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jananakookie · 2 years

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Rumor Has It | pjm - Chapter 3

💬 Pairing: Jimin x OC (Reader)

💬 Genre/Tags: enemies(?) to lovers, fake-dating au; angst, fluff, smut

💬 Chapter warnings: contains slurs, angst, forms of bullying, alcohol consumption

💬 Word count: 8.4k

💬 Recap:

Rumor has it, Park Jimin is single again after his latest girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend.

Rumor has it, he's willing to get back at them.

Rumor has it, you're the perfect means to an end.

A/N: I‘m back for good! I know it‘s been too long and I‘m sorry but I have my reasons 😬 Anyway please please leave feedback guys!

Previous Chapter - Index - Next Chapter

Chapter 3: Two sides of the same coin.

Somehow you still had a small glimmer of hope that Jimin would forget the whole fake-dating thing and it would be as if you had never seen each other.

Unfortunately, any hope of sudden amnesia on his part vanished the second you entered the lecture hall today on this lovely Thursday morning and headed straight for your usual seat in the back row, only to be unceremoniously ambushed from behind and forced into a tight embrace.

“Back row, huh? All the more room for funny business, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, I have already told my friends about us, and I’d love it if we could sit with them. Would that be okay, babygirl?”

Irritated and overwhelmed with everything around you, you immediately snap at him as you forcefully pull his arm from your shoulders, anxiously looking around while reminding him that you had told him to stop calling you this ridiculous name.

But him being Jimin, he doesn't even care.

“What’s the matter? You’re my girlfriend, Boo. We actually want people to see us be cozy together,” Jimin sneakily wraps one arm around your waist to pull you more into him as he leans down to whisper in your ear while leading the two of you in the direction where his friends are already seated, only to be pushed away once again.

You simply try to ignore the questioning look on his face when you finally turn around to face him, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Can you at least give me a minute to get into character? I just came here.”

“This ain’t drama school, ___,” a peal of slight laughter comes over his lips as he musters you. “What, is it really that hard for you to act as if you’re into me?”

“Yes. It is hard for me, Jimin. I don't know about you, but I have never before pretended to be into someone I barely even know,” you seethe keeping your voice down enough so no one can overhear you.

“You say that now but just wait until we have to break up again, and you'll cry a river because you actually managed to fall for me.”

Your bickering luckily doesn't go on any longer because Jimin takes the initiative and drags you along to your seats, meanwhile ignoring every protest leaving your mouth.

As already expected, you are not particularly warmly welcomed and received by any of his friends. Instead, the best you get is an inconsequential nod before they pay no further attention to you, nor do they include you in any of their subsequent conversations for the rest of the lecture.

That's perfectly fine with you, though. You aren't particularly interested in talking anyway and prefer to focus on your class instead. At this point, you really don't want to drag out your student life more than you have to.

Jimin doesn't seem to be very interested in the reaction of his friends for the time being either.

He continues to joke around with them the whole time but remains steadily in his role. And that means you don't have a moment of peace without his annoying arm wrapped around your shoulders or his hand on your thigh.

One thing at least is certain: he definitely doesn't do things by halves. And that makes you all the more nervous about what may come in the future.

After the day started rather badly, you apparently also have to attend a party tonight which is why you’re currently in the process of making yourself look decent enough so that you’ll “perfectly blend in with the crowd”. At least that's what Jimin said.

You know you most likely won't do that,, and all eyes will be on you and Jimin, but you can at least try and make the best of it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve gone to a party, and as much as you’re nervous, you’re also excited to go out tonight.

What can you say? It’s been a while and it’d be a lie to say you aren’t happy to dress up and actually have somewhere to go.

So you went all in, dressed up pretty nicely, and did your make-up the way you usually like to when you go out.

You hope you haven't overdone it but in the end, this is the only thing you can do to counteract your nervousness. Even if it's just a little bit.

You feel sexy, you feel confident, and now you’re ready to go have some flippin' fun, alright?!

Well, at least until Jimin comes knocking at your door and decides to ruin your mood with one little glimpse at his face.

“This is the look you’re going with?” He asks, sounding like he’s actually wishing for you to tell him this is all a joke.

Now accommodated with a little pout on your lips, you’re looking down on yourself and then take a quick look into the mirror, not seeing anything wrong with how you look.

“What’s wrong with it? I think I look good,” you shrug, trying to sound barely affected by his words, even if you gotta admit they put you off track. It doesn’t make you doubt your appearance, though. You do think you look fine, and if he was hoping for something else, he should have told you in advance.

“You do look good, but you don’t look like my girlfriend if you know what I mean.”

You only scoff, already taking your purse in your hand to finally leave.

“What did you expect? I live off of chips and peanut butter sandwiches. If you want me to be covered in diamonds and gold, then I'm afraid you'll have to reach into your own pockets,” you joke, actually making him laugh at your slight remark.

“Fair point,” he grins, putting his hand on the small of your back as he leads you out of your apartment and down the corridor. “Maybe I will.”

“Don’t you dare. You’re not my sugar daddy.”

“Yet,” he snarkily adds, making you snort through your nose and himself giggle.

And it’s the little jokes like these that easily let you forget how insufferable he actually is. Even if it’s just for a little while.

It’s been exactly 23 minutes since you managed to escape and hid somewhere in the backyard - and Jimin has yet to find you.

Or you know... maybe you’re wrong, and he isn’t even looking for you. That could be the case too.

How it came to this?

Well, not long after you arrived and stood your ground through all the death glares and judging stares Jimin’s so-called “friends” gave you, he kinda just left you alone because he had to “take care of something real quick”.

He took way too long for your liking and you eventually grew tired of everyone either ignoring you or throwing nasty remarks your way so you ended up here. Between these two people dry humping each other only a couple feet next to you.

Fun.

“Cough two times if you need me to safe you.”

Irritated by a voice that doesn’t belong to Jimin suddenly ringing up from behind you, you turn around, instantly relaxing when you see who it belongs to.

“What?” you chuckle, making room for him to sit down, and he doesn’t even take another moment before he complies, plopping down in the spot right next to yours. The one Jimin should be sitting in right now if he hadn’t just rudely left you alone at a party you only attended because he wanted you to.

Okay, maybe it does bother you more than you originally wanted to admit.

“I heard you were involved with Park Jimin, and I would have bet my right arm for it to be just another rumor,” he starts as you already feel his eyes burn into the side of your head. “But now I see you here, getting comfortable with no other than the campus golden boy. So tell me, ___, is he holding you captive, or is he blackmailing you because there is no way in this world that you are unironically dating Jimin.”

You gulp as you keep your head stubbornly straight ahead, taking a bit too long to answer his simple question.

If you've learned one thing from this whole fake dating situation so far, it's that you're not even remotely as quick-witted as you always thought you were. And if this continues, you will very quickly get a lot of problems.

Clearing your throat, you sit a little straighter while nervously fumbling with your hands. “I know it's a little sudden, but he’s actually really amazing,” you say, looking at your new-found companion while trying to suppress the urge to cringe at your own words.

“Bullshit!” He laughs loudly, barely keeping himself from falling backward with his whole chair. “God, that was awful, ___.” Still giggling, while he’s trying to calm down again, he looks at you and brushes his mop of hair out of his eyes in a quick movement.

“It’s the truth, though. We have a lot in common,” you shrug, not even smiling when those words leave your lips. This time your attempt in trying to say something nice about your alleged boyfriend sounds a little less forced and tortured,, but it’s still not enough to be convincing it seems.

“Alright just say the words, and I’ll get us out of here. Depending on what he's threatening you with, I might even tell him a word or two, so he'll leave you alone forever. Of course, only if you want me to.”

“What words exactly are we talking about?” You grin, not even getting into the other nonsense.

“Jeon, I’m being held captive by Jimin and his rich people cult. Please save me before they sacrifice me on the next full moon,” he says in a high-pitched voice, trying to sound like you.

You only roll your eyes, but can hardly suppress a smile. “Wouldn’t they usually need a virgin for that?” you joke, casually playing along.

Jungkook brightly grins, showing off his front teeth in the process. He sees your willingness to jump on his joke as a small advance in your conversation since you usually aren’t that talkative.

Usually, you're the type to only mutter a one-word answer before you're on your way again, too scared someone could see you and spread another rumor.

Jungkook has always felt bad about that, trying to convince you he doesn't care about that, but you never listen. So this is a surprise he welcomes.

“Guess I just outed myself as a non-expert in ritual procedures. I hope you will keep this embarrassment to yourself and not judge me too hard for that.”

“It was still very creative. I’ll give you points for that,” you grin, finally feeling a little less tense now that you get to have a normal, real conversation with someone who you know isn’t secretly stabbing you in their head.

“Thank you. Now, tell me what’s really going on,” he insists, coming a little closer.

And there goes your just-earned ease again due to his nosey nature.

A defeated sigh comes over your lips. You are pretty sure that there is nothing you could tell him that would make him believe you’re actually dating Jimin, so where’s the point in lying?

You can’t imagine Jungkook going around and snitching on you anyway. There’s nothing he could get out of that, and even if you aren't close, you know Jungkook is not the type of guy to gossip. If he were, you'd know by now.

“I may or may not have agreed to a deal with Jimin that… includes me pretending to be his girlfriend,” you eventually admit, carefully looking around to check that no one overheard your little confession.

Trying to process what you just told him, Jungkook clears his throat, as he slowly nods his head. “Well, that… sounds about right.”

You look at Jungkook, raising a brow since you didn’t think he’d react so… barely?

“Huh? You’re not surprised?” You ask, gaping at him.

“Surprised you’re not actually dating him? Not at all. Surprised that you agreed to something so stupid? Completely baffled,” he explains, grinning at you when he sees you pouting. “You thought this was a good idea?”

“No. I thought it was a bad idea, actually. But he somehow still managed to talk me into it. I don’t even know how he did it. He’s really good at guilt-tripping, I guess.”

You turn your attention back to your feet, too embarrassed to look directly at Jungkook and the long, much too exaggerated sigh that suddenly comes from him only lets you guess the disappointed look in his eyes.

You don't need to hear from him how stupid it is of you to accept this deal. You already know that yourself. And yet - maybe it is exactly what you need. Someone who isn’t you saying how big of a mistake you’re making right now could be the wake-up call you need.

But then again, you’re already in too deep to just quit now anyway. At this point, quitting wouldn’t change anything. It would probably just make things worse, and you’d have Jimin on your bad side as well, which does not sound like something you would want.

“Look, this is none of my business,” Jungkook starts, leaving you waiting on what’s going to follow because usually, it’s nothing good that comes after.

He clears his throat, gradually playing with the holes in his jeans. “But I’m not sure if getting involved in this is exactly what you need. No offense, ___, really. It's just that a lot of people already have an opinion about it and... it is not exactly positive in your sense.”

Well, it’s not like this comes as a surprise since it is what you told Jimin would happen, but it still sucks to get the confirmation. It’s embarrassing, really - and the worst part is, that you put this on yourself this time.

“They don’t believe this is real, they just think—”

“—He’s using me. I know,” you finish, carelessly shifting your gaze on a couple that’s making out not that far from you. It’s not the most pleasant sight but it’s better than having to look at Jungkook’s pitiful eyes, or the people already whispering about you sitting here with him while your “boyfriend” isn’t around.

“Well… that too, yes,“ he says, implying that there’s more, which makes you look at him again. “Some do think that, but some also interpret it as if you were taking advantage of him and his “fragile, broken heart”, he explains, making you scoff in dismay.

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“No, I heard people say you’re probably using him for his money.”

“Yes, of course, they think that,�� you scoff again, frustration clearly visible on your face. “You know what? I wish I would have been smart enough to make him pay me for this bullshit.”

Pressing your elbows into your thighs, you let your head fall into your hands to hide your face, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole and end your misery once and for all.

“I can’t even feel sorry for you, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t have an answer for that, Jeon. Truth is, my life is shitty, and I’m attempting to at least make some memories before I leave this place.” You sigh, gradually sipping from the cup you put next to you on the ground after coming here.

It’s pure vodka and exactly what you want and need right now.

You figured if you have to be here and get dumped by your “boyfriend” soon after arriving here, you can at least get shit-faced. It’s really good to ease the nerves and lose the awkwardness, and it helps to not notice the stares you get from everyone.

You hear Jungkook exhale from his nose as a laugh before he holds his own cup in front of you waiting for you to copy him. “A toast to that.”

You only roll your eyes, not amused whatsoever, but end up toasting with him anyway.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll end up falling for him,” he then adds after a moment of silence, making the both of you burst into laughter.

“If that happens, please just kill me right on the spot.”

“Don’t worry, I got you. I’m not letting you go down like this.”

Unfortunately, your little heart to heart with Jungkook gets suddenly interrupted when you hear someone call out your name. And it’s not a very happy tone, immediately making you cringe before you turn around at the same time Jungkook turns around as well.

You both stare at a very annoyed-looking Jimin, stomping towards the both of you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jimin seethes, as soon as he reaches you, completely ignoring Jungkook, who’s currently taking a big gulp from his beer as he tries to hide his gloating grin from you.

“Uh… mingling and trying to enjoy myself just how you asked me to before you just went off and left me alone,” you sarcastically quip, still pretty annoyed at him for leaving you like that when he knows how much you already don’t want to be here.

That was a dick move, and you stand by that.

“What I meant was try to get to know my friends while I leave for a quick bathroom break. Not run away and hide in a suspicious corner with fucking Jeon,” he argues, still not looking at him at all.

“Hey,” Jungkook speaks up, frowning a little while Jimin for the first time since coming here, fixes his eyes on him. “I can hear you, you know?”

Jimin snaps at him with a quick, “and who gives a fuck?”, making the younger boy shut up right after since he decides to not get involved in your whole fake couple drama. Nope, this is not what he had in mind when he came around to have a good time tonight.

“What exactly is your problem? He’s the only one who actually wants to talk to me,” you argue, not really seeing his point whatsoever.

Jungkook rather quickly notices that no one actually pays attention to him, seeing both you and Jimin continue arguing so he just escapes the scene as fast as he can.

“I can’t believe you’re being this irresponsible,” Jimin, says lowering his voice when he sees the looks everyone is giving the two of you. “Do you even know what people will say when they see you getting close to Jeon?”

You scoff, softly pushing him further away since he’s gotten a little too close for your liking. “In case you didn’t notice, you are the one currently making a scene here, Jimin,” you advise him, plastering a smile on your lips so the people around will stop thinking you’re fighting. “Now stop looking at me like you’re about to kill me and smile a little. Everyone is watching us.”

Jimin raises a brow, quickly looking around before he chuckles a little awkwardly, throws his arm around your shoulders, and plasters a kiss on your cheek which barely lets you keep in a protesting grunt.

“Just so you know, I’m still pissed at you for ditching me for this fucking low life,” he whispers as you’re both walking back inside where the actual party takes place.

“I ditched you? You were the one who left and didn’t come back. Do you even know how awkward I felt standing there with your friends who treated me like air?” You hiss back at him.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.” He sighs, and to your surprise, he actually does sound regretful. “I was held up with something. But I promise I tried to get back as soon as I could.”

Still not convinced by his half-hearted apology, you stay stubborn, only rolling your eyes at him. “Just don’t do it again, please. I know everyone here is your friend, but they sure as hell aren’t mine. And they really try hard to make sure I know about it.”

“Was someone mean to you?”

You’re surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice as he also stops walking for a moment to look at you, but you simply brush it off, telling him it doesn’t matter since it’s nothing the both of you hadn’t expected in the first place.

It’s no lie that you don’t fit into Jimin’s usual type, and only judging by your reputation, it was to be expected that his friends wouldn't invite you with open arms. Yet, it still feels even more awkward to be around them than you initially thought.

And like speaking of the devil, you are interrupted by yet another one of Jimin’s friends before he can ask any more questions.

This time it’s Yuna, a girl you don’t share any classes with, but you think you’ve seen her around Nayeon before.

You never noticed her much since she always seemed like someone to get lost in a crowd. At least, that’s what you always thought.

Tonight, however, you noticed that she isn’t like that at all.

No, Kim Yuna is a little snake, and you needed no more than twenty minutes around her to figure that out.

It wouldn’t actually bother you as much if you weren't one hundred percent sure that she directly saw through yours and Jimin's lie without the slightest doubt and there is nothing that could convince her otherwise.

So far you don't think too much about it, but you can't get rid of the feeling that she could eventually become a problem.

“There you are! We were looking everywhere for you!” She giggles as she approaches you and Jimin, smiling brightly at you in particular. “Good thing Jimin finally found you.”

Plastering an equally as fake smile on your lips, you nod. “I mean, it’s just a house, not a maze or something. There weren’t very many options, huh?” You feign a laugh, making her laugh way too obnoxiously in exchange.

“Well, there are a lot of bedrooms, after all. You never know…” she says in the most innocent voice you’ve ever heard, but obviously implying something very specific.

You’re so caught off guard, that you can’t help but gape at her before looking at Jimin, who - unsurprisingly - doesn’t even seem to have caught on to what she just said.

“Anyway, we want to play truth or dare, are you guys in?” She changes the topic, now looking more towards Jimin, who does seem interested, whereas you cannot help but mock that suggestion.

“Truth or dare, really? That’s the lamest shit you could come up with—” You’re interrupted by Jimin’s hand grabbing yours a little too harshly. You swallow the rest of what you wanted to say, even though you had a couple more well-fitting insults in store.

Oh well, your time will come.

How come he immediately shuts you down, but when someone clearly insults you, he doesn’t even notice?

“Yea, we’re coming, right babe?”

It takes you a second to react since you don’t feel addressed by that name, but reality comes crashing down at you when he squeezes your hand once again, making you nod your head in forced agreement.

There’s really nothing worse you could think of right now. Not only could this game expose you real quick, but it could also make for a lot of embarrassing and uncomfortable moments.

And the first one comes soon after you and Jimin join the group of people playing, and the bottle finally lands on you.

“Truth,” you sigh, already annoyed to no extent.

As soon as you mumbled the word, a round of boos roars around you - loudest of all Yuna herself.

“Come on, no one takes truth. I thought you were against lame shitty games, so why not make this one fun when you can?” She challenges you, making your blood boil in your veins.

Maybe the cup of pure vodka wasn’t the best idea, since it seems to rile you up more than you need right now.

Nonetheless, you actually let yourself be provoked this time.

“Okay, whatever then. I take dare,” you hear yourself say, crossing your arms over your chest while never breaking eye contact with her. After all, you don't want her to think she's intimidating you or that you have something to hide.

She does intimidate you, and you do have something to hide, but no one needs to know that.

She looks rather unaffected though, simply smirking at you before she purses her lips for a sheer moment while thinking about something to make you do, grinning almost in an evil way when she obviously seems to have something in mind.

“Make Jimin moan.”

Your eyes grow wide as you try not to let them see how uncomfortable you are.

Now it is more than obvious that she is onto something and clearly wants to see if you’re going through with it.

The problem is, you don’t know if you can.

A look to the side quickly tells you Jimin isn’t going to save you either since he looks pretty unbothered by all of this, just shrugging his shoulder as he looks back at you, waiting for you to do something.

“What is it ___?” Yuna sneers, looking rather pleased with herself when her plan seems to work. “Shouldn’t be a problem, since you’re dating him, hm?”

“Doesn't mean we’re comfortable sharing everything with all of you, does it?”

“We’re all friends here, there is nothing to be ashamed of,” she coos, not hiding her smirk even one bit. You can already hear other people start to giggle the more time you’re letting pass, but you cannot help it - this is not an easy decision for you.

No matter how you cannot and will not let her win this round. This one is for sure.

But right when you're on the verge of despair, a sudden idea comes into your head, making you abruptly grin back at her.

“Cool. Nothing easier than that,” you declare before you give Jimin one hard punch onto his arm, instantly making him moan in pain.

It is more than obvious this wasn’t what she was hoping for, and she makes it very known soon after with a deep scowl on her face.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it! You cheated!” She complains, making a bigger thing out of this than it has to be.

“You never said he has to moan in pleasure,” you shrug, feigning innocence while hiding the happiness of having found a little loophole.

“It was more than obvious that that was what I meant. This is a college party!” she continues to complain, making you roll your eyes at her dramatic behavior. “You cheated. Probably because you can't pull it off anyway—”

“— Shut up already, Yuna.“ Jimin’s annoyed voice suddenly can be heard, reminding you of his presence. “Specify your dares next time. We’re done playing anyway.“ And with that being said, he grabs your hand and pulls you away.

You unwillingly follow him for a little while until you're in a more quiet room with only a couple people, and you get the courage to speak up.

“Sorry for punching you,” you mutter, feeling bad about what happened but Jimin just playfully glares at you.

“Are you really?” He asks, already starting to smile as you join in. “Thought so,” he grins mischievously when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Usually, I’m not the violent type, I promise. I just panicked. And since you didn’t seem to want to help me out of this, I needed to be creative,” you explain. “By the way, why didn’t you help me? Wasn’t it obvious that I wanted you to do something?”

“Honestly, I just wanted to see what you will do,” Jimin admits, chuckling quietly. “Wanted to see if you’d actually do it.”

You’re just about to say something snarky back to that when you notice him focusing on something behind you all of a sudden, making you curious about what’s there to see, and you’re surprised when you see that it’s no other than Taehyung and Yeji who seem to have just arrived, happily greeting everyone around them.

“Are you okay?” You ask, noticing how he seems to have zoned out. It's a little unnerving for you to see him like this because you fear he could make a scene. More attention is the last thing you two need.

But it's not only that. It must be hard for him to see them here, and you do feel bad he has to go through this right now. You aren't friends, and he isn't the nicest, but you still have a heart, okay?

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? Don't treat me like a baby.”

His answer comes directly after, making him sound careless, but you clearly see the way his jaw clenches when he tries to move his head away from the scene in front of you.

You’re trying to not let his sudden change in mood get to you, but you can’t help but get a little irritated with the tone he uses while speaking to you. You can understand this is an unpleasant situation for him, but you are not to blame for any of this.

“I don’t know, maybe because you look like someone pissed in your breakfast.”

Jimin’s eyes land back on you, and for a quick second, you watch him clench his jaw before he grabs your hand again and pulls you with him, mumbling something about needing a drink.

Now, this is a thought you can relate to, and you're happy to finally get your hands on more alcohol. This whole day just screams for a way to calm your nerves and let your frustration out.

“I can’t believe they have the audacity to come here,” he boils as he sips from his drink. “I specifically asked Hyunjin to not let them in tonight, and yet, here they are. What the fuck. You really can't trust anyone anymore.”

You do feel for him because having to see them here - together over all must suck a lot and you have no idea how his relations to everyone around here differ from Taehyung's and Yeji's, but you know it's a bit too much to expect that just because he has problems with them, everyone else has to turn their backs on them, too. You don’t want to be the reason to annoy him even further, though, so you decide to just stay silent, nod your head in agreement, and play your part.

Sometimes, it's better to just listen and support than be the voice of reason. Maybe you two will have to have that talk someday, but surely not tonight.

You’re here for a reason, and it’s not to pick a fight with him.

“Should we dance?” you unexpectedly hear yourself ask after you both decided to calm yourselves with a few rounds of shots.

Admittedly, you should take it slow, considering it’s been a minute since you drank this much, but hey, anything to ease your nerves and make you a little less uncomfortable.

The problem, however, is that a side effect of alcohol is that you tend to get a little too carried away, and Jimin is probably the worst person to have around in that state because it's clear he's not going to stop you from making a fool of yourself.

Unlike you, he's already a bit too confident even without alcohol, which is why he instantly jumps at your suggestion, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him in no time. And before you know it, you're on the dance floor, dancing with none other than Park Jimin.

And it’s not the worst.

Not only do you desperately need to prove your "relationship" to everyone around you (which... doesn't seem to work very well so far) it also can't hurt to switch off and relax for a while. After all, you haven't had the chance to do that since you came here.

You’re finally letting loose, swaying your hips to the beat with your eyes closed as you feel the alcohol running through your system. It has been so long since you just had fun - let alone at a party - but it feels so good you don’t even care about the couple hundred eyes that have to be watching you right now.

No, they should be watching. Maybe seeing you and Jimin act comfortable around each other will do the trick.

You decide to turn everything off and live in the moment for once, not even caring about the fact that you’re literally grinding on Jimin right now while he's practically doing the same, keeping his grip firmly on your hips. You barely even notice.

All of this is entirely overshadowed by you simply enjoying yourself. Finally.

But the state of pure peace and bliss you are currently in does not last long when you feel Jimin’s hot breath brush against your cheek as he whispers something in your ear.

“Are you trying to make me hard or something?”

Your eyes immediately shot open, and you turn around to push him away from you while he’s laughing hard enough to make his eyes disappear.

“You’re such a dick! I was finally having fun,” you complain, but can barely hide the grin at the sight of him laughing so damn hard until you fall into a fit of amused giggles as well.

“I didn’t ask you to stop. Sorry if you misunderstood,” he defends himself holding his hands up in surrender.

You throw your head back in laughter, and yes, you entirely blame this on your drunken state because Park Jimin’s sexual innuendos wouldn’t make you laugh this much if you were sober.

You watch him purely grin at you in amusement for a while until you raise a brow, silently asking him what he’s looking at, but he just shrugs, coming closer as you're now dancing a little less daringly.

“Nothing, it’s just that I’ve never seen you like this before. Didn’t know you could actually be fun.”

His answer doesn’t surprise you since you must admit you almost forgot this side of yours as well. Also, it’s not like Jimin has known you for long enough to know the person you were before you turned into a loner.

But you can be fun, and have a lot more in store than just that. You don't plan on showing Jimin all of you, though. It's not like you're friends, and he doesn't need to know you more than he has to for the sake of making your relationship believable.

A little later that same night, you have once again decided to ditch the party and find a secluded place where you can just… not socialize for a while.

The only difference is that this time you have Jimin as your companion, sitting next to you on the roof of the frat house after bragging about showing you the coolest place here.

And here you are, looking down at all the people partying below you, while you're just enjoying the view, both with a beer in your hand, talking about some stuff and getting to know each other.

Weirdly, this is really comforting.

It’s not that bad getting to know the guy behind all that “golden boy” facade, and in a way, it’s the first time you realize that besides being super popular and rich, Jimin is also just a guy in his twenties, trying to survive and find his own way in life.

