily snickers. “Dave used to think he was subtle about it. He wasn’t. But good for him.” She tips her head back, exposing the side of her neck. Something inside of him snaps, his mind made up, because before he can stop himself, he’s wrapping his hand around her elbow, giving her a gentle shove through the crowd of people.

“Aaron, what are you -”

“Let’s go,” he growls in her ear, pressing a hand into the small of her back to lead her closer to the door. It’s risky at best and a bad idea at the worst, but what the hell? He thinks, leaning forward to get a trace of her perfume on the back of her neck.

Emily grins to herself, her eyes locked on the door just ahead of them, and she’s grateful for the dimmed lights in the ballroom - no one will even notice they’re gone. The hallway is hushed quiet compared to the booming of the music on the other side of the door, and they stare at each other for a brief moment. “Here,” he says, taking her hand. There are multiple closed doors that lead to empty conference rooms; Aaron leads her to the one at the far end of the hall.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to tempt you.” Emily flutters her eyelashes, her fingers lingering on his face as she slips past him through the doors. This is a bad idea, they both think, not for the first time, and yet, neither of them are about to put an end to it.

“Too late.” Aaron closes the door and adds the lock for good measure, spinning on his heel to face her. Emily licks her lips, backs up until her back is against the wall, all but cornering herself as he nearly rips his own suit jacket off, throwing it against the table. He’s eying her almost ferally, staring at her legs and the damn shoes. His jaw is set in determination as he moves toward her. “I’m going to take you apart.”

Damn, Emily thinks, her eyes widening as Aaron gets a hand around her waist, pulling her into him. He bypasses her mouth entirely, going right for her neck. She gasps as his teeth drag over her skin, his hands impatient as he goes for the zipper at the back of her dress.

“Don’t rip it,” she breathes, arching her back as his fingers dance down her spine, pulling the little metal tab down to the small of her back. “It was expen-”

“Shhh.” He covers her lips with his own, smiling a little when she moans into his mouth, her body bowing into his. Aaron gets his hands around her hips, walks them back and around until he can lean her against the large credenza in the corner, pulling the dress down over her shoulders. Her breath hitches as the cool air hits her skin; it pebbles as his hands slide around to work the clasp; it snaps free in one go.

“I’m impressed,” Emily drawls with a grin as it falls away.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.” He leans her back even further, going with her as her back hits the top of the table. He takes one breast in his mouth, alternating the pressure of his mouth until she keens into the air, her hands pulling at the fabric of his expensive dress shirt. Emily gets a hand in his hair, urging him to keep going. He switches to the other breast, repeating the same pattern with his mouth. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, cupping his hands around her jaw when he stands straight to kiss her again. “So perfect.”

Emily smiles, already starting to work the buttons of his dress shirt. “There’s lipstick on this,” she murmurs, finding the imprints of her lips on the collar. “I guess we weren’t very subtle earlier.”

“I don’t care.” He gets the shirt off his shoulders, then lifts her up just enough to get the dress past her hips and over her head. She’s left in nothing but those damn shoes that make her legs look endless, and some impractical, lacy underwear that matches the bra that’s now discarded on the floor. He stands back to look at her, an equal mix of adoration and lust. It takes little effort to lift her up, setting her on the top of the credenza, coming to stand between her legs. He runs his hands over her thighs, down her calves, closing around her ankles, admiring her, smirking when he sees the shoes again. Emily rests on her elbows, watching as he kisses the insides of her knees, her stomach quivering with effort to remain semi-upright.

“The shoes,” he says as he props her legs on his shoulders, watching her for a few moments. “Stay on.”

All she can do is nod, her heart fluttering in her chest as he tugs on either side of the lace at her hips, dragging it down over her legs. On the pile it goes, and when she’s finally completely bare before him save for a ridiculously expensive pair of high heels, her legs bent around his shoulders, does she seemingly realize where they are, her eyes sparkling. “If anyone hears us,” Emily breathes, “I’m blaming you.”

“Then keep quiet,” he says with a wink, spreading her thighs even further open with his shoulders. He kisses each thigh, taking his time to build her up until Emily presses the spikes of her heels into his shoulders. He only smiles against her, one long, slow lick of his tongue follows a moment later. Emily whines as he drags her closer to his mouth.

“Hurry up,” she pants with anticipation, and as if on cue, he touches his lips to her clit just enough to make her back arch and her eyes fall shut. “Fuck,” she groans, tugging at his hair with both hands, and when his tongue becomes an insistent pulsing rhythm, Emily lets out a loud whimper, one that reverberates through the conference room. Aaron pushes her over once; she comes against his mouth hard, her legs shaking on his shoulders as the heels nearly pierce his skin. He rears back, encircling her ankles with gentle fingers, staring down at her.

“So much for keeping quiet, Sweetheart.” He’s taunting her, loosening his hold on one ankle as he pulls at his belt. Emily’ head rolls back against the table, biting her lip when his pants are added to the pile. He palms himself in his hand, lining himself up with her as Emily wraps her legs around his waist. Aaron smiles when he feels the spikes of her heels dig into his lower back; he kisses her in tandem with the initial thrust inside of her. Emily whimpers into his mouth, bringing a hand to grip his shoulder for leverage as he pushes all the way in one smooth press of his hips.

“Oh fuck,” she whines, and he runs a finger over her lips to remind her of volume. She’s making these little noises, clenching around him, tilting her hips forward to meet his shallow thrusts. “Harder.” She tightens her legs around his back, bringing him impossibly close, and he’s more than happy to appease her. And he does, driving into her deliberately and forcefully as she hums in pleasure around him. Her nails scrape down his back, he winds an arm around her waist to keep her steady as those damn shoes remind him of how tightly her legs are locked around his hips.

Jesus Christ. “Emily.” Each drive of his hips sends the table into the wall. “Come for me.” He gets a hand between them, swipes his thumb over her clit a few times and it’s all it takes to send her over again, the near scream in his ear. She clenches around him like a vice, her moans muffled by the seal of his mouth around hers. He kisses her through her second climax, his own coming quickly, and one final push of his hips and the rasp of her name on his lips. It takes more strength than he anticipated to keep himself upright, and his arms shake with effort as he cleans her up with a tissue from his pocket. Aaron helps her down, making sure her legs don’t give out beneath her in the unforgiving shoes, beginning the now arduous task of searching for their clothes. Even with the closed door they hear the boom of music, indicating the party is still going strong.

“We should make this a yearly thing,” Emily says with a wicked grin, tossing his jacket in his direction. “No one even missed us.”

He pretends to consider it, wondering if there’s any truth to her words. They’ve been gone awhile; certainly by now someone might be wondering. His jaw flexes as he watches her rearrange her bra, getting the dress over her head and past her hips. And as his eyes wander down her legs to the expensive shoes, the ones with the name he still can’t pronounce, he knows he’ll never be able to deny her. “Fine. But only if you wear those again.”

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #smut #writing smut at 5 am what else is new #i'm making myself late for work with this one but oh well

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bothcreativitybois · 3 years

Text

The Mayors Sweet Treat Chapter 4

Wordcount: 2939

Ship: Intruality

TWs: Food, dog, antagonistic Logan, swearing, sexual references, spicy thoughts (not smutty)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Taglist: @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @seraphiie @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin @bloodymari-0666 @im-an-anxious-wreck @newtnotfound

Remus pulled up outside the bakery, but this time he had back up.

“You know if you really want to get in this guy’s pants it would be easier to take him on a date rather than save his failing business?” Virgil grumbled in the back seat as he messed with the lid of his coffee.

“He did.” Janus turned around to speak to Virgil from the front seat. “It clearly didn’t work.” Remus rolled his eyes. He leaned back and undid his seatbelt.

“That isn’t what this is about.” Remus chastised. They both looked at him doubtfully “Okay! That is only partially what this is about.” With that admission his friends were happy and began to get out of the car. Remus jumped out and scratched the head of Cain who was in the back of the truck.

“This is it?” Janus asked looking up at the building. He held a hand above his eyes to block the sun. Virgil stood with him holding a clipboard. Remus walked past them to the door and opened it. The two other men sighed and entered. As soon as they entered they began looking around. Virgil began adding notes to the list on his clipboard and Janus inspected the baked goods in the display shelves closely.

“Patty Cake?!” Remus shouted going behind the counter. Moments later Patton appeared with a large bowl. Patton looked around at the men in his shop, this was probably the most people he’d had in there at one time. He recognised one as Janus, the waiter from last night, and he vaguely remembered the other as Remus’ assistant.

“Remus, what’s all this?” Patton asked, putting down the bowl. Remus stepped over to him and put an arm around him. He stretched the other out to Janus and Virgil.

“Sugar, this is the crew.” Remus announced.

“Minus one.” Janus interrupted. Remus made a face at him, Janus made one back.

“They’re here to help get this place whipped up better than a bowl of batter.” Remus went on. Patton chuckled at the display.

“You don’t whip batter.” Patton pointed out. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” Patton pulled Remus into a hug as a thank you. Remus patted his back a few times then pulled back.

“Virgil is my assistant, very business minded. He made a list of things we need to do.” Remus explained. Virgil walked over and tapped his list.

“First thing first I need the number of the sign company that’s been giving you the run-around.” Virgil pressed. “Then we’ll move to getting a small business crisis loan.” Virgil scribbled a few more notes as he talked. Stuck between Remus and Virgil made Patton feel short. Well, he was short but felt more so than usual. Remus guided Patton over to Janus which slightly helped although he was still taller than Patton. Why was everyone here taller than him?

“You mentioned wanting a gallery where artists can sell their stuff and it just so happens that Janus here is a great artist.” Remus praised. Janus threw out a cocky smirk.

“I’m also painting the exterior because it's just sad.” Janus added plainly. Patton worried that he didn’t sound so excited. Remus jumped in front of Patton to continue his pitch.

“And I will help drum up customers and do any repairs that are needed.” Remus finished with a wide smile. Patton looked around at the three men, he felt grateful but also guilty.

“I… I can’t pay you for this you know?” Patton managed through the shock. He crossed his arms and looked down. The men all began to pipe in while working.

“Remus already pays me.” Virgil announced inspecting a display of small cakes.

“Remus said this would go towards my community service hours.” Janus said running a finger across the wall. “Rather do this than picking up roadkill.” Remus grabbed Patton’s shoulders.

“And it’s my job to take care of my citizens. That includes you.” Remus looked deeply into Patton’s eyes as he spoke hoping he could somehow shoot lasers through any doubts in his mind. Patton looked around at all the men, it was overwhelming. He pulled Remus into the kitchen. Remus was pulled to the corner by an anxious looking Patton. He was sure this plan would work but Patton was acting weird. Nonetheless Remus still had a large hopeful yet goofy smile.

“Remus, we just met yesterday.” Patton whispered not wanting to embarrass Remus. “I can’t ask you, let alone your friends, for something like this. Do you know how much work we’re talking about here?” Patton pleaded with the man to see reason. He didn’t believe he deserved something so much thought, so much kindness. Remus grabbed Patton’s arms.

“Of course I do!” Remus shouted, totally missing the point. “I ran the numbers and you should be the best bakery around in three months.” Patton tried to stay serious and be the voice of reason, but this is what he wanted. And it was hard to be sulky when Remus was so optimistic, it was infectious. If he really thought this was a good idea then who was Patton to stop him?

“Alright...” Patton surrendered.

“Is that a yes?” Remus grabbed Patton’s arms. Patton nodded excitedly. Remus whooped and lifted Patton onto his shoulder, running out to the rest of his friend. “He said yes!” The two others cheered with a little less enthusiasm but still happy nonetheless. Remus put him down and began chattering to the others. Patton looked around. These people were so determined to help him, to make sure he succeeded. He’d finally made friends. Patton noticed someone outside.

“Who is that?” Patton asked as the others chatted.

“Probably Roman.” Virgil answered without looking up. Remus had mentioned Roman to Patton at some point, his brother. But this person didn’t look like Remus. He was much shorter, his hair was slick black and his skin was much paler. Janus looked out the window too out of curiosity, he knew that wasn’t Roman.

“Re?” Janus motioned for Remus who turned his head. “Who the hell is that?” Remus looked out the window. That wasn’t Roman. In fact, Remus had no clue who that was. They wore a deep blue button up and a striped black vest, too fancy for any farmer. Their glasses gleamed as they looked towards the window, a stern unamused look on their face.

“Remus?” Patton asked but got no response. Virgil had joined the group staring at the stranger. Remus head out to confront them with Virgil close behind. Janus protectively guided Patton to the door to watch the scene.

“Hey, you new in town?” Remus asked cheerfully. The stern person looked over.

“Are you Patton Sweet?” The stranger questioned. Patton went to answer but was cut off by Virgil.

“What is your business?” Virgil responded professionally. The stranger put his briefcase against the wall and opened it. He pulled out a stack of papers and handed them to Remus.

“Your fee for the renewal of your business license was not paid. Along with many other payments.” The stranger explained. Patton ran forward and picked up some of the papers.

“No no, the payments are automatic. The money should’ve been taken out last week.” Patton reasoned. The stranger's expression didn’t waver.

“Transactions were attempted but there were not enough funds in your account.” The stranger continued. Virgil took the papers and began reading through while Patton stood there helplessly.

“This can’t be right, I checked and the money was taken out.” Patton pleaded. Remus put an arm around him scared that he might fall over. He couldn’t bear seeing Patton like this but the stranger still didn’t show any changes.

“Patton, these records say you haven’t made a payment in three months.” Virgil chirped in. Patton shook his head.

“And as such your license has been revoked, effective immediately. You may no longer run business until all your debts have been paid.” The stranger finished. Patton let out a small squeak and Remus pulled him closer. Virgil continued reading quickly until finally jabbing a finger against the page.

“Actually it says here he is free to practice until the end of the month he was notified.” Virgil opposed triumphantly. “And given it is the first of February he has 28 days left.” Virgil smirked and flipped the papers. “Also he is entitled to the name of the person serving him and it’s just plain rude not to introduce yourself, especially in business matters.” The stranger's jaw tensed.

“I am Logan and I am doubtful he can get the money he needs in 27 and a half days.” Logan finally introduced himself. Janus joined the group.

“It doesn’t matter whether he can, he is entitled to stay open.” Janus asserted. Logan became even more annoyed.

“I don’t think you understand.” Logan cracked their knuckles beside them. “I am required to oversee the closing of the business, your… plan would require me to stay in this dead end town for the month.” Remus, Virgil and Janus did not enjoy that remark. Even Virgil who was not overly fond of the town. Remus felt personally insulted. He picked up the papers from Virgil and bent over slightly to be at Logan’s height.

“Welcome to town, babe.” Remus scolded quietly. Patton enjoyed how Remus’ country accent sparkled as he said that. Remus turned and guided everyone back into the bakery, cutting off the rude stranger.

Everyone stood around the counters of the bakery. Virgil combed through the papers thoroughly while Patton tapped away on a tablet. Remus paced while Janus sat calmly.

“This is a lot of dues.” Virgil concurred. “Remus told us you were behind but this…” Virgil was stunned. Remus was worried. He didn’t want to fail one of his citizens, he couldn’t fail.

“I am sure they’ve been paid.” Patton huffed angrily. He was stressed enough, he should’ve had enough funds to pay at least another month or so. He brought up payments notifications. “There is no way I should be this behind.” Patton slid the tablet across to Virgil, Remus leaned in over his assistants shoulder. Virgil scrolled through and occasionally stopped to confirm with the paper.

“Why are all these medical payments coming out of your business account?” Virgil asked and put down the tablet. Patton snapped it back.

“Sorry that must be the wrong account.” Patton stammered. The three others looked at each other. Patton definitely didn’t want to share that. He tapped to switch accounts. There were medical payments on that one too.

“Pat there were also business payments on that account…” Remus piped up. Patton tapped furiously at the tablet.

No! I didn’t…

“Patton?” Remus tried again. Patton quickly threw down the tablet. How could he make such a dumb mistake? He leaned on the counter with his head in his hands.

Keep it together Pat, there are people here.

Patton looked up with a forced smile. Remus could tell something was wrong.

“It seems I made a silly mistake.” Patton chirped. The others looked at each other again.

“Have you been making medical payments from the wrong account?” Janus asked plainly, Virgil hit his shoulder. “What?” Patton let out a small fake laugh.

“From both accounts actually. At least I’m paid up for a while ha ha.” Patton joked, no one was gonna question why he had so many medical bills. Virgil looked back over the papers and scribbled some maths, Remus looked at the final number and his eyes went wide.

“Well, it’s gonna be hard to get the full amount we need in time…” Virgil began, Patton looked down dejectedly. Remus felt a pang of guilt.

“You aren’t saying it’s impossible.” Remus interrupted. Vigil looked up then back at the pages.

“Well no but-” Virgil pressed but Remus wasn’t having it.

“Then we keep going!” Remus encouraged. He walked over to Patton and turned his shoulders to face him.

“Oh here we go…” Janus whispered, he and Virgil leaned back.

“We can do this! Sure it’s a lot of money but you aren’t alone! We’re all here for you! The whole town is-” Remus was cut off with a dramatic sigh. They all looked to the entrance of the kitchen.

“And they say I’m the dramatic twin.” Roman scoffed sarcastically. Remus hurried across the room and hugged his twin.

“You came!” Remus cheered as he lifted Roman off the ground. Patton looked between the two, Remus never mentioned they were twins. The similarity was eerie. “My baby sibling came to our rescue!” Remus knew Roman was annoyed with his bombastic and touchy greetings, that’s why he did them.

“Fourteen minutes.” Roman recalled as they pushed their brother off them. Roman’s curly hair was dyed mahogany with a brown undercut. Their light wash blue jeans were matched with a red gradient wool cape and white turtleneck. They pushed away from Remus and waved to their other friends before looking over at Patton. He felt outclassed and thrown off. Everyone else he’d met who lived here wore flannels and work shirts with boots, Roman was wearing golden wire glasses without lenses. They looked him up and down. “You’re my brother's new project.” Roman said light-heartedly, however Patton still felt intimidated.

“I’m Patton, which you probably know.” Patton introduced himself awkwardly. “I like your cape.” Roman pulled on the cape happily.

“Thanks, I like the pink. So much better than the white most cooks wear.” Roman praised.

“They uh were actually white, they just got caught up in the wrong wash.” Patton scratched the back of his neck. Roman smiled and looked back at Remus.

“Don’t you dare ruin him.” Roman warned their twin as they walked over to Virgil, they picked up the sheet Virgil was doing maths on. “Woah! Big number!” They ruffled Virgil’s hair playfully.

“Yeah, and we have until the end of the month to get it.” Janus piped in. Roman threw down the paper and took a spot between the two men.

“Which is why we need you.” Remus addressed Roman then turned to Patton. “Roman is an event planner and a damn good one at that.” Roman smiled at the praise. “Here’s the plan.”

“We found out that we only have a month like twenty minutes ago and you already have a plan?” Janus interjected. He and Remus pulled some faces before Remus spoke again.

“We’re gonna shut down the bakery while Janus works on the inside with me then at the end of the month when we raise enough to keep it open we do a grand reopening.” Remus explained with a flourish. The others look at him cluelessly. He looks back waiting for a response.

“You didn’t mention how we raise the money.” Patton finally reminded him. Remus hit himself in the head.

“Oh right, Roman?” Remus waved the conversation over to Roman who took out their phone.

“I’ve got four events lined up for you babe. The first is catering a lovely picnic for some very wealthy old ladies with money to throw at struggling businesses if the owner reminds them of their children but better. That is in three days.” Roman pulled up a picture of a bunch of old ladies sitting under white tents in a field. Patton’s mind raced with recipe ideas. “The second is a couples baking class for valentines day, and I’ve already got a bunch of people interested.” Roman swipes to show a poster for ‘Lovey Dovey Baking Class’. Janus, Virgil and Remus gagged at the disgustingly sweet poster while Patton’s eyes sparkled. Remus caught the look and smiled too.

“Oh my god! It looks so fun!” Patton squealed. “Remus you have to be my partner for it!” Remus’ eyes nearly popped out, he stammered what nearly sounds like words.

“You’re running it, Pat.” Virgil said to save Remus. He winked slyly at the still flustered Remus.

“Yeah but if it’s for two then I’ll need a second instructor.” Patton reasoned. No one could save Remus this time. Patton was too excited to realise he’d just asked Remus to spend valentines day with him. Remus realised however.

“Of course I will. We’re a team.” Remus attempted to save the situation. “Team…” Remus couldn’t think of a name, he looked around. He looked at Patton, his sweet face and curly hair. Remus’ mind raced to places that were not suitable for such a sweet guy, thoughts of Patton laid across a bed with a lot less clothes.

“I got you a nice sweet treat, honey.” The Patton in Remus’ mind cooed as he pulled Remus on top of him. He could feel the heat of Patton against him, the feeling of Patton’s hand on his neck.

Remus snapped back and saw his friends staring at him.

“Team Sweet Treat.” Remus managed desperately and put a hand out. Patton was the first to put his hand on top, smiling sweetly at Remus as he did. His hand was smaller than Remus’, and much softer. It felt almost like playdough while Remus’ felt like cracked paint. The others all piled on top. “Let’s go!” Remus cheered as they all raised their hands. Patton and Janus chatted happily about what would look nice in the store while Remus stared from across the counters. His heart fluttered. He couldn’t take his eyes off Patton’s smile, Patton lips. He felt someone elbow him, he looked beside him to see Roman.

