#it was the same at uni!! was always me on my own without any lad in any capacity

[timoswerner]

i’m really going through it rn lol

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[jiminrings]

Can I request a drabble, hobi is kinda like a band singer and Y/N is like his old time friend and they like had a falling out bc he got super successful but years after they're like together again? IS IT TOO SPECIFIC UHM :")

parallel

pairing: hoseok x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: hobi’s kind of an asshole and is vERY much emotionally repressed, y/n’s serotonin is dependent on wearing bridesmaid gowns, the dwindling one-sided pining anD the everlasting question of where the fuck was hoseok when you needed him :D // gif is from pinterest!

notes: this drabble really hits close to home and tysm for the request babe!! even if i’m a month late yeesh :O

you can’t believe yourself either when you say it

but holy shit — weddings are definitely your thing!

there’s something about the union of marriage that gets your head into overdrive but in a gOOD way

there’s just something so pulling about last-minute changes and family drama and awkward trips to the restroom that make your mind mHMMMM THIS IS IT CHIEF

yea granted that not every wedding you go and participate in isn’t exactly straight out of a rom-com

lmao sometimes it’s so obvious that the bride doesn’T love the groom but hey!!! who’s keeping tabs :D

you love wedding environments so much that here you are, two years out of uni and a couple of gigs later — couples are LITERALLY fighting over you

heh not to brag but uh

you weren’t recognized as best wedding planner for two years in a row and have your face in multiple covers of bridal magazines and such

time magazine recognized you as one of the most influential people in the scene last year but hey !!!!! no big deal lads

“i am asking you for just one minute, y/n!! stop being a wedding planner and start being my maid of honor!!”

nayeon exasperates and tugs you by your sleeve, having already noticed your second nature of taking charge the moment you entered the hall

after all, this is just cake tasting! that’s why she’s brought her maid of honor to help her out, nOT immediately go fishing for a clipboard

“well if the planner you hired wasn’t so sloppy-...” it’s a fact! he relies too much on his tablet and doesn’t even have any paper with him, and even if he’s already using a tablet, he doesn’t even use different colors to mark out!

apparently nayeon can’t handle the truth because she’s stamping her hand to your mouth that’s already a frown, about to suffocate you if only you didn’t bite it

>:|

y/n - 1 | jisoo’s hand - 0

you’re just a lil bit cranky alright

the last wedding you’ve catered to was just three days ago, and well you’re thankful for your job!!! really!!! bc not everyone is as booked as you nor sought-for

but there’s something about her wedding that puts you off :((

she’s very kindly yet firmly told you that no, you would absolutely not be her wedding planner and coordinator

“b-but i-“

“i want you to relax! and it’s-...”

“we said-“

“we said when we were kids that we’d plan each other’s wedding, but we didn’t swear on it! and i want you to-...”

“y-you told-“

“i told you that we didn’t have a wedding planner yet so you’d intentionally clear your schedule for me! and here we are-...”

“i’ll cry-“

“aww you big baby, save it for the wedding! i told you, just relax, m’kay? let yoongi handle the planning, and you do the unwinding.”

goddamn yoongi

yoongi who’s a wedding planner in his sPARE time could fuck right off

you don’t care if he’s very persuasive and firm and happened to book nayeon’s wedding even it was peak season :((

you don’t wanna admit it, but being a wedding planner has basically been your personality trait for the past years and it’s hard to cope when your job is to not.... plan and worry

anyways besides that

you’re a little iffy because nayeon’s wedding is your wake-up call

you’ve been planning weddings.... but uh when the FUCK is yours

u are so tempted to put a sock over your head and just yell gIVE ME A RING!!! PUT IT IN THE BAG

unfortunately, you don’t even have someone in your life to readily propose to you

you would have had someone, actually —

if only hoseok didn’t wake up one day and decide to remove you from his life

if only your childhood friend didn’t suddenly decide that you’re not worthy of his attention and time!!!

god he thinks he’s a bigshot

and well yea ok he IS a bigshot

who doesn’t know jung hoseok at this point :((

you’ve always figured that he’d be successful at whatever path he chooses and for a moment, you feel sorry for him that he’s stuck in such a state of mundaneness

he’s stuck between home and school and since he has no choice — you

your each other’s day one!!! the moment your mom went home from the hospital, her first instinct was to knock on hoseok’s mom’s door and then iMMEDIATELY present you to her

the two of them are absolute best friends and why not make our babies the same way ya know????

the two of you were apparently so close as babies that when one was crying, the other would comfort

and you weren’t even a year old then????

you’ve shared cribs and milk bottles and clothes and everything in between with hobi

so why is it that when you’re just almost at the peak of your life with graduation, he just suddenly decides to drop you?

he’s suddenly too cool for you as if he hasn’t spent countless nights crying on your shoulder for any inconveniece that gets brought up

he can’t even meet your eyes :(((

that’s why graduation is the blandest and emptiest day you could recall

hoseok is over there with his bandmates looking the absolute hAPPIEST and you’re there by the corner.,.,. alone by yourself feeling like your cap has the words dropped by jung hoseok :D all over it

he’s at his peak and at the top of his life performing and touring, whenever and wherever

he’s happy

but without you in it :(

the irrational (and probably rational) part in your head is beyond infuriated at him because atleast offer an explanation!!! if you did wrong at one point, then he should tell you!!!

not suddenly pretend that you were nEVER in his life

even his mom feels guilty and ashamed over his son’s actions so she orders flowers from the shop signed underneath your company, then send it back to you

for awhile she tried to pretend that it was hoseok but no :((( that man will physically convulse if he doesn’t add (atleast) three hearts after his name

you hate him so much that you still religiously visit his instagram and wonder if he could see your likes despite a couple other million liking the same posts

you hate him so much that he’s number one on every single thing in your spotify wrapped 

you hate him sO much that you wonder who’s behind the songs his band plays and how you’d wish that you’d be the one he’s writing about

“is the cake that... perfect?”

nayeon gently places a hand on your shoulder to which you flinch and she backs off because christ i’m nOT taking the cake away from you!!!

oh my god why are you tearing up

“yeah, yeah! it’s so good. you should try it nayeon!” you’re scrambling to scrape up your plate, almost shoving the fork into her mouth as she squeals with the sudden attack

yoongi has ???? hovering around his head but this is nOT about you my man

he sneaks a look to the bride’s plate and uh-huh... yup..... she has the same moist chocolate fudge cake with coffee ganache on her alright

the topic of hoseok that you bring up to yourself, one that no one knows (not even nayeon!!!), is just something that never seems to vacate your mind fully

it’s been two years and you’re still so touchy and you dON’T KNOW WHY

he probably doesn’t even think about you when he’s drunk and bored

“this champagne must be so... nice?”

nayeon thinks out loud as you’re once again crying into doing your maid of honor duties

she’s a lil worried if she’s being honest but you always whisk her away when she’s about to ask

like right now :D

“are you-...”

“i just can’t believe you’re getting married!! wow, you’re so cool. with the love of your life. then the two of you could be cool together after the wedding. you aren’t gonna forget me once you’re married, are you? nayeon do you think that i would ever be married-...”

you should just accept it now :((

you’re a little bit of a mess and a half underneath your pantsuits and walkie-talkies and the special pride you’d carry whenever the couple mentions you in their wedding speeches

absolutely WHY in the hell do you think about hoseok when it comes to weddings???

it’s almost a pavlovian response when you instruct the people to open the doors and the bride to start walking and your mind would iNSTANTLY think about him

it’s sometimes awkward when the couple would ask ah !!!! ms. y/n u are such a world-renowned wedding planner !!!! your own wedding must’ve been magnificent :D

aha actually about dat.,.,

you get tons of gifts of gratitude from just a single client alone and you don’t have hoseok and his stupidly powerful arms to help carry boxes back to your car

you don’t have him to give untouched and left-over flowers to

you don’t have him to remind you when you’re getting a little ahead of yourself over just talking to sponsors and trying to squeeze in as much as you could for an initial budge

you don’t have hoseok, in all his glory, to put his hand on the small of your back when you’re talking to how you need the fireworks to start the moment the band starts playing ice ice baby and the vendor does nOT need to know why it’s the song chosen by the couple

it’s what he’d do when you’re trying to fit two semesters’ worth of notes into a pricey A3 notebook that you’ve bought 

and just how many weddings do you plan and coordinate, even within just a span of two week?

:)

a lot.

often.

you think about hoseok a lot. often. oftenly a lot.

but aha nOT TODAY!!!

today’s nayeon’s wedding and you’re not gonna ruin it for her by projecting your yearning into your best friend’s wedding that clearly isn’t yours

10/10 she’d probably stop reciting her vows to ask you why you’re sniffling

your only source of distraction is your gown!!!

your maid of honor is the absolute pRETTIEST and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel gorgeous in it

it’s floor-length silk!!! fLOOR-LENGTH !! SILK !! GOWN

it’s in a deep mauve with an off-shoulder situation and a little risqué bit of cleavage!!! cinches right at the top of your waist and poofs a little and oh my god mayhaps you aRE pretty

god hoseok may have not written you a song, but sean kingston dEFINITELY did

nayeon knew you’d be catching everyone’s attention as much as her wedding dress would and she’s absolutely happy and fine with it!! 

in fact she’s strategically practiced her throws for her bouquet so you’d catch it and your gown would nOt go to waste

having a wedding happen right where you are, but being in it as a guest instead of a planner, is just so much... calmer

you’re not fixing the chaos but you’re just watching it!!! if you feel a little more bubbly then you’re gonna partake in it hee-hee

yoongi’s actually not so bad

he could just be a little too lax which ends up with him being lost and distraught 

you could see so much of you in him when you were just starting out and it’s endearing actually

(( nayeon’s told you in passing that she once told yoongi that you were her best friend and he looked both intimidated and awed at the same time ))

the only thing you help yoongi with is sending him a thumbs-up every now and then and he perks uP because that’s the signal that he’s doing a good job and not fucking up

nayeon looks so beautiful and you’re already tearing up fixing her veil :((

you know how wedding photographers and videographers LOVE people crying???? they r probably eating your shit up so quick that you won’t be surprised if you take up atleast half of the same-day edit of their wedding film

there’s something so serene about the hecticness everyone’s indulged themselves in

you’re grinning when you walk down the aisle because you realize that omg you haven’t doNE this in a long time!!! 

the last time you did was testing out the aisle for a client that wanted it ala crazy rich asians and you had to walk back and forth cOLD-ASS water with damp rolled-up pant cuffs before they got the temperature and the levels right

nah you should definitely know how it’d be because after all :D you aRE the consultant for that scene in crazy rich asians :D no biggie :D

it’s such a serene blast to see everyone happy and in their element

you’re sitting the reception out bc yoongi very kindly pleaded to please give him notes and promising that he’d never tell it to anyone else

the whole planning process for nayeon and not oNCE did he bring a notebook..,., but he just hAPPENS to have one when you’re telling him how to say no to your client

“listen, you have to tell them in the sincerest way possible, that you tried everything. it gets them going when you tell them that you even pleaded with the vendors, but don’t go too low on your knees, alright? and then after that, you say a strict no. no, because their choice of flowers is absolutely sHIT for their tie-dye theme they’re so adamant about!”