By now, you both sobered up a little and even if it’s not exactly enough for you to be safely sitting on a rooftop, you at least stopped giggling about everything which you’re very thankful for.

Right now, he’s telling you a little about his family. You don’t even remember how you came to that, but you find yourself being interested in what he tells you about them. Just from what he told you til now, you feel like he’s grown up in a very loving family who he also seems to be close with.

He especially seems to care a lot about his younger sister, or at least that’s what you assume because, for the last hour or so, he always comes back to telling you about her.

“It’s just… she is dating this giant dick-face, okay?” Jimin explains, staring ahead with a sigh.

“Jimin,” you admonish him, already rolling your eyes, but can’t completely hide the smile slowly spreading on your face.

“No, I mean it! Really!” He exclaims, turning his head to stare at you with big, serious eyes. “His face is literally formed like a giant ball sack, and his hair is—”

He doesn’t get any further before you smack his arm, laughing at his stupidity. “Stop, you’re being ridiculous,” you giggle, shaking your head as you see him trying to suppress his own grin.

The quiet waves of laughter from both of you are followed by a comfortable silence as you just sit there on a damn roof, while a couple hundred people are partying.

You catch yourself feeling comfortable in his company, even enjoying it for once without getting irritated by him. It’s something new and strange, but you welcome the change.

“He’s not good enough for her,” Jimin then breaks the silence again after a while, staring thoughtfully into the night sky. “No one is, but least of all him. I try to tell her all the time, but she just never listens.”

He doesn’t notice you watching him right after, studying how his brows are furrowed together in deep thought and the way his hands fumble with the fabric of his jeans as he probably thinks about his sister’s well-being.

And you don’t notice how the corners of your lips subconsciously perk up into a small smile.

It’s unusual for you to see him like this. Thoughtful, caring. It’s the first time you see a glimpse of the person underneath all the snooty, self-absorbed posturing.

Sure, he has shown a little compassion for your situation but that's the most he's done so far. With his sister, however, you can see how caring he can actually be, and at this moment, even if it doesn’t stay for long, you decide that you don’t despise this Jimin as much as the other one.

“You probably don’t want to hear what I’m about to tell you,” you start, seeing him turn his head back at you.

“Then it’s better when you keep it to yourself,” he interrupts, grinning as to let you know he isn’t being serious.

You snort, shaking your head. “She will not listen to anyone. And the more you tell her what a mistake she is making, the more she will want to do it,” you say, closely watching his reaction to your little advice - if you can even call it that.

To your surprise, he seems to listen, and you admire him nodding his head understandingly.

“What else can I do then?”

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything you can do at this point,” you shrug, looking at him apologetically when you see the little hopeful look in his eyes slowly disappear.

“If she won’t listen to the people closest to her, she will have to make her own decisions and face the consequences. Even if she’ll end up being hurt.”

“I don’t want that to happen,” he sighs. “She always wants to act like an adult and tries to be mature and stuff, but she’s just seventeen. And she’s sensitive, even if she never shows it to anyone.“

It’s clear he loves his sister very much, and it warms your heart to see how she can make a whole different Jimin appear than the one you got to know recently.

“I know. Sorry,” you quietly breathe out. “But I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it. It’s part of growing up.”

“Maybe you could try and talk to her sometime?” He suddenly suggests, looking at you with big eyes that make him look so much younger.

“Why? Because I have a history with dick-faced douchebags?” You joke, expecting him to laugh along at your joke.

No idea why you expected that because Jimin immediately agrees, shrugging his shoulders while he looks at you completely serious with a simple “yeah”.

“Wow, gotta love your honesty,” you mumble, turning your head straight ahead again. “I don’t think I’m the right person for that, though. I’m sorry. And no offense, but I refuse to meet your family,” you state. “It’s already bad enough that we have to lie to everyone around here. I really don’t want us to lie to the people closest to us. They shouldn't be a part of this.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, but just by the way he slightly nods with his beer bottle tightly pressed to his lips, you guess that he agrees.

“Why don’t you ask Nayeon instead?” you propose, just thinking out loud. “She’s way better with people than I am, and I'm sure your sister would rather listen to her anyway. They already know each other.” You explain, still trying to help him out. Even if you refuse to get involved with his family, for good reasons, you can still try to be helpful in different ways if it really burdens him this much.

“Nayeon…” you immediately catch Jimin’s face falter again as soon as you bring up her name, and you wonder what this could be about.

“Nayeon isn’t… she’s not really in the right state of mind to give advice to others, I guess,“ he beats around the bush, making you even more curious about what’s going on with her.

What is he hinting at?

Now that you come to think of it, you haven’t seen her for quite some time now, and you haven’t heard about her either, which is not common for her.

She's the life of every party, everybody loves her so... what is going on?

“She isn't doing well at all. I’m seriously worried about her.”

You see a look, similar to what he looked like earlier on his face when talking about his sister’s well-being. But this time, it's even more severe.

You’re still mad at Nayeon and don’t want to ask about her for that reason, but you cannot help but worry about her too. Especially since Jimin looks so serious.

“Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“Above all, she's very heartbroken, of course. She genuinely loved Taehyung, and she always thought of Yeji as a close friend. What happened really gnaws at her,” he explains, confirming your guess as you nod and focus your gaze on your clapped-together hands.

“But what really gets to her is… what happened between her and you,” he then admits, making your ears perk up immediately though you try to look unbothered and just don’t say anything to that, nor do you look at him.

“She hates herself for what happened, ___.”

“She should,” you shrug, acting entirely cold even though you don’t mean it. “After all, she did get off better than me.”

“Nayeon is not a bad person, ___. She was just very hurt and—”

“I was hurt too,” you interrupt him, eventually turning your head to throw him a stern look. “I know, no one ever cares about my feelings, but I was hurt too, Jimin. I don’t give a fuck about Taehyung or Yeji or anyone else. But Nayeon – I really expected more from her,” you rant, glad you managed to not let your voice break.

“Trust me, she did too,” Jimin says, looking straight into your eyes. “I’m not taking her side. Not at all,” he makes sure to let you know, keeping his voice solid. “What she did was very wrong, and there is no excuse for it.”

“But?”

“But,” he sucks in some air, keeping his gaze on you the whole time. “We both know that Nayeon is not that person,” he states.

You know he’s right. But you can’t just forget about what she said to you and what she did. Not just like that. Especially not when it happened in front of so many people.

Would she have done it differently, asked you to meet her somewhere private and talk it out, you would still have been disappointed in her for believing this lie, but you could have forgiven her.

The way she did it, however, showed you a side of her you never knew existed, and you’re not sure you can see past that. At last not so soon and not that easy.

“She used to always talk to me about you, and she always took your side whenever someone said anything mean,” he says after a while. “I'm the last person to expect anything from you right away, but I think it would do you both good to talk to each other. Not until you’re ready, of course. It may just be something to think about. Just… try and be the bigger person.”

You can’t help but scoff. He has no idea how many times you've recited that stupid line to yourself as if it were a mantra.

Don’t say anything, ___. Just leave. Be the bigger person.

“I’m tired of having to be the bigger person, Jimin,” you state. “Look, I’m sorry she’s not doing well, I really am. I would never wish anything bad on her or anyone else for that matter, but it doesn’t always have to be me who has to be the bigger person. I didn’t do anything wrong, and it is not my responsibility to approach her and smooth things over.”

That you took him by surprise is clearly written on his face, but you don’t let him say anything to that anymore before you start to get up, ready to go home.

This night is over. You did what he asked of you, and now you want to leave. It's not like there's any purpose for you to still be here, and it's late anyway.

It takes him a moment before he realizes you’re actually leaving, and he hastily gets up as well, almost falling off the roof in the process.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Home. It’s getting late, and I’m starting to get cold,” you say, sounding nonchalant.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, slowly stumbling over to you.

It really is a wonder you both managed to not fall off the damn roof by now.

“What for? Would you have given me your jacket?” You try to joke, going back to your earlier mood.

You don’t want to pick a fight with him tonight. You already spend the whole day being annoyed by him so you decide to just stuff the whole Nayeon-story into the back of your head and carry on to where you left off before that.

Because you would rather shove a cactus down your throat than admit it when you’re sober, but Park Jimin can be fun to hang around when he makes an effort.

It’s like two sides of the same coin, but both sides are rusty, but one just a little less.

Yeah. That sounds like a decent enough description.

Still, as you're walking up to your apartment, followed by Jimin who was nice enough to help you up. It must have looked funny to a bystander watching two tipsy people stumble up the stairs, but you're thankful nonetheless. It shows that he does have manners after all.

“This night was a disaster and I feel like it's mostly my fault,” you decide to speak up about the elephant in the room, knowing pretty well it was on both of your minds because you two haven't really shared more than two words since leaving the party. Now that the effect of the alcohol is slowly wearing off, you're starting to feel bad about it.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks, making you turn around to face him.

“You wanted to really get started with the plan today. You wanted to convince everyone, I was supposed to get to know everyone and get involved, blah blah blah. Instead, I hid somewhere or just bitched at people half the time - which was completely justified, by the way, but I'm still sorry that we couldn't achieve what you had in mind,” you ramble.

Jimin smiles, shrugging his shoulders as to show you it's not a big deal. "I'm sorry for ditching you at the start and not defending you as much as I should have,” he apologizes as well, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Ah, so he did notice then.

“I already broke my promise to you, and I'm sorry for that. I hope you're still in, though and if you are, I promise this won't happen again. The truth is, I had met Yeji when I was on my way back to you, and it kinda put me off. I was in a bad mood the whole time after that. And then I came back, and you were gone, and everyone was making rude remarks,” he groans. “And then I find you with Jeon of all people.”

Well, it's not the greatest apology, but it's more than you expected, and you're glad he at least made an effort. So you just smile and nod.

“It was the first try,” you say, already turning around to open your door. “Let's do better next time. It's not like the entire night was a flop. You're bearable when you shut up, Park.”

At this, Jimin laughs. “I can only return that compliment, babygirl. You should be drunk more often. It makes you so much more likable.”

You don't return anything to that, just simply throw him the middle finger as you walk inside your home and close the door behind your back.

Truth is, tonight really wasn't a total flop, and you know if you both put in a little more effort, this could actually work.

#jimin au #jimin slow burn #jimin fake dating au #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin e2l #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #bts jimin #bts imagines #bts au #bts angst #bts smut #bts fake dating au

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misscarolineshelby · 3 years

Text

A New Life

Part Nine: First Night Away

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,605

Warning: Angst, Smut

Original Blogger: @queenshelby

The long weekend trip to Kerry was fast approaching and you hired a car to drive there with Max with the view to visit your cousin on the way.

You were the first one to arrive at Cillian’s holiday house on Thursday afternoon and were thankful for the GPS and the fact that Max slept the whole way through.

The house was not far from many beautiful walking tracks and was even somewhat secluded. It was a large house, but somewhat dated and it was obvious to you that Cillian liked to keep the old charm of the house rather than turn into something modern.

‘Are these your sheep?’ you said as you stepped out of the car and Cillian greeted you after having heard your car pull up.

‘No, they belong to the neighbours’ Cillian said and you looked around somewhat confused. There was no other house nearby.

‘Neighbours?’ you chuckled and Cillian nodded.

‘Yes, they live a kilometre up this way’ he said, pointing north, before asking you to come inside.

The house was beautiful and featured a new but rustic kitchen and three bathrooms. The living room contained a large stone fire place and there were five bedrooms.

‘I am sorry that you have to bunk with Laura’ Cillian said as he carried your bag to one of the rooms after having shown Max where he will be sleeping with his two cousins and a friend’s young son named Connor.

‘Well, I thought that you would be sharing a room with her after the rumours I have heard’ you winked and Cillian couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Rumours, eh? What have you heard?’ he then asked and, whilst you knew that you should have kept this to yourself, you couldn’t.

This was all you had been thinking about for the past two days and you were seriously bothered by the fact that Cillian and Laura had shared an intimate moment together.

‘I’ve heard that you and Laura shared a kiss’ you said, pretending not to be bothered by it.

‘If, by sharing a kiss, you mean that she forced herself on me when she had too much to drink then yes, the rumours are true’ Cillian laughed rather amused.

‘That’s not how I heard it. Apparently, you guys had a moment’ you said surprised but Cillian shook his head.

‘The kiss wasn’t mutual Y/N. She was drunk and I am actually quite surprised that she remembered it at all. I had to take her back to her hotel room and help her lie down. That’s how wasted she was’ Cillian said somewhat amused and you couldn’t help but start laughing as well.

‘Well, I think she might actually like you Cillian. It was more than a stupid drunk moment for her’ you explained somewhat concerned but Cillian still didn’t take you serious.

‘I am not interested in her Y/N’ Cillian then confirmed.

‘I don’t care if you are’ you then said with blushing cheeks which is when you heard Cian’s car pull up as well.

***

The afternoon went fast and, while Cillian, Cian and their mutual friend Liam prepared dinner, Laura, Evelyn and you played a boardgame with the children in front of the fire place.

After dinner and after all of the children went to bed, you opened two bottles of wine and enjoyed some time just between adults, talking and joking together before your big day tomorrow.

Laura tried her best to get closer to Cillian throughout the evening, sitting next to him whenever she could and teaming up with him during a game of trivia.

You tried not to let this bother you while Cillian behaved just as he would normally without letting her get too close after what you had told him.

But Laura didn’t give up and would, occasionally, brush her hand over Cillian’s arms or otherwise try to make physical contact with him.

You couldn’t help but cringe every time you noticed it and Cillian had become almost oblivious to her actions as the night went on and she had a few glasses of wine to drink yet again.

Eventually, Evelyn and Laura decided that they drank enough. They both wanted to be ready for the hike tomorrow and decided to go to bed at around 10 o’clock that evening, leaving you to sit in front of the fire place with Cian, Liam and Cillian.

‘I might just quickly change into my pyjamas so that I don’t wake you when I come in’ you suggested to Laura who, surprisingly, you had been getting on with perfectly fine that day.

‘Sure, thanks’ Laura said as you followed her into the bedroom. You knew that, sharing a bad with her would be awkward, but you knew that space was limited.

***

‘Where did everyone go?’ you asked surprised when you returned to the living room after you got changed and saw that only Cillian was left sitting there with his glass of wine.

‘To bed’ he chuckled before topping up your glass and handing it to you. It was obvious that he wasn’t tired yet.

‘Wow, alright…old farts’ you joked while, the truth was, that you didn’t really mind at all. You enjoyed spending time with Cillian on your own and you quickly got talking again, about literature, art and theatre which were all the things you couldn’t talk about when Cian or the others were around.

Then, eventually, the topic of past relationships came up again and you talked about that for at least twenty minutes until you decided that it was enough. It had become too depressing and Cillian wanted to put an end to the conversation.

‘You know, just fuck him Y/N. I think you just have to enjoy life without thinking too much about it and ignore the people who want to interfere with it’ Cillian said after you told him about the latest stunt your ex-boyfriend had pulled back home, alleging that you had cheated on him which was far from the truth.

‘I love your no fucks given attitude; you know that?’ you then smiled. Of course, you knew that he was right about it. You couldn’t let this sort of behaviour bother you. But somehow, it did. It annoyed you and made you angry.

‘This kind of attitude comes with age’ Cillian grinned before looking up at the sky featuring a cloud-free star-scape overhead through one of the large skylight windows in the living room.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ you said, looking up as well, and Cillian agreed with your observations.

‘You know, I really enjoyed the night we shared with each other last week’ you then said to break the silence in the room, causing Cillian to look at you with his piercing blue eyes.

‘Me too’ he responded, smiling and waiting for you to say something else. It was almost like he was lost for words.

‘I was thinking that…perhaps…we should do this again some time’ you then said, unable to take your eyes of him.

‘Y/N, I think that would be a bad idea. As I said earlier, I don’t want to be in a relationship right now’ he explained and you told him again that you didn’t want to be in a relationship either.

‘I am going back home in six weeks Cillian. It would just be sex, occasionally, now and then, whenever we feel like it. No strings attached’ you explained, causing him to cock an eyebrow and sigh.

‘Well, you just said to me before that, sometimes, you just have to enjoy life without thinking too much about it’ you reminded him with a wicked smile, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Whilst this was not what I had in mind when I told you to enjoy life, I think that I may be open to your proposal’ Cillian then smirked and, just as he did, you got up from your seat and stood in front of him, leaning down slightly and cupping his face.

‘Would you just?’ you teased, biting your lips seductively before pressing them onto Cillian’s lips who, without hesitation, gave into the kiss.

‘I would. In fact, sleeping with you again had been on my mind’ Cillian admitted after your lips drifted apart and, as soon as Cillian put his wine glass down, you crawled onto his lap which is where you could feel his erection poke eagerly against the fabric of his jeans.

‘Clearly you have. You are so hard for me already’ you breathed out teasingly in between sensual kisses all the while you were grinding yourself against him, allowing your own core to get some friction.

‘We can’t risk doing this out here Y/N’ Cillian said eventually as he felt himself getting even more aroused than he already was. You talking dirty to him was the icing on the cake and there was no turning back now.

‘Let’s take it to your bedroom then’ you suggested while getting off Cillian’s lap and straightening up your clothes but, to your surprise, Cillian shook his head.

‘I think we should wait until we get back to Dublin’ Cillian said, causing you to pout.

‘Why?’ you asked, running your hand over his crotch seductively, teasing his hard cock through the fabric of his jeans.

‘Because your brother could hear us and I am very keen to live another day’ Cillian chuckled, but you wouldn’t let down.

‘I need you to fuck me tonight, Cillian. I am serious. I am all horny now. Feel that’ you demanded while taking hold of his hand and pushing it beneath your cotton pyjama pants and inside your panties.

‘Jesus Y/N. You are soaking’ Cillian said in a low groan while pushing his finger inside you slightly.

‘That’s just what you do to me Cillian. Now take me to your bedroom and fuck me’ you demanded while grinding yourself against his hand.

‘Alright, but you need to be a good girl for me and stay quiet. Can you do that?’ Cillian then asked before taking your hand and, of course, you nodded eagerly.

***

Within minutes, you found yourself in Cillian’s bed with his bedroom door locked from the inside.

You were both almost completely naked, facing each other and sharing playful kisses.

As you were kissing, you pressed your hand against Cillian’s chest, then running your fingers over his back and then back down over his stomach until your fingertips were just tracing under the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs.

‘You know how often I’ve been thinking about you over the past week?’ Cillian then asked as he took you by surprise, suddenly kissing you back hard, leaning into you, and thrusting the hardness of his erection between your thighs, which opened in an instinctive response.

‘Me too. In fact, I’ve been fantasising about you fucking me while I am masturbating’ you moaned as your head went back and you groaned softly as he kissed up down your neck with an insistence that was completely irresistible. You threw your leg over his hips and pulled him into you.

You could hear Cillian’s breath becoming harder and more ragged now as you ran your hand down into his underwear to free his glorious, throbbing cock from its restrictions.

You pulled your hips back so you could run your hand up and down his thick shaft, and play with the drop of precum that was oozing from the head with the tip of your finger and, without even thinking, you brought the finger up to your lips so that you could taste him.

‘Jesus Y/N, that’s so fucking sexy’ Cillian groaned in approval.

He had one arm under your neck and the other cupping your ass under your panties, pulling you into him, before you felt him reach down the back of your thigh beneath the stretching elastic.

He then slid his fingers up the front of your eagerly parting legs, teasingly fingering your outer folds where you knew he could feel how your pussy was suddenly flooded with warmth and wetness.

‘So, fucking wet for me…I can’t wait to slide my cock inside you’ Cillian whispered as you tried to stifle your delighted moan as he breathed into your ear.

‘I need it so badly Cillian. I need your cock inside me’ you moaned in response and, with one motion, he pulled your panties down to your knees, where they were easy for you to wriggle out of. More clumsily, but no less hungrily, you pulled at the elastic and cotton that still covered the base of Cillian’s straining cock and his balls, until he took pity on you and pulled off his underwear.

For a moment, the feel of Cillian’s naked body pressed against yours took your breath away, and you could hear that he had the same reaction. His lips found yours in the middle of your intake of breath, kissing you passionately.

You gasped as he broke away and gave you another quick kiss on your neck while rolling you over onto your back. Cillian’s body was protective on top of you and his hips were pressing into yours while the head of his cock flirtatiously and teasingly brushed against your outer folds.

‘Please, I need you inside me’ you begged again as, breathlessly, you reached down and pulled him towards you, one hand pulling at his hips, the other desperately, thirstily trying to guide the head of his cock into the wetness of your screaming, impatient, painfully empty pussy.

Cillian resisted one more second while he covered your mouth with his and then, finally, after what seemed like eternity, plunged all the way into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned loudly into Cillian’s mouth which was a completely involuntary response to the feeling of him thrusting so deeply and forcefully inside you.

But your moaning didn’t stop there. Instead, you continued to moan loudly as Cillian began to move inside you.

‘Shh’ he whispered past your lips after he pulled away from the kiss and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand instead.

You nodded in response as he started moving very slowly but deeply in and out of you, holding each stroke at its deepest point, filling you up entirely.

You smiled, and kissed the palm of his hand that was pressing across your lips to show him that you remembered that Cian and Evelyn were in the next room.

When Cillian saw that you got control of yourself, he moved his hand caressingly down your neck, to your breast, and down to play with your clit.

The other hand grabbed your leg up onto his shoulder, pulling you up onto his cock as he thrusted downward, over and over, establishing that perfect rhythm that was at once too rapid for your sensory overload, and too slow for your insatiable, hungry need for him.

As you looked up at Cillian you could see his eyes burning down into yours, turning you on even more.

Within no time, you clenched down on him hard with your muscles mid-stroke, your pussy pulling him back into you just as he was pulling out, and this time it was your turn to reach your fingers up to his lips to hastily and tenderly stifle the resounding groan that was nearly wrenched from him in response.

‘You feel so fucking wet and tight around my cock’ Cillian whispered before he leaned down to kiss you.

As you shared a passionate kiss, Cillian suddenly thrusted hard and unyieldingly into you once more, and again, and again, cutting off your moans with a gasp of overwhelming pleasure.

‘Oh god yes yes yes’ you moaned as quietly as you could as he continued this new pace unrelenting, driving into you with forceful, fierce, inexorable, remorseless, incredibly deep and increasingly intense, insistent thrusts.

When Cillian was sure that you were not going to cry out in spite of the mind-blowing pleasure, he slowly sat back upright. His hands were holding you down on his cock as he shifted positions, and then spreading both your legs wide so he could go even deeper.

Fucking you hard and deep, you watched from above as you arched your back and bit your lip in mute ecstasy, gazing back up at him as your hand strayed down to work your swollen, pulsing clit. The feeling was so incredible it took literally all your self-control to not scream as you rode closer and closer to orgasm on the grinding girth of Cillian’s cock.

‘I am so close Cillian’ you moaned quietly and, just when you thought you couldn’t take too much more, you saw Cillian’s jaw clench and heard him draw a deep breath.

‘So am I’ Cillian groaned just as you felt his body shudder and his cock swell inside you, which is when you let go.

Your head was thrown back and your eyes were tightly shut as you started to cum. Your lips were also pressed shut as you concentrated on not making a sound, feeling wave after wave of pleasure roll down your body and ring through your pussy, until you felt Cillian reach down, his fingers at the back of your neck and his thumb against your mouth, compelling your eyes to snap open and meet his as he surged into you, flooding you with his warm cum as quietly as he possibly could.

Coming in sync like this with him was surreal and, whilst you didn’t let yourself go completely to avoid being too loud, it was intense. Seeing the fire in each other’s eyes and feeling the passion build up between your bodies was all you needed.

‘I needed this so fucking bad’ you huffed out, relieved, when Cillian collapsed onto you and you wrapped your arms and legs around him, pulling him close and kissing his ear, his cheek, his forehead and then his lips as your bodies trembled and you both gasped for breath.

‘I am sorry for not being more experimental tonight but I don’t like the fact that your brother is right next door’ Cillian whispered as he stayed there on top of you for a minute, breathing hard into the hair just behind your ear and absently kissing your neck.

‘It was perfect Cillian’ you said rather satisfied by what you had achieved within 45 minutes while Cillian carefully pulled out of you, causing some of his cum to leak onto the sheets beneath you.

You both rolled to your sides, facing each other before you resolved into an uncontrollable flood of silent kisses and caresses. Cillian was still holding you close to him and you felt at ease and ready to fall asleep in his arms once again. But, you knew that you had to get up and get into your own bed instead so that you wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

‘I better go and sneak back to my room’ you eventually said but Cillian wasn’t quite ready to let you go despite the fact that it was already 2 o’clock in the morning and you were scheduled to get up for your hike at 7am.

‘Not yet, stay just a little longer’ Cillian said before kissing you again gently and you continued like this for another ten minutes before calling it a night.

After you said goodnight to each other, you tippy toed back into your room where Laura was sleeping deeply.

You climbed into the bed beside her, not sure whether you could fall asleep after what you had just been doing. You also felt a sense of shame, being there right next to her after having been with the man she desired. But this sense of shame you were feeling was quickly taken over by more lust for Cillian as, after you pulled the doona over your body, you could feel another gush of Cillian’s cum leak from your core and into your cotton panties. The thought of his cum being inside you made you all excited again. You wanted more, so much more. You knew that you were in for more wet dreams and regretted not having demanded a second round from Cillian before you left his room, knowing that he was very much capable of going again.

***

The following morning, when your alarm went off at 7 o’clock, you stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and with dark circles beneath your eyes.

Cillian was already sitting on the kitchen table in his pyjamas, drinking his coffee and trying to maintain a conversation with Cian who appeared rather lively. Cillian, on the other hand, did not. He was clearly still tired and even a little exhausted.

‘Good Morning, Sister’ Cian said, smiling and handing you a cup of coffee which you gladly accepted.

‘You obviously stayed up late. You look tired’ he then said while Cillian gave you an innocent wink when Cian looked the other way to grab some sugar for Evelyn’s coffee.

‘Yes, I had a few more glasses of wine by the fireplace’ you said, cheeks blushing as you watched Laura sit down next to Cillian and trying her luck again, flirting with him and trying to get his attention.

Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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imjusttpeachy · 4 years

Text

the early bird gets the panini (c.h.)

well this is quite the change of pace isn’t it. lmao i figured u guys needed a break from the crying so here’s... whatever this is

thank u all new followers!! u jus made a big mistake💞🦋

u guys should search up “my very real collab with 50 cent” by corpse if you haven’t heard it yet, i ascended the first time i listened lmaoooo

playlist

the wombats - greek tragedy

aminé - heebiejeebies

free nationals - beauty and essex

the marías- let my baby stay

summary: Corpse interrupts the reader’s morning livestream after she left him alone in bed that morning. Fluff and fuckery ensues.

word count: 2, 326

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns, coarse language

>>>

“Okay, Tom Nook is the most bitch-ass motherfucker I’ve ever met. I could fold him like a panini with a slap I swear to god.”

Mornings were definitely one of your favourite times to stream. Of course, you loved staying up into the early hours of the morning only kept awake by the energy drinks running through your veins and the screaming of your friends over your headset, but nothing could beat the sweet simplicity of waking up with your watchers. It was always so calm, your anxiety levels at a low with the small audience building up slowly as more of them woke up. Reading those good morning messages saying that you helped to start their day off on a good foot— nothing would beat that.

The only downside to these scheduled morning streams was having to tear yourself away from the cozy warmth of your bed, especially if there was a certain someone blanketed over you silently persuading you to stay there forever. It was always a rare sight, bruised eyes sealed shut, long eyelashes kissing pale cheeks as small snores escaped from slightly parted lips. Glancing down at the messy black mop that rested on top of your chest, you sighed softly. You knew he’d only been asleep for a few hours, if that, thinking back to the night before where you crawled into bed alone after kissing him goodnight before leaving him to finish editing for his latest video. He worked too hard, but despite you reminding him this every single time he stayed up into the dark hours of the night to finish his work, he always never seemed to be satisfied. Most of the time you were able to coax him from the stuffy confines of his gaming office, bribing him with sweet kisses and promises of cuddles; when he was in the zone, though, nothing could steer his sore eyes away from the monitor. So with a sweet kiss goodnight, you’d make your way to the bedroom, falling asleep to the faint click-clacks of his keyboard.

It was funny how different you were in that aspect. You always loved mornings, the sun shining through the blinds always brought a smile to your face holding the promise of a bright day ahead. It felt good to never be in a rush, to enjoy the still air, and watch the world around you wake up as people settled into their daily routines. The day’s chaos always seemed to leak through into the dark of the night, but in the morning everything felt new and refreshed; the perfect new beginning to another chapter in the story of your life. Though, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of staying in bed tangled together with your favourite person every so often wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Okay, maybe it was almost every day.

But who could say no when those strong arms encased you so perfectly, holding you so close you couldn’t figure out where you ended and where he started? Who could say no to his warm skin pressed against your own, the weight of his body grounding you as you pulled yourself from the darkness of sleep? Who could say no to being able to study his face up close, running your fingertip ever so lightly along the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheekbones, watching his eyelids flutter as he stirred softly in his sleep? Who could say no to the pillow talk you shared once those pretty eyes opened, the deep grumble of his morning voice that prickled goosebumps over your skin as he muttered those 3 sweet little words?

Definitely not you.

Well, not often anyway.

Reluctantly pulling your gaze away from the sweet face resting on your chest, you glanced over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Red numbers reading 9:37 AM that seemed to be glaring back at you pushed any thought of indulging in your morning pleasures straight from your mind. You’d need to be live in 20 minutes. Puffing another sigh from your lips you slowly worked your way out from underneath your personal weighted blanket, trying your best to maneuver him softly onto the pillows to not wake him. Of course, you’d never be that lucky. Hissing through your teeth as your feet hit the icy top of the hardwood floor, you whipped your head around as a warm hand encased your wrist in a loose grip. Beneath messy bed head that could barely be seen from underneath the comforter that you had pulled back on top of him, you see the glimpse of tired eyes clouded with confusion peering out from underneath.

“Angel?” The deep grumble muttered underneath his breath almost made you throw all your plans to the wind and crawl right back into the fluffy clouds you longed to once again get lost in. Huffing out a sigh you slowly turned around, pulling your hand from his grasp only to bury it in the dark locks buried among the pillows. You leaned down softly, pushing your hands through his hair to reveal soft pleading eyes staring back at you, doing nothing but making your heart ache for having to leave so soon. Trancing your thumb along his eyebrow to try and smooth the small furrow that had made its home between them, you sighed softly.

“It’s Thursday, gotta stream puppy.” You watched as a small flash of recognition passed across his bleary eyes, a puff escaping his lips from under the comforter as you watched his chest fall slightly. Pulling his head up from the comforter, you smiled as you felt chapped lips press a small kiss to the inside of your wrist in understanding. Allowing yourself a bit of fun you leaned down pressing your lips to his briefly, giggling softly as a whine escaped his mouth as you pulled away. “Promise I won’t be long, I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

“Too late for that.”

>>>

Smiling as you glanced up at your monitor that held your live chat, you watched as your viewers lost it with your threat to an animated shopkeeper. Times like this are what remind you of how grateful you are to your subscribers, they were practically family at this point and you felt you couldn’t be luckier to have such genuine, warm-hearted people that wanted to watch; even when you were cussing out characters that did nothing to you. You were laughing as you read some of the chat replies out loud when you saw your phone light up with a text from where it was sitting on your desk. Excusing yourself for a moment from the stream you grabbed your phone seeing a message from Corpse.

Corpsie💞💞: did you order coffee? someone knocked on the door and there’s a paper bag on the step

Cursing to yourself quietly for forgetting, you answered him quickly saying that you just needed to cut to a break on stream and you’d be out in a minute to grab it. He was wary of even opening the front door these days, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. The last time you had driven out to pick up whatever was sent into his P.O. Box, there were people waiting outside the building. When you went inside to grab everything, you asked the teller what exactly they were waiting for, to which he told you that they were hoping to catch a glimpse of this faceless internet star as this is where he’d go to get his mail. You don’t think you’ve ever walked faster to your car— trying your best to not grab their attention though your body was shaking with adrenaline, knowing they might’ve seen him while he was waiting there for you. Practically throwing open the driver's door, you tossed everything haphazardly into the back seat, telling Corpse to pull up his hood and mask as you started the car and peeled out of there. That was the last time he left the house.

You sighed, dropping your phone back on your desk as well as the switch that had been sitting in your lap, beginning to explain that you needed a quick break to get your coffee and starting to click through the settings to set up your break screen when you saw your phone light up again.

Corpsie💞💞: nah don’t worry i got it

You barely had time to sit back in your chair as you stared at your phone in disbelief before there was a soft knocking on your office door.

“Just kidding guys, apparently we have a kind guest who’s bringing it to me instead.”

Corpse hearing your voice from behind the door, it swung open to reveal your mop-headed lover sporting his cute plaid pyjama pants and yesterday’s hoodie as he held your coffees and bag in his hand. You grinned to yourself, moving out of the frame of the webcam as you reached out to grab everything, placing it on your desk before turning back to him with a wide smile. Reaching back for his hand, you pulled it down toward you, his body following as your other hand reached up to bury itself in his bedhead. You leaned forward and pressed a small peck onto his lips, mumbling a soft thank you against them as you kissed him once more. While this may have looked like the most simple gesture you knew how difficult it must have been for him, almost wanting to cry at how sweet he was to go to those lengths to do something a little special for you. As you pulled away, you smiled as his face mirrored yours, those soft rosy lips pulled into the sweetest grin you’d ever seen. Resting his forehead against yours, he mumbled back a small “anything for you princess,” the deep rumble of his morning voice sending a chill up your spine as you leaned forward again to steal another sweet kiss. Finally pulling away from you he stood up to his full height, a yawn escaping his mouth; though as he looked back toward the door you could sense his hesitation and grinned widely up at him.

“Do you wanna sit with me for a bit? I can just turn off the camera.” Giggling softly, you watched his head practically whip back toward you nodding a yes as he squeezed your hand, still intertwined with his. Reluctantly pulling it from his grasp, you pulled yourself back toward your monitors as you began to click through your stream settings.

“Well, your favourite guest has decided to grace us with his presence for a little so I’m gonna have to turn off face-cam, but I don’t think you guys will have a problem with that.” You laughed out, watching as your chat began to surge with messages about him. Making sure there was no way you could accidentally turn on the webcam again, you gestured him over to you starting to stand from your chair to grab the other one sitting in the corner of the office when a hand grasped yours, a strong tug pulling you completely off it with; a small yelp escaped your lips as you fell clumsily into your boyfriend's chest. You could hear his laugh from above you as he maneuvered you around in his arms before falling back onto your chair and pulling you into his lap, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck where you could feel that smug grin that was surely painted on his face. With his arms wrapped around you completely, holding you securely to his chest you knew you weren’t going anywhere. Looking up at the chat a laugh was pulled from your lips as your watchers conspired against you, message after message accusing you of doing something unspeakable behind the camera as being the reason you turned it off.

“Guys, literally nothing is happening.” You laughed out, watching as the chat passed so fast you couldn’t even read a full sentence. “Corpse just decided he wanted to share a chair instead of getting his own.”

“Yeah, my bad.” With no trace of any remorse in his monotone answer, another laugh escaped from your lips. Leaning forward to grab your switch and actually start playing again, you settled back into Corpse’s lap knowing this is exactly where you wanted to be. You were only a few minutes back into the game, Corpse and you occasionally reading out some live chat comments excited about his surprise appearance as viewers slowly climbed— his own watchers joining to watch the stream, when he inevitably started to fuck with you. A chill snaked up your spine as you began to feel small kisses trailing up your neck, you should’ve known this was one of the reasons he wanted to have you in his lap— it was easier to get your attention this way. You could feel that smug little smile drift back onto his face as he heard your voice start to shake slightly; at those moments he’d pull away and start replying to messages before turning back and starting all over again. It was the fourth time he began to press those soft lips to the base of your throat when you shrugged him off and shoved the breakfast sandwich you were snacking on into his face.

“Okay, if you want to share a chair you’re gonna have to behave.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry baby, sorry.” Corpse laughed out, voice muffled from behind the sandwich; taking a bite of it and placing it back in front of you, his chest still shaking with laughter. Deciding to hook his chin over your shoulder instead, he went back to watching the live chat, chatting and answering questions— that is before he came across a certain comment that had him furrowing his brows in confusion.

“What’s this about you folding Tom Nook like a panini?”

>>>

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse husband x y/n

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

Text

The Great Drive: James Hunt and Niki Lauda at Fuji, 1976

I feel really sorry for Niki. I feel sorry for everybody that the race had to be run in such ridiculous circumstances because the conditions were dangerous and I fully appreciate Niki’s decision. After an accident like he had, what else could he do? Quite honestly, I wanted to win the championship and I felt I deserved it. But I also felt Niki deserved to win the championship – and I just wish we could have shared it.

- James Hunt on winning the Japanese Grand Prix 1976 to become F1 World Champion

James Hunt’s epic title battle with Niki Lauda, during what many see as the definitive F1 season, was topped off by a thrilling race in the land of the rising sun. It became an instant classic, one of F1’s Great Drives.

With everything to lose, in treacherous conditions, and with late drama, James Hunt's drive in the 1976 Japanese Grand Prix was one of the greatest of all time.

James Hunt delivered his greatest drive in spite of himself. It wasn’t just the peak moment of his career, but also a defining drive for F1.

The British gentleman racer conquering the world’s best in far away lands – Hunt embodied it.

Despite this, the Brit’s landmark drive came in the midst of late night escapades, mechanical disasters, psychological warfare and F1 politics.

As the ‘76 season approached its climax in North America and Asia, it seemed all might be lost for the McLaren team and its lead driver. Hunt had been duelling with Ferrari’s Niki Lauda throughout the year, but losing his British Grand Prix win to disqualification (announced by the FIA at Round 14 in Canada) seemed to have derailed his season for good.

McLaren team manager at the time Alastair Caldwell describes the state of affairs as they approached the North American leg of the season: “We abandoned the idea of winning the world championship. I let him misbehave in Canada and in Watkins Glen. On both occasions we were pissed on race eve, both of us in a bar after midnight getting rotten – me on alcohol and him on women, because he was always very successful with women.

“James met a girl – the leader of the band at the motel in Montreal – and so he came to the race dishevelled, in the same clothes as he’d been wearing the previous night – and he won the race!

“Even then we still thought we were out of it. Then we won Watkins Glen too! So suddenly we became serious again.”

Lauda had scored 4 points to Hunt’s 18 in this period. With the championship fight back on, the rejuvenated team and driver looked at the season finale in a new light. The championship fight was back on, and as a result, McLaren prepared for the Japanese GP with renewed vigour.

James Hunt had been in Japan a fortnight, ostensibly to test at a circuit new to him. Delays at customs, car problems and bad weather had severely restricted his running, but at least now he was totally orientated and, in his inimitable fashion, ‘relaxed’. That meant when he wasn’t strutting his stuff on the hotel’s squash court, he was billing and cooing with its latest migratory flock of pretty air stewardesses to bed. It beat jogging.

Lauda arrived later, low-key and at a low ebb. The spirit that held the demons at bay during his remarkable Monza comeback had evaporated in Canada and America. Now running on empty, he was full of doubts. While Ferrari team manager Daniele Audetto attempted to whip up retro oppo to McLaren’s ‘illegal’ testing, his star driver looked the other way and wished it over: Lauda was sick of Enzo and his minions, of a season in its 10th month and of press intrusion.

McLaren’s earlier preparations were in sharp contrast to the rest of the field who arrived just for the race weekend itself. According to Caldwell, “The others all turned up on the Thursday, including Niki, you can see them all get off the plane knackered and then trying to find where this new racetrack was.”

It wasn’t just through testing and acclimatisation that Hunt and McLaren stole a march. Caldwell thought he might use interactions with the press to his advantage: “Just for a laugh we spread a rumour. A journalist said to me ‘what’s the track like?’ I said ‘It’s is good but it’s got a lot of loose gravel on it.’”

Enjoying the effect the track surface story had on the rest of the field’s preparations, Caldwell thought he’d develop the rumour into a full-blown design feature.

“Because we were bored and had nothing else to do, the mechanics made mesh covers for all the air intakes on the car, to “protect” the brake ducts and air intake.

“Then Niki (Lauda) came down to our garage, which he always did – he spent more time in our garage then Ferrari’s. He would joke with us and do mechanic’s repartee.

“Psychologically we had them on the back foot right from the start.”

“Niki had come to see what we’d done with the cars as he was also a spy. So I told the mechanics, ‘just by mistake’, to take the covers off the cars so you could see the mesh covers on all the intakes. They did this and then they put it back on in a hurry while I ‘looked displeased’.

“And so then Niki broke off the conversation, trotted back to Ferrari and said ‘f**king hell, McLaren have put vents near these grilles over everything in the car, we got to do the same.’

“The whole Ferrari organisation went out to find these grilles, find where they came from and make them for their three cars. Then we put our three cars in the pit road and took all the grilles off the T-Car. Niki came down and said ‘You f**king bastards!’ They came down the pitroad and Ferrari had this shit all over their car – these grilles all over the radiators.

“He had to tear back and tell them to take them all off. Psychologically we had them on the back foot right from the start, there’s all this psychological warfare.”

Niki was plastered across front pages because of his near-death experience on the track; James was on them because of the life he led off it. Their battle and clashing personalities, though they were good friends, had made the world championship a global news shit-fight. Hunt, outgoing but often lonely in a crowd, pretended to be okay with it. Lauda didn’t.

Friday’s practice sessions provided blessed relief, therefore, even though both men suffered understeer on the stickier Goodyears made available to its faster teams because of the rare presence of Bridgestone and Dunlop on one-off Japanese entries. The title rivals finished the day one-hundredth apart on a provisional third row.

Each improved on Saturday – Hunt to second, Lauda to third – and James, a notoriously slow starter who, by his own estimation, needed to win the race in order to become world champion, was in a much-improved mood. Niki’s never budged.

Then it rained. And rained. And rained some more.

The storm that swept in from China a day later than forecast was the last thing Lauda needed: another element beyond his control. Mist shrouded the snow cone of Mount Fuji, which supposedly bestowed good fortune – when visible – and Niki felt hemmed in by circumstance.

The mind-games might well have been in vain, for the monsoon weather which rolled in on Sunday looked like putting the race in jeopardy. If the Grand Prix was cancelled, Lauda would be handed the World Championship.

Not that Hunt was enamoured with the situation. He spoke privately with Lauda and agreed an attempt to have the race postponed – albeit not before he stressed that he would take the start if necessary and race as hard as Niki forced him to.

The Grand Prix Drivers Association had been formed to have some influence on such matters, to stop the interests of teams, the governing body and sponsors taking precedence over drivers’ well being. Hunt and Lauda were both members and convened prior to the race start in an effort to have it stopped.

“They were adamant the race wasn’t going to be held. Bernie (Ecclestone, Brabham team boss) and I were in the race control tower trying to convince them to hold the race.” says Caldwell “And James kept on saying ‘No no, we’re not going to race’. I tried to explain to him that no race meant no World Championship. He replied “No, no, no, it’s totally unsuitable, we can’t race”.

Alistair Caldwell, McLaren Team boss, resorted to more imaginative tactics to swing the mood towards starting the race.

“I was going down (to the pits) getting my car mechanics to start the engines every half an hour, which would make all the other teams start doing it – they didn’t know why. The engines were making this noise ‘woop, woop, woop’”.

The engineer then turned his attention to activating the spectators.

“I was trying to get some enthusiasm from the passive Japanese crowd, they’d been there for hours doing nothing. They weren’t even talking, just sitting in the rain – miserable.

“I said to our tyre man Lance Gibbs ‘Do you think you could get the crowd going?’ So he got up on the pitwall with his ACME Thunderer whistle, which had been given to the boys to use as a horn, for when they pushed the race cars around the paddock.

“He went ‘beep beep’ and hundreds of spectators did the same – got them doing a concert. We then did the business of slow clapping, when it gets to the end, people can’t keep up, they lose co-ordination and you get a huge noise.

“I went back to the tower and the geriatric Japanese officials and said, ‘Look, you’ve got a riot on your hands’ Bernie was there and he said ‘Yeah, you’ve gotta hold the race. Otherwise you’ll have trouble’. So they said ‘Ok we’ll have the race.’”

With the decision made, the cars finally lined up to start at 4pm. The deliberations had been going on so long that the light was now beginning to fade, reducing the limited visibility even further.

Hunt, nervously retching and hacking more than ever, was so distracted that he took a leak in full view of the spectators. Cue polite applause. Ominously, he then walked a plank laid across a puddle and stepped aboard his McLaren M23. He tipped his helmet back against its roll-hoop and closed his eyes in contemplation. Lauda, crushed by all that had gone before, hunched forward in his 312 T2’s cockpit. Both knew that fate was about to be sorely tempted.

Hunt made a blinding start and held a huge lead by the end of the opening lap. As the rest pecked hesitantly in his rooster-tails, he was out of sight, both physically and metaphorically.

Meanwhile, Lauda, unable to blink because of his burn injuries, was drowning in the pack and questioning his sanity. He formulated an answer by lap two. The Ferrari – “a paper boat in a storm” – rolled into the pitlane and drew up at its garage. Measured. The team descended while designer Mauro Forghieri craned into its cockpit to ascertain the problem.

After just 1 lap, Lauda had seen enough. Deeming the conditions too dangerous, and having already nearly lost his life at Nürburgring that year, the Austrian decided it simply wasn’t worth carrying on. He pulled his Ferrari into the pits and walked away from the 1976 World Championship. Lauda, the reigning world champion, had the skill but not the will to continue. It was “murder” out there – and life was for living.

Hunt, as drivers without a world title feel compelled to, pressed on and kept his date with destiny. Hunt being Hunt, of course, he almost missed it. Not until his post-race red mist lifted could he be persuaded that he hadn’t.

With Lauda out the race, Hunt’s task was now a little more straightforward. He simply had to finish third, and the title was his.

The McLaren driver pressed on and by lap 10 his lead had doubled to over 8sec. Meanwhile, interesting movements were afoot further back in the pack.

Local hero Kazuyoshi Hoshino, driving a privately-entered Tyrrell 007, had made his up to third, from 21st on the grid!

More worrying for Hunt was that March’s Vittorio Brambilla had overtaken Andretti and was beginning to hunt him down. By lap 20, Brambilla had closed right up behind the Hunt.

On the next lap, the March driver decided to go for it. Brambilla, known for an erratic driving style, conformed to type on this occasion by inadvertently out-braking himself as he dived down the inside of the McLaren.

Hunt had been wary of Brambilla and was monitoring the situation constantly. In a moment of brilliant anticipation, he allowed the March to spin in front of him, performing the cutback and before carrying on as if almost nothing had happened.

Brambilla dropped to fourth, the danger to Hunt being over for now. Andretti at this point was gradually dropping back through the pack. It was Hunt’s team-mate Jochen Mass who was behind him now, with a McLaren 1-2 now looking very much on the cards.

Seeking to control the race from here on in, the team’s new concern was the drying line which was now appearing on the track. Caldwell put out a pit board sign telling his drivers to cool their wet weather tyres – this was done by searching for wet sections of the track, the water preventing the rubber from overheating.

To his team manager’s frustration, Hunt didn’t appear to be heeding the warnings: “As soon as Mass saw the sign, he pulled over in the water right in front of us. Then on the next lap he came down the right hand side of the track, splashing through the puddles, which cools the tires down, (while) James didn’t react.

“The next lap we gave it to Hunt again, the next lap again, he still didn’t do it. So we took away the pitboard, just gave him the ‘cool tyres’ sign and he still didn’t react. So then everyone in the team started pointing at it (the sign). Everybody in the team pointed, Teddy (Mayer, McLaren Managing Director) and everyone else and he still did nothing.”

Hunt carried on down the dry line, running his tyres way above their recommended temperature, seemingly oblivious to the warnings.

If Hunt wasn’t going to heed the warnings, then Andretti was: “Because we were emphasising this so much, Andretti saw it and started to cool his tyres. So he started running through the puddles. He didn’t have to stop (as a result).

“But James just resolutely drove down the middle of the dry track, and we could never bring him in, because he was never that far ahead. It was never possible to tactically stop him because there’s a big long pitroad at Fuji.”

Jochen Mass, benefitting from his team’s tyre advice, now began to reel in his team-mate. If he got past, he would have no trouble driving off into the distance to take the win.

However, the German’s diligence came to naught, as he spun off and out of contention on lap 36. This would have a huge bearing on the race later.

For now, Hunt was again in the clear. Another challenger, Shadow’s Tom Pryce, moved into second, but he too retired as his Cosworth engine expired on lap 46.

As the grand prix wore on, Hunt remained in a seemingly trance-like state as he stuck to his line, the situation became critical.

Whilst yet another to danger to Hunt had abated, the McLaren driver was now deciding whether to play the percentages. He could either pit to replace his worn tyres – and lose track position – or try and stick it out at the risk of losing so much grip he would be overtaken anyway.

Hunt took the second option. He could afford to drop to third, and this is indeed what happened. On lap 61, he was overtaken not only by Tyrrell’s Patrick Depailler, but also the resurgent Lotus of Andretti.

If Hunt managed to hold position, he would be world champion. For the next 7 laps, the plan appeared to be working. Then, on lap 68, disaster struck.

The McLaren driver suffered not one, but two deflated tyres – both on the left-hand side of the car. They were, as Caldwell puts it, “worn down to the air”. Hunt managed to drag his car round for half a lap before scraping into the pits.

F1 jacks at the time were not designed to lift a car with puncture at the front and rear of the car. While the jack was used to lift the rear of the car, TV shots show Caldwell and other team members lifting the other end of the car themselves to replace the front-left tyre.

It was a long pitstop, and once out, Hunt found himself back in fifth place. There were four laps left and Hunt was two places down on where he needed to be.

Two more laps passed and the Englishman was no further up the order. It looked as if he may have lost his championship chance.

Then, with two laps left of the race to go, Hunt started the fight back. At the exit of T1 he managed to get past the Surtees of Alan Jones. One more place and the championship was his.

Next up was the Ferrari of Clay Regazzoni. It turned out there were some Scuderia politics at play which would work to Hunt’s advantage.

Caldwell filled in the back story: “Ferrari’s reaction to Niki’s crash was to sack Regazzoni (for 1977). He had already been sacked (by Fuji).

“So he was pissed off at Ferrari. When James came charging along, he just stepped out of the way and let him by.”

After benefitting from Regazzoni’s apparent generosity, Hunt was suddenly back in the golden position, the third place he needed to clinch the championship.

The McLaren man just had to keep it on the road for two more laps and he’d take the title. The tension mounted, both in the team pit and back in the UK, where his family were watching the live television feed at 3am.

Despite two nerve-wracking final laps, the Englishman duly brought his McLaren home in third place. He was the new F1 World Champion.

Photographs show Hunt angrily remonstrating with his team as he climbed from the car. He hadn’t realised he’d got the job done.

Caldwell himself had mixed emotions about the whole affair, “He didn’t look at the board and when he came into the pits he started shouting at us, because he didn’t know what happened. He was incredibly annoying on the day. He did drive magnificently, he kept it on the road – that’s one point of view. From my point of view it was the most frustrating day – I could’ve hit him with a baseball bat! He could have won the race, just strolled the world championship. All he had to do was read this pitboard and drive in the water, which is what Andretti did, so he didn’t wear the tyres out and could paddle across the line with the same ones.”

In spite of Hunt seemingly making a championship-losing decision, he had still managed to pull it off.

However, such was Caldwell’s consternation, the two didn’t discuss afterwards.

I was so angry about it. We flew back to England and I wasn’t talking to him on the plane. He was pissed as a newt anyway – we were all pissed as a newt and totally exhausted. He just went to sleep.��

The two never discussed the reasons behind the events, but it didn’t change the result. Three years after making his F1 debut, Hunt was the world champion.

Ten weeks later Hunt arrived in Argentina to begin his title defence feeling underwhelmed and under-prepared. A few celebratory cigs and tins with his friend Britain’s newly crowned 500cc motorcycle world champion, Barry Sheene, at Fuji and a riotous return flight had been followed by a disorientating whirl of meetings, interviews and engagements. The race-by-race title chase had been thrilling: a sequence of one-day stands. Making it official had cooled the relationship. The love affair was over.

Though both men would retire summarily during the 1979 season, Hunt did so because he felt frightened and disillusioned, whereas Lauda did so because he felt nothing, which frightened him.

Niki, though, had a system – plus a plan to run his own airline – and ultimately would return to the F1 cockpit and be successful. James, whose theories were sometimes somewhat scrambled, would not. He bred budgies instead. You do what you have to do.