“You really have it bad.” Roman whispered. “It’s nice but also, you sure it’s a good idea?” Roman’s face was serious. Remus looked between them and Patton, mind racing.

“Please, it’s fine.” Remus said, unaware just how far he was falling.

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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years

Text

Stopping You - Michael Gray [Part 4]

Words: 5.7k+ (WHY DID I MAKE THIS SO LONG!!!)

Summary: Y/N and Polly have dinner with not so liked presences.

Warnings: Consumption of Alcohol. Smoking. Mentions of Cocaine. Swearing, a lot of swearing.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You walk in the Shelby’s betting shop with a hand over your forehead, massaging it in hopes that the pounding would go away with it.

The usual smell of cigarettes hits your lungs and you sigh while closing the front door behind you. Your heels click over the old wood and you drag your aching feet over to the table, where only some members of the Shelby family are sitting.

“Morning” You say when Polly and Arthur look up at you.

The people around the table answer you back and you walk over to Polly, who is already with a cigarette on her lips, slowly letting the smoke leave her system by her mouth. You place a kiss over her cheek and a smile grows in her face.

“How are you, my sweet?” She asks and you smile at her words.

“My head’s pounding, but other than that, ready for business” You whisper only at her and she chuckles, taking the cigarette from between her lips to take a good look at you.

You lean back to stand and walk over to where Finn is sitting, distracted with his new fancy box of cigarettes. You sit down on your usual chair while laying your hand on his neck, scratching his skin lightly with your short nails, grabbing his attention.

“How was your night?” He asks with his usual smirk, looking up at you.

“Boring after you bailed on me because of the blondie” You say with a fake harsh tone and his smirk grows into a smile.

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” He asks and you chuckle, getting Arthur’s and Polly’s attention.

“You would love if it was, wouldn’t you?” You ask, teasingly pushing him away by his shoulder and he laughs out loud.

A toothless smile grows on Polly’s face while watching you two interact and the doors from the other side of the room open, showing the people behind it: Michael and Tommy.

The memories from last night run through your mind and you look away from the younger man to stare at Polly, who looked at him with somewhat adoring eyes.

“Good morning, everyone” Tommy says while taking a cigarette out of his pocket and bringing it to his lips, brushing over them before shoving his hand in his pockets, looking for his lighter. “Michael, take a seat”

Michael does as told, adjusting his long jacket before taking his seat next to his mother, and his eyes lift over to you, making a frown grow on his face right away.

“Wasn’t this meeting family restricted?” He asks and both you and Finn stare up at him.

“Y/N has been involved with family business for over a year, she can be here” Arthur answers, not caring enough to look up at his cousin.

That is enough to make Michael shut his mouth and lean back on his chair, yet he moves his gaze towards you, noticing all the annoyance engraved in it. He, then, stares at his younger cousin and Finn’s expression is slightly more readable than yours, and it just made his presence seem more than hated around the small table.

“We’ll be hosting an event in a few days” Tommy starts, breaking your staring contest before it evolved into anything, “In 12 days to be exact. Y/N, you would be in charge of the whole organization, from the dancers to the inside of my house”

“Dancers?” You ask, lifting your glance over to Tommy.

“Oswald Mosley will be our special guest, as you know very well” He explains, “And he has his attraction for ballet dancers. I’ll give you my contacts for everything that will be necessary”

You nod at his words, already knowing the long list that will be awaiting you, from catering to setting up a team of dancers. You will have a lot to do. A lot more than you wished to.

You lose interest in the whole rest of Tommy’s speech, since you know all about it from previous conversations with him, and also that most of it is for Michael to keep up with where you’re situated, and you look around the table to study everyone’s expressions as they heard all Oswald has done or will do.

Finn is the first one to notice your disinterest in the conversation and tries to ignore it as he tries to memorize most of the information that is being dumped into this room. Michael is next: his eyes follow you as you look at Arthur for a second before looking down at your jacket, starting to play with a button attached to the fabric.

Once Tommy finishes a sentence and starts walking to some corner of the room to begin a new chapter about the day of the event, Michael is totally lost in his thoughts, noticing your now soft features from the lack of attention you’re paying to Tommy’s words.

His mind quickly takes him to where he had been fighting not to be ever since you two talked in the pub. Quite innocent memories of you two.

He studies your face in silence, noticing your slightly parted lips and his eyes drift over to your jaw, noticing a small scar, only visible from the lighting in this one particular room and the angle you’re sitting in.

The scar had come from one of your visits at a family’s home, a mother wasn’t too happy with your visit.

The lady screamed at the top of her lungs for you to leave while saying that her kids were okay, and when you just checking on her younger daughter, she slashed the side of your jaw. It was a quick move that you also flinched away when feeling it, making it smaller than the woman had intended, but it was bloody and surely a cut that would leave a scar.

The woman regrets it severely today, since you are extremely vengeful and experienced with knives.

You look up at Tommy, gaze softer than Michael expected, and you let go of the button from your, not so cheap, jacket.

Polly looks away from her nephew when he starts walking around the table and leans forward on the table to press her used cigarette on the ashtray, gathering both yours and Michael’s attention.

“And that is why we will be making our next move…” Tommy continues, not even noticing that most of the table is not even paying attention to him.

Finn lays his cheek on his fist as his elbow rests on the arm of your chair and you look over at him, taking a look at his messy hair. He must have woken up just a few minutes ago and ran over here, as usual.

Michael’s eyes shift over to Finn and stares at the way you look at the youngest in the room.

(…)

You lean back on your chair as Tommy walks out of the room to grab his ‘book’ with all the people you will need to contact. Finn had run off, to only god knows where, once the meeting was dismissed, so, now, you have to deal with the old people by yourself.

You bring your hands over your temples and start massaging them again, trying to stop the sharp pain before it got worse.

Michael and Polly look over at you for a quick second as they talk all the way back on the doorway of the shop.

“Arthur” You call, making the older man look up from the newspaper laying on the table at the centre, “What do you do to get rid of your headaches?”

“I have my ways”

You lift your head over to him with an annoyed expression.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Anything of mine can be healed by one of two things” he starts, getting Polly’s attention at the doorway, “More alcohol or snow-”

“Y/N is not doing cocaine!” Polly yells, making her voice travel throughout the whole room, making Arthur chuckle and your head pound.

You smile at them, trying not to wince in pain over the loud noise, and stare back at Polly, who is still finishing her conversation with Michael, which looks rather intense.

Tommy’s steps sound from behind you and a stack of papers is set on the table in front of you.

“Your contacts” Tommy says before clearing his throat.

You stare at the amount of phone numbers written down on the pages, all of them with the name of the person you’re intended to talk to and the name of the shop or residence.

“You can talk to Lizzie about most of the things you want to do in my home, but don’t worry too much about it” He says while taking a clean glass cup from the corner table and his bottled whiskey over to his seat.

“Alright” You say in a low voice, grabbing the stack and laying it on your lap to check if you knew some of the places.

“Y/N!” Polly calls over from the doorway, “Come with me!”

You stand up with the papers on your hand and say a quick goodbye to the oldest Shelby brothers, which you were answered with one back.

As you get to Polly and stand beside her by the front door, you notice Michael driving away in his car right as you look out.

“Let’s take care of that headache” Polly says before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the betting shop with her.

(…)

“I love you, Polly, but it’s a ‘no’ from me” You say while writing down the amount of food the shop, whose owner you just spoke to, could provide.

It has been at least 2 days since that day of the meeting on the betting shop, and you’re still working with all those phone numbers, feeling like you’ll never reach the end of the list.

“Oh, and why is that?” Polly asks, adjusting the silk robe that hugged her body, covered by a thin expensive dress.

You sigh as you scribble your way to the next number on the long list.

“Because,” You start, “I don’t want to be stuck with their presence in a restaurant”

Polly looks at you with a disapproving look, but to no avail since you didn’t even care enough to look up from the papers you’ve been working on the whole day. She walks closer to you and sits down on the couch behind you, since you’re sitting on her carpet.

“Can’t you go, for me?” She asks with a soft tone, “You can ignore them all you want, I won’t care”

You put down your pen and look over your shoulder at her.

“If it was just us, absolutely” You say, “Without a second thought” You add.

Polly takes a deep breath and looks away from you to look at the papers, now filled with words and annotations of amounts of food, flowers and other decorations.

“Is there any way that I can make you go?” She asks, helpless, “Anything I can buy you? Cook or bake for you?”

“You can’t bake, Pol” You say with a smile growing on your face.

“I have my ways” She says, welcoming your smile.

“Are you referring to buying something of the bakery next to the Garrison?” You ask, making her smile drop and her annoyed expression return to her face.

“You used to love that shop”

“And I still do” You say, “But that isn’t enough to make me go through such a horror of a night”

Polly leans back on the couch, feeling like there’s absolutely no way that she will be able to bring you with her, but still not giving up to the fullest. Her mind is still occupied with what would be so good that it would make you want to run towards that restaurant.

Finn, surprisingly, is the first ‘thing’ that came up to mind, but Polly can’t just take the youngest boy, who seems to enjoy Michael’s company as much as you, to an expensive restaurant. Finn would break something expensive or hit Michael in only the first 5 minutes, and probably even at the same time.

She takes a look at you and how you were so quick to go back to work. You drag your tired eyes over the words to check if you didn’t forget to write something down and you grab the phone to contact the next number.

“What if I talked to Tommy so you could have a day off?” Polly asks before you could start dialling the number.

You stay silent, actually considering the offer. A day off is always accepted by you… but is it a fair trade?

“Let me have Friday off and we have a deal” You say.

Polly almost gasps in excitement at your words, while at the same time almost jumps forward to hug you.

She can’t believe that the offer of the having the day off would work, you usually enjoy working, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Finn always has his Friday’s off. How didn’t she think about this sooner?

“I’m going to start getting ready, then” Polly says excitingly with a big smile, while getting up from the couch behind you. “Try to not make us get there so late”

You smile at her words as she walks off to her bedroom and look down at the papers again.

A few more numbers wouldn’t hurt anyone, would they?

(…)

“I can’t believe we’re almost an hour late” Polly shakes her head while you two walk over to the restaurant’s door, “I told you to try to get ready quickly” She continues to scold.

You don’t react to the words much as your eyes look around the street, you were just out of Birmingham, which makes absolutely no sense why there would be a restaurant as busy as this one in the middle of nowhere.

You two step in the restaurant and your eyes almost widen at the inside.

While the outside of this place looks nothing like an expensive restaurant, the interior is just pure luxury.

Polly finishes her conversation with one of the waiters and you two start walking towards the table you were supposed to be sitting an hour ago.

Your eyes land on Michael and Gina, who are both staring at random objects around them.

“I’m so sorry for getting here so late” Polly apologizes while you stand silent behind her.

They are not getting an apology from you. No way in hell.

Their eyes lift over to you two and Gina gives a small (obviously fake) smile to Polly. The waiter puts down two other menus on the table as you move to take your seats.

Polly sits on front of Gina and you almost send her a glare as that meant that you need to sit right in front of Michael. You take off your jacket and lay it over the chair’s back before finally taking your seat.

“What took you so long?” Michael asks his mother, finally opening his mouth.

“Y/N forgot that she had to finish something for work at her office” Polly lies, giving her son a small smile.

She wouldn’t just bluntly say that you’re just a stubborn girl that enjoys seeing him in distress.

“Couldn’t she have finished it tomorrow?” Gina asks, sipping a bit of her wine.

You look up at her and give her your fakest smile.

“She is right here” You answer, making Gina look away from Polly and look at you with a rather shocked expression, “And no, it couldn’t be finished tomorrow”

“What was so urgent about that ‘something’?” Michael asks, making the three women look at him, “I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t care if you gave him anything the next day”

The urge to kick him under the table surges.

“You know how she is, Michael” Polly says with a friendly tone, “Y/N is all about being punctual at all times”

He doesn’t answer as he feels Gina’s gaze of confusion on him. How well does he know you? Was the question that replayed in Gina’s mind.

You lean back on your chair and notice Gina’s expression as if she is more than confused with Polly’s words.

Has Michael actually never said a word about you to her? You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Michael has shown more and more how he simply runs away from his problems.

Oh, but you would pay well to see Gina’s reaction to everything you two have shared over your time as lovers.

Michael looks forward, noticing your gaze on Gina and he follows it, meeting his girlfriend’s eyes filled with confusion and slight annoyance over feeling ignored.

Polly ignores the exchange of looks between the trio and opens her menu, starting to read the name of each meal and what each one had.

“If you don’t mind me asking” Gina starts with a soft tone, “And I know that this will sound rude, but… What are you doing here?” She asks, directing her gaze towards you in the last words.

You open your mouth to talk but Polly is quick to answer for you, in fear that you would say something rude back.

“Y/N is like a daughter to me” She explains, making Gina seem even more confused about you.

“Is that since she started working for you?”

You can’t help but smile at how oblivious she is to everything, which is quite intriguing.

Poor thing probably doesn’t even know half of the truth.

“For me?” Polly asks, “For the Peaky Blinders, you mean?”

Gina nods.

“I believe you can say that” Polly says, looking towards you as if to check if you agree, but is met with your smile, making her a bit confused.

“Was that how you met Michael?” Gina asks, intrigued by the conversation, looking towards you.

Gina knew the answer. Michael had said a few days ago at dinner that when he had met you, you were too soft to be a Peaky Blinder.

She is just testing how the story connects on your ends.

“God no” Polly answers for you with a scoff.

Michael stares at the two women in front of him as if they were two bombs about to explode. How much of the truth could you spill before even ordering the food?

The answer is: a lot.

“Michael was the one that introduced her to us” Polly says with a smile as she looks over at her son, who did not smile back, only stared in silence.

“Oh really?” Gina asks, surprised, “Didn’t expect that”

Reality clicked on Polly’s mind as those words aligned with everything that has been asked until now. Her son had lied about you. You. The girl she had welcomed in her arms when he broke her. When Michael, her son, broke: You.

Now she understood your amusement to the whole situation, but she did not imitate it to the slightest. This just infuriated her to the maximum level.

“Had Michael never spoke about Y/N to you?” She asks, opening another door into this conversation.

“No” Gina answers sincerely, “Not until we all had that meeting in that pub, if I remember correctly”

At least that’s the only day he gave her actual answers. He didn’t even answer one of her questions on the day that Polly mentioned you at the train station.

“Interesting” She answers while sending a glare towards her son.

“How so?”

You pull the menu off Polly’s hands to check it while still having the malicious smile on your lips, and Michael’s eyes move over to you, noticing your amusement for the first time.

You look back at him when feeling his stare and your smile gets bigger when noticing his expression.

Michael Gray is scared. How fascinating.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” You ask, looking back down at the menu, “You look a little stressed”

Michael hears your words, letting his mind admire the way his name rolled off your tongue as it did years back, until he remembers that he needs to give you an answer.

“Nothing’s wrong”

You nod at his words and Gina ignores your small interaction to look at Polly.

“What is so wrong of Michael not telling me about Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yeah, mom. What’s so wrong about that?” Michael asks, finally entering the conversation.

Polly sighs lightly.

“Nothing is wrong about what you did or didn’t do” Polly says, talking directly to her son, “I just find it extremely hard to believe it, as well as, highly surprising”

“Her existence just isn’t important in my conversations with Gina” He shrugs.

“You know very well that I’m not talking about her existence” Polly says with a disapproving tone, “Gina deserved to at least know something. Especially when you are coming into this place acting like you didn’t do anything wrong”

Your smile falls off your face and so does your rather amused look, it got replaced by a quite serious and broken one.

You lower your eyes to the words written on the menu and continue to act as if you were reading.

Michael bites his tongue and looks away from his mom, almost as if her words wounded him.

Both of your chests moved up and down rapidly as you let out heavy breaths, trying to get control back of your body and mind.

Your minds match the speed of how memories and thoughts passed through, making the situation worsen.

A man stands beside you, making Gina and Polly look up at him.

“What will you be having tonight?”

(…)

You turn the ring on your finger as Polly talks with the waiter about what kind of deserts they have and try to think about something more entertaining.

Gina listens to their conversation silently, since she’s interested in something sweet, while leaning her head over Michael’s shoulder.

You sigh out loud while letting go of the golden ring and scratch the back of your neck.

“I think I’m going home early” You whisper to Polly after leaning closer to her, making her stop talking to look at you.

“Are you okay?” She asks sweetly, with a concerned expression.

“Of course,” You offer a quick smile, “I’m just exhausted, and I need to work tomorrow morning”

You don’t care enough to look at the couple in front of you while getting up from your chair. You throw your long jacket over your shoulders and slide your arms into the sleeves.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” You whisper to Polly, who answers you with a tight smile.

You ignore the couple’s stare and walk off to the front door of the restaurant.

As you wish a goodnight to the workers at the front of the building, Polly sighs when realizing that you must be planning on walking home.

“Fuck” She whispers to herself.

“What?” Michael asks, noticing her concern.

“Y/N is walking home” She says while fighting her urge to roll her eyes in annoyance at herself for forgetting, “You two finish your meal, I’ll go take her home”

As Polly apologizes to the waiter and moves her chair back to stand but Michael is quicker.

“I’ll take her” He says, standing quickly, almost forgetting that Gina’s head was leaning on his shoulder, “You two eat your desserts”

Polly thanks him but as soon as she finishes the sentence, Michael was already out of the door of the restaurant with his jacket in hand.

He stares into one of the sides of the lonely and dark road and looks for you, but you are nowhere to be seen. He turns to the other side and sees you walking off while lighting a cigarette.

“Y/N!” He shouts while walking in quick pace towards you, “Wait up!”

You turn to see who is the crazy man that’s screaming at you and once you do it, you quickly wish you didn’t when you notice Michael running towards you.

“What are you doing?” You ask with the rudest tone you could pull off.

“My mom told me to take you home”

“Well, tell her that I’m grown enough to walk myself home” You scoff, “Go back inside”

He ignores your words and grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the parking lot. You scowl while looking at the back of his head and you can’t help but swear at him in your mind.

You yank your arm back as you reach the car and Michael unlocks the doors.

(…)

Three quarters into the drive you noticed you started wishing to be walking home for the 40th time. Not only was the silence between you uncomfortable enough to make you want to run away, the lack of communication was just the worst of it all.

You still feel very much affected by the beginning of your dinner, which just adds up to the built-up emotions you are hiding from him.

You wake up from your thoughts as Michael parks his car in front of your house and you are quick to try and jump out of the car right in that second.

“Thank you for not telling Gina anything” Michael says, making stop on your moves to look at him.

“What?”

“You could’ve told everything to Gina at the restaurant, but you didn’t. Thank you”

You stay still for at least one good minute and don’t say anything, until you let out a scoff while looking at him dumbfounded.

“You have some fucking nerve” You laugh while nodding, acknowledging the stupidity in his words. “I didn’t do that for you”

You open the door and jump out of the car before he could say anything.

You slam it, just to give your words a little more character, but you tense up in your steps as you hear his door opening as well.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you tell her then?” He asks, in a loud tone over the distance already between you, “You could’ve ruined me and my relationship right there and then, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you?”

“Because!” You shout while turning around, “You don’t even deserve that from me! You can live your shit relationship filled with lies all you want, Michael, I don’t give enough of a fuck to destroy that for you”

“Seriously?” He asks, walking over to you, “Then why in the fuck did you act all affected by the sight of us together?”

“Are you serious?” You ask, again, dumbfounded by his words, “I’m not affected by your relationship! I’m affected at the mention of what you did TO ME!” You shout at the top of your lungs your last words.

The words echo through your street and Michael’s breathing heavies.

“All of this is because I left you?”

You scoff and turn to walk to your door, ignoring his steps behind you as your chin starts to shake and your eyes to water.

You’re able to unlock your door and slide in your house, but Michael’s foot stops it from closing on his face.

“We’re not done with our conversation” He says while forcing your door open.

You let go of the door, stripping your jacket as you walk to the living room and you try to get hold of your emotions as the tears try to spill over your cheeks.

“Just leave, Michael” You say with a calmer tone, while throwing the jacket to the side, to the couch’s back.

“You hate me this much because I left you?” He ignores what you preciously said.

“Yes” You say, still not looking at him, “Now, can you leave me alone?”

“No” He says, and you hear your front door finally close, meaning that he’s planning in staying for a little bit more time that you wished.

“Michael, please” You say, finally turning around.

Michael looks up at you and frowns a bit at the sight of your red watery eyes and you biting the inside of your cheek.

“Just leave me alone” You plead, this time, “I don’t care for your relationship, for what you do with your life, or what you wish to do with Gina after leaving Birmingham, just please. Leave my house”

“I’m sorry for what I did” He says, a way softer tone than before.

“You aren’t sorry”

“I am”

“No, you are not!” You scream again, making him flinch slightly, “If you were sorry, that apology would’ve been the first thing you told me when we first saw each other. But no, you just decided to rub in the scar how you moved on and got yourself a girlfriend that COULD BE FUCKING PREGNANT!”

Michael looks down at the floor and a sob leaves your mouth. You lay your hand over your mouth to hide the incoming whimpers and sobs.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you as much as I did” He admits.

“No, you didn’t” You agree, “You just wanted me to end that call and live a happy life, right?”