yoongi has never listened so intently

not even when his roommate lists out their grocery checklist

“mhmm. and if they still push, should i give them an ultimatum? or tell them about a wedding that totally happened that did exactly what they were planning, and how much the guests hated it?”

okay nOW he’s talking

“what you do is...”

the buzz of the reception never really dies down because it’s barely even starting!! the couple’s still finishing up on their pictorial which gives everyone time to get to the venue and freshen up or get last-minute gifts lmao

you know that it’s starting when the band or the dj starts doing polished mic checks

mic check! one, two, three! sKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRA

no, no 

there’s something definitely wrong

the rolling and the lull of routine words just seem so familiar

mic check! J-A-Y! H-O-P-E! J-HOPE! jung-...

oh

my

fucking

gOD

that’s hoseok.

that is most dEFINITELY hoseok

you turn your back to see the stage set-up and god...... fuck

it’s someone you haven’t seen in the flesh for two years yet spent the years of your life with before that 

he looks sickening in his black mandarin-collared suit with thick white lining on it wITH his hair styled up and parted to the site

it’s even more sickening for you because you don’t actually know if you can mANAGE to be here

you’re standing up abruptly and yoongi squawks at that because he is the furthesT thing from being finished about asking how to make the guests arrive on time without holding a field trip assembly-like type of line with the megaphone

the fastest way out was dashing through the front part and you must have forgotten that hoseok has a knack for catching things with his perfectly good eyesight

“y/n?” 

ok what now

he mumbles your name to the mic, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes trail the speed-walking speck of mauve from in front of him 

his little question to himself must have gotten people more than curious

they’re already mORE than curious because it’s his goddamn band that’s playing!!!! and the fees are not cheap and it’s practically impossible to book them!!!

but jungkook, their drummer, was a close friend of the groom’s and alright.,.,. okay maybe we CAN play at weddings now

ok hoseok’s mind is probably just playing tricks on him and he should finish setting up before the lights dim again for what they insist is the 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

but then he can’t help but look oNE last time

then he sees the watch he’s gifted you on his wrist — one that he was supposed to give you at graduation but later made his mom give it to you instead and not say that it was from him

...

....

whew he might need his inhaler for this one and he doesn’t even hAVE asthma

oh my god what the hELL is hoseok doing here????

you haven’t seen him for two years, and the moment you do, it’s in your best friend’s wedding with no date present??

you’re clearly panicking and the only form of caffeine you’ve gotten is the pre-game of getting a few bites from the coffee ganache in nayeon’s wedding cake that she was munching on while getting her makeup done

you know what!! it’s fine

it’s totally fine :D

hoseok is just hoseok and you’re not gonna be intimated by the man you’ve been loving in the sidelines from practically your whole life :D

it’s not a big deal!

besides, people are looking for you bc you’re supposed to give the opening toast to welcome nayeon and her groom in

you’re walking, you’re talking, aaaaaaaand-

yeah this is not nOT a big deal

you’re crumbling from the inside out because seeing hoseok is just too painful after two years of wondering where you could’ve went wrong and what could’ve happened if the two of you didn’t fall out

you feel especially bitter when hoseok starts singing their famous song about love and everything in between

everyone’s sWOONING and on their feet and you’re literally just there vibrating with how furious you are

you keep downing the good champagne as iF it’s gonna get you drunk

yoongi has a clue that the server must be a little dizzy having to go and back forth to your table so he just offers his portion to you

you’re so goddamn busy and absorbed with loathing him that you don’t even turn your back to notice that his eyes keep flickering to you

even at the cheesiest lyric, hobi expects that you’d atleast LOOK at him for that one but nOOOO your champagne flute and the blondie beside you is just much more interesting

you’re buzzing with anger that you aren’t enjoying this reception At All

you fail to even recognize that nayeon’s intentionally had your favorite food to be served!!! and you have an extra portion delivered to your table!!!

you just want your suffering to eND wow absolutely how much longer could this go

you’re so busy with cussing the whole ordeal in your head that you didn’t even notice how the band isn’t playing anymore and instead everyone’s swooning over the cake

it’s lost in you that hoseok’s shooed yoongi from his chair, sitting right beside you and even scooting closer until his knees bump to your own

and that’s when it sinks in

hobi doesn’t even have time to tell you how beautiful you look because you’ve gone straight to seething him

“for the record, i want you to know that i hate you.”

...

:O

okay hoseok didn’t expect that

for all he knows, the two of you even vOWED to never say the h word even if it’s meant jokingly!!

it’s a lethal word and the two of you collectively agreed to never play with it in regards to saying to one another

but well here you are

you’re saying it as if you’ve never been more sure of anything in your whole life

you feel actually relieved to say it to him right to his face, a miniscule weight lifted from your shoulders while your arms are crossed just by looking at him

hoseok does you one better with a timid chuckle, looking down on his rings that he’s fiddling with nervously

“yeah. i hate me too.”

.... oh

you’re perplexed at his reply so much so that you’re speechless

you’ve been keeping to yourself what you should say to him the moment you see him for two years and now that he agrees to what you’ve just said.,.,.,

oh fuck that

“i hate you so much, hoseok! i don’t even know what i did wrong and i asked even your own mother what’s wrong with me! did you know that you are, without a doubt, so fucking selfish???”

you exclaim as quietly as you could but that doesn’t stop people from glancing because the two most-known people in the room, besides the bride and groom, are having what seems to be an... intimate conversation with how close the two of you are??

“did you even try once to consider how painful it was for me to wonder why i just am the way that i am? or is that even too big of an inconveniece for you to think about because you’re so busy?”

“did you suddenly get too big for me, huh?” you ask straightly without malice, not even thinking about the double meaning because clearly, you’re too PRESSED lightly jabbing your finger to his chest

right he deserves that

hoseok’s fucked up big-time, that much he knows

his eyes are actually stinging right now and he would ask you for your handkerchief that you used to always carry for him but uH he thinks he doesn’t deserve any of that

“why couldn’t you just tell me what was in your mind? you know that nothing would change whatever it was that-”

“i love you, okay?”

hoseok interrupts you with his mumble before he sets his eyes down once again on your watch

you’re speechless for long this time

“..... w-what?”

okay maybe he fucked up even more

“listen i-...”

“if you love me, a single text wouldn’t have hurt, hobi!!”

your chest doesn’t hurt anymore but it iS constricting with the amount of emotions and scenarios you’re trying to process

he’s kinda lost because oh my god you aren’t mAD anymore!!

and you don’t look fazed that he just declared his love for you

“i dropped you because i-i — i don’t want the people i love seeing me fuck up, y’know? i finished uni for the sake of it, and i didn’t even know if the band thing would work out!!”

“but baby it dID work out!!!!”

jesus christ hoseok may be a fucking iDIOT

you’re shaking him by the shoulders and he actually has to stand up so he wouldn’t fall by your ministrations

you feel so happy because your processing was just about to be finished, equal parts relieved and happy and maybe a tiny bit confused still

“it did work out because look at you now!! hobi, you could’ve just called me and i would’ve accepted the call before it even rings!!” you’re happily frustrated with him that you push him until the two of you are in the dance floor, his mouth curving up both in disbelief and giddiness

“i didn’t because i thought-...”

he’s interrupted by a swift and tight hug to his middle, his arms moving on their own to envelope you in his warmth

the top of your head still smells the same :D

his purpose is lost before he gathers his bearings once again, freezing in his stance before weakly attempting to push you off

“... you were married.”

the harsh sQUINT of your eyes you’re giving him prompt him to explain

why is he so nervous

“i-i go to your instagram? and well you uh, you posted this pic of you in the middle of the aisle???? you had your back turned and your silhouette’s seen then you were holding a bouquet!!! then after that, i-i never opened your account. jesus christ, is your husband here with you, y/n? what am i supposed to-...”

the realization’s starting to sink into hoseok because it’s something he’s shoved to the back of his head and now he’s seeing it straight-on

you’re throwing your head back laughing at him :D

great

now he’s both heartbroken AND a fool

there’s a gentle kiss on his cheek, one he didn’t expect and one he doesn’t hate

“i’m a wedding planner.”

god now this is just so fucking funny

the two of you fell out and remained distanced because of just a series of unprecedented miscommunications!!! 

the whole thing is so ridiculous that it actually feels light and relieving to talk about

“you’re.... a wedding planner,” he mumbles once again for confirmation, his loose arms around your waist now tightening

oh my god

hoseok starts chuckling to himself out of delight, turning to full-on cackles with you at how much the two of you have just been beside each other like parallel lines

“i need to make up the past two years to you.”

he declares seriously as a promise, pressing a tender wet kiss to your cheek that gets you giggling

“only if you write me a song,” you do him one better, kissing him on the corner of his mouth 

“don’t you know that most of them are about you? anyways, you should plan our wedding once it happens,” he’s forward with his words, having waited long enough that he nuzzles his nose to yours

:D

you’re gonna do him one even better

you’re gonna go right for the kill, the truth spilling out of you before you kiss him longingly, for the first time that it feels that it’s been something you’ve always yearned for

“don’t you know that you’re in my mind for every single one?”

[this-is-quite-homoerotic]

Another Janto AU idea I’ll probably never write

Okay, this one’s a bit weird. TRUST ME THOUGH, I WON’T LET YOU DOWN!

(Warning: there is no underage, I swear. In case it looks like that’s where I’m heading, I promise I’m not.)

I’ve been thinking about the Jack&Owen father/son dynamic and the Owen&Ianto brothers dynamic and.

No-aliens Modern day AU where a young Jack marries Owen’s mum after a short and tumultuous love affair when Owen’s a kid. The marriage doesn’t last, Jack starts growing out of love with her when he sees how she treats little Owen, who at this point would be 7 or so, and soon other flaws he’d been too enamoured to notice start becoming more and bigger issues until the couple breaks up.

Jack is in his early 20s, and if you’d ask him before he married he’d have told you he wasn’t anywhere near ready to be a father. That doesn’t stop him from imprinting on Owen within minutes of meeting him, however, and with the way Owen’s mother treats him, he actually ends up taking him in the divorce, after many rows and a few teary discussions, because he loves the kid, and he can see that she was not actually in the position to raise anyone, for a variety of reasons that I won’t elaborate on here. She does visit him, Jack is always happy to facilitate her visits with Owen, but not terribly often.

It takes a few years, but Jack eventually adopts him legally, with his mother’s blessings. He talks to Owen every step of the way, always listens to what he has to say, always respecting (within reason) what he wants. Through mutual agreement, they never change Owen’s last name.

Jack isn’t the best father ever, by any stretch. It’s a learning curve, and there’s a few big stumbles. But he loves that kid so much, and for the first time in his life Owen has an adult and parental figure who listens attentively to what he has to say, who always asks for his opinion before making any choices that affect him, who would kill and die for him, who loves him, unconditionally, and it makes a difference.

So Owen grows up with love and support, and once he hits puberty he’s only a tiny bit nervous to tell his father he’s bi since Jack has been dating people of all genders on and off since he divorced his mother. Owen was consistently suspicious of all of them, and privately thought none of them was good enough for his father, but he never said it. He did want Jack to be happy, after all. None of them last too long, and in the end it’s always just the two of them. Jack seems happy enough with it, so Owen doesn’t worry.