Lauda’s decision to stop at Fuji ensured that he would be able to continue. Hunt’s decision to continue ensured that he would have to stop sooner rather than later. One racing mind wiped clean, the other cluttered – and racing.

In spite of his career’s decline, Hunt’s endeavours had captured the imagination of the wider world in a way no racing driver had done before.Hunt knew that life was for living, too. Tragically, however, he had just discovered how best to when fate too soon snatched it from him.

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izzabeean · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8 : Restless

SUMMARY

Now that you’ve temporarily moved into Oikawa’s apartment, you feel like you need to do something in return for his and Iwaizumi’s generosity. Yet, just when things start to look up, there’s always something that brings you back down.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 5,474

content : profanity, smoking

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a bit of a longer chapter, I'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed. I tried to have two perspectives in this chapter and I’m not entirely sure if I like it, but here ya go! Also I hope you like it! (Pardon my errors, I only proofread once)

Post Thursday evenings PST, if not latest by Friday.

masterlist

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“I’m thinking… Curry!” you exclaim while you begin to collect the required ingredients at the smaller grocer.

Dinner wasn’t going to be anything too elaborate or fancy, just something simple. It’s the least you could do for Oikawa and Iwaizumi, letting you stay at the apartment until the disaster at your place ends. Though you weren’t much of a chef, you were really good at making a delicious pot of chicken curry. Truthfully, you’ve never cooked for anyone but yourself before, even Ushijima didn’t have the chance to taste your cooking, so you were quite nervous about the outcome.

Nonetheless, this was your opportunity to do something for all that they’ve done.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had homemade curry,” Iwaizumi says while the corners of his mouth slightly curl up. You think he could probably light a room up with that smile, even if it’s so stupid for you to admit it, but you were really happy Iwaizumi offered to accompany you.

“Well you’re in for a treat!” you giggle. But you're finding yourself distracted watching every move Iwaizumi makes in search of some sort of confirmation that perhaps he is attracted to you too. You know it’s your own fault for clinging onto the tiny chance of hope that it’s more than him being a courteous gentleman.

You’re practically floored when you accidentally brush each other's hands reaching for the same item at the same time. You blush from embarrassment up as you shoot him a sheepish smile and quickly pull your hand away.

Oh god, what is going on with you? Can’t you just be normal for once? You think, attempting to talk yourself down from the severe sweat your body has broken out in.

There were only a couple more things on your list you needed and advised the rest would be found down the aisles. Rounding the corner you begin to walk down the row of groceries on the hunt for the curry roux to complete your dish. At first, you’re too busy ignoring your hyper-awareness to Iwaizumi's presence to notice, but once you do, your heart sinks to your stomach as a familiar figure stands the opposite end of the aisle.

Quickly, you back out of the aisle pushing Iwaizumi with you. He doesn’t necessarily respond, but the unexpected reaction on your part definitely surprises him as he glances down at you with wide eyes.

“My ex is here,” you breathe.

You can feel yourself shutting down again. You at least hoped that living in a different neighborhood, you’d avoid running into Ushijima, but it seems like no matter where you go you always seem to find him. It’s almost like the universe forbids you to get over him.

Iwaizumi tries to push past you, but you shove him back.

“No, no! He’ll see you,” you warn, hands pressed against his chest. Your mind takes a step back realizing what actions you’ve committed while the tips of your fingers and palms of your hands feel his toned chest beneath them. You feel your face warm up and it doesn’t help that you feel like you're burning under Iwaizumi’s dark, intense gaze.

“Let me look,” he argues. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Putting your hands down, you watch him go. Your shoulders lock up as you ball your hands into fists.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Your brain screams.

You turn on your heels preparing yourself to bolt if Iwaizumi has been spotted. Instead, he turns back and looks at you in shock.

“I didn’t know that was your type,” he teases.

You furrow your brows at his response. “And what did you think my type would be?”

“I don’t know…” he clears his throat. “Oikawa?”

“What?” you shout. A look of annoyance flashed across your face, you try to sound polite, but the words come off as irritated with a hint of attitude.

He laughs in response. “Let’s go,” he says while walking past the aisle.

You catch your breath and hesitate, not wanting to be seen by Ushijima, but at the same time, you want to see if that girl is with him. Slowly you poke your head out to get a better look. He appears to be alone on the phone with someone, you can't hear the conversation but you notice by the way he's standing it isn't a good one. You know his mannerisms better than you'd like to admit and one thing he would do when he was having a difficult conversation is pinch the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't happen often, but when it did he would always tell you nothing was wrong when it clearly was.

It's strange looking in from the outside, unable to comfort or distract Ushijima from his worries.

“Pst,” you look over to Iwaizumi, snickering to himself. “Done spying yet?”

His comment startles you as you swallow hard convincing yourself to walk past the aisle to join Iwaizumi. This sad feeling hangs in your chest, a bit sharper than when you were blindsided with a break-up and a bit deeper than when you saw him with the girl. It almost like everything you’ve known was just pulled from under you, as if the last couple of years never existed, it was all a dream and now you're strangers.

You take a deep breath as you follow Iwaizumi to continue gathering the rest of the ingredients. In your mind, you’d imagined that anger would have encapsulated you in this orb of revenge but instead, you have this longing for wanting to know if any of what you had with him was real.

As you leave, you check behind you wondering if you’ll see him again. Hoping perhaps he will see you too. But you don’t.

“Something wrong?” Iwaizumi asks.

Your face pales as you think up a broad way to express how life just keeps getting worse and worse.

“No, life is just weird now.”

“Cause you’re new roommates are two immature boys?” Iwaizumi jokes.

“That’s the least of my worries,” you answer, letting out a dry chuckle.

Because I get to see you.

The grocery bags bounce against your leg as you look up at the clear sky feeling the sun’s rays kiss your face with warmth. Was it possible for you to like someone this fast? It’s easy enough to get over a break-up when someone else is in the picture, but what if that someone was a person you crossed paths with when you were younger? Was it meant to be? Or are you just imagining things?

The tension feels overwhelming as a fire lights in your stomach.

“You know, I never thought I’d ever see you again.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says peering at you. “It really surprised me too… In a good way. But it seems you can’t keep yourself out of trouble.”

You feel a big surprise overcome as you shift your gaze to him. He’s referring to the sparkly gel pen the bully took from you. You’re certain.

“What can I say? Trouble always finds me, I don’t go looking for it.”

You both laugh, filling your body with relief as the tension in your shoulders relaxes. This feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your body as the sound of his laugh echoes in your ears giving you the perfect amount of serotonin you need to alleviate your earlier worries.

How the hell did you get lucky enough to hear it?

Your eyes glimmer and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. The giddy sensation gives you the confidence to slip out the next sentence you didn’t fully process--

“It’s kind of funny because I used to have a crush on you.”

You start to sweat realizing the words that just came out of your mouth and you’re silent. This isn’t exactly how eight-year-old you wanted to confess, honestly, you were going to take your crush on Iwaizumi to your grave. And now here you are. Oversharing. Something you don’t pride yourself on doing. In fact, now, you’re just worried about what he will say.

“I know,” he replies, avoiding eye contact rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” you start, stumbling over your feet.

You feel like you didn’t hear that right. Yes, you would see him every day because you were in the same class. But you barely spoke to each other, keeping to yourself most of the time. You were discreet, to say the least.

“How?” is the only thing you can think up to say.

“I mean, you weren’t really good at hiding it, with you staring at me all the time,” he says. “But also Hina told me.”

Hina, an old ‘friend’ of yours from elementary school. You recall her pestering you about who was your crush and stupidly told her who. And what does she do in return? That’s a low blow for an eight-year-old.

Brushing it off with a dry laugh, you add, “Well that’s embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he shrugs, looking at you in his peripheral vision. “We were just kids.”

You open your mouth to speak but the words die in your throat.

“It’s not like you still have those feelings,” he continues.

Oh.

“God no,” you exclaim, sounding a bit insincere. But you’re trying to act unaffected by the strength of his words that made you feel like you just got hit by a car.

“Do you?”

“W-what?” you stutter flustered. “I-I don’t know what you’re asking--”

“I was joking. It was a joke,” Iwaizumi interjects realizing maybe he’s pushed it a little too far then playfully nudges you with his shoulder.

Your whole body tingles from the short contact. In a way, it feels like he just unknowingly friend-zoned you in a matter of seconds. But it was truly your fault for thinking that some sort of fate brought you both together. You feel like you’ve been pulled out of the strange lull of not knowing how the other person is feeling. Now you just feel like an idiot.

“Right! Just a joke!” Changing your entire expression to a more vibrant smile.

Part of you wishes you didn’t get your answer though.

------

Dinner doesn’t take as long as you suspected, especially with Iwaizumi’s help, speeding up the process without you stressing over getting it done at a reasonable hour. It isn’t overly delicious as you taste the final concoction, but you still find it good enough to serve your friends.

“Thanks for the help,” you smile.

“No problem,” he says.

“What time is Oikawa coming home?” you question while turning down the heat and covering the curry with a lid to keep warm.

“He texted me back saying--”

“I’m home,” a voice calls from the entrance. Oikawa walks into the kitchen nose carried by the rich smell of spices. The corner of his lips curls up into a coy smile as he eyes you up and down while you stand in front of the stove with an apron on. “Didn’t know I could consider you wife material.”

“Remind me to not do something nice for you again,” you retort, irked by the shit-eating grin.

He blinks when he peeks over your shoulder realizing the delicious smell is coming from a pot on the stove. “You made dinner?”

“Yes, as thanks for letting me stay here, but I can just throw it out if you’re going to be an asshole,” you argue while staring at him intensely. It strikes you that you’ve forgotten how ungrateful he can be and perhaps making dinner was just a bad idea to show gratitude.

“No, no, I was just kidding,” he begs. “Looks good.”

“Go sit,” you scold.

He’s taken aback by the sternness in your voice and slowly back off to the dining table in the other room.

Iwaizumi passes a plate of rice to you, noticing the aura of rage exuding by the way you slop the chicken curry onto the plate.

“You ok?” he asks so matter-of-factly that you could punch him as well.

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly while you finish plating that last portion.

Walking into the other room, you set a plate down in front of Oikawa who marvels at the mouth-watering meal.

“Thanks for the meal,” Oikawa says, delving into the curry. His eyes light up at the taste as he happily chews the tender chicken. “It’s good!”

“Thanks,” you mumble. But your anger hasn’t dissipated as he can immediately sense it whilst you refuse to look his way. “Iwaizumi helped too.”

“I can’t take credit for all your hard work,” he adds.

You look up at Iwaizumi giving him a soft smile then turn back to the food that you’ve barely touched as you continue to play with it on your plate. You’ve lost your appetite.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” you utter getting up from your seat.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?” Oikawa asks.

“I’m just tired,” you reply, bringing your plate into the kitchen.

No one else says anything else as they watch you go, they just pause unable to process your sudden exit. The next thing they hear is the door shut to Oikawa’s room. They exchange glances before continuing to indulge in their meal.

Collapsing on the bed you exhale deeply. It’s too bad you couldn’t sit down and enjoy the meal but everything seemed to hit you at once. You could only take so much, from seeing Ushijima yet again to the disappointing rejection from Iwaizumi to Oikawa’s snarky comments. You don’t know why his comment jabbed you so deeply, normally, stuff like that doesn’t bother you, but you suspect all the stress and surprises you’ve endured in the past three days, you were definitely on edge.

You knew you were lashing out, but you couldn’t ignore the pain you felt inside. Maybe sleeping it off could help. Just maybe.

------

The night felt endless. Shifting in the sheets you bury your face in the pillow; it’s not the same familiar scent as it is back at your apartment, instead, it’s a mix of fabric softener with a ting of cologne that most certainly smells like Oikawa.

Didn’t know I could consider you wife material.

The same words repeat in your head causing you to toss and turn, unable to fall asleep with all the anxiety pent up inside. His words make sense though. If Oikawa couldn’t even see you that way, how could Iwaizumi?

You know you’re not going to get any more sleep with your thoughts racing, so you climb out of bed and throw on a jacket.

Slowly turning the knob, you pry the door open and creep into the hall. The apartment is dark and quiet except for the subdued sound of Oikawa's snoring trailing from the living room. You study him in his deep slumber while a trickle of the light slips in through a crack of the closed curtains. You still can’t believe he gave up his bed to let you sleep in it. Lately, he’s been awfully nicer than usual to you.

As you reach the foyer, you crouch over to slip on your shoes to lace them up. Suddenly the air in the room shifts as a hand emerges from the darkness to cover your mouth. Your fight or flight instincts kick in as you try to tear the culprit's arm away from you. But when you do, your eyes are met with Iwaizumi holding his index finger to his lips. You send him a wide-eyed glare in disapproval of his actions, you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

“Go,” he whispers, gesturing to leave.

Putting on your other shoe and quickly tying it, you get up to unlock the door.

Click!

The sound wasn’t that loud, but in the silence of the apartment, it feels like the noise shot and reverberated off the walls. You close your eyes and strain your hearing to listen for Oikawa's snoring. And it stops. But for a moment, before continuing.

You sigh as you shoot Iwaizumi with a look of relief and walk out of the apartment.

A shiver goes down your spine as you breathe in the fresh dewy morning air while the birds chirping in the background with the sun just about to rise. You lean on the railing taking in the peaceful surroundings having a newfound appreciation of how beautiful everything is.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Iwaizumi asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Not really,” you groan. “You?”

“I have a weird sleep schedule,” he continues, his voice a little groggy probably from just waking up. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers you the pack as a way of asking if you’d like one. “I like getting up early when I can.”

“Yeah I’m a bit more of a morning person myself,” you reply, accepting a smoke. As of lately you’re a morning and night person but didn’t think it was not worth mentioning.

He lights the cigarette and passes you the lighter. You watch him press his lips to the smoke, you wonder if they’re as soft as they appear providing that he seems so gentle when inhaling the toxins. Then he exhales the smoke, you watch it curl into the air and the sweet smell hits your nose urging you to light your own. In your fantasies, you imagine sharing a smoke as a form of intimacy, passing it off to each other, but obviously, this is real life and not some romance novel so you push the thought away.

“So, what do your parents do?”

The question feels like a forced form of conversation that you ask someone when you don’t know what to talk about. You know after yesterday’s adventure to your parent's home, there must have been a lot going through his mind as to how they have such a big house with so many rooms, but the inquiry is always deeply triggering. It’s not that you don’t want to answer, you just don’t like to talk about your parents much. You wouldn’t think that you have the healthiest relationship with them and you definitely didn’t believe now is the best time to give a full autobiography.

“... They work in medicine,” you try to sound enthusiastic but the words leave your mouth sounding bitter and resentful.

“Ah, both doctors?”

“Mm… Kind of,” you mutter, taking a hit from the cigarette realizing you’re going to need another one soon with the way this conversation is going.

“You don’t like talking about it?” he exclaims, noticing that you are extremely reticent to the topic.

“Not really…”

You didn’t feel like outlining how they forced you to go to university when you weren’t completely sure what to study. And you didn’t want to tell him that they were absolutely livid when you refused to go to school. And the only compromise you could make with them is that you would go to university if you were allowed to move out to live by yourself.

“They’re great in a sense they take care of me, but not great in a way that I am able to choose what I want to do…” you mumble, already dreading the fact you’re starting to overshare. Sure he asked, but you can’t help but feel guilty for even talking about the subject.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

You pause. Despite his firm demeanor, it wasn’t something you expected to hear from Iwaizumi. At all. What did you want to do?

Go somewhere far away, where no one can find me, leave everything behind, become the person I want to be without any judgment… Is what you wanted to say, but instead, you murmur, “I don’t know… I’m hoping someday I figure it out.”

“No harm in that,” he responds.

“You’re lucky you know what you want to do,” you utter, peering at him. “I wish I did.”

Iwaizumi exhales and looks up at the sky that’s changing to a golden color with the sun about to rise.

“It's okay to not know what you want right now,” he begins. “It’s hard to commit to something that you’re going to do for the rest of your life.”

“How did you know?”

“One day I just knew,” he shrugs.

“I don’t think I can,” you object, fully knowing you’re being difficult.

Instinctively, you don’t think something like that can appear before you so easily. Here you are, almost four years later, completing a degree you don’t necessarily care about, but feel like you have to do in order to get your parents off your back. You understand it’s your life and you have the full ability to make your own decisions but all you can feel is fear and anxiety wash over you at the thought of thinking where you could be in five years.

“What about your ex?”

You blink unsure if you heard Iwaizumi right.

“What?” you answer almost coldly.

“Do you want to get back together with him?”

“No,” you snap hostilely, raising your voice.

“There, you made one decision,” he points out.

“Not when he’s found someone else,” you whisper.

You swallow hard as he glances up at you, his gaze finally meeting yours for the first time this morning. The statement takes you both by surprise as your words linger in the air between the two of you. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide like he’s heard this fact for the first time.

“Didn’t Oikawa tell you?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "What happened?"

You feel yourself emotionally facepalm yourself as you draw the conclusion that Oikawa didn't actually tell Iwaizumi everything. Now you'd wish you had clarification of what he was told.

“I saw him the other day, when I was out with Oikawa, with someone new,” you confess, taking a deep inhale you feel your eyes start to turn glassy and your heart dip. It’s a mix of feeling like the world is about to implode and embarrassment as you come to realize the amount of word vomit that leaves your mouth in Iwaizumi’s presence.

“She knows what she wants, that’s probably why he left me. Probably smarter too and definitely much prettier,” you add, not knowing why you’re continuing to go on about it.

Yes, you’re tired and upset that all this dumb bullshit keeps happening to you, all you wanted to do was talk about it. Even if Oikawa offered, there’s this unexplainable uneasiness of being vulnerable around him.

The next few minutes are painful as you stand in irrefutable silence that seems to speak louder than any words of comfort. You wonder if you’ve overstepped your boundaries by telling him more than he probably cares to know.

“I hear that you’re smart,” Iwaizumi finally says. “Oikawa says you’re always studying hard and getting high marks in your classes…”

Frankly, he didn’t have to try to console you. He has no reason to. And he can’t lie, he feels a bit guilty for bringing it up.

“And I doubt she’s prettier,” he utters.

Your chest tightens as you look at Iwaizumi with bright eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before breathing out looking in the opposite direction. You know you’re a bit insane for getting your hopes up slightly, but you can’t help it with a comment like that.

Why do you feel so nervous?

“I’m going to go inside. See if I can get some more rest before class,” you assure, putting out the cigarette. You know you're running away from the conversation but Iwaizumi's comment was more complex than you wanted it to be.

------

It’s been almost a week at Oikawa’s apartment.

You thought it was going to be endlessly chaotic with lots of annoying bantering on Oikawa’s part, but it’s been quite pleasant. However, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t manage to get a good night’s rest. You blame the unfamiliar atmosphere, with the unfamiliar sounds coming from outside and the unfamiliar smell that most definitely is a ting of Oikawa’s clone. Each night you find yourself shifting around, unable to get comfortable, trying to plead yourself to sleep so you can survive another day. But even when you do fall asleep, you find yourself waking up every hour, checking the time on your phone, checking for missed calls or messages.

Yes, you did in fact still have that sliver of hope Ushijima would reach out.

Yet, whenever the phone illuminates your face waking you up, even more, your notifications are empty. And honestly, your heart was too, yet also so heavy.

The past couple of mornings you’ve had classes later that day, you manage to sleep on and off until you had to drag yourself to campus in time.

But oh my god. Class is nothing short of boring making time feel like it’s moving alarmingly slow. You think perhaps you can get away with taking a nap, seeing as you are seated at the back of the class. Except as you’re about to, the professor designates a group assignment.

Fun.

Gathering your stuff, you move to a desk to sit with your group members the professor assigned. As you scan the other student's faces before opening your textbook up, a small commotion at the front of the classroom distracts you. A student files in apologizing to the professor for her tardiness. At first, you don’t recognize her familiar appearance until she approaches your group to sit down across from you. But once you do, you realize you are met with the girl you never thought you’d see like this.

The transfer student.

Infuriatingly enough, she’s pretty wearing a nicely put-together outfit with a face full of makeup perfectly applied. You notice the soft shine from her sparkly gloss as she smiles flashing her pearly whites. The atmosphere seems to shift as her smile radiates before speaking up. No wonder Ushijima has a thing for her. She's gorgeous.

“I’m Sara,” she announces. “I look forward to working with you all!”

The student beside you nudges your arm, gesturing you to introduce yourself.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say softly, trying to revert your eye contact with the new member whose eyes sparkle while gazing at you.

Then it strikes you. Does she even know who you are?

-------

Back at the apartment, Oikawa enters his room to grab his homework and textbooks. The room is a mess with clothes thrown on the floor and your belonging placed unorderly in random spots. He shoots the room with a sour look, a bit displeased seeing as he always thought you were much tidier than this. Approaching his desk, he notices your pile of clothing holding his textbooks hostage, drooped all over his desk. He starts to sweat as he slowly pries his books from under hoping the heap of clothes won’t fall. And he’s lucky for a moment until a couple of articles crash to the floor.

Oikawa sighs as he begins to pick them up to place them back on the desk. But as he grabs your jacket, he hears a small thud as cartilage hits the floor. He looks down to see what’s been dropped and spies a pack of smokes.

He hesitantly picks them up analyzing the half-used pack unsure why it was in his pocket.

“Hey are you-- What are you doing?” Iwaizumi scolds pausing in the doorway staring at Oikawa in surprise. He looks down to where Oikawa’s eye line meets.

Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi, “She smokes?”

“Uh, no,” Iwaizumi spouts out quickly, walking up to Oikawa taking the pack away from him. “She’s holding that for me.”

“Don’t bullshit, I know you don’t smoke this brand,” he sneers, face flickering with disgust. “Why are you covering for her?”

Iwaizumi is quiet as the shame he had hoped to ignore fills him with guilt.

“Fuck,” Oikawa snaps storming out of the room.

------

“Y/N,” a voice calls out to you from behind. Class finally ended and you had rushed out in order to get back to the apartment at a decent hour. Meeting Sara really put you in a bad mood and the last thing you wanted to do was linger after class for some forced conversation. Yet when you turn around to see whose voice it was, Sara stands before you smiling.

“What do you think of going out for dinner tonight? I thought it would be a good idea for our group to get to know each other more since we will be working together for the rest of the semester…”

She’s polite and soft-spoken, a seemingly large contrast from your loud and fiery personality.

“Um, I’m not sure…” you say after a long pause.

“Please! It will be fun. You can even bring some friends.” she pleads, perhaps more appealing than you wanted to hear.

There’s a strange excitement to her voice that makes you feel like you need to say yes as you think about it for a moment. Her invitation must mean she doesn’t know that you are her new boyfriend’s recent ex-girlfriend of 3 days. With that in mind, your curiosity grows about what kind of person Sara is.

“What time?” you reply.

------

“I’m back,” you call into the apartment. Surprisingly, you are a bit enthusiastic to tell Oikawa and Iwaizumi about the invitation. It was your chance to spy and you knew Oikawa would definitely be down to join.

Oikawa rushes out with a stern look on his face just moments after you announce your arrival. He was ready to confront you about what he found today, but before he has a chance to you speak up.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” you say while unlacing your shoes.“I met the transfer student today, her name is Sara. I didn’t realize she’s in my class.”

Oikawa remains silent, cluing into the way you radiate as you speak; it’s been a while since he’s seen you this way. Your voice seems to chirp at a higher note and the way you’re carrying yourself seemed lighter as well.

“She asked me to go out for dinner, to get to know me better,” you threw up a couple of air quotes to mock her. “You, me and Iwaizumi, we’re going. I have to see what she’s all about.”

You look at Oikawa who still hasn’t spoken and shoot him a concerned look, “What? Did I do something?”

“Dinner? With your ex's new girlfriend?” he mutters, sounding not even remotely pleased with your explanation.

“Apparently she doesn’t know I’m his ex,” you answer coy. “Or I doubt she would have invited me.”

You may not have all the answers you want, but you sure as hell know you can find out something.

“I mean, you don’t have to come, I’m sure Iwaizumi will be fine just going with me,” you smirk.

“Uh, no I’ll come,” Oikawa responds quickly, realizing he’s going to have to keep an eye on you. Right now, you don’t know that he knows you’re smoking and maybe instead of confronting you there was another way he could stop you from continuing the bad habit. He most definitely could have brought it up now, but seeing you in a happier mood, for once, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Suddenly, the door opens behind you and Iwaizumi appears glistening in sweat from his afternoon jog. He looks like he’s glowing as he wipes the sweat from his brow and gazes at you in the entrance. “What’s going on?”

“Y/N-chan’s exes new girl asked Y/N to go out for dinner, but we assume she doesn’t know about Y/N and Ushijima… You in?” Oikawa explains.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure he understood the entire explanation but doesn’t seem to care as he notices the stars in your eyes waiting for his response. He can tell he wants you to go.

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

------

The restaurant is lively, full of patrons talking over each other while they argue over who’s going to buy the next pitcher of beer. You feel your nerves start to explode as you check the crowded room in search of Sara and your group members. Fortunately, a hostess greets you and you ask her in regards to where a big group of people would be sitting. As you follow behind her deeper into the restaurant, the more everything starts to feel real. You are on the cusp of turning around and getting out of there.

Did you really want to see what she was like? Were you that desperate for answers?

But you’re too late to turn back as Sara’s face lights up when she sees you.

“You made it!” she smiles.

But you can’t meet her with the same bright smile because right beside her is Ushijima.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi

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pinencurls · 4 years

Text

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - -

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert.

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him. . . . . .

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni.

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme.

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room.

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.”

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun.

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party.

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates.

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend.

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.”

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders.

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests.

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask.

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note.

“Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours.

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door.

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever.

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced.

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am.

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table.

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?”

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..”

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?”

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair.

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case.

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid.

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them.

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?”

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar.

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host.

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.”

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time?

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?”

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night.

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar.

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls.

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold.

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet.

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.”

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?”

“No Elle, of course I don’t-”

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet.

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.”

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?”

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee.

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . .

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.”

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.)

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.”

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself.

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?”

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table.

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.”

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-”

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.”

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?”

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room.

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?”

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode.

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?”

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus.

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides.

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head.

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended.

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both.

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick.

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following.

“Harry?”