“Yes, actually”

“Well, sorry to inform you, Michael Gray, but that is not how love works” You say, voice cracking at the end, “And anyone with a least 2 braincells would know that”

He stays silent again, leaning over your couch’s back, eyes on the ground as if he’s thinking on what to say next.

“Just tell me one last thing. Why did you do it?” You ask, harshly wiping the tears off your cheeks.

Michael shakes his head, not knowing what to say to you. His chest aches at the sound of your words heavy with sadness and heartbreak, but he swallows the emotions away.

“I don’t know why I did it,” He admits, “It was stupid of me and I regretted it right away”

You grab something on the table beside you and throw it at him.

“STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!” You shout as Michael ducks under the flying plate that shattered on the wall behind him.

“I am not lying!” He assures, “I am not fucking lying! It hurt me to do that to you and I wanted to call back and apologize, but-”

“But you’re too big of a coward to do it” You finish, “You don’t have the right to come to me and act like you left that conversation hurt like I did, Michael. You didn’t, and you should admit it to yourself”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this. But what I’m saying is true”

“Even if it is, Michael” You say, walking over closer to him, “That just shows how much of a coward you are. You regretted it, yet you were too big of a cunt to not call back and admit that you were wrong. Your pride was bigger than the pain you felt for what you did. And you only realize it now, almost 2 years later”

You’re right, more than right, you’re spot on, and Michael’s silence just confirmed it for you.

“You broke me to feel 5 seconds of pride of being a single independent man, to then realize that you’re no man at all” You say, mouth full of hatred and arrogance, “That is what you’re sorry about”

“No, that’s not true” He says, standing back on his feet and walking towards you.

“How come?”

“I am sorry for breaking your heart the way I did” He says, “And I am sorry for realizing it so late. I did not mean to ever do this much damage”

You don’t answer, feeling too tired to do it.

“Y/N, please!” He pleads, “God damn it, I am sorry that I did this to you! Please, at least, give us a change to talk this through and understand each other’s side”

“No”

“Pleas-”

“No, Michael! How can you even ask that?” You ask, frowning at him, “Is this all an act to you? You’re acting like I’m so special to you, yet you talked about me in that dinner as I was a simple girl that you met just before leaving for America”

“I never meant it like that”

“Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you and your ‘I didn’t mean to’’s” You say, “Do yourself a favour and leave before you let anymore shit come out of that mouth”

“Y/N-”

“What, Michael? What do you wish to say next?” You ask, almost screaming again, “Are you-”

“Just let me speak for a second!” He shouts, shutting you up, “Gina is the only person I’ve ever talked about you that way. Ever! I just told her that because I was scared of ruining my relationship with her”

“Then just leave, she isn’t here. She’s waiting for you at the restaurant. If she truly is the person that you care for the most, then leave!”

“I don’t care about her, right now” He says loudly, “I’m trying to show you that I still care for you, Y/N. Please, just let me fix this”

“It’s a little too late for that” You say before turning your back to him and walking towards the kitchen.

“Why?”

You turn back to him.

“Because YOU MOVED ON, MICHAEL!” You add, “That is what is hurting your case! How can you still continue to say that you still care for me and that you went through a lot of pain after that call, when you moved on?”

“I moved on to deal with my pain!”

“Just leave”

“Y/N-”

“Leave! Get out of my house, Michael! You have done enough damage already, don’t make it worse. Please!”

Michael shuts his mouth and nods at your words.

“Okay” He whispers.

He turns around and walks past the broken plate on the ground before opening the front door and slamming it on his way out.

You let out a loud sob and you don’t care enough to cover your mouth this time, letting your knees lose their strength and bring you down to the hard cold ground, as you cried in desperation of what just happened.

As your breathing quickens and your sobs get even more uncontrollable, you crawl your way to the house phone, dialling a very familiar number.

“Hello?” Finn’s groggy voice, probably from sleeping, sounds on your ear.

You sniffle and clear your throat before speaking.

“Can you come over?” You ask, your voice cracking at the small question and the memories it brings you, “I need you, right now”

“I’m on my way”

- - - - - - -

This ending hurt to write, ngl.

Taglist: @ohhersheybars @woodland-mist @onlythechicagoway @soleil-dor @finn-shelbys-bulldog @oh-theres-a-woman @peakyxtommy @ms-reader @beautycinders @lovemissyhoneybee @graceedwards @jadesbabylon @marvelismylifffe @peakascum @shanetoo @hufflemendes @cherrytop02 @http-cherries @burnitup @livingforbarnes

If you wish to be a part of my taglist, DM me or leave a comment on this post.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray imagines #finn cole #finn cole x reader #peaky #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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hongnanglen-arina · 4 years

Text

The Ulzzang Project - Part 3 | Jeon Wonwoo

Read part 2 Read part 4

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Genre: a little fluff and angst, crack

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: well, not too angsty I guess but I didn’t re-read.. oh and alcohol consuming

Words: 3.3k

A/N: Hello hello! Sorry for the rather long wait! I thought it could spice it up if someone else is thrown into the pot hehehe (: as always, I’d be happy to know your thoughts about it. Please remember that English isn’t my first language so excuse my grammar ♡

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You tapped the pencil against your chin. Working on a presentation wasn’t your thing and especially the beginning was the most stressful part, always. A brainstorming sketch was on a sheet of paper in front of you and between the person you were with. It was nice to work on it at a public place and you loved to have cafe sounds in the background. That’s why you suggested this cafe in the first place. You’ve already finished on a couple of presentations here and the vibe this cafe was giving you helped a lot. But you weren’t sure if it was the right decision today - for this presentation. You couldn’t hear the familiar sounds of people talking and relaxing with the coffee machine preparing the next order. All you could hear was whispering. Loud whispering. And you could feel the stares shooting holes in your body from every angle possible.

“We should write down some notes for the first part. Hasn’t be too much. Like in 20 minutes we compare our notes and decide what’s best?” You tried to ignore the glares you got, looking at the boy in front of you.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Actually you liked your professor but his idea to team you up with Jeonghan for this statistics project was stupid. All your prayers that he would change his mind or that Jeonghan would complain so much that you would get a different partner were useless. After he saw who you were, he even insisted doing it with you and you didn’t understand why.

So you just settled with the thought of doing it. Not that you had another option anyways.

But all those girls who were watching you two made you uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Your project partner leaned back. “I’m fine if you start. I’m sure your pretty head is very useful for this.”

Somehow it didn’t surprise you. His attitude was exactly like you had assumed after everything you head… and also after seeing his Instagram. Was this boy really of no use? Tall and handsome but an asshole? Although you weren’t surprised, you still had some hope that not all good looking people were bad. Best example, your best friend Wonwoo.

The thought of Wonwoo caused you to sigh. Yesterday at this time, you were sitting outside on a bench with your friends. You could even see the place from where you were stuck with Jeonghan if you looked outside the window. After you discovered the new post with Wonwoo’s text, your break was over and everyone left for their next subject. Up until now you weren’t sure what he meant with it. It had to be a joke. Just something to gain more followers and likes. Something fitting for your fake couple page. But why did it make your heart skip a beat when you first saw it? You didn’t know what to say to your best friend or how to address the topic so you thought you would let him take the first step, which hadn’t happened. It made you angry for no reason.

You sighed again. This time louder.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jeonghan’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You didn’t react when I was talking to you so I got worried.”

Quickly lowering your gaze, you flipped around an empty page, readjusting the pencil in your hand. “Oh no no, don’t worry. Everything’s okay. I already have some ideas for our project. Just give me a moment.”

The person in front of you smiled widely at your reply, which you missed out on because you were already scribbling down while your brain was working and distracting itself from your male best friend.

“Oh great! I can leave then, yes? Thank you y/n. We can discuss our project later. Maybe tomorrow, same time same place?” He got up from his chair and was about to turn around with a ‘bye’ when you stood up as well, calling his name.

“Yoon Jeonghan, let me remind you. This is a group project. A group project is supposed to be done as a group. In a group. You may decide who will focus on which part but what you just said sounded as if you expect me to do everything alone. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

He turned around to face you again, the smile still on his lips. “I knew your pretty head was useful. You got it absolutely right. I’m looking forward to the outcome. See you tomorrow then, y/n!”

He really was an asshole.

“Stop you little shit!”

Suddenly it was quiet around you but you didn’t care. You were angry.

“The fact that I was writing and actually trying to be productive wasn’t a hint for you to stand up and go away. I want to do this because I have to. No matter if you’re my partner or someone else. Knowing you better shows me that I would probably be happier with someone else that’s not as ignorant and dumb as you. I really hoped you would prove me wrong but it’s just the looks that you have. Everything else is bad. Anyways, if you leave now, I will talk to our prof and tell him about it. I won’t do it with you if you let me work alone. I will give you one more chance or I’m the one that’s off. So?”

Jeonghan looked at you with wide eyes.

You were the first girl. The first that wasn’t following him. That wasn’t only agreeing to everything he said. The first girl that wasn’t head over heels for him.

You were different.

“So?” You repeated, slightly impatient. There were quite some places you would rather be right now than here with Yoon Jeonghan and is admires who were glaring at you for not treating him as the hottest and most wanted man on campus. Who came up with this nonsense anyways!?

“What.. do you… want me to do?” He finally asked you and the way he was standing in front of you seemed as if he was confused, scared even.

“The presentation. It has to be done. And for that, you and I will sit here and work on it.”

He slowly flops down on his chair again and for once you thought he looked cute but you quickly shook the thought off before sitting down again as well, taking your pencil again.

As you wanted to continue writing, you heard him clear his throat, causing you to look up from your paper. “What is it?”

“… can you give me a pen and paper?”

It took you a second until you gave him the things he asked you for. Maybe he had nothing to write. Whatever the reason, you felt great that you made the ‘holy’ Jeonghan work on the project. Maybe he wasn’t an asshole after all.

—

You sat on the floor, back resting against you bed as you took a sip of the new smoothie your mother made. There were too many ingredients, you could only remember it had apple, chia, spinach and banana in it.

Without noticing, your sleepy mind trailed from how you were working on your presentation with Jeonghan to the boy from your shared Instagram account. There was still no message on your phone from him. Did he just write it underneath the post without a meaning? Were you the only one who was trying to read between the lines to understand what he might wanted to say?

Absentmindedly you grabbed your phone to catch up with the things you missed while being with Jeonghan the whole day after your classes. After seeing again that there was no new message from Wonwoo in you chat app - only one from Chan, asking you if you had seen the new choreography video of a dance team you two liked - you changed the app and scrolled through your Instagram feed. Nothing interesting nor new. On Wonwoo’s personal page was no update. On your shared one was no update. Bored, you clicked the like button on a photo of Dokyeom and his selfmade pizza which looked amazing and a photo of Hoshi’s tiger plushie with the text ‘horanghae’.

Sighing, the thought of your friend still bothered you. It unusual for him to be this quiet all day. Maybe you should take the first step and just start a conversation? Casually? There was still a high possibility that he wrote the sentence without a meaning so why not say hi?

[Y/n] Hey, what’s up?

Was that casual enough?

2 Minutes passed. No response.

5 Minutes passed. Still no response.

“Why is he like this?!” You whined, letting yourself fall to the side so you were lying on the floor when your mother came into your room after knocking twice.

“Are you alright dear? Are you exhausted from uni? Or is my smoothie bad?? You can tell me honestly, I won’t get mad, I promise.”

You pouted and mouthed ‘uni’ and she nodded understandingly. “Rest then. You know, if you need anything, tell me. I can cook your favorite dish or prepare dessert. I can read you a book or cuddle you to sleep-“

“Mom!”

She laughed and waved apologetic. “Understand. My little girl isn’t so little anymore. Just call whenever you need me. I’ll be in the living room watching my drama.”

You thanked her and watched her leave your room.

Automatically you looked at your phone again, opening Instagram. While you were working on your presentation with Jeonghan, you two exchanged numbers and followed each other on the app. You had an actually nice conversation and got to know him a little better. He wasn’t so snobbish as you though he would be.

Your eyes were glued on Jeonghan’s update from 2 hours ago. It was a photo of you how you were concentrated on writing down your part from your project, two milkshakes in front of you. His had less while your own drink was almost full and untouched because you had a rush of ideas and decided to write them down before it disappeared. You didn’t know he took a photo. That’s when you saw the text he added to the photo.

Interesting. She might become a candidate (:

A candidate for what?? Cocking your head to the side, you wanted to know what he meant with it when your phone chimed, telling you about a new message. When you saw that it was from Wonwoo, your fingers tapped faster to read it.

[Wonwoo] Bored to death. You?

[Y/n] Same. Park in 30? Crave ice cream…

Maybe you replied too fast but you didn’t care. You were just happy he was talking to you even though you weren’t sure why you were worried he wouldn’t. There was no issue between the two of you or was it?

[Wonwoo] Deal. See ya

Although you were relieved he replied and even agreed to seeing you but something in you was still worried for some reason. But you couldn’t deny the little excitement in the back of your mind.

After finishing your smoothie and making your mother happy with it, you complimented her before leaving the apartment to meet up with Wonwoo. Even though it was dark outside, the fact that you were going to meet your childhood friend made your mother worry less. She knew that he was a good person and if something scary would occur, he would defend or help you first.

With the familiar cheers and wishes that ‘your mother would be overly happy if you two would finally get together as a couple’, you left your home and made your way to the little park. You wondered if Wonwoo was already there.

While you were walking, your thoughts traveled to everything that happened over the last few days.

Last weekend, when you decided to start your shared Instagram and act as an ulzzang couple just to see how many likes and followers you could get within a month. The seemingly normal texts under his posts that made your heart skip a beat. The way he babied you more than once which he had never done before. The overall vide he gave was different. You could still recognize your bestie but there was something that had changed but you weren’t able to tell why that was or what it caused.

Then to uni. Your presentation with the infamous Yoon Jeonghan who you disliked from the second you were introduced to him through your friends and their knowledge about him. He was too handsome that he just had to be arrogant and ignorant. It turned out that he is from the outside but strangely after you scolded him in front of everyone else in the cafe, he was very nice and cooperative all of a sudden. He even told you that he would work on the middle part and you could go through it tomorrow. You still didn’t fully believe him so you might prepare something in case it was all a lie. But you could do that tomorrow. Today your priority was Wonwoo.

When you arrived at the park, he wasn’t there. Maybe you were too happy and walked too fast?

Looking around and making sure that he really wasn’t around, you slowly made your way to the swing and sat down, slightly moving back and forth with your feet on the ground and hands around the chains on each side. You looked down when out of nowhere fear crept up your spine.

Oh your friends: the ‘what if’s’.

What if he was disappointed in you for whatever reason? Maybe for not texting him sooner? What if he was mad at you for not using your shared account? At least not as often as he did? What if he wasn’t happy about Jeonghan teaming up with you for the presentation? But then again, it wasn’t your decision. He couldn’t blame you.

You shook your head. Those questions should go away.

You knew why they have appeared.

Because you missed your best friend.

And combined with the fact that you felt his attitude was different over the last week just added to your pile of anxiety.

A soft tap on your shoulder caused you to snap out of your thoughts. Wonwoo was standing beside you with melon ice cream in his hands, offering you one.

“Heard you wanted ice cream?”

Immediately, you smiled at him, a warmth rushing through your body as you finally saw your friend again and him paying attention to you intensified the relieve.

“Thank you.”

You took one and started eating it while Wonwoo sat down on the other swing, both of you enjoying your ice cream in silence. The noises of your surroundings were kind of far away from you, looking for words to start a conversation.

Once you finished, you looked at the boy beside you, just to notice that he was looking at you too.

“I missed you,” you said in unison and the moment your brains progressed it, you two looked away sheepishly.

It was stupid, you had to admit. It only had been a little over 1 day that you haven’t seen your friend but because of the overall situation, you were were like this.

Again, you were looking for words to form a sentence and to distract yourself from the red cheeks. “W-what were you doing when I sent the message?”

His head turned back to you when he started to talk, “I was playing an online game but it wasn’t my day today. They always killed me with ease. Wherever I was hiding, whatever I thought was a good tactic, they found me and ended my sad life. Your message helped. What about you?”

“Did nothing. Well, complimenting my mother on her new smoothie?”

Suddenly Wonwoo was chuckling. “Sometimes I envy you for not living alone as I do.”

“You’re not alone. I’m literally always at your place.”

Your reply made Wonwoo sigh and you tried to figure out why he was feeling down all of a sudden, waiting for him to answer your silent question but he asked you something else, changing the topic.

“How is your presentation going?”

It took you by surprise but you decided to give him an honest answer, just being happy to have a topic to talk about.

“At first I hated Jeonghan but he’s okay. Really. After I got angry at him, he actually worked on it with me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he even volunteered to prepare the middle part. You know, the most important part of the whole thing. He also listened to me and-“

“You got angry at him?”

“U-uh… yeah. That dude wanted to leave me alone and don’t help with it. Can you imagine? He really thought he could get away with it. But not with me, ha!”

He chuckled again, seemingly approving your previous outburst of anger with the other.

While you were watching Wonwoo from the side and admiring his crunched laughter, you remembered his Instagram post and started chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Wonwoo didn’t notice your nervousness as he was shaking his head at the thought of you making a scene in front of his fanclub. He wished he would have seen it happening. Something told him that it wouldn’t be the only occasion for you to lose your temper with him and that he may see it the next time if he sticked to you more often.

“Wanna skip tomorrow’s morning lectures with me?”

The question left your lips faster than you could think and surprised you as well as him when you met Wonwoo’s expression, but his was quickly followed by a smirk.

“Do I smell a mario kart session with greasy food?”

“Yep.”

Hearing his amused snort made you happy for some reason and when he got up and held his hand out for you to grab and follow him, you did as he wordlessly asked and went to his place, hand in hand. Like you often did.

It seemed as if your anxiety was for nothing. He was the same when you arrived at his place, got out of your shoes and offered you a can of beer. He was the same when he asked you what you wanted to eat. He was even the same when he took the last bite of your dish without asking beforehand. And he was the same when he started a fight when he lost against you at mario kart 4 matches in a row. You felt as if it had been a decade since you laughed as much.

You made a mental note not to think too much again when it comes to your best friend.

After a while you two changed to more comfortable clothes as you opened your third can of beer, Wonwoo was on his fourth. That was exactly what you needed. Although it wasn’t the best decision but numbing your previous doubts and fears and enjoying the company of your bestie was the best right now.

“I love spending time with you y/n.”

Thanks to the alcohol in your system, you weren’t too shy to react to his words and felt kind of adventurous. “Thanks for the kind words but to be honest I expected to hear that you want to take your sexy photos now that I’m drunk.”

“Ha ha ah… you’re not completely wrong though.” Wonwoo readjusted his glasses and took a sip of his beer when you said, “Okay. let’s do this.” Your friend nearly choked on the alcohol but asked again what you just said, just in case he heard wrong.

“I said, let’s take those photos for our Instagram.”

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harley-sunday · 4 years

Text

Encore [03]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: Language. NSFW

Word count: 10.3k

AN: This chapter has everything: angst, swooning, smut, you name it. Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

“Hi, Nic,” you answer your phone with a faint smile, wedging it between your ear and your shoulder so you have both hands free to drain the pasta that has just finished cooking.

“Ok, I did something and you’re not going to like it, but-”

“Nicole,” you warn her, because even though you’re not sure what she’s talking about it doesn’t sound too promising.

“Just hear me out, ok?”

You grab the glass of wine you poured yourself earlier and sit down at the kitchen table, “Fine.”

“So I went to go see Chris after you left yesterday and-”

“Nicole,” you draw out, pinching the bridge of your nose, your elbows resting on the table, “what did you do?”

“I gave him your letters,” she says matter-of-factly. “He needs to know.”

“I can’t-”

“It’s been eighteen years, babe,” she cuts in, “and I’m not gonna let you two waste another minute.”

“You had no right,” your voice comes out barely above a whisper, the betrayal caused by your best friend weighing heavy on your, well, everything. You can hear she’s still talking but you hang up anyway, not interested in whatever excuse she comes up with to justify her actions.

Your phone rings again, Nicole’s name flashing on your screen, but you decline the call, the hurt slowly turning into anger and so you empty your glass of wine rather aggressively before you decide you need something stronger. Might as well get the whiskey out, you reason, and so not much later you find yourself on the couch, your half-finished dinner long forgotten, nursing a whiskey and taking a rather painful trip down memory lane.

After you left Sudbury you found a job as a waitress at a diner in Boston somewhere and you were determined to leave the past behind you, taking on every available shift to keep yourself busy. It felt like you actually had your life together for about six months, but then ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ came out and suddenly Chris was everywhere and you had a rather embarrassing breakdown over it at work. Your boss, bless him, understood you needed something more than just a shoulder to cry on and referred you to a therapist who had helped his daughter after a particularly nasty divorce not too long ago.

In the end it was Dr Lipinski who suggested writing letters rather than keeping a diary, because as he told you, the act of writing down your thoughts and feelings and then sending them to your person of choice, would offer you a sense of closure. You chose to send them to Nicole, mostly because, well, you missed your best friend terribly, but also because she was there for most of what happened while you were dating Chris and so she knew your history.

She didn’t reply until after the third or fourth letter, when she wrote to you and told you how hurt she was after you left. You were a little taken aback by her blunt reply but your therapist used her letter to make you understand that when you left Sudbury, you also left Nicole behind and that her feelings were very valid. Your next letter to her was a heartfelt apology that she accepted with grace and after that you started writing to each other regularly.