Anyway, his coming out goes great; Jack is so proud he cries a little and he insists on hugging him even longer than usual. (Jack is a hugger, Owen has resigned himself to it.) Owen huffs and doles out the eye-rolls and the ‘it’s-not-a-big-deal’s and ‘oh my god, dad, you’re so embarrassing’ but he’s secretly very pleased. Jack takes him to pride for the first time that very year, and it becomes a yearly tradition.

Owen befriends Ianto Jones by proxy at first: Ianto was in his group of friends and they ended up hanging out together a lot, first in a group and later more one-on-one. He’s alright, even if he is two whole years younger than him and a bit of a nerd. There is one (1) instance when Owen almost got mad at him, when Ianto asked if he’d been adopted (after another mate of his mentioned something about it). But after he’d replied defensively, he realised Ianto wasn’t trying to be mean about it. At all. 

“That must be great, though. You know for sure that your dad wanted you, was willing to fight to keep you.” That’s how Owen found out about Ianto’s not so great home situation.

So they became mates, and soon Owen starts inviting Ianto over.

Now, the problem with being raised by a young, stunningly attractive single parent, of course, is that all his friends are more likely to have a crush on his father than they are to like him that way. Not that Owen fancies Ianto or anything. But it’s weird, Jack is old.

Ianto, like most of Owen’s female friends and some of his guy friends, develops a crush on his father. Fucking hell. The little shit keeps sneaking furtive little glances Jack’s way, and whenever Jack actually addresses him, he smiles beatifically and pretends he’s not the acerbic juvenile delinquent he really is (as if Owen would hang out with him if he was that boring). He perks up whenever Jack is around; smiles all the time. It’s bizarre.

Jack doesn’t notice. Once the initial weirdness wears off, Owen thinks it’s hilarious that his father can’t see through Ianto’s polite, helpful little boy facade. So he doesn’t say anything. He just enjoys the show. It goes like this: Ianto comes over, they hang out for a while. Jack gets home from work, Ianto gets starry eyed and promptly becomes this alien perfectly-behaved A-student right in front of Owen’s very amused eyes. Ianto’s crush goes right over Jack’s head the entire time. Owen gets to laugh at Ianto being flustered and/or pretending to have perfect manners, and Ianto gets whatever dopamine rush he gets from staring at Jack. Win-win.

They keep in touch when Owen goes to uni and later when Ianto goes to a different one, but they don’t see each other very often and eventually grow distant. Yadda yadda, life happens and eventually they re-connect.

Ianto introduces Owen to a friend of his, Katie, obnoxiously telling her that while he isn’t as hot as his father, he’ll do. (Katie fully believes he’s joking until Owen brings her home to meet Jack. She still thinks Owen is hotter, but she can see what Ianto meant, certainly. “That’s love for you,” Ianto laments. “It blinds you.” Owen pretends to be offended.)

The thing is, Owen falls head-over-heels with Katie. He’s absolutely gone on her, and after discussing it a little to make sure she’s on the same page as him, he pops the question. Ianto is, of course, invited to the wedding.

So that’s how we get to 25-year-old Ianto seeing early-to-mid 40s Jack again for the first time in almost a decade. For the first time ever, Jack sees him right back.

Understandably, Jack feels a little guilty about noticing how nicely his son’s younger friend looks in a suit, but there’s no harm in looking, right? The ceremony is lovely, Jack cries (and so does Owen, though he glares when anyone mentions it), after which they swiftly move on to the party.

Deep into the night, late enough that the bride and groom have retired to start their honeymoon, Jack is having one more drink as he watches the mostly drunk guests dance and toast to the happy couple. He’s feeling old and maudlin and so happy for his son that his chest could burst, when Ianto makes his move.

Talking leads to snogging leads Ianto pushing Jack up against an out-of the-way wall and whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do to him in that sinful Welsh accent leads to them falling in bed together at Jack’s hotel room and staying there for the next several hours (not all of them spent awake).

Jack, having had no clue that Ianto had harbored an intense teenage crush on him and had been dreaming about this for literal years, figured it was just a one-night-thing brought about by loneliness or boredom.

The morning after, however, Ianto formally asks him out.

Jack protests (only a little, and with no real force behind it) that he’s almost twice Ianto’s age, surely he can’t mean to actually date him. Ianto assures him that he does.

They go out to have a very late brunch. It’s their first official date, and Jack has more fun than he’s had in years. Ianto, who’d only thought of Jack infrequently if still fondly during the years he hadn’t seen him, is positively giddy. Turns out seeing Jack again was all it took for the attraction to come roaring back. But now he can really get to know Jack as an adult, beyond the fantasies he made up as a hormonal teen. The real man holds up surprisingly well against the fantasy. 

Ianto confesses his teenage crush, confesses that he wondered what Jack might look like after all these years when he realised he’d be seeing him again at the wedding, but he never in a million years had expected Jack to somehow look even more delectable than he had back then. (Jack doesn’t blush, but he wants to. They end up right back in his hotel bed once they’re done with brunch.)

Truth is, Jack hadn’t expected it to last, not really. He’d hoped to have some fun with a gorgeous young man before said man got bored and moved on without him. He didn’t expect to fall in love. He certainly didn’t expect, wouldn’t have believed that sleepy morning when he’d woken up in the arms of a warm, sleep-soft Welshman who asked to take him out on a proper date, that a man young enough to be his son and handsome enough to have his choice of partner would be falling in love with him.

Owen choked on his own laughter when Jack told him Ianto had taken him out on that first date. “I cannot believe it. He did it. He actually did it. The absolute mad lad. It only took him a decade, but he did it. That crazy motherfucker. Fatherfucker. Oh my god, fatherfucker.” Then he started cackling again. Jack was too relieved he wasn’t upset about it to be offended. Despite Ianto’s reassurances that there had never been anything other than strictly platonic friendship between him and Owen, Jack still had the tiniest of worries that Owen might have harbored a crush on Ianto back in his teens. He’d invited Ianto more often than any of his other friends, and the atmosphere had always been different with him, though Jack had never managed to put his finger on how, back then.

Owen laughed even harder when Jack carefully broached the subject. “Are you kidding me? He was too busy ogling you to ever notice me, thank Christ. Would have been awkward if he did, I always saw him more as a little brother, really.” Well, didn’t that make Jack feel supremely awkward. His son saw his latest lover as a little brother. Weird, even by Jack’s standards. At least Ianto’s teenage crush confession was true. Still a bit weird, but flattering, now that that kid had grown into a gorgeous young man who still found Jack 'disarmingly attractive’ (his words).

“Of course you have my blessings,” Owen griped good-naturedly when Ianto called to ask. In retrospect, calling him during his honeymoon with the woman he loved who he’d only met because Ianto had introduced them had been a good tactical decision. He was feeling charitable towards him, and he was too high on love and sex to begrudge Ianto this.

“Thank you. You can call me ‘Tad’ if you want,” Ianto countered, because he was still a little shit with a sarcastic streak a mile wide and a penchant for annoying Owen even when he was technically begging for his blessing to date Owen’s father.

“Fuck off,” Owen told him, but there was no bite to it, he sounded amused if anything, and Ianto knew then that Owen had meant it.

“Of course. I won’t rush you. I can wait until it feels organic, son.”

Owen hung up on him. Less than a minute later, Ianto got a text message that said. ‘If you break his heart, I’ll kick your arse xoxo’. He sent back a string of heart emojis.

A year and a half later, Ianto called Owen to tell him he was planning to propose. Owen demanded to be his best man.

The year Owen turned thirty-one, Jack and Ianto adopted two siblings (a little boy and a baby girl). They named Owen their godfather (yes, both of them).

That day, as Owen was asked to sign the papers that would legally make him the children’s guardian in case anything happened to their fathers, he remembered the day he met Jack, when his mother had brought him over for the first time. He remembered, a bit blurry due to time, the talks Jack and his mother had had with him when they were in the process of splitting up, how Jack had fought to convince them both that he should be the one to raise Owen. He recalled, like a much-beloved photograph he took out to stare at when he needed it, the well-worn memory of walking into their new house for the first time, and realising that it was real, that Jack really did mean to adopt him, that he’d really be living with him from then on; that Jack really wanted him. He remembered all the times Jack had told him that family wasn’t blood, family was love, and trust, and commitment. And he remembered, with perfect, stunning clarity, a 15-year-old Ianto telling him he’d like to adopt when he was older, even if he ended up with someone who could get pregnant.

He also remembered a 15-year-old Ianto making heart eyes at his father in their living-room while Owen struggled not to laugh at him, and really, one had to respect a man who stuck to his convictions. Ianto certainly knew what he wanted and put in the work to get it.

At least he was pretty sure he could trust Ianto with Jack’s heart.

(Epilogue:

Because Ianto has a terrible sense of humour, he spends an entire summer calling Owen ‘son’ and ‘kid’ and ‘sport’. Owen makes a face the first couple of times, but he’s brought around pretty quickly between 1) the way Katie laughs whenever Ianto does this, and 2) the bewildered looks it gets them whenever someone hears it, because not only is Ianto younger than Owen, he also looks it. It makes for interesting situations.

So rather than be annoyed, Owen starts to enjoy it. He decides to lean into it, starts calling Ianto ‘tad’ and ‘dad’ and ‘father’, and one memorable time ‘the man who literally birthed me’. Katie chokes on her drink and laughs so hard her abdomen hurts for the next day. Jack actually falls off his chair laughing. Ianto looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, the little shit.

And they were a loving family who were disgustingly happy for the rest of their lives and never had tragedy befall them, not even once, the end.)

[ficklepicklefandoms]

in dublin’s fair city ~ t.h

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Requested: no

Word count: 2,537 (my longest one ever!)

Warnings: Binge drinking, swearing, Irish slang and pure Dublin shenanigans.

Hi guys! I’ve had this in my drafts since July which is highly criminal if you ask me! There’s a lot of things that I love about my fair city of Dublin (nickname comes from the song Molly Malone. Listen to this classic!) and I am so excited to be able to share lots of them with you through this one shot! Here comes the bad news... I have final exams in June and need to study hard to get the points I need for my university course. I’m hoping to get some things out to you guys before then but it may be Easter break before anything comes your way. Thank you for your constant support and love with my writing. Please make sure to request things in my ask box for the future! Love and hugs as always xx

My friends and I sat around a small table in The Temple Bar Pub nursing our third or fourth pint of the night. It was nearing 8 and I’d lost count of how many drinks I’d had. The Irish trad music lilting through the air and the harmonious laughter of my friends reminded me my pint was slowly emptying. It would fill up soon without a doubt on earth.

“Ah here now, would you fill your glass before you embarrass us!” My friend Faye called out to me with a large smile adorning her face.

“Well, my drink is nearly gone too so if you’re going you better fill mine too,” Jess called out to me. The rest of our large group agreed and knocked back their drinks.

“Only if you’re buying.” I hit back wittily, knocking back the remainder of the liquid and feeling the tiniest burn on my throat. I held out my hand and she placed a fifty euro note in my hand. I laughed knowing she was being scaldy and reached into my pocket to pull out another fifty euro note.

“Pints again there Y/N, you’ll need at least another two before you get a fella.” Emma laughed loudly and I rolled my blurry eyes. I scooted past Max and Sammy in our booth, collecting the empty glasses before Alannah followed me to help me carry the pints.