“Ellie?”

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes.

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick.

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing.

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing.

“Oh- H, Sorry!”

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage.

“I’m so sorry Harry I-”

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!”

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little.

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different.

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me.

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back.

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . .

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.”

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily.

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy.

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry.

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into.

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter.

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night - incidentally beside Harry - I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock.

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him.

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies.

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again.

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?”

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.”

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile.

“What’s wrong?”

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts.

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.”

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up.

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one.

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.”

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?”

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?”

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket.

“I know exactly what you mean, H.”

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm.

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again.

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides.

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit.

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago.

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore.

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant.

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser.

“Then stay.”

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.”

. . . . .

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway.

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end.

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face.

“And you’re almost six foot!”

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.”

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough.

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.”

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again.

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks.

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry.

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again.

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm.

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine.

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side.

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before?

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa.

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen.

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.”

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention.

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.”

. . . . .

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all.

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already.

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all.

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden doors of Blondies.

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner.

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?”

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him.

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly.

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.”

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say.

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.”

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften.

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure.

“How do you mean?”

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-”

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.”

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry.

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all rather unsuccessfully.

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?”

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?”

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’”

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing.

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’”

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much.

. . . . .

Unknown Number

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago.

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone.

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up.

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.”

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all.

. . . . .

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!”

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?”

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?”

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends.

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years.

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?”

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.”

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us.

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.”

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech.

. . . . .

The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.”

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me.

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.”

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.”

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood.

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.”

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens.

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats.

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition.

. . . . .

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..”

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.”

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?”

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?”

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me.

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection.

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter.

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits.

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed.

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.”

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips.

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little,

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.”

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed.

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?”

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?”

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.”

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open.

“That’s the plan, love.”

. . . . .

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed.

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this.

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me.

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble:

“Breakfast?”

. . . . .

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed.

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes.

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner.

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares.

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!”

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him.

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.”

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands.

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What’ve got yeh bag for?”

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on.

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-”

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.”

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space.

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-”

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.”

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm.

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start.

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road.

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums.

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.”

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road.

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.”

. . . . .

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented.

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?”

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?” She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.”

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.”

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed.

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.”

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth.

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said.

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine.

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine.

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction.

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes.

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him.

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me.

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing.

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo.

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend.

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.”

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact.

Meet me at mine x

Harry

Okay - what was that about?

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?”

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.”

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec” before the line goes dead.

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly.

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me.

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.”

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?”

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.”

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me.

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.”

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange.

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a time I thought I could lose him.

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair.

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket.

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.”

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly.

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?”

“Eleanor would have a field day.”

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again.

“Oh yeah?” He teases.

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.”

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him.

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.”

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh…”

“Really..she’d be right about that?”

“I’m pretty sure-”

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep.

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.”

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder.

“I like you too H….just a little bit.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear.

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession.

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs.

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.”

. . . . .

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!”

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand.

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun.

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north.

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him.

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer.

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest.

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group.

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him.

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy.

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear.

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction.

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!”

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going.

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips.

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done.

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?”

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven.

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces.

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.”

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object.

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven.

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand.

“Yes dear?”

“What was that?”

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-”

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?”

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.”

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin.

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?”

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little.

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter.

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second.

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?”

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

#Harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #stellarboystyles3years #“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”#dani's masterlist #dani's writing #fan fic #harry styles #nick grimshaw #reader #idk #what do u even put in tags #christmas vibes?#friends to lovers

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adenei · 3 years

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Ch. 1 - How to Win a Witch in 10 Days

AO3 | FFN

Summary: “She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

Thursday, Pt. 1

Lily Evans sits down at her desk. It’s a typical Thursday morning at the office of Witch Weekly for the ‘How To’ columnist. Parchment is strewn about everywhere due to a hasty departure the night before, but with a flick of her wand, the papers arrange themselves into neat piles. Satisfied with the restored order, she turns to her magical typewriter and the most recent article that lies next to it: How To Make the Transition from Hogwarts Graduate to Adult.

She smiles at her hard work and hopes that this time Amelia will go for her pitch. A new batch of Hogwarts students graduated last week, and this was the type of information she would have loved to have when she finished her education three years ago. Being a Muggleborn made the transition into life as an independent witch more difficult. There aren’t many resources to help young adults find their way in magical society, and even though she met with Professor McGonagall numerous times about her future, the meetings weren’t as helpful as Lily preferred.

Perhaps this is why Lily lives in a small flat in muggle London and commutes to the office via taxi or apparition to Diagon Alley every day, depending on her mood. She tucks the article safely into a desk drawer before setting about her first task of the day: coming up with new ideas for future articles. Grabbing a blank piece of parchment, Lily begins brainstorming as more how to article ideas begin flitting through her mind.

Lily always knew she wanted to be a writer. The excitement she felt after securing a job at the highly respected go-to magazine for witches was only to be rivaled with receiving her Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven. At least, that’s how she used to feel. Now, she’s stuck in a perpetual wheel of pushing out article after article on how to incorporate the newest beauty, fashion, and health trends that flow into the magical world faster than a Cornish Pixie prison break.

Lily shakes her head as she writes down another idea: How To Secure an Interview for the Job of Your Dreams. She’s sick of all the superficial fluff she’s been writing for the past two years. It’s time for something more.

“Morning!” Alice chirps as she passes Lily’s cubicle.

“Good morning!” Lily gives Alice a warm smile in return.

Alice Fortescue is one of her closest colleagues and friends at the publishing company. That’s the one perk of this job, working with some amazing people.

“Amelia called a staff meeting in thirty minutes. Have you seen Marlene?”

Lily feels as if a bludger has knocked the wind out of her. She was so preoccupied this morning that she didn’t realize her best friend of ten years wasn’t at her desk.

“No, she hasn’t shown up yet,” Lily worries.

Marlene has recently been dumped—again—and she is never one to take a break-up lightly, even if said relationship only lasted a few weeks.

Alice sighs. “I’ll get the coffee, you floo to her place?”

Lily nods and grabs her bag, following Alice toward the exit. She digs a knut out of her purse and places it into the slot before grabbing a handful of floo powder. It’s common courtesy to donate money to replace the office’s stock if you use it for anything other than transportation to or from your residence.

She tosses the powder into the fireplace and steps into the green flames, announcing Marlene’s address in a clear, firm voice. Lily prepares herself for the sensation of the ground dropping out from below her as she free falls into the imaginary slide that transports her where she needs to go. The trip is short, and within seconds she is stepping out of the fireplace into Marlene’s flat.

“Marly? You here?” Lily calls.

Her best friend tiptoes out of the kitchen, still in her dressing gown. She’s carrying a cup of tea close to her face to hide her puffy eyes.

“Oh, Marly, I’m so sorry,” Lily reaches out to comfort her friend with a hug.

Lily takes the cup of tea from her hands and steers Marlene to her bedroom. “I know how hard break-ups can be, but we’ve got a staff meeting in twenty minutes, and I’m not going to let you lose your job over another lousy guy.”

Lily doesn’t notice Marlene crawling back into bed as she busies herself with sifting through outfits in her friend’s closet.

“But what we had was special, Lil! I really thought he was different! He could have been the one!”

“How long were you seeing him?” Lily asks, trying to recall any details of Marlene’s latest fling.

“Only a week,” she pouts.

Lily freezes midway through pulling a dress from the closet. She knows this is Marlene’s M.O. but Lily still can’t help but feel frustrated.

“Marly, really—”

“Don’t! I know what you’re thinking, but he was special, I’m telling you! We even had sex and everything. It was magical. I cried…”

“You what? Marly, tell me it was just a glisten of tears,” Lily wills her friend to say it isn’t as bad as she thinks.

“Oh no, I full-on bawled,” Marlene responds, not even attempting to lie, “told him I loved him, too.”

Lily wishes her best friend is kidding but they have been friends long enough for Lily to know that she’s not. With a silent sigh, Lily switches gears. She realizes she can’t take the sympathetic route anymore. No, Marlene needs tough love. She strolls over to the bed with the outfit in hand and plops down.

“Marlene, I know you’re a hopeless romantic looking for your Prince Charming, but in order to find him, you’re going to have to put yourself together and get back out there. You’re not going to find him wallowing in bed all day. Now come on, you’ve got fifteen minutes to get dressed so we can get to work and not piss off Amelia. Alice is out getting coffee right now.”

Lily yanks back the bedspread, forcing Marlene to get up, albeit begrudgingly.

There, one potential crisis averted for the day.

Ten minutes later, Lily floos back to the office after ensuring Marlene goes first. They run into Alice on their way back to their desks, and there’s just enough time for Alice to dole out the coffees before grabbing their notes and heading down the hall to their boss’s extravagant office.

Amelia Bones is the no-nonsense editor-in-chief of Witch Weekly, who is well respected by her staff. Her office is spacious yet welcoming and not at all like what one might expect. Where a conference table and chairs should be, Amelia has sofas and squashy chairs, similar to the Gryffindor common room. When the writers meet to go over stories for upcoming publications, they gather there. The three girls barely make it in time, taking their seats on the sofa nearest Ms. Bones. It’s the only empty spot left.

Amelia clears her throat. It’s all she needs to do to command the attention of her staff. “Alright, let’s get started everyone. We need to go over assignments for the July issue. Dorcas, what are you thinking this month?”

Dorcas, the office suck-up, bounces up and down in her seat as she lays out her laundry list of articles. “I’ve got an exposé on gilly water with an exclusive interview from a mermaid who says it will help keep you thin, but I haven’t come up with a title yet. And Traveling by Portkey: What to Pack and Not to Pack. Then, I’ve also got an interview set up with Madam Malkin, who details the latest robe trends. Oh! And I almost forgot about my outline of A Look Into a Day in the Life of The Hobgoblins!”

Lily needs to remember to keep her face passive as Dorcas prattles on. Does she do anything besides work? Who has time for four articles? She has to suppress the eye roll that’s threatening when she catches Alice’s glance. It’s evident her friend is sharing the same thoughts.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Lily, what’s our resident How To girl have in store for us this month?”

Here goes nothing…

“Well, actually, I’ve been working on this piece that I think will be a great spin on the How To article. It’s about helping recent Hogwarts graduates find their footing after they finish their seventh year.”

She gauges the room for reception and notices blank stares coming from the entire writing team. Fighting to keep her facial expression passive, Lily chances a glance at her boss, whose opinion is the one that matters most. There’s an uncomfortable churn in her stomach as a result.

Amelia clicks her tongue in a disapproving tone. “Lily, Lily, Lily. How many times do I have to tell you that most of our clientele are in their twenties and thirties? No one is going to want to read something like that! That’s what they have parents and families for! Besides, aren’t the Hogwarts professors supposed to help the young ones with their career choices? That’s not our wheelhouse.”

“But—”

Lily wants to bring up the Muggleborn perspective, but Amelia doesn’t give her the chance.

“Lily, your job is to write the How To column for Witch Weekly, not to help recent grads find their place in this world. I hired you to write fun, upbeat stories that will help witches in all aspects of their lives, and that is what I expect.” Lily’s shoulders droop in disappointment as Amelia wastes no time moving on to her next victim. “Marlene?”

“Oh, um, I—I’m still thinking—” Marlene stutters.

Lily notices Amelia’s hard stare and speaks up on her friend’s behalf.

“Amelia, Marlene’s going through a rough time right now. She got dumped.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Marlene,” Amelia sympathizes as the rest of the group murmurs their respects to her unfortunate news.

Marlene grimaces as she explains, “Yes, I’m sorry, Amelia. I’ve been taking things a bit hard and haven’t really been eating. It’s just hard to move on when I thought he was—” she hiccups and Lily can tell she’s stifling a sob, “the one.”

“Hmm, yes, that is a predicament, isn’t it?” Amelia agrees before perking up. “Write about it.”

“What?”

“You can make an article out of that, can’t you?” Amelia asks the question as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“N-no! I can’t write about my personal life!” Marlene argues.

“If she won’t, I will,” Dorcas chimes in. She sounds too eager at the prospect of taking on a fifth article.

Amelia’s eyebrows crease as she ponders Dorcas’s proposition. Lily is horrified that Amelia is even considering this and decides to step in.

“Or I can!”

“What?” Marlene looks at her with wide eyes as Amelia trains her narrow gaze on Lily.

“How?” her boss wants to know.

“Well, I—I wouldn’t write about the break-up, per se, since that wouldn’t be a good How To article, but what if I turned it into something different?”

Lily is grasping at straws, trying to come up with something that would prevent her friend’s dirty laundry from being hung out to dry. She finds herself stuttering and stalling until suddenly, an idea pops in her head.

“What if I wrote the opposite of getting dumped? Well, it wouldn’t exactly be the opposite, but I’d find a guy and do all the classic things that women do that drive men away. Instead of trying to win the guy over, I’ll get him to dump me instead. Then readers will know what to do and what not to do.”

Lily watches her boss for any indication that she approves. Amelia’s pensive look quickly turns to a conspiring smile as she points her quill at Lily with a gleam in her eyes.

“That’s brilliant, Lily, absolutely brilliant! You think you can find a man, win him over and get him to dump you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Lily doesn’t appreciate her boss’s insinuation that she’d be easy to break up with, but if it gets Amelia off Marlene’s back, she’ll take it.

“I can see it now. We’ll call it How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days.”

Lily is relieved, having succeeded in giving Marlene extra time to come up with a story, but the timeframe concerns her.

“Um, Amelia...why ten days?”

“Because we have to publish in eleven.”

She says this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And it’s only after Lily processes Amelia’s words that she realizes how impossible it all seems. She hasn’t dated anyone in a while. No one is even on her radar to date.

Looks like my Thursday is now going to be spent looking for an unsuspecting suitor.

Lily stifles a sigh as she attempts to focus on the rest of the meeting, but her mind has other plans. She fixates on whether or not she’ll be able to pull this off. It seems impossible, but she has no choice. She has to at least try.

As they exit the meeting, Lily, Alice, and Marlene are trailing behind Amelia, who is on her way to fetch her next appointment.

“If I’m going to pull this off, I need to find a guy tonight,” Lily expresses to her friends.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help!” Alice reassures her. “Let’s go to that swanky bar after work. The prospect of this article calls for a finer crowd.”

“Abbott's?” Lily shoots an incredulous look at her friend.

At first, she wants to protest, but Alice has a point. Lily needs to dupe a guy who’s not just out for a one-night stand, and there are no promises that she’ll be able to find that at the Leaky. No, she needs to glam up and go all-out to find a guy. One that shows promise, but not too much promise because she can’t let herself fall for him anyway.

Her thoughts are cut off as Alice and Marlene both stop, causing her to stumble into them. She looks up to see the source of their delay. Amelia has reached her destination, which happens to be directly in front of them as she greets two women. Lily isn’t quite sure why they didn’t swerve and continue around them.

“...Ah, Narcissa, Andromeda, it’s so nice to meet you! Come with me to my office so we can discuss the ads for this issue. I’m hoping you can help us spice up our pages through your clientele.” Amelia turns and sees Lily and her colleagues standing there. A friendly smile crosses her face as the three realize they’ve been caught eavesdropping and scurry to get back to their cubicles.

Lily returns the smile and looks to the two women to see the blonde eyeing her, a sense of intrigue dancing in her eyes. She wonders what that’s about.

“Aren’t you the How To girl?” the blonde asks.

Lily’s not sure what she’s expecting the woman to say, but it’s not that. It takes her a moment to respond.

“Um, yes. It’s Lily, Lily Evans. Nice to meet you.”

Lily doesn’t bother to extend a polite hand because of the blonde’s now scrutinizing gaze. She’s ready to turn and walk away before the awkward conversation can continue, but Amelia stops in her tracks.

“Yes! Lily is wonderful, isn’t she? She’s just about to start on her newest article: How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. Doesn’t it sound exciting?”

The darker haired woman raises an eyebrow. “It does. What does that entail?”

Lily opens her mouth to speak, but Amelia cuts her off again. “She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?”

“That does sound interesting,” the blonde responds.

“Yes, fascinating,” agrees the brunette in a bored tone.

Lily doesn’t appreciate their judgemental stares and chooses to dismiss herself. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you,” she lies as she continues on toward her office.

The day is young, but she no longer has time to waste. She needs to develop her plan before setting out to find a wizard later in the evening. This is turning out to be the most peculiar assignment yet, but if Lily can pull it off, then maybe Amelia will give her a chance on the other articles she has in her queue.

You’ve got this, Evans. Now get to work.

#jily fic #jily #lily evans #magical au #james potter #jily fanfiction #jily romcom #based on how to lose a guy in 10 days

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lallyloo · 4 years

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Limoncello

When Rhett first mentioned making his own limoncello, Link had mostly tuned him out. Rhett was constantly talking about cooking, or brewing, or smoking various meats – all so he could throw parties and impress people. The idea of infusing lemon peels in vodka for a month just to impress people seemed a bit stupid to Link.

But when Rhett showed up at the creative house on a Thursday night carrying a fresh bottle of limoncello, Link’s interest was finally piqued. It did look tasty. It was bright yellow and syrupy looking and when Rhett popped open the bottle, the lemon smell was so strong Link swore he could already taste it.

“MY LEEEMONCHELLAAA!” Rhett exclaimed as the scent filled the air. He sounded like an old Italian grandfather, and he brought the fingertips of his right hand up to his mouth to do a chef’s kiss. “IT SMELLA SO GOOD-AH!”

Link just stared at him with mild amusement.

“LINK-AH WOULDA YOU LIKE-AH SOME OF MY LEEEEEEMONCHELLAAAA.”

“Sure.”

“I WILL GETTA SOME FOR YOU,” Rhett pointed to the kitchen door, gesturing for Link to leave, “YOU-AH GO SIT-AH. I WILL BRING-AH IT TO YOU.”

“Do you want me to get some glasses?”

“NO-AH!” Rhett carried on with his ridiculous accent, “YOU GO. I SAID I WILL BRING-AH IT TO YOU. GO! GO!”

Link laughed as Rhett shooed him out of the kitchen.

By the time Rhett joined him, with the bottle resting in a bowl filled with ice, his over exaggerated accent had mellowed a little.

“You need-ah to keep it chilled-ah. Cold. Like, with-ah some ice!”

He handed Link a small stemmed glass and Link held it still while Rhett poured.

“You can put-ah some mint-ah leaves in too, but I did not think-ah you’d like-ah that.”

“I appreciate it,” Link replied, “but your Italian accent needs work.”

“You hate-ah my accent?” Rhett grinned at him, “Link-ah! You hurt-ah my heart with your words!”

Link rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep from smiling.

Rhett settled in beside him, poured his own glass, and they got to work.

They sipped the first glass slowly while brainstorming ideas together, and Rhett was too distracted by their latest Instagram sketch idea to continue with the accent.

By the second glass, Rhett had slipped back into his accent a little, just when he took a sip from his glass, “mmmm that’s a good-ah leeeeemonchellaaaa.”

A warm, comfortable feeling had settled over Link and he was leaning into Rhett a little more than usual. They were still writing, and their thoughts were flowing freely, but both suspected their ideas might seem less ingenious the following morning in the sober light of day.

They probably should’ve stopped at two glasses. By the end of their third glass, Rhett was stuck in a full-on Italian accent, and Link was giggling so much he was crying.

It was stupid, but the more Link drank the funnier Rhett seemed to get, and by the time he was finished his third glass he was pretty sure Rhett had never been so hilarious. Link couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much, and he could only stare at Rhett with fondness as Rhett overemphasized every word and movement. Rhett was laughing too, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and even though it was all ridiculous, Link couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Rhett kept it up, if only to keep Link laughing. He loved seeing Link laugh, it made him look younger and happier, and Rhett would do anything to keep him smiling.

“ARE YOU DRUNK-AH?”

“I think so,” Link grinned, “are you?”

“AH YES. I AM DRUNK-AH AS A SKUNK-AH.”

Link giggled in response.

“IT’S TOO BAD WE ARE DRUNK-A. I WOULD LIKE-AH TO TAKE-AH YOU FOR A RIDE-AH ON MY BEESEEKLETTA. “

“Your what?”

“MY BEE-SEE-KLETTA. ELECKTRIC A-BEE-SEE-KLETTA.”

“Your electric bicycle?” The force of Link’s laughter propelled him forward on the couch, and he wriggled next to Rhett, overcome with a fit of giggles.

“YES-AH.”

“You wanna take me for a ride on your electric bicycle?” Link was laughing so hard tears were coming to his eyes, and he wiped at them as he gasped for breath.

“AH YES. MY BEESEEKLETTA FOR YOU MY LINK-AH.”

“Rhett,” Link choked out, “you can take me for a ride anytime.”

Rhett gasped, feigning shock. “LINK-AH. SO FORWARD. I’D TAKE-AH YOU FOR A RIDE.”

“Would ya?” Link stared at him, almost like it was a dare between them, and neither one was quite sure what Rhett’s reply was because suddenly Link was tugging his shirt off, swinging a leg over Rhett’s thigh, and climbing onto his lap.

Rhett didn’t stop him, he just looked at Link with a surprised sense of awe.

“What’re you..?” Rhett attempted to ask, his accent suddenly gone, but he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t looking for an explanation, or for Link to stop.

Link answered by leaning in and kissing him.

Link’s mouth tasted of sugared lemons, and Rhett’s mind suddenly slipped back to warm summer days at the river, when they’d swim for hours and then sit on the banks and drink homemade lemonade. He remembered water droplets on Link’s sun-kissed skin and the sugary mustache over his top lip, and the one time Rhett couldn’t resist it any longer and he kissed Link, tasting the tart lemon on his tongue and the sweetness of his mouth.

Rhett swore he’d never tasted anything sweeter, but Link’s limoncello mouth came close.

“My leeemonchellaaa,” Rhett whispered in a weak attempt to get one last joke in.

“Oh god, Rhett,” Link laughed, tugging Rhett’s shirt up over his head, “just shut up and touch me.”

He claimed Rhett’s mouth again, sliding his tongue over Rhett’s lips, coaxing Rhett’s tongue to lick at his, effectively quieting any verbal response.

Rhett settled his hands on Link’s hips, touching hesitantly for a second before grabbing more forcefully, pressing hard, holding Link down and pushing up against him. Rhett’s cock swelled and he was overcome with the desire for Link to know it, he wanted Link to feel it as he thrust up.

Link rutted down into him, urgent and needy, letting Rhett know he felt him.

Rhett brought his mouth, still sticky with liqueur, down to Link’s chest and licked over a nipple, and Link groaned, grabbing Rhett’s hair and holding him there. Rhett licked and sucked until Link guided his head over to lick at the other side. Rhett took the hard bud in his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue until Link was groaning and writhing in his lap.

Link pushed him away gently, and Rhett watched as Link unzipped his grey jeans and took out his cock, giving himself a hard squeeze. The head of his cock was already wet and more precum pooled at the tip and dripped down his shaft.

“Look.” Link gave himself a slow stroke. “You got me so hard.”

Rhett watched Link touch himself, his hand sliding slick over his dick as he stared at Rhett, and then Rhett reached to pull him closer. Link arched his back as Rhett’s arms went around him, and Rhett slid a hand down the back of Link’s jeans, slipping past the waistband of Link’s boxer briefs. He touched the soft skin there, smoothing over Link’s ass before slipping a finger between his cheeks, and Link let out a shaky breath as Rhett’s fingers ghosted over his hole.

“Rhett, yeah..”

Link arched his back further, pushing his ass into Rhett’s hand, encouraging, wanting, begging Rhett to touch him there, really touch him, more than just a tease.

Rhett pulled his hand out, slicked his middle finger with saliva and slipped his hand back down Link’s jeans, slicking over his hole and pushing in just a bit, just enough to make Link close his eyes and sigh “yeah, Rhett, finger me.”

Rhett’s cock strained under Link as he slid his finger in further, up to the second knuckle, and he eased it in and out a few times, gently finger-fucking Link’s hole.

“Aw fuck,” Link moaned, “just like that.”

Link leaned over suddenly, grabbing the limoncello and taking another drink directly from the bottle. Then he kissed Rhett again, sloppy, wet, sticky, sweet.

He tasted like tart lemons and sugar syrup and Rhett couldn’t get enough of him. He licked back into Link’s mouth, trying to find and savour every last taste of him as he teased him with his finger.

Link’s hand moved frantically over himself, his cock trapped between their bodies, as Rhett’s finger slid in to the last knuckle and he curved it a little, just enough to make Link moan again. Rhett continued, teasing, touching the heat inside Link’s body, easing in and out until Link was gasping against his mouth and coming between himself and Rhett, wet warmth pooling between them as he fucked himself on Rhett’s finger.

Rhett remained in awe about it all, easing his finger out carefully and watching as Link regained his bearings – his own sense of awe settling gently across his face as he looked at Rhett. Then he smiled, and he looked so beautiful Rhett couldn’t do anything but pull Link’s body up, leaning down to meet his cock and suck him in. Link gasped at the overstimulation, but he just watched as Rhett licked him clean.

When Rhett was finished, Link slid down Rhett’s body, trailing sticky kisses across Rhett’s chest and over his stomach, licking the last streaks of his own cum off Rhett’s belly until he was on the floor between Rhett’s thighs. Rhett’s cock was tenting his jeans and Link nudged his face against it before pulling at the denim covering Rhett’s thighs.

“Unzip, get these off.”

Rhett unzipped and lifted his hips as Link yanked down his jeans, pulling Rhett along too until he was nearly on his back, his cock resting heavy against his thigh, and his legs jutting out from the couch. Link left Rhett’s jeans bunched around his knees, and crawled over him to reach his cock.

Link grabbed the bottle again, taking another swig of limoncello, and then put his mouth on Rhett’s cock, sucking over him, his lips and tongue all sticky and cool from the alcohol. He tongued at the head of Rhett’s cock, licking into the slit until Rhett’s hips were jerking from the overstimulation.

“Link, it’s too much” Rhett groaned.

Link pulled away for a second, “you just taste so good.”

Link tongued at him one more time and curled his lips around the head of Rhett’s cock, and then he pulled back to take another swig of limoncello. He brought his lips together over Rhett’s dick and let some of the alcohol spurt from his mouth, trailing down over Rhett’s shaft, cool and sticky.