Most of your letters those first few months were long, endless pages of you trying to understand why this break up had such an impact, why you couldn’t seem to let it go. Sometimes while writing, a happy memory from when you were dating would pop up and you’d share it with Nicole, but most of the time it was just you trying to figure out where things had gone wrong and why Chris seemed so unaffected by all of it. Another popular subject was trying to make sense of why people treated you the way they did after you broke up and why they went to such lengths to make you feel so bad up until the point where the only way out was to leave Sudbury.

After a while, a good two years after you first started writing, your letters became less about Chris and more about whatever else was going on in your life. You kept writing Nicole as you moved from Boston to Pittsburgh to Baltimore before you ended up in Philadelphia almost four years ago. She was there with you for every new job, every date you went on, both good and bad, and during your four-year relationship with Dylan that slowly bled to death even though Nicole already told you to call it quits five months earlier.

Except for the annual Christmas letter there was no telling how often you’d write her, sometimes mailing out as many as three letters in one month and sometimes taking several months between one letter and the next. There was always a peak in letters whenever Chris had a new movie out though, his media presence almost a cruel reminder of why you started writing in the first place.

The Infinity War premiere earlier this year, which took place about a week after you were contacted about Encore, made you write two letters in rapid succession. The first one was upbeat, the words penned down almost in a hurry, as though you were afraid you’d run out of time, and almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. The second letter was way more subdued and took you several hours to write as you suddenly found yourself reliving the years right after you broke up with Chris, which in turn made you doubt if coming back would be a good idea.

Your last letter was sent somewhere during the summer, where you let Nicole know that of course you were doing the show, not only because it would be stupid not to but also because you hoped it would bring you some sort of closure after all these years. She supported your decision and you could tell she was excited to finally see you again and introduce her family to you.

Maybe what bothers you so much about Chris now having your letters, you realize, a few hours and two glasses of whiskey later, is that, even though you made the very conscious decision to go back to Sudbury, things are out of your hands now and you hate no longer being in control of what happens next more than anything.

The rest of the week passes by in a blur, a new assignment with a tight deadline has you working long hours, all while Nicole keeps calling you at steady intervals. You never answer, still too upset and hurt by what she did.

When Friday afternoon comes around you wonder if maybe you should call Dr Lipinski, just to hear what he thinks. You decide it would probably be weird to contact him after you stopped seeing him, what, fourteen years ago and so you don’t, not in the least because you know he’ll probably just say something like, “But how does it make you feel?”

Problem is, you don’t know. There’s a whole range of emotions you go through each day, from angry when you remember what Nicole did, to disappointed that she did it, to hurt that she did it without your consent. Giving Chris those letters was like giving away a piece of you that you’ve kept hidden for all these years and you’re not sure you want him to see now, because what if he no longer wants anything to do with you once he finishes reading them?

Last night you wondered if you should just call him and explain well, what exactly you weren’t sure, and so you spent the better part of an hour staring at your phone, willing for Chris’ name to pop up on your screen. You even contemplated calling Scott, only to realize you don’t have his number, which made you even more upset.

Your phone rings then, interrupting your thoughts and when you see it’s your boss who’s calling you take the call with the push of a button on your steering wheel, her voice filling your car in an instant.

The call is short, but you know more will probably follow over the weekend, because for some reason your boss values your opinion too much not to run things by you before final decisions are made. Before you hang up you tell you’re available should she want you to come into the office, and even though she tells you she would never and to enjoy your weekend, you kind of hope that she does, because you could use some distractions in the next forty-eight hours or so, not particularly looking forward to the time alone.

After a quick stop at the grocery story you finally make your way back to your house, cursing quietly when you see there’s no empty parking spaces along your street and you’ll have to park around the corner. Once you find one not too far away, you sling your purse over your shoulder and grab the brown paper bag from the back seat, supporting it with two hands once you’ve locked your car, because even though it’s not really heavy it’s just easier that way.

Your phone rings then and without looking you answer it, figuring it must be your boss backtracking on her earlier offer to not have you come in, “Linds, just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“It’s me.”

You’re too stunned to say anything and stop at a bench, putting the groceries down to keep from dropping them.

“I know you don’t want to talk and I know you’re still angry, but I need you to listen for like, two minutes, and I promise I will stop meddling after this,” Nicole says so fast you almost want to tell her to take a deep breath, but then she clears her throat and says, “I gave him your address.”

“What?” You make a face because you don’t understand, “Who did you-”

“Just be honest with him, ok babe?”

“What are you talking about?” You shake your head even though she can’t see you, “Nicole? Who has my address? Did Scott contact you-”

“I want you to know that I love you,” her voice is soft, “and that I’m always here for you.” Before you have a chance to say anything she continues, “Now go. I’ll talk to you soon, ok?”

“Nicole!” It’s too late, she’s hung up already and you can feel yourself starting to get annoyed at her call. What the hell was she thinking, giving Scott your address? You stew things over while you pick up your groceries and continue on towards your house, not particularly paying attention to your surroundings. You’ve just made it to the front steps when you see something moving out of the corner of your eye and then someone steps into view and-

“Hi.”

Of course. You look at him from over your grocery bag, “What the hell are you doing here?” Then, because it’s quite busy out and you don’t want anyone to recognize him even though he’s wearing sunglasses, you rest the bag on your hip and fish your keys out of your pocket and nod towards the door once you’ve opened it, “Get inside.”

He waits in the narrow hallway for you to close the door and so you have to squeeze past him to the kitchen so you can finally put your groceries down. You take a deep breath before you turn towards him and it’s then you notice the duffel bag at his feet, which makes you scoff, “What are you doing here, Chris?”

“I wanted to check on you-”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you say, gesturing at yourself, “I’m fine.”

He steps closer then, his eyes landing somewhere over your right shoulder, where you know there are four empty bottles of wine on the counter and so you try your hardest not to cringe, before he looks back at you, one eyebrow raised, “You sure about that?”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to not lose what little composure you have left, “If you just came here to tell me my life is a mess, I really don’t-”

“I came here because we need to talk,” he takes his sunglasses off and runs a hand through his hair, which tells you he’s not quite as confident as he tries to make you believe.

“And you thought showing up, unannounced, was the best way to do this?” You scoff and shake your head, “Do you even know me?”

“I thought I did,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You hold up your hand when you see he wants to say something, “No, you know what, never mind, we’re not doing this now.”

“Ace-”

“The living room is on your right, go, make yourself comfortable, examine my life some more, I don’t care,” you tell him as you turn around and start unloading your groceries, “I’m gonna make us dinner first because I’m not doing this on an empty stomach.”

You think you hear him chuckle, but you’re too determined to prove your point and so you ignore him, instead getting everything you need to make a quick chicken stir fry. He leaves his bag in the hallway, almost like he wants you to know he’s not going anywhere, and it makes you go through a whole range of emotions while you cut the vegetables.

Dinner is awkward and silent and so the moment both of you finish eating you pick up the plates and disappear into the kitchen, mumbling something about doing the dishes. While you wait for the sink to fill up with warm water you start clearing away some of the things you’ve used while cooking and it’s at that moment Chris walks in.

Your kitchen is small and definitely not large enough to host two people comfortably and so you can’t help but bump into him when you turn back around, and having him up in your personal space does nothing to improve your mood.

“You need any help with those dishes?”

You shake your head, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave you alone, but either he really doesn’t or simply chooses not to, because he stays, leaning against the countertop behind you. Fine, you think, and focus on the dishes instead.

“You know what I regret the most?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but his words pierce through the air like a scream and in response you start scrubbing a little harder. He doesn’t wait for your reply and continues, his voice a little louder now, “Letting you go that easily.” He clears his throat, “Did you know I came back for you after we broke up?”

Shit. The plate you were holding slips from your hand, falling back into the soapy water and making some of it splash over the edges, which only adds to your frustration.

“I thought maybe if we could talk and I could explain what really happened at that party, I don’t know. I thought maybe we could work things out, you know, that if you heard my side you’d understand, but-” he pauses for a second, “you weren’t there.” His voice catches on the last word and he clears his throat again, “When I found out you were gone I lost it. I asked Nicole to tell me where you went and when she told me she didn’t know I- Your parents, I called them every single day, begging them to tell me, to at least let me know if you were alright, but they just told me to let it go. To let you go.”

Too much. It’s too much and you can feel the room starting to close in on you and so you try your hardest to just stay focused on the task at hand.

“I think they called my mom at some point, just to get me to back off, and she basically told me the same thing, that I should let you go and that if we were really meant to be together you’d find your way back to me in the end.” He scoffs, “Maybe not the best advice to give a heartbroken nineteen-year old who thinks this is the end of the world. I went off the rails after that and I’m not proud of some of the things I did, but at least the alcohol helped to numb some of the pain, so-” He sighs, “My manager gave me an ultimatum after I missed my third casting call in two months and, I don’t know, I guess that was the turning point, you know? I went back to Los Angeles and focused on work and for a while it helped because that city never held any memories for us so-” his voice drops, “I thought I could finally let you go, but-”

You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear that the past eighteen years have been just as bad for him as they were for you, and it’s almost as if you don’t want to believe that what he just told you is actually true, because it would invalidate so much of the anger you’ve felt for all those years. You drop the glass you were holding back into the water and leave, the living room the only logical option for now because that’s where your liquor cabinet is. Just as you’ve poured two glasses of whiskey, putting one on the dining room table for him to take, he walks in, one eyebrow raised when he sees what you’re doing. You shrug, “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

There’s a hint of something in his eyes, maybe relief that at least you’re talking again, before he says, “I just need you to hear me out, Ace. Please?”

You don’t say anything but take a sip of your whiskey instead, which he takes as his cue to continue.

“I thought I could forget you, thought that it would get easier after a while but-”

You watch him as he leans against the table, more space between you now than there was in the kitchen. He looks down at his feet and you can see his eyebrows knit together, almost as if he tries to decide what to say next.

He nods then and looks back up at you, “I never believed people who said you never forget your first love, thought eighteen years would be long enough to get over someone- To get over you but,” he tries to smile and shrugs, “then I saw you again last week and-”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“-turns out they were right after all.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you with that half-smile that normally makes you melt a little but now only adds fuel to the fire and so you don’t give him the response you know he’s waiting for.

He runs his hand over his face in frustration, “Well, I guess at least now you know my side.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “I guess I should tell you mine but your new best friend Nicole made sure you already know everything, so-”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t still talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what people do, Ace,” he says, his desperation clear in the way he drops his hands. “I came looking for you last week, you know that? I went by your hotel because I didn’t want to leave things between us like that but you weren’t there and I-,” he shakes his head, “I felt like that nineteen-year old kid again.”

You don’t say anything, just scoff and take another sip, the amber liquid burning your throat in not an entirely unpleasant way.

“So when Nicole offered me that lifeline, I- Reading your letters,” he says, his voice a little unsteady now, “it helped me understand that I fucked up. Not just eighteen years ago but also last week. That’s why I’m here, you know, I- I really hope we can try to work things out, because I don’t want to lose you again.”

“What do you want me to say, Chris? I don't-”

“I just want to know if the girl I fell in love with all those years ago is still there.”

It’s too much. You’d like to believe you’re still angry. At him. At yourself. At Nicole. Because anger is an easy emotion. Safe even, at least it was for the past eighteen years. But it’s also slowly starting to dissolve, because the faint promise of something more that hangs in the air now makes you feel hopeful, maybe, and it confuses you. So, you put your glass down and walk past him, doing what you do best, “I don’t know what you had planned but if you want to you can sleep on the couch, I guess,” you tell him as you make your way to the stairs, “there’s a linen closet on the landing upstairs, next to the bathroom. Everything you need is in there.”

“Ace-”

“I need some-” You take a deep breath, “Good night, Chris.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy and you spend the night tossing and turning, sometimes drifting off in a restless sleep, but mostly awake, the events of the previous evening never far from your mind. By the time Saturday morning comes around you’re a little sleep deprived and a lot on edge.

You’re still in bed, trying to figure out how to go about today, trying to figure out what to do with everything you found out last night, when you hear the familiar creak of the stairs. For a moment you panic, thinking he’s going to come in to tell you he’s leaving, but then you hear the tap being turned on in the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief, if only because the inevitable has been postponed a little longer.

The shower turns on then and so you realize now is a perfect time to call the one person who you know will help you make sense of the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling after last night. You roll over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand, and thumb through your contact list until you’ve found her number, letting yourself roll on your back once you’ve hit ‘Dial’.

She doesn’t answer right away and for a moment you’re worried she’ll ignore your call like you did hers the past week, but then you hear the familiar sound of her voice and it’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

“You ok?” She sounds worried, must know that you wouldn’t call if it’s not urgent, and you love her for it.

“No,” you answer truthfully, “not really.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yeah,” you pause for a second, just to confirm you can still hear the water running. “He’s taking a shower,”

“So he spent the night?”

“On the couch,” you admit easily, “but yeah.”

“What happened?” There’s some noise on her end of the line and you can only imagine her sitting up on the couch, not wanting to miss anything of what you’re about to tell her.

“I don’t know. It was so awkward at first, Nic,” you let out a sigh and look up at the ceiling, “and then he just sort of started talking, telling me his side of the story and-”

“So you know about what happened when he got back to Sudbury?”

“You mean, after we broke up?”

“Yeah,” Nicole confirms.

“I don’t know.” You run a hand over your face, “He told me he sort of lost it for a while?”

“Oh honey,” Nicole scoffs, “he was a mess. He came by a few times, always asking if I knew where you’d gone, if there was a way to contact you, and each time he looked worse than when I last saw him. He even got pulled over at some point and they threatened to put a DUI on his record, but Michael’s dad was still Chief and knew the history between you two and what had happened, you know, so in the end they just took him home and warned him not to do it again. I think he went back to Los Angeles shortly after that.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

You throw your blankets off and sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, “Why’d you never tell me this?”

She scoffs, “Would it have changed things?”

“No.” You sigh, “Probably not.”

“Exactly,” she replies, and you can just imagine her nodding on the other end, “So now that you realize you were an asshole to him last night, what’s-”

“Nicole!” You try to keep your voice down and so it comes out in a hushed whisper.

“Oh come on,” she says, her voice telling you that she knows she’s right, “like that’s not what’s happened.”

“Well yeah, but I don’t need you to rub it in.”

“That’s why you called me though, isn’t it?”

You nod, because of course it is, “Yeah.”

“Ok,” she agrees, “so then you also know what you need to do next.”

“Probably,” you tell her, running one hand through your hair, “but I know you can’t wait to enlighten me just in case,”

“You need to let him in, babe,” she says matter-of-factly. “All the way. Be honest with him. Only then can you two try to make this work.”

You sigh, “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up too much last night,”

“Babe,” she says, the accusatory tone in her voice very clear, “that man is so-”

“That man just finished his shower,” you whisper quickly when you hear the bathroom door open, “I need to go.”

“You got this, babe.” “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you say and push the end call button just as you hear Chris walk by. You wait for him to make it downstairs again before you get out of bed, grabbing some clean clothes before you head to the bathroom as well.

You find him in the kitchen not much later, trying to figure out your coffee machine but so far not succeeding. Clearing your throat to let him know you’re there you lean against the doorframe, “Hey.”

“Hi,” he says and then gestures towards the machine, “I was trying to make us some coffee but,”

“Yeah, no, that requires at least a day of training,” you say with a small smile, the tension you left with last night still very much palpable. “I was thinking maybe we could go out for breakfast?” You were thinking no such thing, but it seems like a good idea. “Get out of the house a little? I know this great place not too far from here, it’s usually pretty quiet there, so-”

“Sounds great,” Chris says while he pushes the coffee machine back to its original spot on the counter.

You grab your purse and keys and wait for him to put on his shoes before you walk outside, telling him your car is parked just around the corner. The drive over to Point Breakfast doesn’t take long but it’s filled with the same awkward silence as during yesterday’s dinner. You try to come with things to talk about but it all seems too unimportant and so you quietly hum along to the radio instead. A quick glance over at Chris tells you he’s nervous as well, flipping his phone in his hand over and over again.

Surprisingly enough there’s a free parking spot not too far from the entrance of the diner and once you’ve filled the meter you lead Chris inside. There are two other booths occupied, and even though none of the patrons pay any particular attention to you, you still go for the booth in the far corner just in case.

The waitress, who introduces herself as Agnes, is at your table the minute you sit down and pours each of you a steaming hot coffee after handing you the menu, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, ok?”

Both Chris and you nod in reply and you busy yourself studying the menu even though you already know what you’re going to get. Still, it’s a nice distraction. When you put the menu down after a while you find Chris looking at you with a half-smile.

“Banana pecan pancakes?”

“Yup,” you nod, a little surprised he still knows your breakfast order after all these years. Then, because apparently you feel like you have something to prove, “Eggs Benedict for you?”

“Always,” he says, smiling for real now.

It’s then Agnes comes back to take your order and you let Chris order for the both of you, watching him as he charms his way into Agnes heart for sure. You can’t help but smile when you listen to the easy banter between them.

Once Agnes leaves to give the kitchen your order Chris turns back to you, “She reminds me of Mrs Linton.”

“She does, yeah.”

He keeps looking at you, the way he’d always do whenever he wanted to talk about something important, and so you sort of know what’s coming next but still he surprises you when he asks, “Are we good?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while and it makes you worried and nervous and you wonder if you’ve fucked it up for good this time, but then he leans forward, “What do you need?”

The last eighteen years back, you think with a heavy heart, but instead you tell him, “I don’t know.” You offer a shrug in apology because you know it’s not a fair answer to give twice in a row.

“It’s ok,” he says, his voice kind, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Breakfast is filled with smalltalk, Chris asking you about your job and your life here in Philly and in return you ask him to tell you more about his life in Los Angeles, which he does, although he admits he misses home terribly when he’s out west and says he hopes to start spending more time in Sudbury in the near future. You don’t miss the way he looks at you when he tells you that, an unspoken question lingering between you that you’re not sure you can answer right now.

You try your best to pay attention to the conversation but his words from earlier keep echoing through your mind and you can’t help but wonder what exactly he meant when he said he wasn’t going anywhere. Nicole’s voice joins the conversation in your head then, berating you for still being way too guarded.

When you finish your plate just a little after he does you check your phone and see it’s just past noon. A bit too early to return to your house, you decide, trying to figure out what you could do instead. It’s then you remember something you would do whenever you had a date in Boston and you smile when you look up at him, “If you want we could go to Morris Arboretum next? The trees there are beautiful this time of year, so maybe we could just walk around for a bit?”

“I’d like that.”

You wave Agnes over and ask for the bill, which Chris lets you pay because well, you tell him to. You’re back in your car not much later, your drive taking you to the other side of the city in just under an hour.

By the time you get to the Arboretum the sun is out if full force and it’s warm enough that you don’t need your jacket and so you leave it in the car. Rummaging through your purse you try to find your sunglasses, putting them on when you finally find them only to see Chris squinting against the bright light. You tell him to hang on for a minute and open the trunk of your car, quickly locating what you’re looking for, “Here you go.”

He eyes the cap suspiciously, and you hold your breath, hoping he might have forgotten about it, but then he turns it over in his hands and looks at the inside where his initials are still visible on the tag, albeit a little more faded now. His eyes widen in surprise, “You kept this all these years?”

“Well, yeah, It’s a nice cap,” you try, hoping it sounds casual enough for him not to comment on it any further, “and I’ll always be a Patriots girl, no matter where I am.” It’s true. When you first started dating you didn’t really care for football but you always tagged along to watch games with either his friends or his family and it wasn’t long before you found yourself immersed in the sport. And even though you don’t keep up as much now, you still find yourself rooting for the Patriots whenever you catch a game.

He doesn’t say anything but you think you see the hint of a smile when he puts it on and you wonder if he remembers the night he gave it to you, on your one-year anniversary, when he got tickets to a game and you spent the weekend in Boston together.

You try to push back the memories, not wanting to find yourself getting lost in the past, and instead tell him, “Let’s go,” and head to the visitor center where you pay the entrance fee. You opt for the long trail, which, if you don’t stop at any of the features, will take about thirty minutes, but you’ve never been here before so you’re sure it’ll probably take you a lot longer. Which is fine, because it’s still early and the weather is perfect for an afternoon outside.

The first stop is a Tree Canopy walk that does exactly what it says and leads you through the treetops. It’s quiet, not too many people around, and at times it almost seems like you’re here alone. You walk side by side, quietly marvelling at the things you encounter being this high up, and there’s a familiarity to it all that both scares and excites you.

The trail takes you through a rose garden next and several other features after, until about an hour later you find yourself at the step fountain and when Chris suggests taking a quick break you join him on the top step, which offers you a nice view of the lawn spreading out in front of the fountain.

There’s some distance between you but still Chris manages to nudge your knee with his when he asks, “Where’s your head at?”

Immediately you hear Nicole’s voice, telling you to be honest and you decide that maybe it’s time to take her advice even though you’re not sure where to start. You take a deep breath and say the one thing it all comes down to, “Us.”

You see him nod out of the corner of your eye and take it as your cue to continue, “I’m just,” you sigh, “I don’t know, Chris, I keep wondering if this would have happened had it not been for Encore.”