“John, we’re gonna need another round,” I called out to the barman. He sauntered over and took the money out of my hands. I placed the empty glasses on the bar and Alannah stood against it

“I assume yous all want the same again. Orchard Thieves or Heineken?” He asked with a chuckle, his accent thick and warm.

“What do you take us for, fecking eejits? Orchard Thieves, ya bollocks.” Alannah laughed and John moved to pull the pints. 

Our group was quite large. We all kept in contact after school ended and it was rare that we were all together like old times. 

John had pulled the first two pints and Alannah took them over to the table. I waited for the next two and did the same. Alannah collected her last two and I waited for my pint to be pulled. John handed me back far too much money for what we got but I accepted it, knowing it’d be a lost war.

I picked up my glass and began to head back to the table until my journey was disrupted by a body colliding into me.

“Ah swinging Jaysus watch where you’re heading!” I exclaimed as my pint went all over the floor. I silently cursed more in my mind as I was known in this pub for constantly spilling drinks. John never minded pouring me another on the house but I always felt guilty.

“I barely understood that but I sincerely apologise and I’ll buy you another pint.” A British accent spoke apologetically. I sipped what was left in the glass before meeting the eyes of the English man in front of me.

“Holy Mother of Mary I’m bloody locked if I think I’m seeing Tom Holland.” I choked as my drink got caught in my throat. Tom’s hand came in contact with my back gently as I coughed. 

“You’re seeing Tom Holland love, don’t worry about being locked or whatever you called it. What’s your name?” Tom said with a slight chuckle in his voice. His hand left my back and I felt the remaining warmth

Just then, Faye came running over. She was drunk and probably thought I’d left in her state.

“Y/N, sweetheart you need to be more careful with your pi- OH MY GOOD JESUS IS THAT THE SPIDERMAN FELLA?” She shouted. Tom looked alarmed and he seemed to be looking for someone. I hit Faye a smack on the arm and she rubbed it gingerly.

“Faye head back to the table I’m getting a pint with Tom. I’ll be back in a minute.” I ushered her quickly towards the group and she began gossiping as soon as she sat down. The boys at the table bounced excitedly in their seats, wanted to meet the movie star.

“So, that pint?” Tom laughed as we walked to the bar beside each other. “What’re you drinking Y/N?”

“Thieves,” I said waving my hand to John. “It went on the floor John, you’re gonna need a mop.”

“Ah, it’s grand love don’t be worrying. The same for your fella as well?” He smirked.

“Um yeah, can we get three pints?” He asked politely as he shifted from one foot to the other. I looked at him sightly funny as he ordered the three. “Harrison should be here somewhere, MATE!” He shouted as he spotted him. Harrison walked through the crowded pub and greeted his friend. I could feel the alcohol taking effect and I could hardly believe that Tom Holland was buying me a pint.

“Who’s the girl Tom?” Harrison asked as our pints came and Tom paid.

“Y/N, Tom spilt my pint and he owes me one,” I said with a wave as I began to gulp down the cider. “My mates are at that table over there, do yous want to join us?” I asked feeling a bit confident. My mind was buzzing Tom Holland had just bought me a pint and I wasn’t going to lie to myself and say I wasn’t attracted to him. And I also quietly thought of Max and Sammy, the Marvel geeks who’d kill to chat to the web-slinging hero. 

“Drinking with the prettiest girl in the pub? How could I say no?” Tom said as Harrison patted his back. I let out an embarrassed giggle and led them to the booth where my friends sat staring at us.

“Hey Y/N, the pretty girl with the short blonde hair, what’s her name?” Harrison asked as we made our way through the crowd carefully.

“Her name’s Alannah. She’s studying human nutrition in Queen’s up in Belfast. Slide in on her I doubt she’d mind,” I whispered quickly. I saw Alannah glance our way and Harrison waved softly.

“Tom and Harrison are drinking with us tonight, no objections. Tom and Harrison, the gang. Gang, Tom and Harrison. Play nice you wallys,” I said plopping down beside Tom after Harrison took a place beside Alannah, introducing himself quickly.

The group began chatting, Sammy and Max asking Tom about Spiderman and the sort. Alannah and Harrison seemed to be hitting it off quite well. Soon enough Tom and I started having a chat of our own. We talked about life, my law course at uni and his acting career. We had scooched closer together after the second pint, the cosy pub creating a homely atmosphere.

“So Y/N, where is one place I have to visit while I’m here? I know about the Guinness Storehouse and all that jazz but what’s your favourite place?” Tom asked me quietly as the group chatted around us. Without hesitation, I answered.

“The Iveagh Gardens without question. It’s so beautiful. We’re heading to a concert there tonight if you and Harrison want to tag along, Emma will get you tickets in minutes.” I said with a wave to Emma. She nodded her head and began texting on her phone. “She’s owed a favour by the lads at Aiken.” Tom smiled widely and placed his arm around my shoulders. I felt my body stiffen at his touch but I rapidly moulded into his body, enjoying the heat it provided. 

“I’m sure it’s beautiful but I doubt anything I see will ever be as beautiful as you.” He whispered into my ear. My cheeks were already quite red from the pints I’d been drinking but I swear at that moment I was officially a tomato.

“Y/N, polish off your drink there it’s nearly 10. Gates are opening in fifteen minutes. It's not too far a walk but you know what we’re like.” Max spoke to me across the table. He completed his pint as the table began to finish up their drinks and grab their coats.

My pint remained virtually untouched, Tom’s stunning eyes distracting me from it. Me being myself, I couldn’t let a good and full pint go to waste so, I did what any good Irish girl would. I decided to neck it.

“Hey Y/N watch it!” Tom laughs as he watches me intently.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s done it more than once.” Jess laughed. The girls started playing a drumroll on the table as I continued to knock back my pint. Tom’s eyes glinted with something I couldn’t quite place but he clapped loudly with the others as I slammed my glass onto the mahogany table.

“Right darlings, let us head to the gardens of Iveagh to hear the kings play,” I announced as I tugged on my leather jacket and grabbed my bag.

“The Kings? Are they some cool Irish band or something?” Tom asked as our group began to leave the pub.

“No silly, I just call them that. It’s a benefit concert for the homeless and there are tons of great Irish artists playing the gig. Walking On Cars, Keywest, Inhaler, Kodaline and the greatest band to come out of Dublin City, Aslan.” I waved goodbye to the barmen and John as the warm July air greeted me.

Tom looked visibly confused as we followed the group out onto the cobbled streets of Temple Bar.

“I’ve never heard of them before. Are they any good?” He asked curiously as we began our walk to the park at the back of the group. I could see Harrison and Alannah chatted animatedly and smiled to myself. I was hoping things would go well with the pair.

“Well you see, they were huge in the eighties. My ma was a huge fan of them and ended up becoming mates with them. She and her friends used to get all-access passes to the gigs in The Towers in Ballymun and they’d have a mental time.” I finished quickly with a sigh. My cheeks burned as Tom’s gaze held mine as we trudged up Grafton Street, the sound of buskers and their music made my heart warm.

“If they’re any good I might become of groupie myself.” Tom laughed as we passed by the gates of St Stephen’s Green.

“Luas! Quick leg it!” I shouted as the tram began to move along the tracks. MY group of friends yelled loudly as they rushed to get the other side of the tracks in one piece. Seeing that Tom had no idea what I was on about, I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the tracks with me, the two of us laughing loudly as we broke our hands apart to have a spontaneous race to the top of Harcourt Street.

We finished our race out of breath with Tom winning by the skin of his teeth. I want to emphasis that strongly. Skin. Of. His. Teeth.

“Not bad at all. But please tell me we’re almost there, I could use a drink.” Tom laughed as his body heaved, begging for air to enter his lungs.

“It’s a two-minute walk but we’ll need to wait for Emma. She has the tickets and I’ll have to name drop so we can get barrier.” I breathed, placing my hands on my knees as I gasped for air with a smile.

“You are one of a kind aren’t you Y/N.” Tom grinned as I looked up at him from my defeated position.

“Mr Holland, what  in the world do you mean by that?” I let out a schoolgirl’s giggle and silently kicked myself in the arse. I’d known this handsome man for no less than three hours and was slightly tipsy but that was beside the point. As I stared into his eyes, my heart began to burn with a feeling I hadn’t ever felt before.

“What I mean is, you don’t meet a girl like you ever Millenium. You’re unique and funny and seem to have the coolest life. I don’t want this night to end. Ever.” He replied. My cheeks flushed with an unknown feeling. My heart was fit to burst and I finally had the strength to straighten myself into an upright position.

“I’ll have you know that the night hasn’t even started yet. Our little group is on our tail so we’ll be in the gates where our night will begin in a matter of minutes.” I smiled. He stared back at me with a mixture of relief and happiness. “And this is completely off record, but when the night officially starts, I don’t think I’m going to want it to end either.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and took my hand in his as the group caught up to us. Alannah and Harrison were snuggled closely together thanks to Harrison’s arm perched around her shoulder. She sent a giddy smile my way and my heart exploded with pride. She had truly grown up now.

Our group seemed to be louder than the whole queue combined and it was no different when Emma flashed the tickets to gain us entry into the beautiful park. I had to become a storyteller to try and convince the lovely security man, Declan, to let us in to get barrier, but it turns out I didn’t have to.

“L/N? As in your mother is Y/M/N? Christy has you all sorted don’t worry. Take it as the babysitting money.” Declan smiled at me. I let out a laugh and thanked him graciously before he led us into the park for prime standing room.

“Whatever you need, just ask. Drinks are free. Christy’s orders. I’ll grab yous all some pints and I’ll be back in a few.” Declan smiled. We all shouted our thanks and stood to wait for the band to come on.

The 10 minutes came and went. Soon enough Aslan’s set began and I truly had an out of body experience. Tom kept his arm gripped around my waist as the set went on. I felt warmth and safety with his arm around me. 

“Oh my god, this is my favourite song!” I let out a loud yell as the chords of their song Crazy World were heard out of the speakers. Tom laughed as I wiggled out of his grasp to down my pint and start dancing. Everyone in the park could feel the cosmic energy that the band emitted as they played their most famous song.

Tom joined me in my dance, spinning me around and acting the eejit as I screamed the lyrics at the top of my lungs. When we locked eyes through our hazy, adrenaline-induced vision I felt like home could be anywhere as long as I saw his eyes.

“What would you do if I kissed you right here, right now?” Tom shouted over the noise as my breath caught in my throat. My mind went completely blank as I let my ‘fuck it’ mentality kick in. I did what any good Irish girl would do. I kissed him. Pure. Bliss.

In that very minute, Dublin became even fairer. And I had never felt more alive.

[lazynewruc]

Charity & Vanessa Fic

I had this idea in my head after hearing upcoming storylines and also imagining hypothetical ones! This is VERY angsty. Set in a timeline where Vanessa is sick and then set in the future. It’s just a one shot not gonna continue so its all here.

Couple:Vanity (Charity and Vanessa) Show: Emmerdale Words:2667

Remember angsty and romantic. I hope you enjoy!

Our Boy

As Vanessa was wheeled backwards down the hallway drenched in artificial white light, her eyes remained locked with Charity’s. The terror and fear in her wife’s expression was evident, the worry lines and lip trying so desperately not to quiver preventing her supportive mask slipping in a deluge of emotion. Even after everything they had been through, Vanessa never really doubted Charity’s love and devotion. Really, really, stupidly and completely.