Then Link took him in again, sucking hungrily, tasting every inch of Rhett’s cock with his tongue. Rhett wanted to make it last but he couldn’t. Link’s slick, sticky mouth was too much and Rhett could feel his orgasm rushing up quickly.

“Link, I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah, do it,” Link pulled his mouth away for a second, licking down Rhett’s shaft, “you should come in my mouth.”

“Link,” Rhett breathed a final warning, and Link brought his mouth back up just in time to take him in, sucking over him sweet and sticky, swallowing down every shot of Rhett’s cum.

After a moment, Link moved up to settle in beside him, both of them still half-naked and Rhett’s jeans still around his knees. Link brought the bottle up to Rhett’s mouth and tipped it, giving him a little taste, and then Link brought it up to his own lips to take another sip.

Rhett sighed, “ahh my leeeemonchella.”

“Your leeemonchella,” Link echoed with a grin. “So good, my Rhett-ah.”

Rhett smiled quietly to himself, and then nearly choked when Link spoke again

“But I still wanna ride your beeseekletta.”

#rhink #fic #rhink fic #my fic #i'm sorry #this is absurd #i apologize to any italians out there #i don't think you speak this way #i offer you smut as an apology #limoncello

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wendystales · 3 years

Text

Memories - lrh (Chapter Fifteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Fourteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Sixteen

Marnie pov.

I walk into the record company, finding a very young guy at the front desk, probably the intern. Encumbered with phone calls and notes, I wait for him to finish everything before speaking. His lost eyes soon find me and he smiles sympathetically.

“Hi Marnie, Luke is in studio three.” he whispers quickly, getting back on the phone.

I smile in thanks, heading down the hallway he's pointed out. I didn't think it would be so easy. The noise coming from behind the door to studio three startles me. The boys are laughing and screaming so loud, it amazes me that no one came to complain.

I knock on the door twice, hard, to try to get their attention over that area. A guy in a cap opens the door, revealing a room with at least eight people inside.

Luke is the first to jump out of his chair, coming over to me, grinning hugely, pulling me into the room. Ash gets up too, following close behind.

“Sorry for interrupting, but I needed to talk to you.” I look at Luke, who agrees. I pull him out of the room as I hear Irwin complain.

"A disregard for my friendship. Before, she used to come here to see me, not to see you, you empty-headed bunch.”

"She never came to see you." Hood opposes.

I ignore the pre school fight, focusing on the tall blonde in front of me. I lean against the wall, letting him get closer.

Luke had spent Friday night with me, taking care of me. We also spent Saturday morning together, just existing on the couch. That was definitely a very good point for both of us and it really strengthened our relationship. It also didn't make him leave my thoughts, earning him the title of the cutest guy I know.

Never would Stephen do that to me, even because when I was bad he didn't even come close, not wanting to “catch my bad energy”.

“You forgot that at home.” I give his coat, trying to hide it was against my will deliver it so easily.

I saw the coat the second Hemmo left the house, but when the perfume enveloped me, I decided for my own good, to just keep it for a little while, spending day and night in it. Luke stares at me with a raised eyebrow before taking the coat from my hands, smiling.

“Funny, I really missed it, but yesterday, I saw it in your stories, so I didn't worry anymore.” I roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat up. "Let me enjoy that you still don't hate me today."

“Too late.” I interrupt him, biting my lip.

"I wonder if I can pick you up, so we can go to the Troubadour together."

The boys are playing there today, for the Friends of Friends event, and I was particularly excited, it would be the first time I would see them play live. “First time”.

I wrinkle my forehead and look around, pretending I was thinking about it. Luke looks at me in disbelief, holding back his laughter. I pout, shaking my head.

"I think you can! Yes, you can. I allow.” I press my lips together, wanting not to laugh.

“Oh God, you.” he shakes his head, looking away. I let out my laugh. "Can I pick you up at 7pm? I need to be at the Troubadour at least an hour before the show.”

“Of course! No problems. Go! Now I need to talk to Ash.” I push him back to the door.

“It's about my birthday, isn't it?” he opens an excited smile.

I dissolve my expression, wanting to hit him. Damn it, he knows. I feel the surprise party going straight down the drain, but I don't want to give in to it.

“No! The world doesn't revolve around you, Hemmings.” I cross my arm, teasing him.

“It's about my birthday! Alright, I'm going to pretend I don't know anything.” he takes two leaps into place happily.

“My God, I hate you.” I hide my face, sighing. I can't believe he screwed up his own surprise party.

“Hey.” I hear his voice close. I take my hands away from my face, finding his very close. His lips steal a kiss from me, quickly.

“Go away!” I pick up my bag, hitting him.

Luke walks into the studio laughing, yelling at Ash that I've been waiting. I walk around the hallway, wanting to wipe the stupid smile off my face. I hide my face again, returning to the scene that just happened about 50 times, at least.

“Say it!” Ash approaches.

“I hate him!” I point to the studio, taking a deep breath.

“Of course you do! And the sky is green. I can see how much you hate him, by that silly smile on your face.” Irwin raises an eyebrow.

"Don't make me use my purse against you too." I scare away the latest happenings, focusing on what mattered. "Do you have the ring?" he hands me a silver ring set with a black stone.

“Quickly, because he's already noticed he's gone.” I nod, still analyzing the jewelry.

"I'm going right now and tonight I'll return you at the Troubadour." I keep the piece in my bag. "All set for Friday?" he nodded. "You know he knows, don't you? How did he find out?”

“Behind that stupid face, he's smart sometimes.” I roll my eyes at my friend, laughing. “Seriously, if you pay attention, sometimes it feels like there's an elevator song playing in his head. Especially when he's standing staring at something.” I laugh when Ash decides to imitate Luke, staring blankly at the wall.

“You guys are terrible. Well, I'll be on my way, see you later.” I give a kiss on his cheek.

Thursday is Luke's birthday and I, more than anyone, want it to be a perfect day. Also, I want to give him a nice present that somehow doesn't involve my body, as I apparently did before.

Searching the internet, I found a store in east LA that sold some jewelry that I thought would be to his taste. I was going after a box with five rings and three necklaces, which looked like they were made for Luke.

If I could, I would advance the time, just to give the gift soon. I just want to see his face and hope he likes it the way I think it will.

I walk past reception, waving goodbye to the poor receptionist who still seemed tangled up with the phones. Interns.

"Marnie?" I turn around when I hear my name. The man in the dress shirt, who had just passed me, approaches smiling.

“Yes?” I look at him confused.

“Of course, you don't remember. Sorry! I'm John, 5sos’ tour manager. How are you?”

“Oh! I'm great, thanks.” I soften my posture. Being Luke's girlfriend, I must have seen John a thousand times.

"It was quite a scare. I'm relieved you're okay.” I smile gratefully at the concern. "Would you have a minute for us to talk?"

Luke pov.

I lean against the car, waiting for Marnie to get out. I take a deep breath, trying not to let the anxiety get the better of me. We've practically spent the weekend together, we're getting closer, she's letting her guard down with every second we spend together, letting me fight to win her back, and yet here I am, shaking like a stick, as if it was the first time we went out together.

"Pathetic!" I say to myself, not accepting being like this.

We dated for two years, it's not like she was a stranger. I know her better than she does. I already know everything she likes, how she's going to react to every move I make and even then, I'm terrified of doing something wrong.

When I realized I was falling in love again with every detail of her, I didn't think that insecurity would come back with it. In fact, I thought it would be better than the first time, that I would be more confident and secure. But it’s Marnie I'm talking about, she eliminates any security and logic in me.

I twirl the little ring through my fingers, noticing how cold and sweaty my hand was. Yes, that human being not five feet tall, can mess with me.

I hear the door unlock, prompting me to put the ring away quickly. Marnie steps in front of me, walking around with open arms. I give her the dumbest smile.

“So? Am I OK?” she stretches out her Friends of Friends hoddie proudly.

"You look spectacular." I sigh, feeling my heart race.

"Not really, it was a little old thing that was in the back of my closet." she laughs, sounding like her mother last week. I blink a few times, trying to disguise the stupid face I must be making.

“You really look fantastic.” I say before holding her body against mine. I sink my nose into her neck, taking in all of her scent, letting into my bloodstream, fueling the butterflies in my stomach, along with the touch of her skin against mine, even with the clothes between us.

I ease my grip, releasing her, but her body remains pinned to mine and she pulls me back, squeezing me tighter. The action takes me by surprise. Not that I didn't want to hold her, I could live the rest of my life here, in her arms. But that indicated something was wrong.

“Is it everything OK?” I whisper, overcome with worry. Marnie just nods, affirming, or rather lying to me. She's not fine.

Her body pulls away and I see a sad glint in her eyes. My body tenses, seeing that fake smile take her lips, unlike the one she gave just minutes ago. My face hardens, realizing she was acting.

“Marnie…” I start my speech to say that she could tell me anything, but she interrupts me.

“We're late, we need to go. Let's go!” she dodges around me, heading for the car door.

I sigh, seeing that I won't be able to get anything out of her today. As far as I know, she doesn't want to spoil the night and will hold it off until the end. I hate when she does that. Keep everything to herself, without the slightest need, we can share the problem and even the pain, that's what a couple does, they support each other.

We left the building, taking the expressway to get there faster. Marnie babbles about her excitement to see the band play live. Normally, I love to hear and see her talk too much. Seeing her eyes flashing rapidly, her tongue getting tangled up in some difficult word, or seeing her start to laugh before she can get the funny part out. Her clumsy hands, moving quickly until she managed to drop something.

But now, I can only move my head automatically, still with my mind on her bad performance from before. Until this morning everything was fine, she was excited and happy. Until minutes ago she was happy. But now it's just a facade covering something I can't quite make out what it is.

She didn't argue with Leah, because the gossip didn't get through to me, and I'm sure Noah would have let me know by now, so we can set the process for the two of them to make up. I didn't see anything on the internet that could have messed with her. Unless something happened during the photo shoot.

"Luke?" I look quickly at her, who was looking at me amused. “Are you OK?” now she was the one asking.

“Yeah! Sorry, I daydreamed a bit. Thinking about everything I need to do getting there. What did you say?” I try to push my worry away, focusing solely on her, which is what I cared about.

"I asked if you're going to play my song?" my cheeks heat up. She knows?

"What song?" I question carefully.

“The one made for me, Amnesia.” I stop at the light, staring at her mischievous smile. This one is not fake.

"You didn't make that joke." I say disappointed. Marnie laughs beside me. “I refuse to accept that you made such a horrible joke. Marnie, you were not like that.” I shake my head.

“It was good, you can't deny it.” she pulls my hand into her lap. I freeze from the movement, feeling my skin tingle.

“It was terrible and it insults me somehow. I taught you wonderful jokes.” her fake, forced laugh catches my attention as I accelerate.

"I hear your jokes are horrible." I look quickly at her, who's sitting sideways, her head leaning back against the bench. Shit, she is so beautiful.

“This is a huge lie.” her laugh fills the car again.

The mood gets better the rest of the way. I still have my mind hammering at that moment, but I leave it for later, as she probably would. We entered through the back of the Troubadour, meeting everyone in the hallway and dressing room.

I hold her hand, pulling her close to me as we walk into the crowd. As I expected, M&Ms become the center of everything, everyone wants to say hello to her and see if she really was okay. I leave her for a few seconds in everyone's company, pulling Ashton and Leah aside.

"Do you guys know if something happened to Marnie?" They deny it. "Didn't you discuss?"

“No! In fact, I'm missing it.” Leah turns her face away, watching M&Ms laugh among the crowd. “What there was?” she looks at me again. I resume the scene for the two of them.

“She was fine when she left the record company.” Ash reinforces my thinking.

"I didn't know anything about today's photo shoot." Leah adds. "You don't think Stephen might have shown up again, do you? Or even that bitch? Bethany?” I shake my head.

Stephen had to be really, really dumb to show up to Marnie after she said she knew everything. And Bethany never tried to talk to her after what happened, I doubt she would try now.

“I'm sure she doesn't want to say anything yet so as not to spoil the night, we know how she is.” Leah rolls her eyes, she also hates such an attitude. “But later on, she might tell what happened and right away it will be with one of the three of us.”

"If she says anything later, I'll talk to you." Hastings warns.

I thank the brunette, who quickly rejoins Marnie. I watch her extend her still-in-a-cast arm for them to sign in the few empty spaces.

I quickly prepare for the show so I can stay with her for a few more seconds before taking the stage. I position myself behind her, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa, letting her body lean against mine. I watch for her hand moving up to her shoulder, placing it under mine. I drop a kiss to her pink hair, watching her lean her head back further, looking up at me with a beautiful smile.

Shit, I'm so in love with her.

Minutes after a lot of mess, we got ready for the stage. Marnie comes to me before running to their place. I adjust the guitar, opening my arms to her, who comes bouncing.

"How much have you had to drink?" I ask, laughing, looking at her rosy cheeks.

“Just a little.” It hangs around my neck. “I promise not to pick a fight with anyone." she laughs.

“Thanks! I feel more relaxed.”

“Good show!” she wish me, stealing a kiss like I did earlier.

Marnie escapes my arms like sand, running to the door and running away hand in hand with Leah. I rub my face hard, not accepting how she can move me so much.

I approach the guys, doing our circle like every time we go on stage.

The lights blind me for a few seconds and soon I can see that sea of people ecstatic to see us there. Ashton takes the lead, thanking everyone in advance for their presence and explaining why we're there.

I position myself at the microphone, ready to start singing Youngblood. Before I give the cue, I look upstairs, seeing her cotton candy hair watching me with a mixture of admiration and sadness. I blink at her, who smiles lightly and without strength. I play the chord, trying to focus my attention on the show and the new song I'm going to sing for her next, but all that goes around my head is: What's going on, Marnie?

OMG! Luke's new music video, am I right?

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Library & Chill - Topper Thornton

Request: No

Summary: Topper and his now girlfriend explore other places to have sex on campus. *smut*

Netflix & Chill | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ * ◦ ☆ • * ☾ ⭐︎ * • ☆ ◦ *_

-We’re gonna get in trouble.-

Topper looked down at his phone as he walked across campus to the library. You had texted him not five minutes ago saying that you were already there and now you were texting him to say that you were feeling a little nervous about the plan.

-If you act suspicious like you did last time we will.-

You rolled your eyes at his text. You weren’t the suspicious one. He was the one moaning so loud the TA that was copying papers in the adjoining room had come in and asked, with such a straight face you felt bad for the guy, if Topper was using the school computer for porn.

-Like I did? That was all you babe-

-We don’t have to, if you’re feeling nervous.-

You texted back that you wanted to and laid your phone down on the table in the library, pulling your textbook out of your bag and fiddling with your pen as you tried not to act suspicious. So maybe Topper was right, it was all you. The library was nearly desolate these days, hardly anyone at campus because of the latest outbreak, even your roommate had been sent home. Even now, with no one around but you and the librarian at the front desk, you had your mask on, floral print that Topper made fun of you for buying when you had three others in your bag. 

The doors to the library opened and you leaned back in your chair, peering around a shelf as Topper came into view. You pulled your mask down to your chin as he did the same, leaning over and kissing you so sweetly that anyone who saw would have trouble believing that neither of you had come to the library to study. He walked around to the other side of the table and sat down, getting books out as if he needed them.

“Are you gonna talk to me or this like a weird pre-tyst silent treatment?” You teased, so much more relaxed around him now then you had been the first time you met.

“Did you just call this a tryst? You sound like my mom.” Topper laughed.

You sat there for a moment, twirling your pen between your fingers, just watching him look over his textbook. The fact that you were even here right now, that going to some stranger’s dorm on a request to watch Netflix had turned into an actual relationship, was kind of crazy. More than you could fathom. But you weren’t about to complain. You stretched your leg out, the toe of your shoe brushing against his sweatpants and getting his attention. If you waited any longer you might spontaneously combust.

His eyes met yours and you smiled beneath your mask even though he couldn’t see it. Holding your pen out away from the table you dropped it on the floor, the sound of Topper’s chair scrapping back against the carpet followed immediately after as he ducked under the table and out of sight.

Topper placed his hands on your knees, prying them apart as you playfully tried to keep them closed. The slight sting to your thigh when he slapped it making you bite your lip beneath your mask. He tugged on the backs of your knees and you slid forward just enough that the hem of your skirt caught your thighs and bunched up at your ass. The library was practically empty aside from the librarian but you still felt that rush of excitement when Topper places a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He pushed the hem of your skirt up over your legs toward your waist, the table blocking you from anyone’s view enough that they couldn’t see the lack of underwear. Topper could, and you knew that he had given the sharp intake of breath when he got your skirt up far enough. 

His hands gripped your thighs as he placed kisses along your skin, up from your right knee and down to your left without ever touching you where you wanted him to. You knew he was going to take this slow, he had so much as told you he would on Thursday during class, enjoying the attempt at composure that you tried to maintain as he watched you read his texts over zoom. 

His mouth hovered just over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, dipping his head so his nose brushed against it before he kissed you there, sucking a bruise where no one but him would see. You held the edge of the desk with both hands, trying to calm your breathing. He pulled away suddenly, hands running down to your knees again and he gave a hard tug, pulling you so that you were slumped so far down that your head touched the backrest, ass almost off the chair. 

“Topper,” you hissed, partially muffled by the mask you were still wearing. You could imagine the picture in your head, getting eaten out in the library but still wearing a mask. 

He kissed the top of your knee, smiling against your skin. “You’re so fucking hot.” His hands ran up to your thighs again, pushing them further apart now that he had more room. You moved your hands from the desk to the wooden arms of the chair, holding yourself upright in a position you knew looked suspicious, praying the librarian wouldn’t come around the corner. 

Topper leaned forward, uninterested in wasting anymore time. He kept one hand on your thigh, removing the other and dipping two fingers between your folds. He ran his fingers up to your clit, smearing them in precum, your knee twitching at the action as he rubbed his middle finger over the bundle of nerves. 

You whimpered as he pressed his tongue against you, moving his hand as he licked a path up to your clit and swirled his tongue around. The air inside your mask was starting to get stuffy and hot and you imagined briefly asphyxiating because you didn’t take the damn thing off and insisted on having sex in the library. Any thought other than Topper didn’t last long though as he sucked your clit between his lips and almost kneed the table. He pressed both hands on your knees, holding you down so hard you would have bruises from the edge of the chair on the backs of your thighs. 

He hummed against your clit, the sound vibrating just enough to have you whimpering again, biting down on your lip to keep quiet. “You taste so good baby,” Topper said, lips brushing against you as he spoke, “you gonna cum in my mouth?” 

“Oh my god,” you gripped the arms of the chair as Topper dipped his tongue inside you, nose brushing your clit as he pressed his face into you. He licked back up to your clit as he pushed his middle finger inside you, the angle you were sitting in helping him go deeper as he added another finger. His pace was faster than usual, trying to get you there before anyone noticed the position you were in.

You wanted so badly to grab his head and keep him in place but you were paralyzed in your spot, unable to let go of the armrests you could only grip them tighter, your knuckles turning white as you bit down on your lip, grateful that no one could see the lower half of your face. Topper sucked on your clit again, harder this time than before as his fingers curled up inside you.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out as he pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue and resting his hand on your knee to keep it in place as you came, hands releasing the chair and biting down on your lip so you didn’t make any noises. Aftershocks jolted through you as Topper licked you clean, wiping his mouth on his gaiter.

Finally, he released his hold on your legs, allowing you to sit upright and fix your skirt, pulling your mask away from your face so you could breathe for a minute. He reappeared on the other side of the table, standing up and placing the pen you’d dropped between the two of you. He had pulled his gaiter over his neck and shoved it into the pocket of his sweatpants allowing you to see the smile on his face as he looked you over.

“Hey, you need a mask on in the library.” The librarian’s voice startled the two of you and you turned to face her, standing there at the end of the shelf looking between the two of you.

“Sorry, we were just leaving.” Topper promised, trying not to laugh as she stood there, watching the two of you gather your books.

“Sorry,” you repeated, grabbing your bag and letting Topper take your hand as he pulled you out of the library building. You made it outside before both of you burst out laughing, “I told you we would get caught.”

If you wanna see the gif that inspired this it’s here it’s pretty mild honestly.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Star Trek Doctors, Ranked By Crankiness

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This Star Trek: Lower Decks article contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 3.

In the very first filmed episode of Star Trek: The Original Series — “The Cage” — Captain Pike drinks itty-bitty martinis with the Enterprise’s chief physician, Dr. Boyce (John Hoyt.) And although it remains to be seen if we’ll be seeing Boyce in Stranger New Worlds, the tradition of the cranky — but wise — Starfleet doctor was started right there. After Boyce and Piper, Star Trek set the standard for cranky, wise-cracking doctors in space with the introduction of Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy; as played by the wonderful DeForest Kelley.

While Kelley passed away in 1999, the spirit of Bones lives on. Not just in the Karl Urban version of Bones in the reboot films, but also in the foul-mouthed, utterly hilarious Catian medical officer, Dr. T’ana (Gillian Vigman) on Star Trek: Lower Decks. In the most recent episode of Lower Decks, “Mugato, Gumato,” T’ana demonstrated some next-level crankiness, as she avoided her own physical examination, something Bones had to prod Kirk to do all the time, including his first-ever filmed episode, “The Corbomite Maneuver.” But is Bones actually still the crankiest Star Trek doctor? Has T’ana dethroned him?

The only way to find out is to rank all the Trek doctors from least cranky to most cranky, and find out who is the hardest to please, and as a result, possibly the doctor we paradoxically love the most.

(Note: With some exceptions, we’ve excluded characters who were Starfleet doctors who weren’t regular recurring characters. This is why Dr. Selar from TNG isn’t on this list, even though as a Vulcan, she’s inherently cranky.)

10. Dr. Tracy Pollard (Discovery)

The least cranky doctor on this list is easily Dr. Pollard on Star Trek: Discovery. This woman even puts up with Georgiou, a dictator from an alternate universe who wants to die. As played by the fantastic Raven Daudu, it’s very possible Dr. Pollard is the best doctor on this list. She also may never be recognized as such, because she’s really even-tempered, kind and way too busy saving people’s lives to complain.

9. Dr. Phlox (Enterprise)

Phlox isn’t just one of the nicest Star Trek doctors ever, he’s actively one of the most likable characters in the entire franchise. Played charmingly by John Billingsley in all four seasons of Enterprise, Phlox projected a childlike curiosity of the universe combined with a ton of knowledge and wisdom of having seen more of the quadrant than most of the other characters. Phlox is also, perhaps, the most tolerant Star Trek doctor, insofar as he never pushes his cultural views onto others, even though, in some episodes, like “Dear, Doctor,” he’s torn apart by his own set of ethics. Oh, and he saved the life of Porthos, Captain Archer’s dog in “A Night in Skybay,” AND while doing so, managed to make a joke that Porthos would develop lizard-chameleon powers in the process. That’s bedside manner!

8. Dr. Hugh Culber (Discovery)

Who doesn’t love this guy? Since Season 1 of Discovery, Culber has put up with shit from everyone, and very rarely has he snapped. Yes, in Season 2, after coming back from the dead, he was pretty pissed off at everyone. But, as he said in Season 3, “My murderer and I are good now!” In episodes like “Su’kal” and “Die Trying,” Culber is one of the kindest and simultaneously most practical Star Trek doctors of all time. He doesn’t lie to anyone, but he does know how to make you feel better. Out of all the Discovery regulars, Culber feels cut from the same cloth as someone like Deanna Troi or Guinan. He’s smart, insightful and empathic.

7. Dr. Beverly Crusher (The Next Generation)

Crusher certainly has the ability to sass her patients, but she’s basically a nice person. Whenever Crusher freaks out on anyone it’s always because she’s either in love with a ghost that lives in a candle (“Sub Rosa”), her feelings are being manipulated by a nearby Vulcan (“Sarek”) or Jean-Luc is messing around with her emotions. (All of The Next Generation.) Crusher suffers the fools she works with, but she does it with grace and dignity. That said, you kind of know she hates certain people in certain moments, which can probably just be attributed to Gates McFadden’s flawless talent.

6. Emil, Rios’ EMH (Star Trek: Picard)

Rios has a lot of cranky holograms in Season 1 of Picard, but his medical hologram is not even close to being the most difficult of all of them. In fact, he’s pretty cordigal, and reasonable, which is odd considering the situation he’s in. Clearly, among the holograms on the La Sirena, Emil is one of the most well-adjusted. You wouldn’t want him as your primary physician in real life, and because he’s basically connected to the personality of Rios the possibility that he might become super cranky is certainly there. But, so far, he’s right on the line.

5. Dr. Julian Bashir (Deep Space Nine)

Okay, we’re crossing over into slightly cranky territory here. Bashir began his journey on DS9 as a cocky jerk, which isn’t the same as the kind of crankiness we’re talking about here. The Bones-style of crankiness is the kind of crank we can get down with. Bashir’s off-putting personality was — at first — not something anyone admired or liked. That said, as Alexander Siddig evolved the character, Bashir didn’t become more cranky, but he did develop righteous indignation. When Bashir got his indignant buzz on in episodes like “Past Tense,” or “Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges,” he was really at his best. To be clear, Bashir isn’t a nice doctor, and this is where we cross the threshold.

4. Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy (Star Trek: The Original Series)

Although he set the standard for crankiness, in the entire canon of Trek, Bones is somehow not the most cranky Star Trek doctor. The reasons for this are threefold: First, there are three characters on this list who are much crankiner than him. Second, Bones is actually a sweetheart deep down, and demonstrates his love for Spock over and over again, despite his terrible, terrible comments. Finally, Bones can’t be the crankiest doctor on this list because Dax heavily implied in “Trials and Tribble-ations,” that one of her previous hosts — Emony Dax — totally hooked-up with him. For some reason, this detail makes it seem like he’s a lot nicer than he comes across. And again, The Search for Spock exists.

3. Dr. Katherine Pulaski (The Next Generation)

In 1988, Pulaski would have easily been number one on this list. She mispronounces Data’s name, doesn’t feel bad about it, and proceeds to kind of make everyone else on the ship feel awful. Pulaski is a pretty good doctor, and not remotely a bad person, but she’s pretty damn cranky. The brilliant Diane Muldar plays Pulaski like someone who has been transferred to a job she doesn’t really want, which is sort of amazing considering at this point, Roddenberry didn’t want Starfleet characters to have interpersonal conflict.