“Ace-”

“No,” you hold up your hand to let him know you’re not finished and smile even though you don’t look at him, “my turn.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to gather your thoughts, “I just think that maybe we both got caught up in the moment, you know? Maybe-”

“You’ve kept my baseball cap all these years,” he replies solemnly and there’s no accusation in his voice, it sounds like he’s just stating the facts. Standing up then, he hands you his cap back, and for a moment you worry that maybe this is it, maybe this is where he draws the line and walks away, but instead he takes his hoodie off, which has you even more confused.

“Chris, what-”

He walks down the first few steps then, making sure he’s at eye level with you, and pushes the fabric of his t-shirt aside.

You look at him, your eyebrows knitted together because what the hell is he doing, but then you see the tattoo he’s just revealed and it’s like all the air is being sucked from your lungs. Shaking your head in disbelief, you take in the ace of hearts on his chest and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying when you see the heart in the middle of the card is broken. Without thinking you reach out and let your fingers ghost over his skin, tracing the lines that are tattooed over his heart.

“I got this on what was supposed to be our ten-year anniversary,” he says, the sadness in his voice mirrored by the look in his eyes that you see when you look back up at him. “I’m not caught up in a moment, Ace.”

“I-,”

Something else passes over his features then, but before you can recognize what it is he’s putting his hoodie back on and sits down again, much closer this time, his leg brushing against yours as he does. You much more feel than hear him take a deep breath and then he looks at you, “I meant what I said earlier.” He reaches over then and takes one of your hands in his, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not the same person anymore, Chris.” You look down at where your hand sits comfortably in his, “I’m just scared that you have this idea of me that-” you sigh and shake your head, not sure where to go next. You look back up at him, the tears from earlier starting to spill over slowly, “I’m just- I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says and gives your hand a squeeze, “so am I, but-” he lets go of your hand and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him, “I don’t want to waste another eighteen years wondering what could have been.”

When, after a while, he suggests continuing the tour through the Arboretum you agree, and when you get up he offers you his hand to help you down the steps, but doesn’t let go once you get to the bottom and so you spend the rest of the trail walking hand in hand, the silence between you now much more comfortable than it was before.

It takes you about an hour to make it back to the entrance, the sun a little lower in the sky now even though it’s still nice and warm out. Once you get to the parking lot he offers to drive back and so you hand him your car keys without too much protest, climbing into the passenger’s seat not much later. A quick glance at the dashboard clock tells you it’ll be almost six once you get back and so you suggest stopping at a Thai place not far from your house and get some takeout.

You give him directions where needed but other than that the ride over is silent, the only sound coming from a radio station that plays eighties rock classics that you always have on when driving. You’re simply too lost in thoughts to start a conversation, and you guess maybe he is too. You wonder where his head is at, because even though he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere he hasn’t really told you he wants to get back together with you either. Or is that just your mind playing tricks with you? Is him saying that he doesn’t want to waste another eighteen years enough?

More than anything you want to call Nicole, so you can tell her what happened and ask for advice, but you also know that wouldn’t be fair to her, Chris, or you. You’re going to have to trust yourself to make the right decision even though you’re sure that deep down inside you already know what that is. And you want to tell him, really you do, but it’s not necessarily a conversation you want to have now, driving down Broad Street in the middle of the Saturday afternoon rush, and so you decide to wait until you get home.

When he pulls up to Ameri Thai about forty minutes later you tell him to wait in the car, assuring him you’ll get some extra spring rolls just for him.

Mrs Zhang greets you enthusiastically, a little surprised when you give her your order, but then she realizes what’s going on and throws you a wink, “Ah, you got company, honey?”

You laugh and shrug, neither denying or confirming her question, but you’ve been coming here for at least once a week ever since you moved into the neighbourhood so by now Mrs Zhang knows your order by heart and so she also knows she’s right. To distract her you ask her how her grandchildren are doing and even though she answers rather elaborately, she keeps looking at you from behind the counter, almost as if she’s studying you.

After a while she disappears into the kitchen, no doubt to tell her husband the latest gossip, and when she comes back with the takeout bag not much later, she actually rounds the counter to give it to you. You hold out your hand to take it from her, but it’s then she pats you arm and smiles at you, “You look happier, honey, I like it.”

“Thank you,” you say, a weird feeling in your stomach as you accept the bag from her and wave at Mr Zhang, who has appeared behind the counter, before you let yourself out and walk back to your car where you find Chris quietly singing along to Boston’s ‘More Than A Feeling’. He’s taken the cap off and you can tell he’s tried to get his hair back into shape, but it’s a little tousled and a lot cute. Damnit.

“Ready?” He asks as soon as you’ve fastened your seatbelt.

“Yup.” You nod and point, ‘“Just take a left here and then you’re back on my street.”

Dinner tonight is far more relaxed than it was yesterday, although you’re still mostly sticking to smalltalk, discussing your other castmates and the things they’ve been up to over these past years. Chris tells you he’s been to the ten-year reunion of his graduating class, but has really only kept in touch with Michael, even attending his wedding a few years ago.

All too soon you’re both done eating and so once again you mumble something about doing the dishes, hoping it will buy you some time to gather your thoughts and figure out how where to start.

“Need any help with those dishes?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you counter with a grin this time and hand him the tea towel. After you’ve drained the sink you watch him dry off the remaining two plates, and when he puts the plates in a cupboard they definitely don’t belong in, you say nothing, too enamored by this weird moment of domestic bliss.

When he’s done he hangs the tea towel on its designated hook and looks at you, almost as if he’s awaiting further instructions, hands back in the pockets of his jeans, trying to act cool even though the red spots in his neck tell you he’s anything but.

There’s so much you still have to say, so much you still want to tell him, but not now.

Not now.

Now, you take a tentative step forward, slowly closing the space between you, and stand in front of him, biting your lip as you look up at him. His eyes widen and there’s a question in them that you answer with a nod and a mischievous smile. Your hands rest on his chest then, but it isn’t long before they move up so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close.

“You sure about this, Ace?” His voice is low and full of promises and you answer the only way you know how, by pushing yourself up and letting your lips ghost against his.

He leans forward then, catching your mouth with his as he sneaks his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer, kissing you with a determination that makes last week’s kiss pale in comparison. It isn’t long before his tongue darts across your lips and you let him in instantly, the taste of him infatuating you even more. His hands travel down then and when he taps your thigh you know what to do and jump up, throwing your legs around his waist.

You feel him take a few careful steps forward, until you bump against the counter and he sits you down on it, now standing in between your legs, his hands cupping your face as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. Your hands settle on his chest, bunching up the fabric of his sweater in between your fingers, wanting more of him, needing him closer. Wrapping your legs around his waist again you press yourself against him, dragging your teeth over his bottom lip at the same time, not missing the groan that escapes him.

He gets his revenge by pulling back, making you whimper at the loss of contact, a little out of breath and a lot turned on. He rests his forehead against yours and chuckles, “That was-”

“Yeah,” you agree, letting go of his sweater so you can run your hands through his hair before you let them settle at the base of his neck, only so you can keep him where you need him most as your mouth finds his again. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, a want behind it that you know he gets when he takes a step back, his lips still on yours, and gently tugs at your hips, making you slide down from the counter. You have to brace yourself against him because your legs are a little wobbly, your hands now on his chest again, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss when he grabs your elbows to hold you steady.

You feel yourself getting lost in him, but at the same time there’s something so familiar about all of this, about him, that almost makes it feel like you’re coming home. In a rare moment of clarity, you wonder if maybe that’s just it. Maybe you’ve been so restless all these years because you had this idea that home was supposed to be the city you grew up in, or any of the places you moved to after, where you tried so hard to forget the past. Maybe this always was where you belonged, simply because Chris always was your home.

The realization makes you hesitate, just a moment, but of course Chris picks up on it and he pulls back, a worried look in his eyes as he cups your face and makes you look up at him, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you say with a smile, even though you’re not surprised to feel tears coming to your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of your words hangs in the air until finally it hits him. There’s a whole range of emotions that pass over his face before he seems to settle on relief, when he leans in and kisses your forehead, “God, I’ve missed you, Ace.”

“Show me,” your voice is thick, laced with emotion, and you can see his pupils dilate in response.

His hands grab your legs again, lifting you up, and you wrap your arms and legs around him, your face buried in his neck as he carries you out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your bedroom. He doesn’t let go and so you’re still wrapped around him when he starts kissing you again, until after a while you feel yourself go weak in his arms and let go, trying to catch your breath. There’s not much respite, because his hands are tugging on the bottom of your sweater then, his fingers against your exposed skin sending shivers down your spine.

Breaking contact just long enough for him to push your sweater up and over your head, you find yourself enjoying the way his eyes roam your body before one of his hands cups your breast, his thumb rubbing your already hard nipple over the fabric of your bra, which adds some extra friction. A soft moan escapes you and you can feel yourself starting to get wet almost instantly.

He licks his lips and then pushes the fabric aside as he leans forward, his tongue now replacing his thumb, sucking and licking in a way that makes you a little weak in the knees. You whimper when he lets go but his lips keep ghosting over your skin, slowly making their way up to your neck, where his tongue circles your pulse point before his lips latch on and he starts sucking in earnest.

Tilting your head to give him better access, your hands find their way to his jeans, the red belt you gave him for his birthday all those years ago holding no secrets for you and so you slide it open without giving it too much thought. You unbutton his jeans, tugging them down just a little, and let your fingers run over his abs, marvelling at how much more muscular he is now than he was then.

His mouth finds yours again, one hand in your hair while the other has returned to your breast, softly kneading it while his tongue swirls around yours. He pulls back rather abruptly, eyes dark and full of want as he takes his hoodie and t-shirt off in one go, throwing them somewhere in a corner before he puts his hands on your hips and guides you towards the bed. When your legs bump against it you sit down slowly, looking up at him with your lip between your teeth as you scoot backwards. He wastes no time and pushes his jeans down, the outline of his cock visible against the fabric of his boxes, a bit of precum staining the material a darker colour.

You keep looking at him while you unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips so you can push them down but his hands are already tugging on the fabric. Your jeans get thrown next to his and you watch him as he climbs on the bed, the mattress sagging a little under his weight, and you moan when he slowly lowers himself onto you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says, his mouth close to your ear and his voice a little rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand sneaks down your side to the hem of your panties and for a moment he teases you, letting his fingers run along the edge of the fabric.

“Chris,” you breathe, hoping it will convey that you need more, pushing your hips up to make sure he understands.

He slips his fingers underneath the fabric, gently pressing them against your mound, his teeth dragging over the skin just below your ear as he does. There’s a trail of kisses then, from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, to the skin on your stomach, goosebumps appearing everywhere he goes. When he finally reaches your panties you help him, hooking your fingers on the elastic band and pushing them down quickly. It earns you a wicked grin from him as he helps you take them off, adding them to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

You reach out, wanting to feel him in your hands, but before you have a chance to cup him through his boxers he gently swats your hands away but doesn’t say anything and instead puts his hands on your thighs and spreads your legs to give him better access. Slowly, slowly, he moves his fingers over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours as he makes his way to where you need him most. His mouth follows soon after, teasing you by leaving butterfly kisses wherever he goes, while his fingers inch closer and closer.

A whine escapes you just as he runs a finger through your folds and so it turns into a moan, because fuck. Your hands look for something to hold onto and you have to settle for the duvet cover, bunching up the fabric between your fingers when he slides one of his into you. He moves slowly, his finger sliding in and out of you in a languid pace, his other hand on your stomach to keep you in place as his tongue finds your clit. He adds another finger then and starts moving a little faster, and you can feel your orgasm starting to build.

Feeling his beard scratch your skin only adds to the sensation and soon, with two fingers inside of you and your clit being sucked, licked, and flicked, you push your hips up in earnest, letting him know you’re almost there. He picks up the pace even more and you let out a quiet, “Fuck,” when the first waves of your orgasm wash over you not much later. He helps you ride it out by keeping his fingers inside of you but not moving them until you let yourself fall back, your eyes closed as he slowly pulls out.

You feel his beard scratch against your cheek and find his mouth effortlessly, a shiver running down your spine when you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, and as he pulls back a satisfied sigh escapes you. When you open your eyes he’s there, looking at you with something that goes beyond lust and want, a tenderness in his eyes that you haven’t seen in a long time. You reach up, gently pushing some of his tousled hair back before you cup his face and pull him close for another kiss.

He groans in response, mouth clashing against yours for a kiss that makes you see stars, before he pushes himself off and stands up at the edge of the bed. When he takes his boxers off, his cocks springs free, and you can’t help but bite your lips, suddenly remembering your first time together, all those years ago. He looks at you then, “Do you have a-”

“In the bathroom,” you reply, before you quickly add, “but I’m tested. And on the pill.”

“Me too.” He grins then, running a hand through his hair, “Tested, I mean. Not the pill.”

You can’t help but smile at the blush that creeps up on his cheeks as he stands there, this adonis of a man that has nothing to be embarrassed about. Pushing yourself up you sit down on your knees and hold out your hands, beckoning him over. He joins you on the bed, cupping your face and kissing you again, slower this time, like he wants to savour every second of it. You feel his cock rub against your stomach and can’t help but wrap your hand around it, sliding it up and down his shaft. When you run your thumb over the tip he shivers and pulls back a little, and so you put your mouth to his ear and whisper, “Make me yours again, Chris.”

He reacts instantly, gently lowering the both of you back down until you're underneath him again. Supporting himself with one hand, he takes himself in the other, running his cock through your wet folds for some extra lubrication. He looks at you when he presses the tip against your against your entrance, silently asking for permission.

You nod and watch as he slowly pushes into you, letting out a moan when he stops halfway through, allowing you to adjust to him. “Chris,” you breathe, and he takes it as his cue to push down further, only stopping when he’s fully inside. Your walls clench around him involuntarily, drawing a strangled groan from him that sets him in motion.

Leaning down he catches your mouth with his as he starts to move his hips, his thrusts slow yet deliberate and you marvel at the way your bodies still fit together so perfectly after all these years. You let your fingers run over the muscles in his back, grabbing onto his shoulders when he picks up the pace after a while, and stop kissing him so you can catch your breath.

“Fuck, Ace,” he groans, mouth close to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin like a forest fire.

You wrap one leg around his waist, needing more of him, and with his next thrust he hits your sweet spot, making your eyes roll back in pure bliss, knowing you’re getting close and so you let out a staggered, “Oh, God-”

“Gonna make you come so hard,” Chris growls before gently biting down on the exposed skin below your ear. Quickening his pace, you know he’s chasing the same high you’re so close to and so you clench your walls again, creating even more friction. He buries his face in your neck, cursing quietly against your skin.

“Chris, I-” you start, but then he hits that spot again and all you can do is let out a quiet, “Oh.” You’re teetering on the edge and of course he knows, his fingers finding your clit and softly rubbing it. “Fuck,” you draw out, panting now.

“Gonna make you mine,” he growls and pulls almost all the way out, holding still for a second. You whimper quietly but then he pushes all the way in, somehow deeper than before, pinching your clit at the same time, “Come for me, Ace.”

Your orgasm is instant, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through your body, your nails digging into his skin when you feel him swell up inside you. “Let go, babe,” you whisper, and he does. You feel him come inside of you, his release coating your walls, and he lets himself collapse on top of you, even though he still makes sure to keep some of his weight off of you. His face is still in the crook of your neck and you move your hands, throwing them around his neck and gently running your fingers through his hair as you both come down from this high.

He pulls out not much later and rolls off of you, pulling you with him, and you let your head rest against his chest after he places a kiss on your temple, your fingers running lazily through his chest hair. You stay like that for a while, a comfortable silence between you until his phone beeps from somewhere out of the pocket of his jeans, letting him know he’s got a new message.

He mutters something about getting that later before he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Come on,”

You push yourself off him and get out of bed, waiting for him to join you before you make your way to the bathroom.

Like everything in your house, the shower is tiny and so you’re pressed against each other, the warm water finding its way between your bodies as he lathers you up with soap. You’ve got your back towards him, his hands gently massaging the muscles in your shoulders while he softly hums a song you don’t recognize, and you secretly wish you could stay like this forever.

When you wake up on Sunday morning you can’t help but smile when you find Chris’ arm draped across your stomach while he still sleeps soundly next to you. You turn towards him, studying him for a while, taking in his face and his neatly trimmed beard. His brow furrows then and without thinking you place the palm of your hand against his cheek to let him know you’re there.

He smiles when he opens his eyes, “Mornin’,” his voice a little hoarse, the way it always was early in the morning.

“Hi,” you scoot forward and give him a kiss.

Wrapping his arm around you tighter, he nuzzles your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while his fingers ghost over your skin. After a while he lets out a deep sigh and whispers, “I have to leave soon.”

Even though your heart drops, you nod, “I figured.”

“My flights at two,” he says as he pulls back a little so he can look at you, “and then I’m off to Los Angeles on Tuesday.”

“How long-” your voice catches and so you clear your throat, “How long will you-”

“At least two weeks.”

You don’t say anything and let your eyes drop, trying to decide if you have a right to feel upset about this. Probably not. This was never supposed to happen and so you doubt there’s any time allotted in his schedule for you.

“Ace,” his voice interrupts your thoughts, and he sounds worried, “talk to me.”

Trying to find the right words you just smile at him.

“We will make this work,” he says then, as if he’s read your mind.

“How?”

“Los Angeles is just two weeks,” his hand now cupping your cheek, “after that I’m back home until I start filming again at the end of October.”

You nod, because that definitely offers some possibilities. The idea of maybe moving back to Sudbury flashes through your mind, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself, and so you push it back.

“We’re shooting in Boston, eight weeks tops, so-” he shrugs, “I’ll be back in Sudbury for Christmas.” There’s the hint of a smile playing on his lips then, but there’s a questioning look in his eyes, “Tell me you’ll be there too.”

It’s exciting, this promise of something more, and you feel your lips curve up into a smile when you answer honestly, "I'd like that.”

#Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans fanfic #Harley Sunday x Chris Evans #Chris Evans #Encore

57 notes · View notes

onlyfortheplot · 4 years

Text

Ode to Glitter

➳ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader ft. Kenma Kozume

➳ Synopsis:

“Why the rush, Chibi-chan?”

First, a glitter mess in your locker, with a stupid confession note. Second, a brief, yet soul-sucking conversation with the first year giant. Now, you had to talk to the Kuroo Tetsurou. You snarled. Why was the universe against you today?

“Not in the mood.” you muttered as you side-stepped, trying to walk around him. But, he only moved in front of you, leaning an arm against the nearby wall. Students looked at you oddly, whispering to their friends nearby. A few girls giggled as they saw Kuroo, an infuriating smirk plastered on his face. Some girls even glared at you, as if you wanted to talk to him.

“Really?” he wiggled his eyebrows, looking down at you, “I could change that.”

➳ Warning: Slight language, mentions of bullying, SLIGHT ANGST?

➳ Word Count: 3.7K

A/N:

I was supposed to do a Daddy Universe fic, but here we are. I have no clue where this idea came from but, nerd Kuroo just hits different???? @boosyboo9206 Hope you like bb! And @lizbotw you’re bed time story madam. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!!!! <3

You stared skeptically at the small note in your locker. You shut the metal door, waiting a few seconds before opening it again. But, it was still there, glitter and all. You cringed, thinking about the effort and time it would take to clean it. You closed the locker a second time, looking at the locker number. 284. Yes, this was your locker. Had the person put it in the wrong one? You hesitatingly picked up the note, by the corners. You held it away from your face, as glitter fell onto your shoes. You groaned. Oh how you hated glitter. You looked at the paper, half filled with purple glitter, and half decorated in an array of heart stickers.

You grimaced at the sight. You didn’t know what to feel. Hopeful? Of what. Grateful? Why? No. You really didn’t know what to feel, other than the underlying disgust of glitter. You chucked it back in your locker, not even bothering to open it. It wouldn’t be worth seeing the false words written. In the best case, it was put in her locker by accident. In the worst case, someone had dared them to give her a confession. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Is that a confession, Y/N-senpai?“ You hid a small groan as you turned around looking up at your very tall junior.

“Lev.“ you deadpanned.

“Why do you have a confession?“

You rolled your eyes. You knew that he was blunt, saying whatever came to his mind. But, you just couldn’t help wishing be had a mute button.

“What are you doing on this side, don’t you have practice?“

He shrugged, placing his hands behind his head as he walked in front of you.

“Maybe.“ he confessed, a guilty look flashing in his green eyes, “But you can’t blame— “

“I didn’t ask for your life story, Habia.“

“But, you asked—”

“I asked if you had practice. Not a hundred page essay on your feelings.” you snapped. You barely felt guilty and venting your anger at him. Okay. Maybe a very small part of you, that could care, felt bad. But, you couldn’t help it. Lev was an annoyance on the best days. And now, in the morning, when she has a clown on her tail… You couldn’t deal with both. You didn’t look back, not even as Lev let out a worn-out sigh, walking back, away from you.

You cracked your knuckles as you quickly glanced at your watch. 7:45. You glanced around the hallway, watching to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately for you, no one seemed to even notice your presence. You smiled, a small smile, as you looked forward. You still had ten minutes before you had to see him. You grimaced at thought, speeding your pace. You did not want to see him in the morning. You had learned his schedule, just the parts that coincided with yours, and made it your priority to avoid him at all costs. A bump in with him was asking for a whole heap of trouble you did not need.

You turned, sharply at the corner. Swallowing slightly, as you glanced at your watch again. 7:50. Well, damn. If you didn’t go any faster, you might as well just wait for him to bump into you. Almost there. Almost—

“Crap,” you swore as you landed into someone’s chest.