The thud as the gurney pushed into the swinging hospital doors broke the couple from their trance, though much of it went unspoken they had been reassuring each other through unbreaking eye contact throughout the journey to the OR. This was where they had to separate. Potentially forever. Vanessa tried not to let any negative thoughts enter her mind, but it was impossible. Her hand slowly slipped from Charity’s grip, their fingers sliding over each other till the last possible moment.

“I’ll be right here waiting when you get out, okay babe?” Charity smiled trying to hide the tears balancing so carefully on her eyelids, threatening to fall at any moment. Vanessa didn’t have time to respond before the doors swung back; Charity’s figure faded away into the bustling hospital background, she was alone now

Before they had even administered any anaesthetic Vanessa began to feel heavy, darkness seemed to envelop the room apart from the blinding overhead light focused in on her. As the surgeon began speaking, she started to drift back to thoughts of Charity, of Johnny, of their whole crazy family. Vanessa had never imagined she wouldn’t see her son grow up, wouldn’t get to raise him and protect him till he was old enough not to need her – well not to think he needed her anyway. Now there was a chance he’d have to face the world without her, it was as if she was abandoning him.

All she could do was remember what he still had, her crazy and at times overbearing mother would no doubt be around more. Johnny’s adoring Aunty Tracy would be there to sneak him a drink at a family party or spoil him rotten on his birthday. Then there was Charity. She may not be his Mum, she may not even be blood, but she loved him as much as she loved Vanessa. Many people might think she was crazy to want Charity Dingle to care for her son if she passed, but was there anyone who would protect him and teach him how tough life can be better than she could? Vanessa didn’t think so.

Not long before the surgery date had been settled and they had been married, Charity and Vanessa had both agreed to legally adopt each other’s kids (of course Vanessa could only adopt Noah, but the sentiment was there with all of them). They had become a real family now.

“Ten, nine, eight, seve…” As she drifted away and closed her eyes on the world an enormous sense of relief washed over Vanessa, Johnny would be fine, Charity would make sure of that.

 ***

“MOSES! You made a right mess when you got in last night, did you do some kind of elaborate gymnastics routine to get upstairs?” Charity screeched, though not with any real malice at her son as he slumped over the counter head in hands. The alcohol fumes emanated towards her and her eyes grew wide then grimaced as she took it in.

“Pwoar, I’ve got spill mats at the pub that don’t stink as bad as you. Oi, I’m speaking to you!” She gave him a light clip on the back of his mop of blonde hair which was met with a grunt.

“Leave it out Mum, me heads poundin.” Moses’ mind drifted back to all the times he’d laughed when Noah received the trademark ‘back-of-the-head slap’ and felt a slight pang of guilt.

“Fine, just help me pack the last of your brother’s stuff into the car will yer?” Charity gestured to a pile of boxes neatly arranged by the door, and though nursing a hangover her son obliged.

 As Charity and Moses loaded the boot of the car with boxes, a duvet and a large suitcase a car pulled up behind them. Almost immediately two tiny children emerged from each back door and clung to Charity’s legs, both of them sporting bleach blonde curls and pale faces with rosy cheeks.

“Granny Charity, Granny Charity!” They exclaimed.

“Ugh, no matter how many grankids I have, that will never feel normal,” she uttered as she bent slightly to try and hug them both.

“How about Great Granny Charity?” A deep voice quipped as a tall, slightly tired looking man closed the car door behind him.

“Oi you, Sarah isn’t due for 2 months yet, so we’ll have less of that.” A smile rose on one side as she kissed her son’s cheek and gave him a slap on the arm in jest for the ‘Great Gran’ comment.

“Great, now Noah’s here can a go lie down?” Moses asked in a sigh already turning to return to the house.

“Fine. But take your niece and nephew with you!” Charity’s eyes grew wide and she mouthed the word Useless at Noah. “Oh, and tell your brother to hurry up I wanna try and beat the traffic!” Noah helped her finish loading the car and the two caught up outside.

***

When Charity and Noah opened the door to Jacob’s Fold they found a barely conscious Moses lying on the sofa, clutching a pillow over his head in desperation as a four and five year climbed all over him, screaming and giggling in unison.

A smiled grew wide on Noah’s face. “That’s funny, I’m getting déjà vu witnessing this. I guess its karma ay, Mo?” He poked his little brother teasingly but got no response.

“Where is he?” Charity queried a slightly worried tone in her voice. Moses shed no light on the situation, and she stormed over to the bottom of the stairs. “Oi Brainiac! A world of knowledge awaits you, and the roads are gonna be chocka so get a shift on, yeah!” Her message was met with a slightly distracted “Coming!” in response.

“Right, I’ll get these lot outside ready to send him off. Debs should be here soon and we’re gonna facetime Ryan.” Noah said with some authority, he’d always been great with his brothers and he’d become an excellent father. He scooped up the kids and tugged at Moses’ sleeve dragging him to the door sensing his Mum might want a moment without the rest of the clan watching. Charity gave him a knowing and thankful smile.

Just as the door clicked shut legs began hurtling down the stairs, he was slightly shorter than Moses and Noah, something they teased him for, he got his height from his Mum. “Sorry, sorry, just wanted to make sure I had everything.” Johnny pleaded, locking eyes with Charity and delivering a perfect heartwarming, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, another thing he got from his Mum Charity thought.

“It’s fine, I suppose you only start Uni once. Or at least I hope you do!” She joked and put her hand gently on his shoulder. “Right, you ready? The whole mad house is outside ready to see you off as if we were sending you to the trenches.”

Johnny nodded slowly looking slightly nervous as he gripped his backpack with one hand and slowly rested the other on top of Charity’s. “Thanks Mum.” He smiled slightly and looked down. The first time he had called Charity ‘Mum’ had come as a shock to both of them, it felt both right and wrong at the same time, the older he got the more it felt right. He never stopped thinking of Vanessa as his Mum, he considered the fact he’d never actually called her Mum, she was ‘Mummy’ when she was alive.

Swinging his bag onto his shoulder Johnny was about to head out. “Wait, Johnny boy.” A nickname she’d never tired of using to his chagrin. “I just wanna say how proud of you I am… And how proud your Mum would have been, and is somewhere. You were her whole world and you’ve never let her down. And look at you now, off to become a super vet! It’s a pretty big lab coat to fill but I know you’re gonna smash it kid.” At that moment Charity’s voice cracked and she felt the warmth of tears as they began to roll down her cheeks.

Johnny was a typical young lad in the sense he fought not to cry in public, but whenever someone mentioned his Mum, he couldn’t hold it back. He had his own memories of her of course, they were the memories of a small child though, he would often sit with Charity or Tracy and hear stories about her. That’s when he allowed himself to crumble, and this was no exception hearing that she would have been proud of him meant the world. When he had heard stories about her as a vet from Rhona and Paddy, he knew it was all he wanted to do with his life, the thing she loved.

They held each other for a moment, both feeling the occasional movement as the other sobbed. Charity inhaled deeply, mustering all the strength she could find she pulled back. Looking at the young man she had raised her heart ached, every time she’d looked into his eyes, she saw the woman she loved, but it was a reminder she would do anything for Johnny – he was her son.

“She’d be proud of you too y’know? Surprised you managed to keep me alive all these years, but proud. Proud of the family you made even without her.” Johnny smiled, picked up his bag again and walked outside. Charity didn’t follow but she heard the roar from the family as he appeared outside.

 ***

Hearing the commotion outside Charity knew she needed to go and join everyone as they said their goodbyes. She had to take one second, looking around Jacob’s Fold in a rare quiet moment. Many people encouraged her to move, it would help with the grieving process and to attain closure they said. For Charity it was the only place her and Vanessa had ever managed to build a home, they had been a dysfunctional family there, however brief, she couldn’t let go of that.

Raising the boys had been tough, especially at the start but she had so much support, eventually things settled and she found strength in her pain, knowing Vanessa would want her to carry on and to do what was best for the family. Every moment she felt she might break apart, she remembered her wife, remembered the promises she had made to protect Johnny and the boys and to be happy without her. It was hard but she’d done it, found a way to be happy found a way to make sure her family was happy.

Before she walked out to join the bon voyage party, she turned to the picture of her and Vanessa that hung proudly near the door. Everyday before leaving Charity would look at it and say bye to her wife, sometimes in her head, sometimes out loud, but always “Bye babe,” without fail. When she felt low occasionally, she’d sit and speak to her for hours. Even with no response it somehow helped support her, Vanessa was always so good at that.

“Well babe, I did it. Managed to turn him into a pretty spectacular young man. Though I think he might have your genes to thank for the spectacular bit,” tears began falling but she continued “I never thought I’d be able to get out bed without you let alone this. But I always felt like you were there y’know, rolling your eyes calling me a moody cow, but telling me to carry on cause you love me and believe in me. Listen, I know you’ll have to watch over Johnny-bobs now in Manchester, keep him out of trouble, believe in him when he needs you. But please don’t stop dropping in on me from time to time, cause I still need you, you know that. Always will, my Tiny Blonde Rocket Woman!” Charity wiped her tears away and blew a kiss to the picture on the wall, then headed out to join the rest.

***

The light was blinding as it crept in through weary eyes, she couldn’t make out anything at first, each blink revealed more of her surroundings.

“Hey, hey babe.”

That voice was delightfully familiar, she felt the gentle pressure of two lips on her forehead as a kiss was lovingly planted there. Charity. There was no mistaking her wife’s touch, even post-surgery Charity’s presence made her feel warm and safe.

“She’s awake guys.” Charity announced which ushered in a team of rather sleepy looking loved ones.

Tracy came to her bedside holding Johnny and Vanessa grasped his tiny hand so tight, as though she never wanted to let go. At the other side Noah approached with Moses in his arms, who presented her with a big card he had apparently decorated himself, a large red heart stuck on the front had ‘Get wel sun’ brandished on it, Vanessa thought it was perfect and blew him a kiss. Noah and her shared a smile and a look which seemed to tell her how relieved he was she was okay.

As well wishers came and went, offering gifts and careful hugs Charity looked on, allowing everyone to make a fuss of her wife but not wanting to leave her side like a protective lioness guarding what she cherished most. The bags under her eyes betrayed her earlier declaration of having slept that night. When everyone had left and Tracy took the kids home Vanessa turned her attention to her wife, still sat attentively in the corner.

“Right well you need to get some sleep, okay. I’ll be back in the morning.” Charity said almost dismissively as though she were scared to be alone with Vanessa who was noticeably exhausted but wasn’t ready to say goodnight just yet.

“Wait a sec. I’ve barely had a moment with you today. Just come and sit with me for a while.” Charity looked at her softly and of course obliged, pulling the chair as close to the bed as possible she grasped Vanessa’s hand and kissed the back of it barely touching it to her lips.

“Charity, I just… I want you to know. I love you, so much. And I know if anything had happened to me-” Charity tried to interrupt but Vanessa held out a hand in protest. “I had this dream while I was under, I swear it felt so real, even now it’s almost like a memory. I saw you, in the future, still gorgeous as ever. You had raised the boys and they were perfect and, and I just, I know if anything happens you’ll look after my boy. Our boy. So, thank you for being so amazing.” Vanessa lifted Charity’s hand to her lips and kissed it furiously, as if trying to prove how much she meant what she had said.