In “The Icarus Factor ” (which the latest Lower Decks also referenced) Pulaski also thinks Riker’s deadbeat dad is hot and tells Riker this point blank when he’s reminding her that his dad is the worst. This alone gives her deeply strange tastes, and makes her super cranky and weird AF. Don’t mess with Pulaksi! If you talk about how your friend is mean, she might throw it in your face and say she likes them better than you anyway!

2. Dr. T’ana (Lower Decks)

Okay. So Dr. T’ana is almost the most cranky Star Trek doctor ever. Combining the best qualities of Bones, with that weird go-shove-it-vibe from Pulaksi, Gillian Vigman turns it all up to 11. It helps that T’ana is a cat-person (I.E. the Catian species) but her crankiness is more than that. She’s kind of sadistic, and isn’t afraid to use boulders to knock “strange energies” out of people when the time comes. T’ana is sort of burnt-out, but also, is kind of unflappable too. Like, you get the sense that she’s sick of all this space sickness stuff, but she’s got too much proffensionality to say she can’t do something. The secret crankiness of Dr. T’ana is that seemingly she can fix anything that is wrong with anyone. But, she’s going to make fun of them for it, and get pissed off if you look at her the wrong way.

That said, like Bones, you get the sense that none of it is personal. Which is what makes her Starfleet all the way.

1. The EMH (Voyager)

Robert Picardo’s Emergency Medical Hologram is the best cranky Star Trek doctor. There are many reasons for this. His arrogance. His constant complaining. The fact that he has good reason to complain, considering he’s a hologram that has to do other people’s bidding. But the reason that tops all other reasons is the way that Picardo can make his crankiness clear with the simple inflection of his voice. It’s not what he says. It’s how he says it. And if you need proof, all you have to do is go back to the very first Voyager episode ever, “Caretaker.” When the Doctor has to start triage on the wounded crew, he asks somebody to hand him a tricorder. He looks at it, and realizes it’s not the right kind of tricorder, and hands it back and says “medical tricorder.” The amount of venom in this comment cannot be communicated in print. The way Picardo says medical tricorder is so dismissive and frustrated, that he basically created a new level of crankiness with one single utterance.

T’ana may be creeping up the EMH from behind, but this cranky crown will be hard to swipe. Especially from a hologram.

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jeogiyall · 4 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭; 𝒌.𝒅𝒚

❥ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒! 𝖽𝗈𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗑 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❥ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾; 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌-𝗍𝗈-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅

❥ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟻.𝟺𝚔

❥ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌

❥ᴀ/ɴ: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗆𝗀!! 𝗂'𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖽-𝖻𝗈𝗒-𝗐𝗁𝗈'𝗌-𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒-𝖺-𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾. 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍!! -𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

—

While it’s not what most people in your position would say, you love working at the family business. It helps that your family business is your mother running a beauty salon while your father is it’s sole electrician (because no one, and I mean no one, should trust that man with their hair,) rather than something boring like a law firm. But it’s also just fun; you get to style intricate updos for dinner parties, control the radio, listen to church ladies gossip. Sometimes if it’s really busy, your mother will let you take over manicures.

“That’ll be thirty dollars, mam!” Your voice chirps to Dottie, your Wednesday afternoon regular. She tries for a minute to get into her purse, then puffs out ‘oh hell’ before dropping her palms (with still wet fingernails) onto the counter. You think that if she hadn’t done this hundreds of times before that it’d be startling, but she has. Which only makes it funny.

“Just put it on my tab, okay dear?” There’s a smile twinging on her words as she toddles towards the door, eyes scanning over the nail polish for any chips. Another laugh falls from your lips, mixing naturally with the one sounding from your friend who’s busy holding the door.

“Have fun with the grandkids this weekend!” You shout to the regular customer, who only holds up a thumbs up. Donghyuck swoops into the store like a fleeting breeze, pushing himself up into the familiar spot of your checkout counter. If your mother were here you’d tell him to get off. Since she isn’t you hand him a lollipop from the candy bowl and ruffle his curly black hair, “That new shampoo is really working for you, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” He answers before popping the sucker into his mouth, “How’s Dottie today?”

“Insane as ever, you know she went parking?” The boy laughs lowly, shaking his head while playing with the sleeves of his leather jacket, “Hyuck I’m not kidding! Her and Joe, they went out parking last Thursday and she told me all about it!”

“Aren’t they nearly sixty?” You nod in response while bringing a new magazine to the lady sitting under the hair dryer, who’s two blinks away from sleep until you drop the book into her lap. She accepts and thanks you with a smile, letting you know that she’ll be out in a wink before beginning to flip through the glossy pages.

“Yes! I told her that they’re acting like some crazy kids, but I guess that it’s kind of sweet.” Donghyuck, while more sensitive than nearly every boy you know, gags at your remark, “Carry on all you want, you know that I’m right.”

“Whatever, the boys and me are getting milkshakes if you wanna come.” What follows is a conversation that happens at least three times a week, always ending with ‘you know that I can’t,’ and ‘square.’ You don’t mind having it though, it’s sweet that he thinks to invite you.

“You know that I can’t.” The boy rolls his eyes while pushing off the counter and moving towards the front door, briefly holding it open for a customer who’s desperately trying to hide her roots.

“Square.” He whispers before singing out his usual, “See you in homeroom.” And then you’re alone. But it’s okay. Because unlike most people in your position, you love working at the family business.

It’s a week and a half later when Kim Doyoung walks into the store, all long legs and scuffed sneakers. When you see the sleeves of his leather jacket you just assume that it’s Donghyuck coming to get the latest gossip on your favorite Wednesday regular.

“Well Dottie didn’t tell me much this week, but I heard it from a birdie that she and Joe were picnicking on Wednesday. Right after I did her nails too! They’re orange this week to match her favorite church dress.” You don’t even look up, simply rambling on while scribbling in the margins of your biology notebook. It makes something warm blossom in the boys chest.

“Is that so?” Instantly, your eyes shoot up at the voice that is definitely not Lee Donghyuck. It’s lower, smoother. Like the feeling of hot tea burning a trail down your throat on a cold morning.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry! I-I just saw the jacket and thought that you were-”

“Hyuck?” He finishes for you, one elbow coming to rest on the checkout counter. Doyoung, you notice, is not a particularly large man. He’s tall enough, sure, but the set of his shoulders is rather petite along with the width of his waist. His face looks like a babies. Despite this fact, there’s still something intimidating about the boy, “It’s Doyoung. M’here to pick up an order for him though, I think he said it’s shampoo?”

“Yes, I have that right here. Why didn’t he come to pick it up, i-if you don’t mind my asking?” The boy puffs loudly at your question, dropping cash on the table that’s clearly been crumpled in Hyucks front pocket since he placed this order.

“There’s a sock hop tonight a few towns over and he’s getting ready. You know how he is.” There’s a moment of quiet as you hand him his change, your eyes finally settling on the boys face long enough to remember. It takes two seconds for you to decide that he’s the first truly pretty boy that you’ve ever seen. Three to decide that you like boys pretty over anything else, “I have an extra seat in my car if you’d like to join.”

And while the thought is tempting, driving through town in Doyoungs iconic cherry red convertible with the top down and your best friend in the back seat, all you can think of is your mother. How this is her first time going to bridge club since she opened the store four years ago. How she finally trusts you to do more than sweep up the aftermath of haircuts. How she’s counting on you right now.

“Not tonight. Another time?” For a brief moment your eyes lock, and there’s something there. You can’t reach out and touch it, hear it, you can’t even smell it. But you both know that it’s there, you both feel it. Crawling up your arms like a ladybug and leaving goosebumps in its wake, you feel it.

“Okay princess, I’m holding you to it.” Before you have the chance to tell him that you hope he does, he’s gone.

It’s an early Friday evening when you see Doyoung again. He’s in the library, which is surprising enough, but then he takes the seat next to you and the entire world stops.

“Stopped by the store, but your pops said that you’d be here.” Your eyes bulge so hard at the statement that Doyoung is amazed they’re not exploding. Honestly, you are too.

“You met my father?!” Your voice raises at least three octaves, causing the lady up front to shush you. It sends a hot flush to your cheeks and Doyoung thinks that he’d do anything to see it again.

“We’re not talking about that, we’re talking about how it’s Friday night and you’re trying to spend it at the library.” He does that thing again, the thing where he makes you feel so intimidated and small. It’s not in a bad way, like the boys in your honors classes. It’s also not in a good way like when your father hugs you after a long day at school. It’s something in between, which leaves heat in your stomach.

“I-I have biology homework-”

“You have all weekend to do that, we’re going out tonight.” He stands up and extends a hand out to you, the other one already flipping his keys. Panic is rising in your chest as your mind races to find any possible excuse.

“My parents would never agree.”

“Your dad already said yes.” If it weren’t for your heart is trying to beat out of it’s cage then you’d fixate on how weird it is that Doyoung has already met your dad.

“I’m not dressed properly.” His eyes take in your dress, baby blue with white accents, before one of his eyebrows quirks. It’s a blatant lie, the both of you know it. This has been your favorite dress for years.

“Stop being ridiculous and just come with me.” You’re going to say yes. Doyoung is in front of you wearing a green flannel and jeans that hug his waist so perfectly, and you’re going to say yes. But you have so much to do, and work tomorrow.

“I just can’t tonight Doyoung, I’m sorry.” His eyes soften slightly as your nose buries back into the textbook. You’re so focused that you barely even notice him sitting back down in the seat across from you, “What are you doing?” He looks at you quizzically before leaning in close enough that his black hair tickles your cheek.

“Why don’t you wanna go out with me, princess?” If Doyoung himself wasn’t enough to make you blush, the sheer boldness of his words definitely was.

“I-it’s not that I don’t want to.” Hot blush rises to your cheeks as each syllable catches on your tongue, “I just can’t.”

“Why?” You’re going to tell him that it’s because boys like him ruin girls like you. That girls like you shouldn’t want to be ruined as badly as you do.

“Because I have homework.” A heavy silence settles in the space between your bodies, only faltering when he decides to fall back into the green plastic chair with a sigh.

“Alright then, I’ll help.” You’re three seconds away from saying something snarky before he speaks again, “I’m not kidding, I was really good at this!” His eyes are wide and there’s a smile playing on his lips (nothing like his normal smile, so cool and collected. No, this one is warm all over. Like your mothers chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven.) You think that the fluttering of your heart is ridiculous, then that you’re in absolutely no position to deny him.

The two of you stay cooped up in the library until the streetlights outside flicker on and the librarian is all but kicking you out. Doyoung is surprising, to say the least. Where you thought that he’d be rough and abrasive, he is kind. Where you thought the feeling of his hands on your bicep would be laced with callouses, it is soft. Where you thought that Doyoung was intimidating, or even scary, he is gentle. There’s a brief moment when your hands touch and you think that he’s going to keep it there. He doesn’t, which would be more disappointing if you hadn’t seen the pink blush on his face.

“You don’t even need my help, princess!” Doyoung jokes as you walk out of the library, one of his hands carrying your books while the other holds the doors open.

In a moment of boldness you take the textbooks and respond, “I know,” then press a short kiss to the high point of his cheekbone, “but having you was fun.”

The weight of you stays on Doyoungs shoulders until he falls asleep that night.

No one really knows when Doyoung assimilates into your life, you just know that it happens quickly. In the span of a month sporadic visits turn into him dropping into the salon every day, leaning on the counter and making you blush until your mother gives you a task. Some days he brings Donghyuck too, which are days where absolutely nothing gets done.

Today’s not one of those days, though. It’s only your mother, you, and Doyoung who smells of petrol and rosemary. Thanks to the light Monday crowd, your friend has spent the last three hours distracting you with anything that isn’t work. The distractions range from mindless chatter about his friends down at the car shop (which he apparently works at, but you’re not sure how that’s possible seeing as he spends all of his time flirting with you or going out,) intense stares glued onto the perky bow of your work apron, delicate hands playing with all of your pencils up front. At one point your mother jokes that she’s going to get him a uniform and put him to work.

But then it’s time to close, and your mother is carrying multiple gallon jugs of hair color at once, and Doyoung can’t just watch. He can’t just watch as the bags set deeper beneath her eyes and her soft laughter fades off into sleepy grumbling. After turning on the small radio by the hair dryers on he grabs two bottles from her hands, offering up a gentle smile.

“I’ll help (Y/n) close up.” Your mother sighs loudly, Doyoung watching as her shoulders relax for the first time since he arrived. She gladly surrenders the jugs and pinches his soft cheek.

“You’re a good boy, Doyoung. Don’t let (Y/n) go too crazy.” Something bubbles in your stomach as you overhear the conversation. It’s not your mother teasing you, no. That’s a common occurrence in your household. It’s the sudden realization that your mother is right, that Doyoung is good in every sense of the word. He’s kind, and patient, and attentive, and so painstakingly good.

“I can’t make any promises.” His voice floats through the air like song lyrics, creating a harmony with the sound of the front door closing and the radio crackling in a way that tugs at your heart strings, “Looks like it’s just you and me, princess.”

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” You ask while moving towards the boy and taking the heavy jugs from his hands. Well, trying to at least. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose (an action that’s become casual between the two of you, like a secret handshake that you can only share with each other,) before you can actually fully take them.

“Never, now tell me where these go?” You grumble out something about the top of the cabinet, which isn’t even right, while getting the broom from behind your spot at checkout. You start to sweep, but before you can get too far with that there’s one hand undoing your apron and another taking the broom.

“Doyoung, what are you-” He doesn’t let you finish before flashing wide eyes at you. It’s a look that you didn’t think he could make, lips puckering into a pout while his eyebrows furrow cutely.

“Let me help.” The plea is soft, yet spoken in a way that tells you he’s not going to compromise, “You’ve been working all afternoon, so let me help now.” His chest is pressed up against yours, and he’s holding your apron, and his lips are so close to yours that if he leaned in just one extra inch... Who are you to say no to that?

Letting someone else work isn’t all that bad, honestly. You have time to dust off the register, empty out the tip jar- which are all things that usually go forgotten until the next days opening. You’re about to reorganize the nail polish out of sheer boredom, but then a certain red color catches your eye and before you know what’s happening you’re receiving a manicure. From yourself, but it’s a manicure nonetheless.

“I like that color.” Doyoung comments while materializing in the seat across from you. If it weren’t for the soft humming that he’s producing, you would have probably jumped, “Matches my ride.” A soft giggle slips past your lips as you admire your already painted hand.

“Now that you mention it, I guess it does.” You move to finish your non dominant hand, falling into a comfortable kind of silence with the boy across from you. Similar to face kisses, this has become something normal for the two of you. Quiet that was once filled with awkwardly heavy breathing and sweaty palms is now occupied by understanding. This silence doesn’t expect anything, but will accept it gladly. Like Doyoungs humming, or the sound of your foot tapping rhythmically beneath the manicure station. It doesn’t have to be quiet, it doesn’t have to be loud, it just has to be comfortable.

“What does nail polish feel like?” If anyone else had spoken, you’d regard it as breaking the peace. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Doyoung and he’s only added.

“Like nothing, I guess, but also a bit heavy? It feels tacky even after drying.” You’re about to put the cap back on the bottle and really close up for tonight, but before you can process what’s happening two of Doyoungs fingers are cradled in the palm of your hand and he’s staring at you with a gentle smile.

“Show me.” It’s an odd request, I mean who’s really that curious about how nail polish feels? But Doyoung is so precious like this, and his hands are obnoxiously soft. With two swipes of the newly wetted nail polish brush, his pointer and middle fingers are adorned with glossy cherry red. It almost matches the shade on his cheeks, “You’re right, it is kinda heavy. Pretty though.”

“Y-yea.” You choke, eyes gluing to the soft curve of his lips, “Pretty.”

If Doyoungs friends make fun of him the next day for showing up to the shop with a dumb grin and two cherry red fingernails, he doesn’t tell you about it.

Doyoung is sweet with you. When you’re hard at work he brushes stray hairs off of your forehead, he brings in new records to listen to every Wednesday. Your favorite thing is when you walk out after closing and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. Doyoung is very sweet. With you.

But there are other people. Like the boys from the school across town who exclusively wear their hair up in a quiff and like to drive by your school during football games. The boys who smoke cigarettes and always have busted up knuckles. You’ve even seen Donghyuck with the same knuckles, groaning each time that they grazed anything. You know that Doyoung isn’t sweet to everyone. You know that Doyoung gets into fights. You just didn’t know that he looks like this afterwards.

“Evening, princess.” The boy grumbles while sauntering into the parlor thirty minutes after closing. You remember thinking that it was weird when he didn’t show up after class let out, smelling like rosemary and wearing a grin. Now you think that he looks heartbreaking with a small cut on his cheek and purple blossoming over the curve of his neck.

“Doyoung, what did you do?” You question, hands immediately dropping the tips you were counting and instead covering your mouth. He only grumbles and shakes his head dismissively, leaning down in front of you in a way that says he’s not going to tell you, “You don’t get to do that, Doyoung. You don’t get to show up like this and not tell me what happened.” Another groan generates from the base of his throat. There’s a red cut there, you notice.

“I didn’t do anything, it was those greasers from across town.” It’s not clear when your hands take purchase on his face, or when his eyes glass over with tears that you thought were impossible, “It hurts.” Something about those words feels so intimate, like he’s taken off the leather jacket and the tough facade and shown you what he really is. Shown you that he’s just a boy.

He thinks that you saying, “I’ll fix it,” shows just as much about you.

You exit to the bathroom while Doyoung pushes himself onto the checkout counter, hissing loudly when his raw palms connect with the metal top. That pain feels stupid compared to actually having the cuts cleaned out.

“Hurts like a bitch.” He grunts as you press a cold rag onto the hollow of his throat, voice taking on a low tone that makes your cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry.” An arm comes up to wrap around your waist as he lets out a deep groan, holding onto that spot as though it’s a tether. It shouldn’t make your heart flutter the way that it does. Doyoung is against you, and he’s squirming ever so slightly whenever your hands move, and he’s letting out the most beautiful sounds, and it shouldn’t make your heart flutter, “It’s clean, I-I’m gonna bandage it now...” Doyoung pulls his head back so that you can fully see him, then nods gently.

“Go ahead.” He’s going to kiss you. His lips are less than two inches away from your lips, and you really really think that he’s going to kiss you. He tilts his head back in a way that exposes every delicate line and curve, including the thin red one that you want to make better more than anything, “Patch me up, princess.” Your thumb smooths over the bandage once it’s down, and he keens into the touch. It makes you genuinely smile for the first time since he walked into the store, “I love to see that.”

“You do?” You question, connecting your eyes with his mocha brown ones.

“I do.” His free hand comes up to caress your cheek, but the mental image of him shuddering as your skin swipes over his fresh cut is enough to keep your hands where they are.

“Never get in a fight like this again and I’ll smile for you for forever.” His eyes take you in, flushed expression, red cheeks, your face resting in his hands. You flash him another gentle smile, and he doesn’t even have to think about his answer.

“Consider it done.”

It would be difficult to sum up Doyoungs relationship with your family, but a good place to start would be that he’s your dads best friend. And also your moms favorite child. Also your crush, in the most destructive way possible. With Doyoung you don’t care about homework, or who wants their nails what color, or the spot of dust that you missed while cleaning. All that matters is his sweet scent and the way that he laughs.

Which is exactly why saying no to him is so hard right now.

“C’mon princess, just let me take you out.” The boy begs for the thousandth time, voice taking on a more flirty tone than the past three asks. Your cheeks flush pink while you look down and busy yourself with anything else.

“Doyoung please, I’m busy!” As soon as the word leaves your mouth your father is wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin of your temple the same way that he does after school or a busy weekend.

“Busy with what, sweetie pie?” His voice has always been one of your favorite sounds. It’s low and kind, and so comforting that it hurts.

“The store, I can’t leave mom alon-” Before the words are even finished the woman in question is standing next to Doyoung, ruffling his hair affectionately and casting a smile to you.

“We’re covered, sweetie pie. You ankle biters go have some fun!” Doyoung grins the way that he only does around this quartet before gripping your arm from across the counter.

“B-but I’m scheduled to work tonight.” Everyone locks eyes, then lets out a loud sight in almost perfect unison.

“When’s the last time you’ve taken a night off?” You think for a minute, then hold up three manicured fingers, “Three weeks without a break is bonkers (Y/n!)”

“She doesn’t mean weeks, mam. She means three months.” Your mothers jaw goes slack as your fathers eyes widen. You think that no one’s looked this shocked since Donghyuck caught on fire in tenth grade chemistry.

You’re out the door and buckled into your favorite boys convertible in less than a minute. No one seemed to be too worried about your persistent screams of ‘Wait, I’m still in my uniform!’

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll let you change.”

“My aprons gonna get dirty.” You huff, silently praying that Doyoung won’t notice the red of your cheeks. Obviously, that doesn’t happen.

“Now your nails and your face match my car.” The comment comes back to haunt you when you’re staring into your closet, hating absolutely every piece of clothing in sight. There’s something in the back of your mind, though, something that makes your heart flutter. The thought of leaving your house in a dress that’s been worn twice (a dress that was really just bought for fun) and watching Doyoung smile the way that he does when you’ve done something out of character... It’s enough to make you sing.

The dress is a fluffy thing, with nearly three layers of tulle beneath it’s skirt. White polka dots are scattered around the red fabric, and the silhouette finishes with a sweet heart neckline. It’s very not you. You’re not the girl who puts on pretty red dresses and goes out with boys who drive convertibles. You’ve always wanted to be her, but you just aren’t. You’re the girl who spends Friday evenings doing homework in the library. The girl who likes working at the family business.

But then there’s Doyoung. A boy that you’re nearly dating, who’s not ruining you. No, he’s helping you step into yourself, the way that you do into a red dress with white polka dots.

When you come out of the front door the boy in question physically chokes. It makes your freshly painted lips spread into a genuine, carefree smile.

“Do I still match the car?” He nods fervently in response, eyes going as soft as butter, “Good! That’s what I was going for.” For the entire drive he keeps a hand on your thigh.

There’s a solid ten minutes where you don’t think that he’s actually going to take you anywhere, just leave you to be paraded around town and whipped by the wind. It’s a short lived concern though, because after the third ridiculous back road he’s pulling into the lot of your local park (a cute setting, complete with a wooden castle and a petite duck pond.)

“Doyoung, what exactly are we doing here?” You question as he helps to hoist you out of the car. The question isn’t met with an answer, only him holding up a finger while popping the lid of his trunk. You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting to see, but you are entirely sure that it’s not what you do see.

Because Doyoung is standing in front of you wearing jeans with a rip that starts right above his knee and extends to the bottom of his shin. There’s ink black hair swooping over his forehead, there’s a cut on his cheek, there’s a leather jacket hugging his shoulders. There’s all of that, then there’s also a picnic blanket in his hands and two paper bags from your local diner in his hands.

“I’m very glad that you said yes.” He says finally. You think to yourself that you are too.

He leads you to the duck pond, carefully laying the blanket over damp grass before guiding you to sit on it. If it were any other day you would force him to let you help, but each time you try to assist he swats your hands away. Part of you wonders if it’s to repay you for taking care him last week. The other part of you knows that it’s just because he’s Doyoung. He’s feeding you french fries and laughing too loud at every story that you tell because he is sweet, and attentive, and real. Because he’s Doyoung.

“Tell me more about your parents.” The boy exhales while falling backwards onto the picnic blanket. He looks so beautiful like this, relaxed with his hair fluffing out in every direction and a natural grin creeping onto his lips. It makes you want to sit here and talk to him stories for forever.

“Where to start?” You chuckle, pushing up onto your elbows so that you can see Doyoungs cute listening face, “They met in high school, got married at eighteen and nineteen, had me about three years later... I remember when mom opened the store they fought a lot, but they’ve never been bad. I always knew that no matter how loud they shouted or how rude they were that I’d always find them dancing together in the kitchen after dinner.” His lip quivers a bit before quirking into a smile that verges on laughter.

“Dancing in the kitchen?” Your shoulders shake with a giggle as he moves to push hair away from your eyes. Something inside of you wants to stay like this for forever.

“Yea, they started doing that when they first got married. Dad says that it’s just something that they do, but I think it’s because he loves her too much to go a day without it.”

Doyoung is going to tell you that he feels the same. It comes out as “Would you like to dance?”

A month ago you would’ve laughed it off and mentioned that there’s no music, or that you’re in public. Now you spring up from the blanket with his hand in yours, and dance carelessly. In public, to no music, hand in hand with Kim Doyoung.

It’s all playful, just lingering touches and childlike smiles. He laughs under his breath, then out loud. The sound alone draws you in like a sirens call, leaving you nestled up in his arms as if it’s the last place on earth. You look up at him with a giggle, he looks down at you with an exhale, then the two of you are crashing your lips together as if it’s what they were made to do.

His lips are chapped, and palms feel soft where they’re cradling your cheeks, and his hold is gentle while still being firm, and he’s never going to let you slip through. He’s kissing like he’s never going to let you slip through his fingers.

When his hands grasp the smallest part of your waist to pull you close, every last bone in your body turns into jelly. This kiss feels like the universe is falling into place, like with each subtle movement from his dry lips he’s correcting a problem that you didn’t even know you had. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you think of forever. That makes you want forever.

“Doyoung?” You breathe heavily while pulling back to rest your forehead on his. The hair on his forehead feels just as soft as you’d imagined.

“Yes?” He looks at you with wide eyes that bore into the very core of your being. For the first time, it’s okay that someone sees that.

“Please never stop kissing me.” The boy in front of you chuckles lowly before pressing another kiss to your lips. It’s softer this time, leaving your chest with a feeling that’s like sunshine on your skin. When he pulls away you nearly whine, which would be more embarrassing than you even know how to express if the boy against you wasn’t equally as needy.

“You can count on that one, princess.” He smooths his thumb over your cheek, lightly grazing the corner of your mouth as he does so, “You can count on that.”

#kpopuniversenet #writekpop #kim doyoung #doyoung fluff #doyoung x reader #nct #nct x reader #nct fluff #lee donghyuck #admin reid

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years

Text

The Way I Loved You

hey there! i wrote this on Friday, but i heard the song “The Way I Loved You” for the first time on Thursday and immediately thought of jolex. When i listen to this song the on Friday after the whole jo and jackson thing i knew that i HAD to use this song. idk if anyone has used this song already, but i hope not lol. this is pretty short but i wrote it really quickly lol. and i just realized that @odd-birds-and-booksellers has a similar thing with a photograph in one of her stories, so i’m sorry about that, it was an accident.

on a side note... happy bday to me hehe. i wanted to post a fluffy one-shot, but i’m too lazy to finish writing it.