“Why the rush, Chibi-chan?”

“Really?” he wiggled his eyebrows, looking down at you, “I could change that.”

You gave him a disgusted glare, eyeing him up and down.

“No thank you,” your smile was coating with toxins, seeping into the teeth you were showing.

“Are you sure, Chibi-chan?” he whispered, as he brought his head to your ear. You fought the urge to shiver, as his hot breath fanned over your head.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away as you walked away. He smiled at your figure as you walked towards your class. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. His smile flickered as the feeling of yet another rejection sits in.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You sat down, on the chair, tucking yourself in slightly as you flipped through your Chemistry textbook. It wasn’t that you were bad at chemistry. You just weren’t the best. The mere idea of atoms and ions were enough to make you flinch. Not to mention the sub-categories of cations and anions. You just didn’t see the reason for learning about things you couldn’t see, much less feel.

You sighed, leaning your head against your shoulder, stretching your strained neck. You heard the slight crack and moaned quietly at the feeling.

“Still have to finish this.“ you murmured to yourself as you picked up a pen and a piece of paper. But, you were blank. You had the materials and you had time. But, you just didn’t understand. You peered at your work, as if it was written in a foreign language. Words went in your head and out. Nothing stuck and nothing made sense. You would much rather spend your time doing something that actually did make sense like Biology. That made sense. Hell, even Math made sense compared to this. You scratched your head with the rubber of your pencil.

It was quiet in the library, making you squirm. It was the library, you supposed, you just weren’t used to the quiet. Maybe that’s why it’s hard to concentrate. You just weren’t used to the quiet. People came in and out of the library, slamming doors and talking loudly. Some even had the audacity to blast out music. Most of the time the air was soaked with loud whispers of her gossiping peers, or the soundless signs of mockery. You weren’t used to the quiet. And you weren’t used to the idea of being left alone.

You sighed, trying to fill the vacancy of the library. It was an odd, almost uncomfortable feeling. And you couldn’t help but think that it was the calm before the storm. You squirmed in your seat at the thought.

“No, you need to focus“ you told yourself, attempting to calm yourself down. You took a deep breath, burying your face in the textbook. You were swallowing each word, slowly, taking a deep breath every time you didn’t understand.

Cation has a positive charge. Anion has a negative one.

“Cation is positive. Anion is negative.“ you repeated, closing your eyes, “Cation is positive. Anion is negative. Cation is negative and Anion is positive.“

“No.“

You opened your eyes, your heart racing as you looked behind. You glared, almost hitting him in the face with your book. As you placed a hand on your chest and turned around. Your face was beet red and your heart was beating in a pace humanly impossible. You didn’t want him looking at you like that.

“Don’t do that.“ you hissed at Kuroo.

“I can’t help myself Chibi-chan,“ he chuckled as he smoothly pulled a chair next to yours. You glared at him, making an obvious gesture of moving away from him. You thought you had seen his smile flicker at that.

“You’re wrong by the way,“ he nodded towards your open textbook, “Cation’s are positive. Anion’s are negative.“

You frowned. Isn’t that what you said.

“I said — “

“Nope,“ he popped the ‘p’ childishly, “You said the opposite.“

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What could you say. Heat flared in you ears. You felt awkward, almost vulnerable, that he had caught you in the wrong.

“I—“

“Do you need help?“ He looked so genuine when he asked, his usual irritating smirk was replaced with what seemed like a real smile.

“No.“ You wanted to say ‘yes’. To accept the assistance that Kuroo was providing. But, you couldn’t find it in your heart to say ‘yes’. You couldn’t accept this Kuroo. This person who cared. This person who...who wasn’t the person you had painted in your mind.

He looked at you, as if he could see the conflict. He nodded, pushing his chair away from you, standing up.

“You got a confession this morning.“ It wasn’t a question. You knew he knew. He was only trying to start a conversation.

“Yes.“ There was no point in lying. Not when you looked into those steadfast eyes. He burrowed his hands in his pocket, leaning back slightly as he looked at you.

“You should read it, you might enjoy it.“ The smile was forced. From both sides.

“Sure.“ you said in a strained voice. There was no point in asking him how he knew what was written in it.

You sighed, glancing at the textbook and then at Kuroo.

You can’t have it all.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Do you have 11 protons? Cause your sodium fine.”

“You must be fluorine cause you are polarizing my bond?“

“Did they just call me salt?“ you screeched into the phone, gagging as specks of glitter fell on your bed, “I can’t believe they called me salt. Kenma are you even —”

“They said fluorine, Y/N, not sodium,“ he muttered, you could here the sounds of his joystick. The small clicking almost comforting to your heated brain. Sodium. Potassium. Fluorine. It didn’t matter.

“So! This is— is, damage to my brain.“ You threw down the confession on the bed, huffing at it, “Who would send this.“

“Someone who likes chemistry,“

“Couldn’t be me,“ you retorted, as you looked at the glittery mess on your bed, “And why would they use glitter?“ You shivered at the word. Glitter will forever be the bane of your existence.

“I bet it was Kuroo,” you spat his name.

“What makes you think that,“ Kenma had ceased his game, a silence rung in your ear at the lack of noise.

“Glitter.” you deadpanned. Your disdain for the item wasn’t a hidden thing. You had made it obvious on several occasions. Scoffing softly at people who wore it, sprinkling it all over the hallway. Rolling your eyes at the offer to use it on a school project. You had even gone as far to sit away from people who had or used it. Glitter, to put it simply, was a pain in your butt.

“Glitter,“ If you didn’t know Kenma any better, you would have called him intrigued.

“Glitter, is the worst invention of man kind.” you emphasized, ignoring the long sigh of annoyance from the other side of the line, “So of course that over-sized, gigantic, huge—“

“Do you need a dictionary?“ he asked dryly, the clicking of his joystick resumed.

“To hit his head with?“ you snapped back. “Yes — ”

A loud, obnoxious thump of your made you twitch. What now.

“I’ll call you back Kenma,“ you quickly cut the call, stomping down the steps and throwing the door open.

“Hello?“

You snarled, your fingers curling into a tight fist. What joke was this.

“Hello?“

There was no one there. You looked down.

“What the...“

You didn’t know whether you wanted to see what it was. It was almost identical to the letter you had seen in your locker. Expect this time, the letter had been plastered with red glitter, a small outline remained on your front steps.

You wanted to throw a fit right there. Glitter. Who in their right mind uses glitter. Even the word made you pissed.

“Just wait until I find out who you are.“ you threatened, precariously picking up the letter.

Ugh.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Hey baby,“ you read the letter out loud, “I got my ion you?“

“So?“ he didn’t look up from his game, his fingers moving smoothly over the phone.

“It’s creepy!“ you complained, leaning back against the bleachers.

You had joined Kenma on his walk to school, only to whine and complain about her quote-on-quote secret admirer. Although,you, wouldn’t call this person that.

Stalker. Weirdo. Were the words that came to your mind.

“But, Kenma!” you gestured rapidly with your hands “Isn’t this — I dunno odd?“

“What?“

“That someone’s sending me this.“you rubbed your temples, “I mean, I get its a joke, but do they have to take it so far?“

“What if it’s not a joke?“ he paused his game looking up at you.

“It always is,“ you airily said, “Always.“

“And you’ve always have gotten confessions?”

“Not real ones,“ you confessed, “Just immature people doing immature things.“

You really didn’t want to talk about. It really was a hit to your ego. Your pride. Your self-esteem. That one joke, from years ago, still affected you. Hurt you.

It hurt. Even if, as those kids said, a ‘joke’. The only people that laughed at it was that one boy. Who had pointed at you, as tears streamed down your face, a crumpled pieced of paper in your hand, laughing.

They had laughed at you. And it hurt. They had laughed at your stupidity. And it hurt. Maybe that’s why it was such a far-fetched thing. Mutual pining. Love. You had made sure —forced yourself to not be stupid. Not be naive. Even if it made you the sore thumb of your grade. Even it made you lonely. Your heart wasn’t broken. Not like those girls who got rejected for joy.

“Chibi-chan are you here to watch me play?“

You snapped out of your thoughts, physically moving back. It was like a rubber band. Your head pounded.

“Tetsurou,“ you snarled, rubbing your forehead, “Can you say something before you creep up on me like that?“

“First name basis?“ he wiggled his eyebrows, barking a laugh at your outraged glare.

“Make yourself useful and turn into compost.“ you hissed, as you glanced at Kenma, “I’ve leaving now.“

“Okay,“ he mumbled too engrossed in his game to really care.

“Y/N!“ you heard Kuroo calling after you. Rolling your eyes, you flipped your hair over a shoulder looking at him.

“What?”

“Uh—I just want to say—”

“Spit it out, Tetsurou,” you crossed your arms, tapping a foot annoyed.

“I want to stick to you like cyanoacrylate.” he blurted out,

“What?” you glared at him. Was this a… chemistry joke.

“I want to stick to you like cyanoacrylate.” He repeated, slowly.

“I don’t get what's —cyanoacrylate.”

“It’s a—” he looked conflicted as he sought out the right words, “It’s a glue.”

“You want to stick to me,” you deadpanned, “like glue.”

He nodded fervently, looking at you with bright eyes.

You gave him a small, slowly walking over to him. You grabbed his tie, pulling him to your level.

“Look here, Mr. Kuroo, I have spent two days being spammed with these so called pick-up-lines. I have spent hours—hours— getting glitter off my bed, my hair and my clothes.” He gulped at your angry eyes, “I am going to walk back, to where I was before, and will give you a chance to recant that statement you made.”

“But,—”

“And I don’t want any ifs, ands, or buts.” you glared at him with a threatening gaze, “Understood?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Kuroo, I am not playing your games. I am sick and tired of this.” you snapped, letting go of his tie and pushing him back, “I am not your source of amusement. Or of entertainment. Go find some other stupid girl to play with. I am—”

“You must be fluorine cause you are polarizing my bond?“

The exact same line from your first confession.

“Do you have 11 protons? Cause your sodium fine.”

“What — “

“It’s not a joke, Y/N. I wrote those notes. And I really do — “

“No.“ you shook your head, “It was a joke. You were trying to make fun of me.“

“Y/N, no I swear! I — “

“No. You’re going to laugh at me in the end.“ your voice cracked as tears threatened to leave your eyes.

“Y/N — “

“No.“

You backed away, rushing out of the gym doors. Your heart was beating. You cheeks were hot.

You wanted it to be true. But, you knew that it couldn’t. It would never be true.

You can’t have it all.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“You’re not going to say anything.“

You shrugged. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to think about it. You allowed silence to fill up the walk home, even Kenma hadn’t said anything till now.

“What is there to say.“ your voice was dry, from the tears you had wept in a closed stall.

“Sorry,“ Kenma offered, “You didn’t mean it.

“I did,“ you lied through your teeth.

“No.“ Kenma seemed so sure of it. You sighed.

“I want it to be true. But it’s not.“ you whispered the last part.

“Who said it wasn’t true.”

“Kuroo acts like that to everyone,“ you said sharply, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“No, he doesn’t.“

“Yes, he does. He treats all girls like that.“

“He—“ You hesitated. He really didn’t do it to anyone else, or at least from what you had seen. Sure, he had gotten many confession over the three years you had known him. But, from what you knew, he had rejected every single one. Never, not once, had you seen him flirt with a girl. Never, not once, had you seen him hurt one.

“He must do it to someone,“ you were desperate as you looked at Kenma.

“He looks like that, but really,“ he paused his game, looking you in the eye, “he isn’t.“

You didn’t need him to say it. You knew it. After all, that was why you had fallen for him. He was kind —even when those on him were judgmental. He was patient, where many were not. He was different, you wanted to believe that. He was different from those boys who had played a prank on you. He was different from the boy who had given you a fake love letter. He was different from the boys who had hurt you. And maybe, during your desperate moments of trying to believe the opposite...you had hurt him.

“Kenma,“ you said halting your pace, “where is he?“

“In the gym,“ Kenma responded as if he had expected that question, as if he had planned for this exact moment,

“I have to go,“ you said as you sprinted off in the other direction.

You can’t have it all. But you could try and keep it.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Serve, set, spike.“ he muttered under his breath, as he threw a volleyball in the air. It spun, in a perfect rotation, before colliding with his bare palm. It stung. But, it didn’t hurt more than the sting in his heart.

He hadn’t cried yet. Not that he planned to. But, he wanted to. He wanted to scream and shout and wail. But, he couldn’t so he continued throwing the ball up and spiking it too the floor.

Serve. Set. Spike.

It was a mechanical movement, something that occurred on instinct.

Serve. Set. Spike.

He hadn’t expected a yes. He hadn’t really known what to expect. He had caught you multiple times staring at him. Had caught the seemingly longing glances that you had thrown his way. He had caught the slight spark of anger in your eye as other girls threw their affection. He had caught the almost defensive posture that you claimed when anyone talked about him.

But, he had also caught you inching farther from him, almost disgusted by his presence. He had caught the scowl that formed on your pretty lips at the mere mention of his name. He had caught the annoyed look as he passed by, throwing you a small smile.

But, he had taken his chances. Starting of with a letter. A letter of the best pick-up-lines he could think of in that moment. Maybe it was his handwriting, maybe you didn’t like that. Maybe it was the sentences themselves, maybe you didn't understand it. Maybe it was —

“Tetsurou Kuroo, how dare you.“

The ball fell on the floor making a satisfying sound. He turned, shocked, towards you.

“How. Dare. You“ you said between heavy pants.

“Y/N?“ he didn’t dare take any step closer.

“How dare you, not tell me how you feel.“

He felt pinned by your stare, and had it not been for the confusion and shock he would have thrown the glittery notes in your face.

“How dare you.”

“I told you!” he rose his hands in surrender.

“By using cringe, chemistry pick up lines.”

So it was the sentences after all.

“I didn’t understand any of those!”

“But, they’re science pick-up-lines,“ he said weakly.

“Chemistry pick up lines, Tetsurou.“you looked like you were about to strangle him, “Chemistry! I can’t even remember the difference between a cation and an anion”

“One’s positive and the other—“

“The point is, you didn’t make yourself clear.“

You walked up to him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down, just like you had done before.

“And let me tell you Kuroo, the glitter didn’t help your case.“

Oh. Maybe it was the glitter.

“What, I’m trying to say is,“ he was half-amused by your incoherent blabber, “If you made it clear what you felt, I would have said yes.”

Oh. Maybe it was nothing.

“You would have said, yes?“ he looked down at you. At your blushing self.

“Yes.“

“You said it now,“ he teased,halfheartedly.

“Come here you nerd,“ you pulled his shoulders roughly as you covered his lips with your own. His eyes fluttered close in an instant.

“Glitter,“ you mumbled on his lips.

“What,“ he was only half aware of what was happening.

“Next time, don’t use glitter.“

He wouldn’t. Next time.

He smirked, pulling you in by your waist, resuming the kiss.

You couldn’t have everything. But, you sure as hell could try.

216 notes · View notes

ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Personal Assistant Pt. 7 (Finale)

Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: here Part 6: here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Wow, I’m surprised y’all are here. Really, I’m humbled and honored for all the followers and all the support you’ve given me in this whirlwind of a writing marathon. Please enjoy the last course of this smut fest and lemme know how y’all are feelin’ Taglist at the end.

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader Wordcount: 8,500 ish Genre: Delicious smut Tags: Multiple Orgasms, cunnilingus, aphrodisiacs, demon sex Summary: You get to experience some intimate times with Lucifer as a year with him winds to a close.

Bonus

After your business trip, you were mandated to work from home for at least a week. Lucifer knew the extent of what you went through and bed rest was absolutely necessary to ensure you would be able to come back to work in top form. Even after a weekend of basically being bedridden right after the session, the soreness between your legs persisted as a constant reminder of just how thoroughly you had been used. So, when you received the text from him late Sunday night to work from home, you couldn’t be any more relieved. Your legs had gotten some strength back into them; but you still couldn’t freely move around without experiencing discomfort and limping.

With the holidays looming so closely, Lucifer was rather ashamed that he couldn’t give you proper vacation time off to recover. At the very least, he knew you were safe from prying eyes while you stayed at home and remoted in on your computer. It was strange though, not seeing you sitting at your desk, your back turned to him while you were entering data. He oddly missed turning around and seeing you filing away the monthly reports or retrieving files for a meeting. The office felt empty for the first time in a long time.

Caring for humans was something foreign and unfamiliar to him. But, with you, it felt like the proper thing to do.

He reasoned that he was simply doing his due diligence to visit your abode with physical paperwork that needed to be reviewed. It also seemed to be a natural thing for him to buy you some food; surely you were tired of cooking for yourself and your food supplies were dwindling from being unable to get to the grocery store. It didn’t cross his mind that food delivery was an option until he was mere meters away from your front door, one hand holding a heavy bag full of takeout and a thick pile of reports in his arm. Regardless of his oversight, it was too late to turn back now.

You had expected Lucifer to come over, drop off some papers to go over and leave you to your own devices. You had already shown to him that you could still complete the most of your usual workload in a timely manner, even if you weren't at the office with him. So, when he invited himself into your abode, stepping past you as soon as you opened the door to set down the food and papers he brought, you were taken aback to say the least. After all, Lucifer was a busy man and he had much better things to do than to get comfortable in the recliner that sat in your living room once his shoes and coat were off of him.

“It’s gotten a bit nippy out this week. Are you sure you’re running the heat here? It’s absolutely frigid.” He commented, loosening his tie and settling into the seat he had claimed as his own. You stared dumbly at your boss who had just so casually stepped into your home as if he lived there with you and was meant to unwind right in your living room. It had to be a dream, you had to be hallucinating. Yet, no matter how many times you blinked or rubbed your eyes, Lucifer was right there, in your living room, his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone.

He looked over at your stunned face, smiling a bit. “What? Am I not allowed to make a visit to my assistant who’s been ‘out sick’ all week?” He wasn’t sure what lines he had crossed, but it felt as if his presence made you uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have given you a little more of an advanced notice before coming over. The silence between the two of you grew palpable. When at the office, he was the epitome of control and composed. Humans were easy to predict in a controlled environment where there was a clear hierarchy. In such a casual setting though, he found himself rather out of place and lost. He had only vaguely ever gotten the idea of how to behave; with how you were reacting though, he was unsure how to proceed.

“Did you eat?” He asked, changing the subject and gesturing over to the food he brought on the counter. If he had been too forward with getting comfortable in your space, he could at least assuage the tension by changing the subject and moving the focus over to food and not to him. It would be the perfect time to reassess his plan of action while you were distracted by eating. “You should have something before it gets cold.”

“I was just about to order some delivery.” You admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. Having Lucifer in such an intimate setting was strange. You could tell he didn’t feel quite as at home as he was fronting and wondered just how you could get him out so he could go back to being his usual self without you around him.

“I hope you don’t mind Greek.” Lucifer visibly relaxed, walking over to the bag of food and started to take out the boxes. “A new place just opened up and the marketing head suggested I try it out.” He opened the containers, revealing some of the typical dishes you expected to see, naming each one and describing them. Some dishes you were familiar with; others you had never seen before and with each description he gave, your mouth watered a little more and your stomach grumbled in hunger.

At the loud gurgle your stomach gave once he opened the last box, Lucifer chuckled, pulling a chair out for you at the small table, now crowded with more takeout than two people could ever eat. “Eat. I know you’re hungry.”

You nodded, at least having the decorum to grab some dishes and silverware before digging into the feast in front of you. The explosion of flavors and textures was a welcome change from the pizza and Chinese takeout you had been living off of for the past week. It was hard to keep your manners in mind when the table was so crammed full of boxes and you were forced to eat with the plate in your lap, hunched over the food like the gremlin that you felt like you were.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer pick at his own food, ever composed and nonplussed that he wasn’t actually eating in the most ideal circumstances. The quiet that fell between you this time felt much better, the food serving as the perfect buffer between you and him and you could at least feel a little more yourself with proper sustenance in you.

“The year end reports are starting to roll in.” he said once you had adequate time to try everything. Now, you were just going in for seconds of what you liked best, picking at your favorites until your hunger was properly sated. “And marketing has been sending in the proposals of the ads we’ll be running this season. I’d like to go over those with you once you’re done with dinner.”

With the conversation focused on work, it was much easier to forget how awkward it had all been in the beginning when he walked through your door. You nodded, already grabbing the first folder on the stack to start skimming through reports. Ad proposals were much more fun to go over than pages upon pages of analysis. The sooner you could finish the boring stuff, you could look at the more interesting things.

“My work computer is in the room. I can move it out here once we’re done.” you said, flipping a page and sighing when there were even more numbers you needed to double check.

“No need, we’ll just move there.” He said, not realizing the connotations his words had. “You’re on sick leave and you must rest when you can. We’ll just carry on as you have for the past week.”

You felt your body heat up at his words, trying to see if he had any intentions outside of making sure you were as well rested as possible before you returned to work in a few days. You could never read him, unable to tell what his motives were, and all you could do was follow his instructions. Once all the food had been cleaned up and leftovers were stowed in the fridge, you showed him down the short hallway to your room where you had your home office set up in bed.

As you shuffled to your computer, he could tell there was still a bit of a limp in your gait and there was a mixture of pride and shame. On the one hand, he was glad that your body still remembered the amazing experience you shared with him, Diavolo and Barbatos. On the other, he was ashamed that you were pushed to that limit at all. And then, he remembered the reason he broke you at all in the first place.