“Ness… Course I would, you and our little family mean everything to me. I know I act like a muppet and screw up, but I swear I’d never let anything bad happen to him. But lucky for him and the rest of our kids you’re gonna be okay. So you’ve gotta put up with me till I’m old and grey. Though still gorg apparently!” Both women laughed and settled into a smile falling in love more with each second. “I love you Ness, always will. My Tiny Blonde Rocket Woman.”

Despite assuring Vanessa she’d go home and sleep, when Vanessa drifted off Charity didn’t want to leave her side, she fell asleep next to her wife that night as she would every night for years to come.

[derenger]

Growing up, parenting and gaming - Longread on life, computer games and finding yourself

This longread is dedicated to and written for all those current and former kids, who had or have troubles growing up, taking decisions, finding themselves in the world they live in, who play games independently of age and – perhaps – have not lost their love for a good game, good times and good buddies.

Perhaps it will help someone in their life. If that happens – I shall think of this writing as useful and my time writing it as not completely wasted.

The ideas have been on my mind for over 2 years now (they started getting very clear when I started doing therapy) and I have to put them on paper now.

Here it goes.

I grew up in the 90s in Eastern Europe. After the USSR collapsed millions of people found themselves without work, perspectives and means of existence. We were lucky that my dad had a good job that was paid in hard currency, however he was barely home – and by that I mean like seeing him 2 or 3 times a month.

We had good living conditions compared to others and my mom did the best she could too take care of my younger bro and me.

The first time we were exposed to computer games was when I was like 7 and my bro was 5 – in the office where the boyfriend of our aunt has been working. We played Dangerous Dave, Scorched Earth, Socoban, Digger, Civilization, The Incredible Machine and some others I do not recall the names. And of course, we liked it and it did not take long for our dad to install them on his PC at home. 2 years later my best buddy got Doom 2 installed on his PC and that was the absolute blast. We spent weeks trying to figure out how to get through level 2 and it was a big holiday when our buddy finally did.

My dad tried to restrict TV and computer time per week, so we always opted for the PC. Over time I learned to turn it on by myself and play when there was no one at home. My dad did not know.

A couple of our friends had 8bit consoles - soviet bootlegs of Super Nintendoes, with TMNT and Chip n Dale, but that was probably it. After all, we were living in a small village with not that many possibilities to make money.

When I was 10 we moved to a bigger city into a 1 room apartment. All 4 of us. This was 1996. 2 other very important things:

We started going to a far bigger school than before, where the mood was totally different from what we were used to. We were bullied and beaten, could not get along with other pupils and teachers and no one actually cared.

Father was home every day.

We started going to a far bigger school than before, where the mood was totally different from what we were used to. We were bullied and beaten, could not get along with other pupils and teachers and no one actually cared.

Father was home every day.

I mean, father was present home every day. It is not like he spent time with us doing sports or whatever. He just had any idea what to do with us as this was his first long time exposure to kids in the 11 years we were a family.

He was more of an authoritarian guy – we were not supposed to waste time in gaming clubs, listen to stupid music (Prodigy, Beastie Boys), we should have studied well, read books, have been doing sports and in general act like good kids.

We were doing some martial arts sports cause mom brought us there. We were taking music classes cause “everyone has to”. We were supposed to help out at home. We were not supposed to hang out with “bad” kid or stay outside till late hours. We were not supposed to smoke, swear and simulate illness to miss classes. We were not supposed to get into trouble.

It is not like we were putting a lot of thought into it. We just moved to the city from rural area and frankly speaking were absolutely not happy about. I guess we just went with the flow.

This was also the time when the first “gaming spot” in town opened – they had 2 Sega Mega Drives II and 1 Sony PlayStation. MK3, MK3 Ultimate, Contra Hard Cops, Golden Axe, some samurai fighting games for the Sega. SPS – Red Alert, Twisted Metal, Duke Nukem, Doom and of course – an incredible breakthrough for its time – Quake 2. And that was a revelation. I recall mom giving us money from time to time. To go play. Sega cost like 1 buck and hour, SPS – 1,5 bucks – far more expensive, so we played mainly on Sega.

At the same time we did have some games at home – Doom, Power Formula 1, Lines, the same Civilization, Lion King, Alladin, Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, Gods and Dune 2000. Dad did not want to allow us play games. Like, at all. Don’t ask me why he never deleted the games. The PC was mainly used for him to work. So when he left home, he took the power cable of the monitor and closed it in his spare suitcase. What we did was to unplug the cable from the printer and use for the monitor. Later on he hid both cables – from the monitor and the PC in the suitcase. I found a way to open the suitcase with a very fine flat screwdriver. Mom hid the fact from our dad for a while until he noticed the suitcase was “broken”. I believe they did not speak with each other for a week. But I am still proud of the fact of cracking that suitcase! Fuck yeah!

Things started getting worse when I transferred to a lyceum - 1998. I was 12. This was like a gymnasium for hardcore science-kids, where they went deep into math and natural sciences. I was hysterical the first 2 years as I was barely making the program. Even my dad had troubles solving the math they gave us. Music classes turned to shits. I had no time nor mood for sport. But I had to keep doing it all. Just because. There were a couple of bullies in class, whose parents bribed the management of the school so that their kids would have fancy graduation papers at the end and frankly speaking no one could get a grip on them. That had me very depressed.

Around 13 I started stealing money from my parents and missing classes to go to computer clubs – their number was getting bigger every week, consoles started to disappear. Half Life, CS 1.6, Age of Empires 2, Q3, D2 1.07, Black and White, SimCity 2000, NOX, StarCraft Brood War and many other games had our full attention. The biggest part of it was the fact you could play with or against your friends! That was so fucking awesome! At the same time I started discovering sci-fi and rock music, but that is a different story.

We stole a lot of money from our parents in those times and missed a lot of classes and of course after 3 or 4 months it all got revealed. Boy oh boy our dad smoked us. That was very very tough for a kid when all the things he actually liked were taken from him. Dark times when we were seriously asking ourselves what the hell our parents wanted from us as aside from the stuff they told us to do they never really told us what was it for. Everything else was useless, stupid or waste of time.

Somehow my marks at school got better closer to graduation and I graduated almost with a medal, went to university. I remember they had this PC club with like 200 PCs and from time to time we skipped one or the other lecture to play Starcraft or CS, but very quickly boozing with buddies became the major leisure activity and pushed gaming to the back. I did pretty well at the university, made my master with excellence and that was it – 6 years flew by in a blink of an eye.

I got my own PC during the first year at the uni, played a bit of Warcraft 3, HOMM 3, Quake 3, Lineage II but it was not like I was deep into that. I remember after defending my master I spent like 3 days playing Crysis without anyone saying a word. I mean, I was through with the university. I was free!

Soon after that I went on to work abroad as a project engineer in the chemical industry.

At the moment I am doing sales engineer for a good salary in Berlin, I am married and except for the Corona and all the restrictions it brought life seems ok.

During the last 10 years of my “adult” life I have been in many different situations. I have been very sick a couple of times, running on the edge of life and death. I have been in some useless relations that only drained energy and nerves from me. I also have been diagnosed with depression and burnout at some point, did therapy and consider myself fully recovered from both. I’ll be summarizing it all below.

When I look at my life it did occur to me that gaming was far more important than just the sheer desire to shoot buddies and skip school.

Growing up under the conditions where everything is predetermined one does not really get the chance to expose your own wish. After all, my parents both come from very unhappy families and did not have the exactly best examples of parenting.

It occurred to me that they never really cared about anything we achieved – whether in school, music or sports. I recall a couple of times when I did really good, like winning the City-contest in English language or getting my first “good” in algebra in 7th grade as that shit was extremely tough. I do not recall any reaction. In fact, mom and dad put their close attention to us only when things started getting really bad, like when we were skipping classes or got arrested for setting up fireworks in a crowded place. We never really got any positive feedback for anything we did because our parents just had no idea how to do that. I do not blame them – they were trying their best from their own experience.

And gaming was the absolute opposite to all of that.

Going to computer clubs we knew exactly that we were surrounded by like-minded lads. We made some good friends along the way – lads, who were always ready to jam on de_dust or bring their D2 chars to share some loot. One of the owners of the club had a daughter who was really good in Q3 – I remember everyone has been looking at her like she was some sort of demigod. The games gave us the space and playground we needed so much – clear even rules for everyone. If you frag – you win. If you don’t – you lose. If you suck – the older guys would always help with a couple of tips. Games also gave us control. I really liked the games where you went on an adventure, like NOX or Will Rock or serious Sam. Gaming also gave us the space to take our own decisions and suffer the full consequences if these were wrong – getting overrun by zerglings or getting fragged with rocket launcher with QUAD DAMAGE.

Gaming clubs were our safe space. At some point our dad did raid the computer clubs and did bust us a couple of times. Sure we got beaten on those occasions.

I recall my bro being very proud on getting 1st in the national 2v2 ladder in SC:BW later in the uni. He also used to game the whole night long at my parents place. This was over 10 years ago and they still do not know. He is still very good in SC though he does not play anymore.

I do play sometimes – currently grinding D2 and refreshing my knowledge in chess. I do not have more time for any other more or less serious game.

I am slowly approaching the point where I should write a conclusion – it is going to be quite simple. Gaming was the first opportunity to take my life into my own hands. It took me 32 years of my own life to find the power in me to take responsibility for myself and not to rely on someone else. My decision – my choice – my consequences. It took a lot of trouble and turmoil for me to get to this point and finally embracing the power within feels great. It was also the first surrounding of dudes just like me, which was a very good feeling back then.

During the last 6 months I switched to a job that pays almost the double of my previous one, my wife moved in with me from abroad, we have a nice apartment and are looking forward to vacations in the Alps. I still have to find a way to approach my parents though I am not sure the old hive is worth disturbing. I guess time will tell.

Whenever I am down or things do no go according to play – I do turn to gaming occasionally, just to get back into the world where I am in full control. It gives me power and I guess hope that everything will work out. If not now – then over time. You just have to keep practicing. And ask for help when it is needed.

I hope you found this read interesting.

[three-drink-amy]

Sweet Creature

chapter one

Chapter Two

Claire had given the basket to Jamie, promptly ignoring any memories of her confession to Joe the night before. She threw herself into her work. If she was honest, she was a bit mad at herself for actually confessing. Joe was a very trustworthy friend. There was no way he’d tell Jamie. Or anyone, for that matter. But it was still her well guarded secret. And in a moment of weakness (coupled with Joe’s persistence) she’d caved and admitted it all. 

It was around lunch time when the door opened and two familiar faces with matching grins walked into her shop. 

“My darling, Claire!” John cried, drawing her out from behind the counter. “You have no idea how happy I was to see Jamie walking in with a basket from you today. Truly made my week!”

Claire smiled, looking over at Jamie. “So it was a big hit, hmm?” 

“Of course it was,” John replied. “It always is when you send them.” 

“Was it a big enough hit?” Claire asked Jamie, an eyebrow raised. 

He shrugged. “Still to be seen, I suppose.” 

Claire just nodded. “So what brings you lads by here?” 

“We were having lunch at a restaurant about a block away and I insisted on stopping by so we could thank you,” John told her. 