~*~

He is sensible and so incredible

And all my single friends are jealous

He says everything I need to hear and it's like

I couldn't ask for anything better

In everybody's eyes, Jackson Avery seemed like the perfect guy, especially for her. He was funny, smart, caring, and handsome as hell. He was pretty perfect, there was no way she could deny that. He told her she was beautiful, how brilliant she was, and he held her and whispered sweet nothings in her ear in the morning while the sun cast gentle glows on them through the window.

He always somehow knew the right thing to say, but it wasn’t always what she wanted to hear. Sometimes she didn’t want to hear she was amazing and she had no reason to be worried. Sometimes she just wanted to hear ‘shut up, get over it’ followed by an I love you and a quick peck on the lips.

He was every girl’s dream; he just wasn’t hers. No matter how much she liked him or wished he was, he wasn’t.

He opens up my door and I get into his car

And he says, you look beautiful tonight

And I feel perfectly fine

He was such a gentleman. He complimented her, showed her off proudly to his richy-rich family, but not like a prize. He was proud to call her his girlfriend. He drank in the sight of her in tight dresses and boring scrubs like she was the last glass of water on a scalding hot day.

He never makes her feel second best.

He was falling, but she was still on ground, content with how she was. She wasn’t soaring in the clouds like she had been once before. She was at peace with standing on the concrete streets below her feet.

But I miss screamin' and fightin'

And kissin' in the rain

And it's two a.m. and I'm cursin' your name

You're so in love that you act insane

And that's the way I loved you

She misses the rush. The rush of fighting. The rush of getting so mad at someone that you wanted to just punch them, but kiss them all at the same time.

She misses him getting agitated over stupid things. She misses seeing the lust in his eyes when he was mad at her. She misses the angry sex. She misses feeling the thousands of emotions flowing through her body when they kissed, even if it was just a simple brush of the lips.

She misses him acting crazy over a cut she got on her knee when she tripped, or when she complained about accidentally slicing her finger when she attempted to use a knife. He always hated to see her hurt.

How ironic, considering he was the one who hurt her the most.

Breakin' down and comin' undone

It's a roller-coaster kinda rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

She misses how they could just yell at each other. For hours, days. They could yell at each other about their crappy surgeries or patients that deserved better than the cards they were dealt. They could take out their anger on each other, trusting that it wouldn’t affect them. And it didn’t.

She misses the way he looked at her like she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, unable to grasp that fact that she was his. She misses that crooked smile that seemed to brighten her day, no matter how bad it previously was.

She misses how she could go from wanting to yell at him to holding him in a matter of seconds. She misses feeling like she had no control over herself whenever she was around him.

She misses him and the way he made her feel.

He respects my space and never makes me wait

And he calls exactly when he says he will

He's close to my mother

Talks business with my father

He's charming and endearing, and I'm comfortable

When she asks for time alone, he doesn’t push her. When she is feeling down, on the brink of another episode, he lets her lay in bed and doesn’t bother her. And if she wanted him to get pizza in the middle of the night, he’s ordering it before she even needs to ask twice.

He never left her on read or ignored her voicemails. She never needed to call or text him twice for an answer about their upcoming date.

She liked being with him. She felt safe, knowing that he wouldn’t hurt her. She liked knowing that somebody loved her, even if she was currently only capable of saying she liked him a great deal.

But I miss screamin' and fightin'

And kissin' in the rain

And it's two a.m. and I'm cursin' your name

You're so in love that you act insane

And that's the way I loved you

She misses how in the middle of arguments he would pull her into a searing kiss, pouring all of his emotion into it. She could feel them best then, his emotions. She could tell by the way his kisses were needy and frantic as he pressed his lips to her neck, sometimes biting just a little too hard on her sweet spot, a bit of both pleasure and pain.

She misses seeing the look on his face when he would catch guys at the bar staring at her, trying to deny that he was jealous.

She even misses how insane he acted sometimes, whether it be making animal noises at couples going at it, or how he beat up DeLuca when he thought the man was taking advantage of her.

She misses being able to look at him and everything seemed alright, that even though people were dying and the world was heating up, as long as she had him, she felt okay.

Breakin' down and comin' undone

It's a roller-coaster kinda rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

Jackson doesn’t like to argue much. He doesn’t really yell. He’s good at expressing his emotions and talking about them. He doesn’t bury them like her, but at times she wishes that he did.

She wishes he knew what it was like to have all these feelings build up inside until they break, shattering everything you worked towards.

But he makes it better. He helped her talk and now it’s easier. She doesn't feel the need to combust with anger.

Sometimes, but not all the time.

He can't see the smile I'm fakin'

And my heart's not breakin'

'Cause I'm not feelin' anything at all

When she’s at Meredith’s she is happy. It had been a while since he had left, more than a year actually. And she was getting to be fully okay. She still smiled, but it wasn’t the full-blown grin that could once light up an entire room. She’s back to laughing more now, but it’s not the same one that would come out when he said something stupid and she was belly-laughing as tears streamed down her face. But she could easily say that she was okay. She was doing well. She was happy.

It was when she wandered into the hallway and started randomly opening drawers, looking for a pen to write down an idea she had that she came across a photo Meredith has shoved in her drawers. It was of him. His son was on his left knee, while Izzie sat next to him, their daughter on her right knee. They were smiling, his looking awkward because he tried to smile straight and not crooked, but he was smiling nonetheless. It looks to be a selfie of some sort, the woman holding the camera flashing a dazzling smile.

They look so happy. She's glad that he’s happy, but she’s jealous. She hadn’t smiled that wide in a long time.

When she heads back down the stairs she plasters on a smile, knowing that nobody would be able to see through it. She didn’t really feel anything, all she really felt was numb.

It’s selfish, but she wishes she was the one in the photo instead of the blonde.

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated

Got away by some mistake and now

He drove her crazy. She wanted to smack him upside every second of the day. He made her mad and he hurt her, but at the same time she was only able to see him as perfect. He was so screwed up, but it fit so perfectly alongside her. His crazy fit her crazy.

He always drove her mad. But she could never get enough of him. She could never get enough of the feeling of his skin on hers, the taste of his lips, the smell of his clothes, she never got tired of hearing his voice and the sound of his laugh. It was like she was constantly high on him.

If only he had talked to her, maybe things wouldn’t be this way.

I'll be screamin' and fightin'

And kissin' in the rain

It's two a.m. and I'm cursin' your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

She wants to fight with him one more time. It’s been a long time since he left. Over two years. And she’s loved again. The perfect man loves her, and she can truthfully and whole-heartedly say that she loves him. He took her broken heart and pieced it back together. But the wounds were still there.

But she wants to fight with him again. She wants one more chance to call him a stupid moron. She wants to be arguing with him late into the night about who’s a better character on that latest TV show they were binging.

She wants to shove him like she did before the storm, finding some way to exert her anger.

She wants him to pull her into a supply closet while the rain pounds on the window as he tells her that he loves her, kissing her with a passion she had never experienced before.

Breakin' down and comin' undone

It's a roller-coaster kinda rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

She remembers what it was like to love him so much it was like she couldn’t breathe. That he was the oxygen she desperately needed to survive. She remembers what it was like, the fear, the longing, the need. It was all there.

She never knew then how much this man would affect her.

She never knew that feeling all of those things was possible.

And that's the way I loved you oh, oh

I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

Jackson Avery was perfect, and she loved Jackson Avery.

But he wasn’t perfect for her.

Because the only person perfect for Jo Wilson was Alex Karev.

It was a shame, the life they could’ve lived if only he had answered her calls.

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myarmsaretoolong · 3 years

Text

so i may have accidentally started writing this prompt for webpril and i may or may not do more, we’ll see i guess

prompt: field trip

word count: 3756

warnings: none :)

summary: When Peter finds out the school field trip will be taking them to Stark Industries, he has some fairly reasonable concerns given all of his extra curriculars. When he finds out Harley planned the whole thing, he's determined not to give in to his taunts.

ao3 link here | read under the cut

Peter had a lot going on in his life. School, homework, Stark Internship, Spider-Man, and all the while finding time to hang out with his friends and family. Some days were exhausting, but he wouldn’t trade them for the world. Who in their right mind would?

He tried his best to stifle a yawn but only ended up making it more obvious. Thankfully, Mister Harrington didn’t notice. Ned, however, he definitely noticed.

“Dude,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You alright?”

Peter nodded, forcing a casual smile. “Yeah, ‘course. Me and Harley had a late night working on a project at the Tower is all.” He dropped his voice lower. “We’re upgrading my suit, but the shooters are proving to be a problem.”

“What’s up with them?”

“You so much as breathe towards the trigger and it fires. Not the best in a stressful situation-”

Mister Harrington’s voice boomed from the front of the class, eyes locked on the pair. “Something you want to share with the class, boys?”

“No, sir!” Ned yelped. Peter shook his head vigorously.

“Then maybe you want to join the rest of us in finding out where we’re going for this year’s field trip?” Both boys nodded in sync. “Good,” Mister Harrington addressed the class as a whole. “Since last year’s trip to Oscorp was such a success, we’re sticking along the same theme…”

Right the Oscorp trip. The first half had been great, but the rest was rather overshadowed by the spider bite. Hopefully they just weren’t visiting Hammer Industries else he might have to decline out of loyalty to Mister Stark. Plus that time the Hammer Drones almost killed him… Thinking about it, Peter had a rocky history with large tech corporations.

Mister Harrington continued, “And this year we’ll be visiting Stark Industries!”

Cries of excitement rang out among the room. Ned turned to Peter, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “Dude… What are you gonna do?”

Before he could reply, Flash piped up with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Yeah, Penis. What are you going to do when your fake internship gets exposed?”

“Shut it, Flash,” Peter snapped. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with Flash’s teasing right now, not when his head was reeling.

“Alright, class, settle down. Settle down.” Mister Harrington waited for the noise to die down. “Permission slips are on my desk, I need them signed by a guardian and brought back by Thursday at the latest. You hear that, Abe? Thursday latest.”

Abe, notorious for handing in his permission slips late, grinned a reply. “Got it, sir.”

Flash wasn’t going to be brushed off so easily. “Or what? You gonna set Iron Man on me?”

Mercifully, Peter’s need to reply was cut off by the school bell’s sharp ring. His classmates, Flash included, set about gathering their belongings. Peter hung back until the class had filed out of the door before going to collect his slip.

“Oh, and Peter,” Mister Harrington called as he was just about to leave, “no disappearing this time. It’s becoming something of a habit.”

Peter smiled and hurried out of the door after Ned. Students flooded the hall, their loud chatter enough for Ned and Peter to talk without being overheard.

“So,” Ned asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, honestly. But I’m going to the Tower now to work on the suit. I’ll just… have to figure something out.”

# #

Much to Peter’s annoyance, Tony had been called away for a meeting, leaving him and Harley to work on the suit.

Even though the web shooters were the main problem, they decided to focus on fixing the minor issues with the suit itself. Slow going, but ultimately an easy enough job for the pair.

After a few hours work, Tony returned from his meeting, looking a little worse for wear. He took a quick look at the suit and congratulated them both. “Good job. How are the web shooters coming?”

Peter answered first, not taking his eyes from his work. “Oh, we’re gonna work on them once we’re done here. Left them in the engineering lab downstairs anyway.”

“And you’ve not been down to get them?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Harley supplied, just as intently focused on the suit as Peter.

Tony watched them for a long moment before loudly clapping his hands, making both of them look up. “What I’m hearing is you’ve both been holed up in here for hours, and that’s a little too me for my liking.” He waved away the boys’ attempts to argue with his hand. “Nope, don’t wanna hear it. FRIDAY, order us a pizza, the usual. I want to see you two upstairs in five. Got it?”

“Can’t we just finish this?” Harley moaned. “I mean, you could bring the pizza down-”

“You know I’m technically your boss, right? I mean, this is intern hours you’re logging even up here. That means you have to do what I say.”

“Fine, we’ll be up in five.”

And five minutes later they were. The pizza arrived not long after. Happy brought it up from the lobby, not trusting anyone else to do so, and they settled down to watch a film.

“Hey, Mister Stark, you don’t happen to know anything about our field trip do you?”

Tony looked blank. “They still haven't picked somewhere?”

“No they did, it’s-” He stopped talking as Harley giggled, trying his best to cover it up with a cough. Slowly, it dawned on Peter. “Did you do this? Why? How?”

“Well,” Harley grinned mischievously, “wasn’t hard to find your school’s email address and no teacher in their right mind would decline a personal invite from Tony Stark.”

Tony straightened up. “Hang on, you pretended to be me?”

Harley just shrugged. Tony held his glare… and eventually settled back down. “Fair enough, but don’t do it again.”

“Wait, Mister Stark! You’re not even mad? He impersonated you. I’m pretty sure that’s against the law or something!”

“It’s harmless,” Tony replied. “Plus your classmates get to go on the best field trip of their lives.”

Peter crossed his arms and huffed. “I guess.”

“Chin up, Pete,” Harley had that grin again. “It might be better than you think.”

# #

“And it is absolutely not going to be better than I think,” Peter said as they climbed off the school bus. He craned his neck, looking up at the familiar sight of the Tower with apprehension while everyone else gawped in awe. “I can’t believe him. I can’t believe Mister Stark let him get away with it!”

“Uh huh.” Ned looked around as they walked inside, hardly paying attention to Peter’s moaning. He didn’t blame him, though, Peter himself had been much the same the first time Tony brought him to the Tower.

The receptionist - Ryan, as Peter knew - jogged out from behind his desk and towards the group. Mister Harrington greeted him with a warm handshake before following him back to the desk.

Peter could easily hear them talking, even over the sounds of his friends' gleeful conversations.

“Here are your security badges, hand them out and make sure they’re worn at all times.” Ryan handed over a bunch of lanyards. “Your guide will be down any minute now.”

“Thank you.” Mister Harrington rejoined them and set about handing out the badges. Peter took the moment where everyone was distracted to take his own badge from his pocket and slip it over his neck, making sure the corner with his clearance level was tucked safely beneath his jacket.

From across the group, MJ eyed him suspiciously. She walked over to him and Ned. “So, you intern here, right?”

Peter nodded quickly, “Uh, yeah. Yeah I intern here.”

“So you, like, know your way around already?”

He didn’t have time to reply before someone called over to the huddled students. Someone with a very familiar voice… Peter squeezed his eyes shut, nose crinkled, as he turned towards the voice.

Harley strolled towards them with that same grin from the other night, eyes locked on Peter. Subtly, Peter waved his hand in an attempt to shoo Harley away, but Harley didn’t deter. “Hey, everyone.” Finally, he took his eyes from Peter and addressed the group as a whole. “Now, there was a small problem with our usual tour guide, so I’ll be taking her place!”

Peter forced his face to remain composed, not wanting to give Harley the satisfaction he so clearly wanted.

“I’m an intern here, but I’ve taken the tour enough times to know the thing by heart. I trust you’ve all got your badges?” A few ‘yes’s and nods came from the students. Harley eyed Peter’s badge, tucked under his jacket, and his smile grew. “I need to see them, so everyone hold them up in the air for me.”

Everyone did as they were told. Begrudgingly, Peter did so too.

Harley clapped his hands. “Perfect! Looks like we’re all set.”

Peter hurried to return his badge but, when he noticed MJ staring at him, turned the action into simply straightening out his jacket. His badge just happened to get caught underneath.

“If you intern here,” Flash stepped forward, a triumphant look on his face. “Then surely you know Parker, right? Since he’s totally an intern too.”

A dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at Peter. He was sure Harley was purposefully taking his time to answer.

“Of course I know Peter,” Harley said eventually. “He’s probably the second best intern here.”

“Who- Who’s the best?” Flash asked, that look wiped from his face.

“He’s gonna say he is,” Peter muttered to Ned.

Harley pointed to his own chest, “Me! Anyway, we’ve got a tour to get on with. Everyone follow me.”

Peter pushed his way to the front of the group, sidling up to Harley and talking under his breath. “What are you doing here? Does Mister Stark know?”

“Of course he knows, it was his idea.”

“His-!” Peter let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, what was the ‘small problem’ with the usual tour guide.”

“Tony gave her the day off.”

Peter scowled, only just keeping his annoyance in check. “Tony Tony, or you pretending to be him again?”

“Does it really matter?” Harley shrugged. Seeing the look on Peter’s face, he answered anyway. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

“Great! So you both have it out for me. Y’know this is my actual school, right? These are people that I have to see everyday for the next two years.”

Harley leaned closer, his mouth almost at Peter’s ear. “That’s what makes it so fun.” He led them into the ground floor museum, a history of Stark Industries, and launched into a speech about the exhibits.

When they reached an exhibit all about the first Stark Expo, the whole class gathered around to see a miniature model of Howard Stark’s flying car that actually flew.

“Did anyone visit the expo when Tony restarted it a few years back?”

A few students nodded and raised their hands. Peter, however, made a point of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Harley.

Cindy kept her hand in the air long after everyone else dropped their’s. “Excuse me, but, you keep calling him ‘Tony’. Have you actually met him?”

“That’s a great question.” Harley’s eyes flicked to Peter once more, looking for a reaction he refused to give. “We actually met back in December 2012.”

“Wasn’t… Wasn’t that when everyone thought he was dead? When his house got destroyed by The Mandarin?”

Harley nodded. “Exactly then, only he obviously wasn’t dead.” He cleared his throat, standing a little taller. “I can’t tell you much of what happened, but I can say my work on the Iron Man suit was crucial to The Mandarin’s take down. I’m something of a hero myself.”

Peter, again, forced his face to remain perfectly neutral, though he couldn’t stop his hands from balling into fists as his classmates gasped and yelled questions.

“He had Mister Stark and Jarvis talking him through the whole thing,” he whispered to Ned, who was clearly torn between wanting to know more and standing by Peter. “Anyone could have done that. I made the first Spider-Man suit by myself.”

“Yeah, but still,” Ned replied, “It’s pretty cool. He’s seen inside an Iron Man suit.”

“I’ve seen inside an Iron Man suit!”

“Right, right. Of course you have, my bad.”

“Have you met Spider-Man?” Flash asked loudly, attempting to get Peter’s attention. He couldn’t help but look up.

Harley nodded. “Real douche-bag. No fun to talk to.”

Peter opened his mouth to make a come back, but quickly snapped it shut. Again, MJ stared his direction, eyes narrowed.

The rest of the morning went much the same. Harley took them through the museum, then to the Avengers Exhibition on the next floor, all the while making comments he knew would get a rise out of Peter. But Peter didn’t let them get the better of him. Not more than twice, at least.

They ended up having lunch in one of the many cafeterias. Peter heaped as many pastries and snacks as he could onto his tray and joined Ned at a table. MJ sat a few seats away from them.

Ned demanded to know the full story of Harley and Tony’s first meeting, which Peter happily explained as they picked at the mountain of food between them both. He made it very clear how anyone could have done what Harley did, though even he had to admit it was a cool story.

At some point in the story, MJ joined in listening. Once it was over, she asked, “Why do you have it out for each other?”

“What do you mean?” Peter squeaked. He cleared his throat, heat rising in his face. “What- We don’t have it out for each other.”

“You do,” MJ scoffed. “I’ve been watching the two of you all morning. Either he hates your guts, or you’re actually really good friends and he loves playing pranks. So which is it?”

“Oh, um…”

“Peter!” Cindy called from the cafeteria line. “Your badge is on the floor over here.”

Peter’s hand shot to his lanyard, finding the end of it empty. He jumped to his feet as Cindy bent down, “Don’t worry! I’ve got-” Too late, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. “ - it…”

Her eyes went wide, a hand clasped across her mouth. By now, half the class was watching. “Why… Peter, why’s your clearance level so high.”

“It’s not that high.” Peter snatched the badge from her and turned to the rest of the room. “It’s not that high,” he assured.

A few seconds of silence followed. Flash spoke up first. “What did it say?”

Peter swallowed hard, eyes squeezed shut as the words left Cindy’s mouth.

“Level Ten.”

“Ten.” The room filled with gasps and mutters.

Once again, it was Flash who spoke first. “You… That can’t be right! How does Parker have Level Ten clearance?” He checked his own badge - Level One, Visitor.

“I, uh…”

“Because,” Harley had the impeccable timing to enter the room just at that moment. “He’s Tony’s personal intern. We both are.” He held up his own badge, Level Ten clearly written in one corner.

Flash wasn’t having it. “There’s no chance Parker has even been in the same room as Tony Stark-”

“Wanna bet?”

Peter had to admit, Harley standing up to Flash for him was kind of nice.

Mister Harrington stood up, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s just focus on the tour. Everyone finish up your lunch and we’ll head off again in five minutes?” He looked to Harley for confirmation, who nodded before joining Peter, Ned, and MJ at their table.

“So, you’re friends then,” MJ concluded.

“No, actually I hate him,” Peter said with a sickly sweet smile in Harley’s direction. He could feel everyone’s eyes on them.

“Relax,” Harley laughed. “I just came to say that the next part of the tour is of the labs, which you’ve obviously seen a thousand times. If you wanna duck out and go do something more interesting I won’t blame you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Turns out it’s no fun to tease you when you don’t even respond anyway. We’ll be in the engineering lab in two hours, meet you there?”

Peter sighed. “But Mister Harrington specifically told me not to disappear. I’m on thin ice if I ever want to go on a trip somewhere again.”

Harley waved away his worry. “I’ll have a word with him, wait here.”

They watched Harley make his way over to Mister Harrington and ask. Eventually, Mister Harrington nodded and Harley gave Peter a thumbs up.

When the rest of the class went to continue the tour, Peter said bye to Ned and MJ and hurried off to Tony’s lab. After half an hour of filling out boring homework sheets, he decided now was as good a time as any to work on the web shooters. He needed to meet Harley in the engineering lab anyway, so down he went.

The web shooters were still where he’d left them on his work table. He took out his tools and set to work. It was common knowledge around the Tower that Harley and Peter worked closely with Tony, so no one questioned why he was working on superhero tech.

The soft ding of the lift doors brought Peter out of his work, a soft hush fell across the lab as Tony strolled in. He spoke to a few of the scientists, looking at the projects, before making his way over to Peter’s table. “Hey, kiddo. FRIDAY told me you were in here. What happened to the field trip?”

“Oh, they’re at the labs so Harley let me leave. Y’know, since I’ve seen it all before.” He sat straighter and crossed his arms. “I’m angry at you, by the way.”

“Me? Why?” Tony pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “What on earth could I have possibly done to make you angry?”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe you let Harley take over the tour. He told everyone I’m your intern!”

“Isn’t that a good thing? I’m what the kids call a ‘pretty cool guy’ aren’t I?”

“Not if you keep talking like that you’re not.”

Tony pointed at the web shooters in Peter’s hand. “How’s it going?”

“Err, not great honestly. I’m starting to think the sleeker design just isn’t feasible.”

“None of that quitter talk in my lab, kid. Let me take a look.”

Tony pulled up a seat and Peter took him through the design and the problems with it. One acquainted, Tony set to work scribbling on a piece of paper - a mixture of calculations and sketches - until they came up with a plan, which they set about on immediately.

This time, the ding of the lift didn’t draw Peter’s attention. Neither did the quiet falling over the lab. It was Flash’s voice that finally dragged him to reality. “You have got to be joking. Parker actually knows Tony Stark?”

“Told you so,” Harley grinned.

Tony stood, wiping off his hands, and walked towards the group. Peter stayed at his table, cheeks burning red. “Well, who wants to see what these folks are working on?” The group of students practically vibrated with excitement. Tony waved a hand. “Go, disperse, learn. But try not to annoy them too much, huh?”

They didn’t need to be told twice. The group split across the lab, joined scientists at their tables and listened as they happily explained what they were working on. Ned made straight for Peter, gasping when he saw the shooter on his desk. “Is that real?”

“Yeah-” Peter glanced around the lab, making sure no one was watching. “- watch this!” He shot a web at the table.

Ned’s mouth fell open. “Can I have a go?”

“Sure. Just be careful, it’s still sensitive.”

Ned took the shooter and clipped it to his wrist. “I feel so cool right now.” He shot a web, landing on top of Peter’s with a satisfying thwip. “So. Cool!”

Peter laughed, “Keep it down before someone-”

“Is that Spider-Man’s web shooter?” Cindy shouted, loud enough for half the lab to see. Tony glanced up from the huddle of students gathered around him to check Peter had everything handled.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” Students swarmed around him, wanting a closer look at their local hero’s gear. He gave a few demonstrations to a chorus of ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s and took them through the basic mechanics. Even Mister Harrington looked awed.

Harley squeezed his way to the front of the group. “May I?” Peter placed the web shooter in his waiting hand, more than a little wary. He aimed it across the lab. Peter realised too late his target and the signature thwip echoed across the room once again. The web sailed through the air, and hit Tony smack dab in the face.

For a moment, the whole lab was silent. Then it slowly broke out into laughs, growing in volume until everyone was clutching their sides. Everyone except Tony who struggled to claw the web fluid covering his mouth and eyes. Before he got free, Harley shoved the web shooter back into Peter’s hand.

“Pete,” Tony said, his voice eerily calm. “Why?”

“I- I didn’t! It was-”

“Yeah, Peter.” Harley put his hands on his hips. “That’s a really mean thing to do.”

“Hey!” Peter punched his shoulder. Tony strode across the lab towards them. “Mister Stark, I swear I didn’t-”

Tony walked right up to Mister Harrington and stuck out a hand, waiting for the other man to shake it. “You’re in charge here?”

Mister Harrington swallowed hard and nodded. “Y- Yes, I’m in charge-”

“Good, then I trust you won’t mind if I conduct the rest of this tour myself?” Tony didn’t wait for Mister Harrington to reply before gathering the students around. “Now, most of the upper floors were cleared out during the move upstate, but I’m sure there’s still plenty to see up in the old Avengers Quarters.”

Peter’s mouth hung open. “Mister Stark, are you sure that’s a good-”

Tony spoke as if he couldn't hear Peter, “I even think Spider-Man left one of his many cuddly toys up there.” He led the group towards the lift.

Harley joined Peter trudging after the class. “This is the best day of my life.”

#webpril 2021 day 1 #webpril #webpril 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #harley keener #peter parker and tony stark #irondad #my writing

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