So he could put you back together just how he wanted.

He let you climb into bed and settle the lap desk in place before handing you the first of the reports you needed to go over. Lucifer himself took a seat in the chair he had dragged over from your vanity to sit next to your bed and look over the projections for the next few months. Normally, he would have kept strict office hours; but with holidays, even he had to put in a few longer nights to keep up with how hectic things got.

The two of you worked in silence. Even if the location was different, the professional atmosphere was the same as it always had been at the office. The only differences were that you sat in a much more comfortable position and you were much closer to Lucifer than you normal. From where you sat, you got a much closer look at your boss while he worked. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he parsed out the plans for the upcoming month. His mouth was set in a straight, tight line whenever he crossed anything out and wrote corrections in the margins. He was beautifully efficient in his work, blitzing through several files in the time it took you to go through one.

You heard stray cats mewling from the cold outside at some point, breaking your concentration and you looked at the clock on your dresser. It was much later than you thought it would be, and you still had ad proposals to look through. Sighing and setting the reports to the side to look over during the weekend, you picked up the folders filled with ad storyboards. “Are you going home soon?” You asked, looking up at Lucifer who just finished the last of his work.

“Oh, I was waiting for you to finish so we can go over the ad proposals together. I’d like to hear your opinions on them in real time.” He said. Lucifer shifted from his place in the chair next to your bed to sitting beside you on your bed. You blushed, moving aside so he had ample room and got comfortable.

In this new position, you could feel the warmth of his body right next to yours. It was a distraction on its own, right alongside the familiar smell of his cologne. He handed you the first of the proposals, giving you a few minutes to look through it before asking for your thoughts on it.

What focus you had earlier was completely lost from being so close to Lucifer. It felt like an eternity since the last time you were in the office and having him right beside you, talking business had your mind and body in conflicting positions. While you struggled to pay attention to his words and stared at the papers in front of you, Lucifer smirked, knowing just what kind of effect he was having on you.

“So, do you think we should run it?” He asked nonchalantly leaning closer so that he could have a clear view of the storyboard.

You swallowed, trying to ignore how his voice sounded and how you could feel his breath ghosting across your neck. It was time for work, not time for your body to crave his touch, his kisses, his… everything. Stop. You blinked, turning the pages back and forth before voicing your thoughts. “I think the message of this ad is alright, but the target audience is off. If I saw this, I wouldn’t know what it’s trying to sell until it’s too late and I’m bored with it.”

He nodded, agreeing mostly with your opinion and closed the file after writing down your comments. “Alright, what about this one.” He said, pulling up the next one and letting you go through it.

Your eyes scanned the script and you immediately grimaced at how cheesy the writing was. You instinctively wanted to reject it and move onto the next one. However, your morbid sense of curiosity had you reading further and analyzing everything else in the file. In the end, your gut feeling was correct and you wholeheartedly turned it down from being produced. “Unless you want to lose half of your clients, I’d say bin that one.”

He chuckled, not bothering to write any notes on it, knowing that it wouldn’t go any further. “And what about this one?” he asked, putting another file on top of your lap desk.

You flipped through, engrossed in the storytelling and the script, rather shocked at the proposed budget to shoot an ad like this. You nodded, thinking through the allocated funds for the rest of the year and calculated if it would be feasible to go forward with the project. You crunched a few numbers, actually invested in the proposal and didn’t notice just how close Lucifer had gotten until his hand snuck its way under the sheets covering your legs and stopped at your thigh.

“What do you think?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh and your brain ceased to function for a moment. It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time he did anything like this to you. You looked over to him and smiled, trying to go back to the subject at hand, though your brain refused to process what he was asking you.

“It’s nice…” You finally managed to say.

“Is that all?” He asked, moving his hand further up and brushing his fingers against the apex of your thighs. “You seemed to be so interested in it, but it’s just ‘fine’?”

You cleared your throat, hoping it would reset your thoughts; but your brain was stuck in a constant feedback loop that refused to get over what Lucifer was doing to you. “It… it’s got good parts.”

Lucifer smirked, nodding at your answer and continuing his questions as if his hands weren’t teasing you. “Tell me more.” He encouraged, slipping his hand past the waistband of your shorts to rub your labia. “I’m interested in your thoughts.”

“I uh.. W-well.” You stuttered, swallowing hard and looking at him pleadingly. You were still sore but the way he was so soft with his touches did things to your libido and your heart. “Well, it fits the mood for the season…” You started, touching on the most basic things to get your mind in the right state.

“Yes, I did tell you these were proposals for the holiday season. It’s obvious it would fit the mood.” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear and his teeth nipped at your earlobe. “Come on now, your analysis for all the others was so thorough, what happened?” he drawled, smiling wickedly, knowing exactly what was making your brain stutter. His fingers parted your lips in turn making you unconsciously spread your legs for him to get easier access.

You bit your lip, using the pain to ground your focus to the task at hand. “Well, the year has been rather rough financially for a lot of people.” You said through gritted teeth. “Showing how they’re able to… ah--” Whatever you were about to say flew right out of your mind when his finger brushed against your clit. You gasped, your whole nether region was still so sore from the last time, but your body was quickly craving more; and the only way to get that was to work. “We’re able to show people that they can… they can afford to celebrate on a budget… Ah… Lucifer…” you whined, rolling your hips up and gasping at how stiff all your muscles were. The sudden jolt of pain keeping you from reacting the way you wanted to.

He hushed you, kissing your jaw and teased your nether lips further with his fingers, running them up and down your slit which was quickly becoming wet from his ministrations. You whimpered, hating how you were being forced to sit still due to your own body’s limits.

“Yes, I’m listening still.” He replied nonchalantly, trailing his kisses down your neck and nipping the skin there with his teeth. “I’m concerned about the budget they’ve set for this ad… your thoughts on that?”

You gulped, amazed that he was still asking questions about the damn ad as if his fingers weren’t coated with your essence at that very moment. You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but not doing a very good job at it. “We-well… initial calculations say that it’s not something that can be done right no--- ahh…” You gasped in pleasure when you felt firm pressure on your clit, his finger rubbed circles around it and made you see stars. “Right now… b-but if we reallocate funds from the IT department that submitted their final budget for the year and th...they have a surplus, we can manage….”

“Oh? That’s very good news then…” Lucifer smiled, loving the way you struggled to keep yourself composed while he unraveled you bit by bit with his fingers. Tentatively, he probed your entrance, wondering how well you had healed over the week. When you yelped in pain, instinctively closing your legs against that touch, he stopped immediately. “This was my favorite out of all the ones submitted, I’m glad that you approve of it as well.”

Lucifer went back to teasing your folds, making you forget about the pain and put your body back into the relaxed, aroused state it had been in before. Now that he knew your limits, he was free to skirt them right at the edge, teasing you until you squirmed with pleasure. “I’ll let Marketing know the good news over the weekend so they can start the project as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure they’ll be very happy about that.”

“Indeed they will be. Final thing, I just need you to sign off on these reports and I’ll be on my way home.” He said before dropping a sizable stack of papers in front of you. “I need them right away so I can submit them over the weekend and get underwriting to process them first thing next week.” He explained. His touches slowed to a halt and you felt the fog of pleasure lift a little. Now though, you ached for his continued caresses and you whined loudly when he pulled his hand out from under the sheets.

“Do as you’re told and you’ll be rewarded accordingly.” He stated firmly, all the while making the most lewd show of licking his fingers coated in your slick.

Never in your life had you started reading boring documents so quickly. You were skimming words, processing them, but just barely, all to get to what you were promised. Even if your body ached and screamed in protest, what Lucifer had teased you with was too tantalizing to pass up.

He smiled, planting a soft kiss at your temple before leaving your side. You startled, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wondering if he was leaving for the night. “I’ll be right back…” He reassured you with a self satisfied smirk.

You wondered what he meant by those words for a brief moment before his actions did all the explaining as he ducked his head under the sheets and nestled himself between your legs. You swallowed, parting your legs for him after he slid your shorts and panties off. You could feel his warm breath on your inner thighs, traveling higher and higher until the tip of his nose brushed against your pussy and you whined softly at the contact.

There was still an important task to be done and you had to see it through. All the while Lucifer happily lapped at your core. His hands firmly at your thighs to keep your legs parted for him. His tongue traced your slit slowly and you caught your breath with each pass he took. The words on the pages in front of you had no meaning, but you kept reading them anyway.

The lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your folds were muffled under the sheets, yet they were still loud enough to be the only sounds your ears picked up on. Your breathing came out in stuttered breaths as you turned the last page in a report and mindlessly signed your name. Closing the file and moving on to the next one, you felt Lucifer press the flat of his tongue all along your pussy, spreading your labia and just brushing past your abused hole. At that, you moaned loudly, your hips jerking at the contact and sending pain shooting across your sore muscles. However, when you felt the tip of his tongue circle your clit, the pain dissipated and all that was left was a delicious soreness which mingled with the pleasure.

It was so hard to focus on your work, his tongue worked you into a frenzy, leaving you shuddering and moaning his name. You came as soon as you finished signing off on the second report. There were three more to go in the stack and you wondered if you could cum once for every one that was left. It would be perfect motivation to keep working.

No matter how many times your body was being pushed to the point of overstimulation, you could never get used to it. The way every nerve in your body seemed to vibrate with every touch and made you twitch in pleasure always felt new; and you couldn’t get enough of that euphoria. You had never been made to work through that state, but it was a test of your willpower now, going through reports while Lucifer’s tongue worked you into orgasm over and over again.

You felt like it took hours to complete reading everything. However, when you glanced up at the clock, barely an hour had passed and you were a quivering mess in your own bed, your boss between your legs, lazily licking your essence off your thighs as you came one last time, signing the last report off. “I… All the reports are done…”

You hated how cold you felt when he unburrowed himself from under your sheets. You could see your essence glistening on his lips and his chin, his eyes glowing that deep red color that made your heart skip a beat. “Very good job.” He praised, picking everything up and gathering it into his arms. He kissed the top of your head, making you feel dizzy from his praise and the number of times you came from just having his mouth attached to your pussy for an hour. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He said, preparing to leave.

A small part of you was heartbroken he didn’t want to stay. “Yeah… I’ll see you Monday…” You said weakly, smiling wistfully at his retreating form.

A year to a human was no insignificant amount of time. As an immortal, this was the hardest concept for Lucifer to grasp. Yet, after having you around for a year, it felt natural for him to celebrate the time he had spent with you.

You expected work to be piled up when you got back to the office. However, with your absence and also the general hectic nature of the holidays approaching, you were swamped with work. Staying late to catch up and working yourself into an exhausted heap, there were nights where you simply fell asleep on one of the couches in the lounge area so you didn’t have to worry about losing time with your commute.

Even if Lucifer wanted you to slow down, the corporate world and human greed made it impossible. You weren’t the only one who worked to the bone. Even he had to pick up a fair amount of extra work to ensure the year ended smoothly. The last three months that year were a blur, you barely remembered who you talked to or what you did. All that mattered was making sure the company ran as smooth as possible.

So when the worst of it was all over and the department parties began, it felt as if the whole building got to sigh in relief now that the storm had passed. You were invited to a fair number of new year celebrations, both you and Lucifer’s schedules were filled with more parties than meetings. Seeing all the employees under his wing celebrate another successful year with him warmed your heart. It was a rare opportunity to see him interact with others and seeing him in such a joyous setting made your heart swell with pride.

With the last of the company parties out of the way, you were finally able to release the sigh of relief you had been holding for months. As soon as you returned to the office, it was as if a weight had been lifted and you were free to at least pretend the workload would lessen as the year rolled over. You were about to start packing your things up when you noticed a parcel on your desk. Curious, you opened it and it revealed a beautiful sparking black and red gown. You looked back at Lucifer who was leaning against his desk, watching you for your reaction. “You didn’t think I’d plan a celebration for the two of us now, did you?” He sauntered over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We count as our own department, right?”

“Of course… How could I forget.” You laughed, running your hand across the delicate fabric, marveling at how it shifted in the light.

“Go on, get dressed, I’ll get the rest of the preparations ready.”

You couldn’t have run into the bathroom any faster. Your legs quivered a little in excitement and you nearly tripped out of your work clothes before shimmying into the black and red number you had been gifted. You were surprised at how well it fit you. Like a glove, it hugged your every curve in the right way to accentuate it. The fabric shimmered with every movement, making it look like you were walking through smoke. It felt odd to be in such a lavish dress and have nothing else to match it.

You ran your fingers through your hair, rearranging it in a way you thought framed your face a little better to accentuate the dress. You wanted to touch up your makeup, but had neglected to bring any with you in your rush to get changed. You would have to make do with what you had. Turning this way and that, you took one last look in the mirror and accepted the fact that it was as good as it was going to get with what you had.

Stepping back out into the office space, you gasped at how quickly Lucifer had managed to transform it. There was a clear hint of magic in the air, there was no other way to explain the softly glowing orbs that illuminated the room in a warm light. They floated through the air, suspended by nothing and fueled by whatever magic Lucifer had put into them. A table for two had been set up in the time it took you to get dressed and what looked like a delightful meal awaited you. Even Lucifer had changed his usual black and grey work suit to something with a little more red in it to match you.

Once again, he was waiting for you while leaning on his desk. As soon as he saw you, he picked up a pair of champagne flutes which sat next to him on his desk. He walked over and offered you the drink, a soft smile on his face. “Courtesy of Barbatos.” He explained, gesturing at the plates of food on the table. “He felt bad about his first impressions with you and wanted to make up for it. So, lucky me, I get catering from the best chef I know for this party.”

You giggled slightly, taking a sip of the champagne. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you expect me to cook for you in the future as your assistant. I’ll have you know the extent of my cookery knowledge will be phoning Barbatos up and asking him to deliver something for you.” You joked.

Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, leading you over to the table and helping you get seated. “Oh no, I don’t expect that from you at all. But, I’ll take note of that in case I change my mind later.”

Truth be told, though the food presented was some of the best you had ever eaten, being in close company with Lucifer was even better. For once, conversation didn’t revolve around work, instead, he regaled you with tales of where he came from and all the troubles he had to get Diavolo out of. The chatter and the good food filled your heart and your soul; you didn’t think you would ever get to see this side of Lucifer, but you were eternally grateful for the chance to witness it.

“Ah, the last thing. You can’t end a good meal without dessert.” Lucifer got up and reached for a box on his desk. Coming back, he presented you with an array of chocolate coated strawberries. “Please, help yourself.” he encouraged, turning the box to you. “I have a bit of an allergy to them, so they’re all yours.”

You tentatively took one, feeling rather guilty that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to join you; however, with a little bit of coaxing, your worries were laid to rest and you happily bit into the fruit. Lucifer watched your expression of joy as you indulged in one of your favorite treats. The way you made such happy sounds when enjoying something had him entirely amused. All the while, a small, knowing smile played at his lips. “They’re not going anywhere. You can take your time.” He said when he noticed just how quickly you were devouring them.

In an attempt to pace you, he pulled the box away from your grasp, plucking one of the strawberries from it and offered it to you. He looked at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked up as he enticed you to lean in and take a bite.

You blushed, flustered that he would be feeding you dessert in this way. There was a distinct intimacy in how he delicately held the fruit out to you with one hand. His other hand cupped below it to catch anything that might fall. You obeyed after a moment of hesitation, leaning forward and taking it into your mouth. Somehow, just from having Lucifer present you dessert in such a way had dessert tasting so much sweeter to you.

You were halfway through the strawberries when you realized something felt off.The room felt warmer, the floating lights pulsed in a way that cast a halo around Lucifer, somehow making him look angelic to you. You thought it was because you were too tired after a whole week of festivities. It must have been past your normal bedtime and your body wanted to rest. At least, that’s what you thought was the case. But when he spoke again and his voice seemed to penetrate your whole body, sending shivers down your spine and pooling right to your core; you knew it had to be something else.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, getting up after he had finished feeding you what was left of the box of sweets. He held his hand out expectantly; with a little bit of magic, soft music filtered through the room and set the mood. While you struggled to comprehend what was happening to your body, you mindlessly followed his directions. All your nerves tingled, from the tips of your fingers to your scalp, everything seemed to vibrate with a heat and a need that built itself out of seemingly nowhere

The moment he placed his hand in your own and wrapped his arm around your waist, things started to click and your whole body heated up further at the realization. Your eyes blow wide open and your lips parted in a perpetual pant as he nonchalantly lead you in a slow dance, circling the empty area of the office to the beat of the soft music. You followed him in a haze, barely noticing your body move, a practical rag doll in his arms as he spun you around and watched your pupils get ever wider and the flush on your cheeks get ever deeper.

You were so hot and bothered in such a short period of time, it was absolutely overwhelming. Your hands shook in his, your mind barely able to comprehend the music as it was singularly focused on his warmth, his smell, his voice, his everything that was so close to you. You couldn’t look up at him, ashamed that with every dance step you shared, your essence flowing so freely from you was being smeared along your thighs and the back of your legs.

He knew what he had done, you could tell with the way the corner of his lip turned up. He was trying so hard to hide that self-satisfied smirk he always had on whenever you were right where he wanted you. You were so wet and ready for something other than the innocent game he was playing; but you knew better than to rush him. So you held onto your slipping control, pretending everything was alright when your body screamed to be used and not teased. That control disintegrated as you could smell your arousal while you dance; you knew there was no way he missed that smell either.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, his voice full of faux concern after the second time you circled the room. “You seem so out of it.”

“It’s just… It’s hot, Lucifer.” You said, clinging onto his lapels and leaning into him. With his arm no longer around your waist, you couldn’t seem to keep yourself upright. You could hear his heart beating as you pressed your face against his chest, steadying yourself. “It’s… I don’t know what happened, I’m just, so hot…” It was a lie, you knew exactly what happened, what those strawberries were laced with, but you couldn’t say it out loud, not when you were so affected by his sneaky little plan.

“Oh dear… Are you coming down with something?” He asked, gently guiding you to sit down where you stood. “Are you feeling ill? Are you hurt?”

Yes, you were hurt, your whole body ached in need and he was playing around like he didn’t have any idea what he had done to you. You whine, pulling the skirt of your dress up, a wave of cool air offering you a bit of relief on your heated body. “I hurt… right here.” You said, spreading your legs apart and giving him a clear view of the wet mess you had become in such a short time. “It’s hot… and I hurt…”

Your lips and throat felt dry, your whole body flushed and heated to a point where you wanted to tear off the fancy dress and just dunk yourself into a vat of ice water. You needed relief that only he could give you. Lucifer’s face of concern changed drastically the moment you revealed yourself to him and that sadistic smile you knew so well spread across his face.

“Oh now, that is a problem…” He murmured, pressing a finger against your soiled panties and rubbing his finger up and down to mold the fabric to your slit. “But… I would hate for you to leave the party so soon.” He drawled, putting on a dramatic pout. “I was so sure you would enjoy your time, is it not to your liking?” He pulled the skirt back down, earning a desperate whine from you; but you didn’t protest. There was a promise of satisfaction in the lilt of his voice and you were willing to go through the ends of the world at that point to get to it.

You crawled into his lap, rubbing your face against his crotch in a futile attempt to get him to the same playing field as you were. But, he was firm, preventing you from getting what you craved and helped you back up on your quivering feet. The music had stopped and the lights dimmed, giving you a sense of security. You leaned against him, tears starting to form as your desire became the only thing you could think about. You wanted him so badly. “What else do you have in mind for tonight?” You asked, your voice shaking and you looked up at him.

“Just some games....” He replied casually, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Just the brief contact along sent a massive wave of arousal through you and you saw stars for a moment. “Mainly, I want to see how long before the special ingredients in those strawberries really kick in.”

Your eyes went wide. If this wasn’t the brunt of the effects coursing through your body, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. There was no way it could get any more intense than this, yet the way he spoke hinted only at a high that you hadn’t felt before. He chuckled, burrowing his head at the crook of your neck, kissing your sensitive, heated skin and you were helpless to stop him. Your whole body spasmed in need as your nerves were caressed and teased. It lost feeling at the tip of your fingers and your arms fell limp to your sids as you were completely swept away from him.

He didn’t need to do anything more than grab one of your breasts, kneading it experimentally before your tender nipples sent enough pleasure signals through your body to have you cumming. Your knees gave out and you sank to the ground, gasping as you rode out the sudden climax. The edge of your vision blurred and your ears rang as you caught your breath. Looking up, you saw Lucifer with that stupid smirk on his face, his eyes glittering and a noticeable bulge growing in his pants. You reached up to nuzzle it, burrow your head against the thing you crave and took in his musk. “Please… I need you…” You begged. “I need you right now…”

Those were the words he had been waiting to hear from you. Just the sound of your pleas were music to his ears and did more for his libido than you could ever imagine. He brought you back up on your feet, kissing you deeply and swallowing all the delightfully lewd moans that came from your throat. His hand laced into your hair at the back of your head kept you right where he wanted as he took the prize he had waited all day for. “Then you shall have me.” He said, licking his lips menacingly once he broke the kiss.

You were ready to sink to your hands and knees and let him use you as he saw fit. However, he brought you out of the office and into the elevator instead. You blinked in confusion until you saw him wave a black card over the scanner at the elevator, requesting for a floor that you never accessed before. It wasn’t until you stepped out that you realized he had brought you to the top most floor to his own abode.