She smiled. Claire had been fond of John for a while. He was a work friend of Jamie’s and a hearty supporter of Claire’s bakery. There were times that Jamie dragged Claire to work parties so he didn’t have to go alone. Claire always went along, though sometimes, it was just to catch up with John. 

“Well you know I love you boys,” Claire reminded him. “I was more than happy to send the treats your way.” 

“Jamie said you asked him to make sure I got some of them. That means so much,” John said, placing his hand over his heart. “You’re just the best, Claire.” 

Jamie was watching her. “Aye, she is.” 

Claire glanced over at him. The look he gave her made her heart clench. If he only knew what one look did to her. Even after all these years. 

“Oh, by the way, Sassenach,” Jamie said, stepping closer to her, “I got a call from Rupert today. He’ll be in town and wants to get together.” 

Claire nodded her head. “Okay, great! Sounds fun.” 

Jamie made an uneasy face. “Well theoretically it does.” Claire’s eyes narrowed in his direction. “Geillis will apparently be with him.” 

Claire sighed, stepping back. “Then, sorry, I’m out.” 

Jamie groaned. “Come on! It’s been so long since ye’ve seen Rupert. The two of ye used to get on so well.” 

“I know, and I miss him. But Geillis got Rupert in the divorce. I got you.” 

Jamie rolled his eyes so hard she thought they might go back in his head. “That’s a lame excuse and ye ken it well. Come on. It’ll be drinks at a loud pub where ye can pretend to ignore any rude thing the lass says and then we can go back home and make fun of her just as we used to at uni.” 

Claire couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. “I’ll think about it,” she offered. “But you can understand why I wouldn’t want to see her, right?” Jamie nodded with a sigh. “I mean we were very close friends and then she betrayed me.” 

“I ken that. And that’s why ye got me in the divorce,” Jamie assured her, a small grin on his face. “But it’s been almost six years since ye’ve seen her. And it’s been three since ye’ve seen Rupert. Ye ken there’s a place inside ye where ye think it would be fun to spend an evening together, just the four of us again.”

Claire was determined to keep her face blank. But no matter how hard she tried, her glass face prevailed, much to Jamie’s amusement. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll go. But I get to decide when we leave. Even if that’s two minutes after that wench gets there.” 

Jamie held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.” He tilted his head slightly. “Though please try to last a bit longer than that.” 

“We’ll see. You know it won’t depend all on me,” Claire said with a note of finality as she stepped back behind the counter. She bid them both goodbye before hiding herself in the kitchen. 

The next day, Claire was sitting with Jamie at a loud pub, waiting for their old friends to show up. Claire’s leg was bouncing up and down in her anxiety. Jamie noticed when he looked over at her. He put his arm around her shoulders before leaning towards her ear. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered.

His breath on her neck was messing with her even more. She just nodded silently. Jamie pulled her closer, allowing her to lean on him. “I promise ye that none of the old drama will come up. It’s just a casual drink among friends.” 

“And what do I get if you’re wrong?” Claire challenged. 

Jamie laughed. “A rare gem. Ye getting the opportunity to tell me I was wrong.” 

Claire glared at him. “You’re quite literally a millionaire. You can do better than that.” 

He kept laughing, his head thrown back as he squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, Sassenach, ye do make me laugh.” 

She shook her head disapprovingly at him. “I more or less meant it.” 

“Oh I ken ye do. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what yer prize could be if ye do prove me wrong.” 

They didn’t have to wait much longer before Rupert’s booming voice carried through the loud pub to their table, announcing his arrival. He wove his way through the crowd, an excited look on his face. His arms were thrown out wide as he approached them. Jamie jumped up first, meeting him for a hug. Claire followed suit and realized she truly was happy to see Rupert. 

“Goodness, ye two, it has been far too long!” Rupert exclaimed as he looked back and forth between the two of them. “And Christ, the two of ye have just been thriving, haven’t ye?” 

Claire chuckled with a shrug. “I don’t know about that...” 

Rupert scoffed. “I do. First I see an article about a local Scottish lad winning the fecking lottery and bringing home millions. Then I hear that about the Sassenach that is running a booming bakery business so good that my mother goes weekly and they had to open a second one.” 

“Have you been keeping tabs on us?” Claire joked. 

Rupert laughed, pulling Claire into a side hug. “It’s hard not to keep tabs on ye two.” 

“Because we live in the same city as yer mam?” Jamie asked, wearing a devious grin. 

“Tis certainly part of it,” Rupert confessed. 

“So are you just home for a visit?” Claire asked, sitting back down. 

“No, my school is having a wee reunion of sorts. That’s why Geillis and I came back this weekend,” he explained. “We arena far enough away to ignore our own reunion, sadly.” 

“Where is she, by the way?” Jamie asked with a hesitant glance in Claire’s direction. 

“She got stuck in traffic but she’ll be here soon,” Rupert promised. “Shall be good to get the gang back together!” 

Claire nodded, hoping fake enthusiasm would be enough. She knew for certain she’d have more fun if it was just Jamie, Rupert, and her for the evening. 

Geillis had been a close friend from the first year of university. All four of them had been close from the beginning. In their last year of university, they were all making plans. Claire was planning on medical school. Jamie secured a job at a bank. Rupert had found a place to live in Edinburgh. And Geillis had been flailing. So she lashed out, costing Claire an acceptance to a medical school in London. Claire had scrambled to gain an acceptance somewhere else. She ended up in Glasgow and in the aftermath of everything that had happened, Jamie had followed her. It had all worked out in her favor, but the betrayal by someone who was supposed to be such a good friend was never quite forgotten. 

The three of them sat chatting for a bit as they waited for Geillis to show up. Suddenly, a head of bright red hair flew through the crowd and appeared at their table. Jamie was better at feigning his excitement to see her. She hugged Rupert and Jamie before turning to Claire. Both women froze, not knowing how to approach the other. Claire simply nodded in her direction. 

“Geillis,” she said. 

Geillis followed suit. “Claire.” The awkwardness of the moment wasn’t lost on anyone in the group. Geillis cleared her throat. “So Jamie, Rupert said something about yer work.” 

“Yeah, and?”

“And why the hell do ye work? Ye won the fecking lottery, man!” 

Jamie frowned. He got that question all the time. Anyone who knew he’d won a significant amount of money typically had suggestions for what he should do with it. “Well I decided I shouldna simply piss it away.” 

“He lives in a flat, Geillis. And no’ a particularly nice one,” Rupert informed her. 

“Hey, yes it is!” Claire defended. She had to. They lived in the same building. 

Rupert laughed but shook his head. Jamie simply shrugged. And Geillis’s eyes turned to Claire. “Claire, I’ve heard lots about yer wee bakery.” Claire nodded hesitantly. “Shame medical school didna work out for ye.” 

Claire was ready to fight. Jamie laid a hand on her wrist underneath the table. “She quit on her own terms,” he informed. “She had perfect marks but didn’t enjoy it. I told her she should do something she loved. And now she provides the world with delicious baked goods.” 

“That’s more noble than doctoring in my opinion,” Rupert said with a wink. Claire grinned. 

“How on earth did ye even open a business?” Geillis pressed. 

Claire opened her mouth but Jamie beat her to it. “She got lucky. Made all the right calls and good choices and people wanted to support her and her idea.” 

Claire stared at Jamie, wondering why he wasn’t telling the truth. Geillis seemed bored with the Claire praise. “I need a drink. Anyone else?” 

“I do!” Rupert exclaimed, jumping off his seat. The two of them walked back through the crowd to flag down the bartender. 

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth?” Claire asked once they were out of earshot. 

Jamie shrugged. “I didna think Geillis needed to ken where yer support came from. Then she’d likely just say ye didna do it on yer own. But ye did.” 

“Not really,” Claire argued. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“So I gave ye some help. But the success of the place comes down to ye, Sassenach,” Jamie insisted. “Tis no’ my contribution people are asking for more of.” 

Claire wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Thank you, Jamie. That’s very sweet of you to say.” 

He matched her movement and his arm came around her waist. “Tis why ye got me in the divorce.” 

The others rejoined the table and they carried on a conversation filled with reminiscing on their uni days and catching up (however truthfully) on their lives. It wasn’t as terrible as Claire had expected once they were just chatting. It seemed Geillis had dropped the veiled comments at the bar. For a moment, Claire was glad to be spending time just the four of them again. 

But that moment ended when Rupert went to the bar and Jamie went to the bathroom. 

It was just Claire and Geillis sitting at their table. They were silent for a long moment but then Geillis decided to speak. 

“So I see ye still have yer all consuming love fer Jamie,” she said with an amused smirk. 

Claire glared at her. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Tis quite obvious. I mean it always was,” Geillis told her. “But it still is now. I think the only person it’s no’ obvious too is poor Jamie. He’s never known the weird obsession ye’ve held for him.” 

“I’m not in love with Jamie,” Claire lied. “We’ve just gotten a lot closer since uni. It’s the type of thing that happens when one friend doesn’t betray the other.” 

Geillis’s eyes narrowed in Claire’s direction. “Perhaps I should sleep wi’ him. That was what got ye all mad at me in the first place. Maybe I could really earn yer ire this time.” 

Claire slapped her hand down on the table. “I wasn’t mad at you because you slept with the guy I had been sort of seeing. I was mad at you because you decided that I needed to live the same aimless life as you so you got my acceptance to a great medical school overturned by calling them and saying I was unstable and unfit to be a doctor. I was pissed that you decided what you wanted for my life was more important than what I wanted.” 

“Seems like yer life has worked out just fine,” Geillis commented. 

“Yes, because I had to work my fucking ass off to fix the damage you’d done to it,” Claire yelled. She grabbed her purse. “You know what, I tried. But you are still the same self centered bitch you always were. It’s a shame it took me so long to see it before. Goodbye, Geillis.” 

Claire didn’t wait for either of the men to return. She strode out of the bar and went to her comfort place. 

Her hands were knuckle deep in dough when she heard the bell on the door. “Sassenach! Claire!” Of course he knew just where to find her when she was upset. The sounds of Jamie’s footsteps grew closer. He released a sigh when he caught sight of her. “There ye are.” 

“Hi,” Claire said flatly.

“Ye just left. Ye didna even tell me,” Jamie commented as he walked over and sat down at her prep table. 

“I’m sorry. I meant to send you a text but I was just fuming and I left and came here and I forgot.” 

“Do ye want to talk about it?” 

Claire picked up the dough and shaped it into a ball before slamming it back on the table with a sigh. “She has no regrets. She set out to ruin my life and she has no regrets about it. I don’t understand how that’s possible. One time you asked me to drop off your dry cleaning and I forgot and I felt guilty for days.” 

Jamie chuckled. “Aye, but ye’ve always been a kinder person than Geillis.” 

“You know I think she feels worse for sleeping with the guy I was seeing than she does for getting me kicked out of medical school,” Claire remarked with a dark look. “She’s psychotic.” 

“Perhaps she’s jealous of yer success. Wouldna surprise me if that was the case.” Jamie raised a brow. 

Claire shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s that. I think if anything, she wanted me to thank her for getting me kicked out because it set me on this path. Like she’s fucking responsible for it. She’s just yet another person who wants to claim my success for themselves.” 

Jamie looked down at the table and nodded. “I’m sorry that I dragged ye along tonight.” 