There was no time to admire the great view that the floor to ceiling windows had of the city. You weren’t in the right mind to notice the collection of fine art or the practical furnishings that decorated his abode. All that mattered was the beeline the two of you made to his bedroom. Even if you wanted to take a second to soak in your surroundings, Lucifer gave you no time to do so, nearly throwing you into the massive bed in the room. You let out a little yelp of surprise when you hit the silky sheets; but that was quickly replaced with your need to feel his hands on your skin.

Now that he had you in his own space, in the privacy of his own home; Lucifer had the freedom to act as he wished. The first order of business was to help you out of that slinky number of yours. It had served its purpose and now he was ready to move onto looking at the most beautiful thing he possessed. He chuckled darkly, sliding the straps of the dress of your shoulders, turning you over just long enough to pull the zipper down to reveal your lacy underthings. As soon as the dress fell to the floor, it took no time at all for him to expose the rest of you by quickly removing your panties and bra.

Even if it took mere seconds to divest you of all your clothes, it felt like an eternity to you. The drag of the fabric across your skin made you shiver. His featherlight touches made you moan and when he finally pulled away to witness your nude form, the way he licked his lips made you shiver in anticipation.

Without clothes, the heat of your body was more bearable; however, it did nothing to quell your pussy’s need to be stuffed full with his cock. Spreading yourself wide once again, you beckoned him to take what you knew he wanted. This time, he was more than happy to oblige to your request. His clothes seemed to evaporate off of him; likely a result of some magic, but you didn’t care to discuss the details on how he removed his clothes. What you cared about the feeling of his weight above your own and the fullness you felt whenever he entered you.

Your hips levitated off the bed as soon as the tip of his cock started to tease at your folds. “Please, don’t play with me like this, Sir.” you cried, clutching onto the sheets below you as he made slow passes up and down your slit. He chuckled darkly, pushing you just a little further before he finally, gratefully put the tip of his cock into you.

Just at that, you could feel your inner walls clenching around him at your entrance, wanting to draw him in further into you. With how busy you had been with work and how much time he had given you to recover since being impaled by Diavolo and himself, it had been an eternity and a half since you last felt him fill your needy hole with his dick. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you hungrily took every inch of him. He was so terrible, taking his time to make the first pass in you; but it was the most fulfilling experience when he was fully seated inside of you. Your body molded itself around him, clinging to him for dear life as you rutted against his hips, begging for stimulation.

He didn’t want to torture you any further, after seeing your sweet face scrunch of up pure pleasure once he fully sank himself into you. Now, what he wanted was for your body to memorize just how good he could make it feel; and that meant fucking you right into his bed. The pace he set was just enough to bring you to the precipice of an orgasm with a few thrusts. “I know you want to cum…” He growled into your ear. “Feel free to do as many times as you want tonight.”

As soon as the permission was given, you spasmed around his cock still thrusting into you. You screamed his name, the sounds of sex and your moans filling the room as he picked up the pace and slammed his hips into you harder as you climaxed. Fucking you while your inner walls fluttered in orgasm never failed to bring him close to the edge and he was losing himself as well to the throes of pleasure.

You counted maybe two or three more orgasms before his own hips stuttered and his pace became erratic, his own release coming soon. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer to you until his own hips stilled and he spilled his seed into you.

The brunt of what was in the strawberries finally hit you and the need that roiled in your blood intensified, making you keen and milk him hungrily. He pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of your hole before taking a finger and slowly working it back into you. The sex was already mindblowing and your body was telling you that it was getting tired of being so overstimulated; but, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more and you pulled him in for a searing hot kiss full of tongue and teeth. “I want all of you. Give me that demon cock of yours. Fill me.” You demanded in between kisses. “Please, I need it…”

You heard him chuckle darkly before he agreed to your request. There was a fluttering sound and you saw black feathers in your peripheral vision as he shifted into his demon form. You smiled lazily, admiring how beautiful he was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You hadn’t seen this side of him since the first time. Even if you knew what to expect the second time around, it was just as awe inspiring as the first. You knew what was to come now and you eagerly awaited his next move.

“Hands and knees.” He growled and you scrambled to follow his orders. Your knees quaked a bit as you got into position. You could feel the bed dip from his weight as he joined you in it, lining the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt. With one smooth motion, he was buried in you right up to the top of his knot. “Yes... “ He hissed, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you up to be flush up against his chest while he set a brutal pace. “Yes..”

You were in heaven, your body feeling nothing but euphoria as it conformed to every ridge and vein of his cock that worked in and out of you. You came only after a few thrusts, but you knew it was far from over. Lucifer’s thick girth and massive length working in and out of your dripping pussy would push you right to the edge of pure bliss and you couldn’t wait to chase that feeling with him.

His free hand snaked around your waist to rub your clit, sending you keening and again into another orgasm. His sharp fangs raked the soft skin of your neck, leaving welts and marks that would last for days. The pain only added to the experience and you rode out yet another high around his cock.

“All of me.” He growled, slowing his thrusts to start pushing his knot into you. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling the familiar stretch at your entrance. It was blindingly blissful, being penetrated so deeply by his cock and then to be stretched to your limits with his knot. There was no other feeling like it and even without the aphrodisiacs coursing through you, you knew it was the best sex you would ever have. You breathed slowly, feeling every inch of his knot enter you, your eyelids fluttering as you could only imagine what it looked like right now as your pussy engulfed him.

He groaned when the tie was complete, your core accepting every last bit of him and now, his true pleasure began. He pushed you back onto the bed, letting you brace yourself on your elbows while his hands went to your waist to keep you steady. He rutted into you, rocking back and forth and groaning every time he felt your walls clench around him. You could tell he was close and with one last possessive growl, he pushed himself as deeply as he could into you, releasing his load. The warmth of his seed filling you doing its job as it brought you to one last climax before you felt your arms give way and you collapsed from exhaustion.

Lucifer gently maneuvered you to lay on your side so he could join you in the bed with his knot still fully embedded in you. He could still feel his balls twitching, releasing his cum in spurts inside of you as he nestled you into the crook of his arms and protectively wrapped his wings around your form.

“Congratulations on making it through a year here.” He praised, stroking your hair and lulling you into sleep.

“Of course, I expect to be with you for many years to come.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head as you dozed off into slumber. “Stay for the night… It’s too late to get you home by now.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You said, clenching yourself around his cock and he chuckled at your response.

“This is very true.” He said, still petting you methodically and watching you fall asleep.

He waited patiently for you to start softly snoring before he allowed himself the privilege of resting as well. His knot was still hard and firmly entrenched in you and it would likely stay that way for a few more hours. He watched your body slowly rise and fall in slumber and listened to you mumble in your sleep while he let himself soak in the soft moment.

“I love you, Lucifer…” You mumbled in your sleep, shifting a little and clinging onto the arm he had thrown across you.

“I know.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, fully satisfied with the result of a long years’ worth of training. “I love you, too.”

Caring for humans was still a foreign concept to Lucifer; but, he could make an exception for you.

Fin

Taglist: @ptv-hades @bluelipsblueveins-blue @utopiamiroh @vanillaicebaby @taehyungtrasholiviahaneul99 @weebartistinc

#Obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x oc #obey me smut #wow this took two days to write #almost not sorry #I saw you anon #I just didn't want to spoil what I already had planned a week ago lmfao #enjoy the end of this smut #i hope y'all liked the wild ride #my writing

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flatstarcarcosa · 3 years

Text

favors and heists

notes: i gave myself brain worms while roping @dadbodsandbots into my mass effect insert shenanigans by using her mans so I had to shake some of them loose. this turned out to be kinda fun, actually, for a change :3

also tags @jackals-ships while making pspspsps noises

summary: what's the point of your best friend dating a galaxy-renown mercenary if not for the favors you can squeeze out of the deal?

zaeed takes a charity case.

ship(s): stubborn goddamn jackasses, cat/digs (boomcat? harcat?)

******

The door alarm has been chiming for four minutes. Pressing the override button on his omni-tool shuts it off for a few scarce seconds, only for whoever is outside to activate it again. Finally, Zaeed gives up on ignoring it and wrenches the damn thing open manually. The metal squeals in protest before the hydraulics correct themselves.

"The hell do you want?" he asks, frowning. Cat stands in the door way with barely contained tears in her eyes.

"My final thesis is due next week and the whole argument hinges on this 18th century painting and-"

"Dooooon't care," Zaeed drawls as he goes to manually pull the door shut again. She lunges forward, getting a shoulder and half a leg across before the safety catch feels an obstruction and stops.

"-and it got stolen and if I have to report it to my boss I'm not only gonna fail the program but I'll never work in this industry again!" she blurts. Zaeed has already turned his back towards her and is cussing at his omni-tool's refusal to force the door shut.

"Don't caaaaaaaaare," he says.

"You gotta help me get it back!" she cries, "That fucking asshole Harkness stole it and if he gets too far I'll never see it again!"

Zaeed stops, shoulders sagging. He holds up a finger and turns.

"When you say Harkness-"

"Yeah, Digger," Cat sniffs. "You know, Captain Boom-"

"Will willingly shoot my other eye out before I call him that, thanks," says Zaeed. He goes silent for a moment, and then lets out a frustrated growl and runs a hand over his face. "All right, fine. But only because I've still got a grudge against that jackass I've been meaning to settle."

She looks up, elation flashing across her face.

"Really?! I mean, I can hire you, too, so-"

Zaeed snorts.

"You don't make near enough to hire me," he says. "Especially not if you want him alive, although honestly, that part isn't up to you." He steps out of sight into the other room, and Cat wanders into the kitchen to blow her nose on a wad of paper towels.

"Where was he last?" Zaeed asks.

"I mean, my office," she calls back. He steps back around the corner, the top half of his armor undersuit hanging around his waist.

"I meant where was he before he stole the painting?"

"Oh!" she pauses. "I...dunno, some hotel down on Silversun."

Zaeed hums, and pulls his arm through the sleeve on his suit. He drags a footlocker over to the sofa and plops down, bending over to unlock the lid.

"How'd Harkness get into your office, anyway?" he asks. "It's not exactly publicly accessible."

"Uh- I...I don't know," she stammers, "he's a thief, that's what he does!"

Zaeed quirks an eyebrow at her as he laces his boots.

"Uh-huh," he says. "And he just happened to have decided to specifically case your office for one painting..."

"Yeah."

"Your office, which is in a moderately secured area in the Citadel Tower," he continues. He raises an eyebrow at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah," she says again, voice tight. "Why?"

"No reason," he says. Motorized armor joints lock into place with mechanical whirring, and she watches him strap a pistol and a sniper rifle in place. "Here's the thing, if he's already jumped ship and left the Citadel, I'm not chasing him all over. This lasts until I decide the amusement isn't worth the lack of money. Matter of fact, you knowing Reese is the only reason I didn't tell you to fuck off and throw you out."

"A fact which I am heavily aware of," says Cat.

"Long as we're on the same page," says Zaeed. "Might as well wait here, I doubt this is gonna take too long."

"Hey," says Cat, "wait a second. How do you know him, anyway?"

Zaeed clicks his tongue.

"Got unlucky enough to be on a job with him once," he says. "Stupid little fuck nearly got me killed. Spent four weeks healing from that."

"Oh," she says.

"Granted, wasn't the same as getting half my face blown off," he adds, "but it was still enough that I've had it in for him ever since."

"You're not actually going to kill him, are you?" she asks. Zaeed shrugs as the door slides open.

"That depends on him, love," he says.

"Oh," she says. Before she can get another word out, Zaeed steps into the hall and leaves her alone. She sighs and sits down on the sofa. "Well, that's just fucking great."

******

It takes less than five hours to track Harkness down. After checking out of his hotel earlier that morning, he'd stuck around the Silversun Strip rather than booking a flight off the Citadel.

For some reason that Zaeed can only chock up to the man being an absolute fucking idiot, he didn't consider that wandering around with a medium sized painting under his arm was going to make him stick out to the residents.

Only on the Silversun Strip would one get away with that without C-Sec getting called and dropping down on your ass. Try it up on the Presidium and every rich asshole with a penthouse would be ringing the emergency numbers for 'suspicious activity' while triple locking their doors.

Tucked away in a back alley and away from the main attractions of the Strip is a little pawn shop run by, who Zaeed assumes, are the only Batarians to have a permanent residence on the Citadel. There's an old fashioned bell hanging above the door and it jingles when he walks through. It catches his attention for a moment, and he glances up at it, wondering where the aliens picked up that detail about human stores.

Behind the sales counter, a bored looking Batarian is standing with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering with all four eyes at the man in front of him.

"Come on mate," says the Australian. He's leaning over the painting, so focused on his attempts at hocking it that he either didn't hear the door bell, or isn't interested enough to turn around. Zaeed catches the gaze of the sales clerk, and holds a finger to his lips.

"I said no," the Batarian growls, looking back at the would-be customer.

"All right, fine, screw giving me what it's worth," the man continues, "we'll settle for 60% and then I can be on me way."

"You think I'm so stupid or naive I don't know stolen merch when I see it?" asks the Batarian. "I know enough about you humans and your squabbles to know there's no amount of credits worth getting involved in this kinda shit.

"Harkness, why don't you do something useful and stop pestering this poor Batarian?" Zaeed asks, interjecting only when he's close enough to Digger Harkness that the sound of his voice makes the man jump. "Bad enough the poor bastard has to walk around looking like that every day of his life, he doesn't need you coming in here and cocking everything up for him."

The Batarian sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Is it asshole human day today and no one told me?" he asks. "Oh wait, I suppose that's every day, isn't it?"

"Goddamn right it is," Zaeed says. Harkness turns around, nervousness clear on his face.

"Zaeed," he says, slowly, "well, I'll be...funny running into you out here, eh?" He reaches behind himself, fumbling his hand across the counter as he searches blindly for the painting. Zaeed is faster, and snatches it out from under him.

"Lets go," he says, gesturing towards the door. "You know why I'm here."

"Aw, c'mon-" Harkness' protest is cut short by Zaeed grabbing his wrists and slapping a pair of electrified cuffs on them. He shoves the man forward, and then tosses a credit chit down onto the counter.

"You see a couple of human males today?" he asks the Batarian. The alien grunts, considering him for a moment before reaching down and snapping up the chit.

"Been a slow day, I haven't seen anybody," he says, shrugging. Zaeed nods.

"Good man," he says. He shoves Harkness towards the door again. "Get moving."

The bell above the door rings as the two leave, and Harkness turns, walking backwards with his arms locked in front of him as he addresses Zaeed.

"Well, I'm simply stumped," he says, "can't for the life o' me figure who I pissed off enough to hire you." Zaeed says nothing, and simply motions with his pistol for him to keep walking.

Harkness faces foward and catches sight of the skycar parked at the end of the alley. It's not the best area to try and make a mad dash for freedom, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna give it a go.

"How'd you even get into the Citadel Tower to get a hold of something like this, anyway?" Zaeed asks, holding the painting up to get a good look at it. He's never understood fuck all about art and it's not one of those especially famous pieces that he'd even recognize anyway, so he doesn't bother theorizing on why it's so important to Cat's thesis.

"Oh, you know," says Harkness, "made a friend."

"Find that hard to believe," Zaeed drawls as he tucks the painting back under his arm.

"Oi, I'm quite suave when I want to be!" Harkness stops walking again, turning with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Though, some people are just easier to woo."

"Yeah, that sounds more like you, doesn't it?" Zaeed narrows his eyes. "Making a mark out of some poor girl that always sees the best in people."

Harkness blinks.

"Hang on," he breathes, "how do you know that? Don't tell me she's the one that hired you!"

"Course not," Zaeed snorts, "like I told her, she can't afford to hire me. This is a favor for a friend."

"Well shit mate! In that case, why don't you an' I work out a deal, yeah?" The grin is back, and Zaeed makes a point of ignoring him as he opens the skycar door and lays the painting in the back seat. "You ain't on an official contract, I see no reason why you an' I as two consummate professionals can't come to some sort of arrangement that benefits us both!"

"There's an exhaustive list of reasons why that won't be happening," Zaeed says, crossing his arms. "At the top of which is simply the fact that I can't goddamn stand you."

"Fair enough," says Harkness, "But Zaeed, come on, mate! As it happens right now, you're not making any money on this! That's a problem for you, and I can fix that real easy. You just slip these bracelets off me, let me be on my merry way, and recoup credits for your time. Anyone asks, I was too slippery to get a hold of, we all move on."

"No," Zaeed says. "Get in the goddamn car before I knock you out and shove you in the trunk."

Harkness groans, and bounces on the balls of his feet in frustration.

"Come on," he says again, "we both know at the end of the day lining your pockets is the only thing you really care about, so why don't you-"

Zaeed lunges faster than a half blind old merc has any right to move, and Harkness lets out a strangled yell as he punches him in the kidney with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He's wheezing as Zaeed shoves him into the alley wall, hanging onto him by the collar of his coat and lifting him off the ground.

"Listen to me, you stupid fucking jackass," Zaeed growls, "I'm not remotely young enough or stupid enough to not know exactly how you got access to Cat's office. That girl is the only person Reese knows that isn't a killer or a junkie or some fucked up combination of both, and the last thing she needs is to be caught up with likes of you and I."

Harkness says nothing as he gasps again, and waits on his lungs to remember how to take in air.

"I care about her well-being for my own selfish reasons because of her proximity to Reese, and I recognize that doesn't put me in a position of dictating to her who she spends her time with," Zaeed continues, "but so help me, you cause so much as a minor inconvenience for her and I will carve out your goddamn eyes, sew your mouth shut and sell you to Batarians as discounted slave labor, are we goddamn clear?"

Harkness manages half of a choked, garbled word and gets his head bounced off the wall for his effort.

"That didn't sound like a yes to me," Zaeed growls.

"Y-yes," he says. Zaeed slams him against the wall once more for good measure before dropping him.

"Get in the goddamn car."

******

The rental apartment Reese and Zaeed have been staying in isn't much to come home to. Far from the worst place they've ever holed up, sure, but that's never been a very high bar to begin with.

Regardless, as he pushes Harkness through the doorway and pauses long enough to set the painting down on an end table, he does reflect on the warm lightning in the corners and the smell of a beef roast being pulled out of the oven.

It's temporary and it's barely big enough for the two of them to move without tripping over each other, but it is home.

"You found it!" Cat appears in the archway to the kitchen, and Reese looks up over the counter. Their eyes glance between Zaeed and Harkness and the painting, and they quirk an eyebrow in his direction. Zaeed responds with a subtle shake of his head.

Later, he mouths, reaching up to undo the clasps on his armor.

"Wasn't too much trouble," he says aloud. "Helps when you're being sent after a goddamn moron. I should take more offers like this, actually."

"Caaaaaat," Harkness purrs. He goes to hold out his arms, and stops when he meets the resistance from the cuffs. She bypasses him entirely to scoop up the painting and make sure it hasn't been damaged.

"You know, on a hunch I looked into something on the way to the Strip," Zaeed says casually. "C-Sec has multiple active bounties on him at the moment. Cashing in on just one of them would likely pay more than, well...whatever it is you even do currently."

Harkness lets out a nervous laugh and looks between Zaeed and Cat. She sets the painting down and regards him for a moment.

"Right now I'm more worried with getting this back before anyone notices it was gone," she says, causing Harkness to puff up slightly. He winks at Zaeed, only to stop at the look the other man sends his way. "It's unlucky for me the building is locked down for the day, though..."

"Sounds to me like you could use someone who knows his way 'round security systems," Harkness offers. Zaeed snorts, and Cat frowns. Silence stretches out for a moment, broken only by the sound of Reese turning on an electric carving knife.

"Okay, fine," Cat says when they've turned the knife back off. "But know that if we get caught, I'm telling them you kidnapped me and I can cry on command."

"Well now you're just talkin' dirty to me," Harkness says.

"Really?" Reese barks from the kitchen. "Some of us still gotta eat tonight."

Zaeed remains silent and utterly unreadable as he taps at his omni-tool. The handcuffs beep a few times before popping open and falling off. Harkness massages at one of his wrists, and manages to ignore the bait when Zaeed shoves into him on the way to the kitchen.

"If we leave now we should make it in and out without too much trouble," Cat says. Reese offers a wave.

"Call me when you get in," they say, "mostly so I know if anyone's gotta kill him later."

"Sure!" says Cat. She tucks the painting safely under an arm, and drags Harkness out into the hall by the collar of his coat. The door beeps as the automatic lock powers on, and Reese turns to lean against the kitchen counter.

"What?" Zaeed asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

Reese rolls their eyes and turns their attention back to the roast. "I leave for 20 minutes to get fucking dinner, and I swear to Christ..." they say, trailing off when Zaeed reaches around and snags a slice of beef.

"You do realize she's got absolutely horrid taste in men, right?" he asks. The top of the beer bottle pops with a resounding hssss, and he flicks it across the kitchen into the garbage can.

"Yeah, well, that's just something we got in common, I guess," Reese says.

"Oi," Zaeed protests. He takes a swallow of beer and reaches for another slice of meat, then stops. "Hang on, she can cry on command?"

"Yeah, fucking wild actually," says Reese. They frown. "Why?"

Zaeed is silent for a moment as he takes another sip of beer before answering.

"Goddammit."

#reese.fic #ship: stubborn goddamn jackasses #others: boomcat

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