“It’s okay. I know why you did,” Claire said, reaching out to lay a hand on his. He glanced up at her with a small smile and her heart beat faster. “However,” she continued, moving her hand to cross her arms, “I will be asking for more compensation than just the opportunity to say you’re wrong. Even though you are. You’re so very, very wrong.” 

Jamie laughed. He stood up from his chair and walked over to her. “Aye, I’ll give ye something else for yer troubles.” He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Claire had to fight her instincts to fall too deep into the embrace. He pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her with a broad smile. 

“Wait, was that your repayment?” Claire asked, tilting her head at him. “Because it’s so not enough.” 

Jamie rolled his eyes and walked back to his seat. “And what do ye have in mind? A Ferrari seems excessive for just one night o’ misery.” 

 Claire laughed. “No, but I like that your mind went there. Maybe I can get one out of you another time,” she teased. “Dinner would suffice.” 

“Well how about we do dinner another night,” Jamie suggested. “I think tonight calls for old habits. Going to one of our homes, drinking beer and discussing the total idiots our friends are.” 

With a nod and a smile, Claire showed her approval. “I like it. Let’s do it.” She rolled the ball of dough in saran wrap and put it in the fridge for the next day. After washing her hands, she turned to Jamie with a signal that they were free to go. 

Claire was locking the front door of the bakery when Jamie took a call. “Hey, John. What’s up?” Claire couldn’t hear what John was saying but Jamie’s face lit up in an instant. He glanced over and Claire and looked torn. “Really? And ye think I should go?” 

Claire’s heart sank. Their evening together was beginning to crash and burn. 

“I canna, I’m afraid. I made plans wi’ Claire,” Jamie said, watching her. She could tell it wasn’t the answer he wanted to give though. That was where ten years of knowing the other came in handy. He hung up the call and gestured toward the way they walk home. 

“What was that?” Claire asked. 

“Nothin’,” Jamie brushed off. 

“Jamie.” He turned and saw the look she was giving him. 

“A bunch of my colleagues went out this evening and John called me to tell me I should be there. Apparently Annalise is there.” 

Claire steeled her heart for what she was about to say. “Just go.” She wanted nothing more than to spend an evening just hanging out with Jamie. But if he wanted to be elsewhere, it wouldn’t be the same. “Go on. I’m fine.” 

Jamie stared at her, clearly trying to decide if he should take her offer or not. “I dinna have to go, Sassenach.” 

“But you want to. So go.”

Jamie breathed out a sigh. “I dinna want to leave ye alone.” He paused for a moment before his face lit up. “What if ye came wi’ me? Ye love spending time wi’ John. And ye could meet Annalise!” 

Claire could think of nothing she’d like less than that scenario. Maybe even going back to the pub and hanging out with Geillis would be better. She shook her head. “That’s alright. I’ll just go home. You have a good time though.” 

“Claire, I really dinna have to go.”

“I’m not your wife. Just go. I can take care of myself,” she insisted, even if it hurt. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “I’ll buy ye breakfast.” 

“And dinner,” Claire negotiated. 

Jamie laughed, a grin on his face. “Aye, dinner too then.” He walked over and wrapped her in a hug, placing a kiss on her head. “Thanks for understanding, Sassenach. I’ll see ye tomorrow.” 

Claire just nodded, emotion catching the words in her throat. She watched as he darted up the sidewalk, off towards his better plans. As she walked home, she realized how pathetic her personal life was. She was in love with her best friend. And he had no idea. No idea at all.

Next chapter

[intheclique]

CLIQUE talks ‘Ellen Chetcuti’

In another ‘CLIQUE EXCLUSIVE,’ we sit down with one of the most well-known female influencers on the scene ‘Ellen Chetcuti.’

Not only does she have a passion for the Toon scene, un be-known to many; Ellen has a serious love for music production and often shares her special love and time mixing in private on the decks.

With a history of strong songs releases such as, ‘Collapse, Desolate, The Upset Clown,’ and new tunes like ‘Evil Intentions & The Ferryman’ on her SoundCloud. (Click for link) She shows no sign of slowly down, nor falling out of love with music.

With a hectic work life balance, she proves with the right time management, and utilizing the correct priorities, anything is possible. So long as you don’t ‘push the feeling & you’re enjoy what you’re doing,’. That’s all that matter as long as you pull it off with a smile. It is all that counts.

So…

Let’s cut the talking.

Let’s get to it.

Without further ado, Ellen Chetcuti.

(C) Original image (clink link.) 

Q. Hey, Ellen, first off thanks for taking the time to talk to CLIQUE this morning, how’s things?

A. Things are looking up really; it is looking like things are finally going in the right direction for me at the moment, so got all the time in the world. I always seemed to complain about time I just didn’t seem to have; but now I have the time. It’s weird… *chuckles* I’m just really lucky.

Q. How you been handling lock-down?

A. To be honest it’s been pretty easy, I’ve stuck by the rules, done what’s been asked. I’ve just kept being productive, woke up, and made sure I make the most of my time.

Q. It has been a bit of a mad year hasn’t it?

A. It’s been a crazy year, already doing a teaching course, but I’ve gotten through and I’m at the end, and ready to relax a little bit more now.  Time to prioritize things a bit more.

Q. This year has seen you take up more music, with your new Instagram page, (Click for link.) more regular music, how you finding your music making?

A. I definitely think every track I post is getting better. I’ve got loads to learn and I’m nowhere near I want to be but would love to get to know more of the equipment that’s out there. See, I feel like having the separate music page definitely helps. It’s keeping friends, friends; separate to those who are interested in my platform for music. It makes it so much more better for the journey.

Q. We have followed your sound for a couple of years now and must say every track you make brings its own unique sound. How do you go about it?

A. To be honest, I feel when I sit down and have a plan it won’t make out how I want it to anyways. So, I start with a kick then synths, unlike bass or kick second. Synths to me bring out the vibes and heart of the song. So, the synth takes the track on it’s way. However, I’ve done a very kick & bass track recently literally driven my track currently.

(Image - Duplicated feeling : The Upset Clown : The Devul : Desolate.) 

Q. What makes a good track?

A. For me it’s all about the emotion, it’s all about when you can feel something rather than throwing everything together which can sound pretty basic, I’d like to say I try to tell a story.

Q. You’ve been involved in music for years, you’ve sang, you were a part of the band BERNACCIA, you’re producing music, what’s been your favorite? Or is this all a part of the process?

A. Well I was at Uni and it was such an exciting part of my life; but it wasn’t the best part of my life, the band I joined, however, were the some of the best memories I’ve ever made, but I think in my third year of Uni I felt I was relying on other people and felt I was on the same step without moving forward so I thought it's now or never to self-teach myself watching tutorial after tutorial and just getting on with it. Fast forward to now it’s such a great feeling.

Q. Favorite genre and why?

A. It’s really hard I listen to really atmospheric techno like ‘Afterlife’ and then the other spectrum heavy techno. I’ve found if I’m playing on the decks at home I like to really play the heavy stuff to move and dance.

Q. Where do you see yourself in 5 years’ time?

A. It’s hard to say, I don’t really think about the future but this year, the first goal is to post some sets online, would love more feedback, a public appearance DJ set would be amazing and even a singular track signed. See, I’m so content with what I’m doing, the speed is great, so let's just see what happens. ‘As long as I’m smiling.

Q. Who’s your top 3 influencers?

A. Fideles, literally just headphones on and it tucks me away. VTSS’s vibe is so unique and slightly heavier. AirRod always listened on Amelie lens label, his tunes are always one to make you bop you can’t not dance to them. They are all the most recent at the moment that I’m totally into.

Q. You certainly like to two-step, tell me one of your all-time favorite festival and memory.

A. English festival was JUCTION2, the group we went with was perfect, sun shining, vibes brilliant, the whole weekend just on cloud 9. Outside UK 100% ADE Amsterdam they have the festivals in the world. Sound systems are unreal, the people are lovely they’re there for the music they’re cool as fuck! It’s always a good vibe and you are always a party guaranteed somewhere. When we went to ADE me and my mate got backstage long story short, my friend was nearly going to get kicked out but when we came back in, this lad who saw us nearly get kicked out got us back in, simply amazing didn’t sleep for three days aha…

Q. Your perfect night out?

A. Perfect night out to me is, hyping yourself up with your friends at pre’s or even just meeting in a bar for me it’s always Tokyo. Going into the club getting a drink then always find your position on the dance floor and stay there all night in the middle never too close to the front, always center of the dance floor.

Q. Perfect night in?

A. Pretty similar, I love to make cocktails, I don’t drink all the time but it is nice to drink in the house to relax, put a set on the tv have a conversation with friends about life and just have happy vibes and let the positive aura float around.

Q. Peroni or Vodka?

A. Peroni! 100% every time every day.

Q. Do you find there is a time limit on making music?

A. That’s a funny one I can’t make tracks dead quick I could make one, like a decent one in a week it just depends on how you’re feeling. I don’t have a plan; it just happens and some days it doesn’t happen at all. If I’m not feeling it I just start afresh and then just start again. But then again sometimes if I’m not feeling it, I just leave it to come back to. I think with me as when you’re hearing the same thing and I may actually love the sound but at the same time I may get sick of it; so I have to remember at one point I y’know I liked it, so it's great to have fresh ears to come back to, so it’s all unpredictable.

Q. If you could survive on a desert island with only three things what would they be and why?

A. I’d want a bloody hat, like a funky hat. Some acid *ha lol* and an iPod with some headphones because probably going to die so may as well go out with a bang…

Q. Which festival are you still wanting to go to?

A. TimeWarp unquestionable wanted to go and still haven’t been able to make it. Coursework and Uni got in the way. It’s been a fine balance. It’s literally is learning to keep a fine balance. Work-life balance. One day…

Q. Tell me about your latest track, ‘Evil Intentions’ & ‘A Portion of Matter...’

A. Well, like I said earlier it’s one end of the spectrum to the other, in the definition of ‘ A Portion of Matter’ made it a long time ago I got a little sick of it, I make that many synths it got a little messy. Erm… so left it a couple of months. Came back and you know what then fixed it and it just happened once I rearranged better. Evil Intentions just happened in two days and boom it happened.

Q. If you could collaborate with anyone who would it be?

A. Oh, this is a good question hmm…. There's a DJ who he’s called Jan Vercauteren, (click for link.) he’s big but he has his own sound and his tracks are class. I remember thinking I wish I could make something that; would love for him to be able to show me how to make some acid leads. His tracks seem to have all these elements that just seem to work.

Q. Any final things you would like to add?

A. No just thank you. Haven’t really talked about my music so nice to talk about my music and where I am.

- - - - - - - - 

Well, we can’t thank you enough Ellen.

Thanks so much for your time.

For all things Ellen Chetcuti find links to her socials below.

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/el_chetcuti_music/

SoundCloud https://soundcloud.com/ellenchetcutimusic

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Part One

3295 words

When your alarm sounded the next morning at 8am, you actually felt ok. Jasper and Luke had walked you the short distance home like they always did after a shift, before heading off to the Student Union. You had sat at your desk in your room going over some Uni work and drinking a cuppa before falling into bed at 1am. You would have loved to have gone to the Union with the lads, but you had a full 8 hour day at The Cosy Coffee Corner today.

You only worked a Saturday for Audrey, the owner, but along with two shifts at the pub, it was all you could manage around your Uni work load. The beginning of the week for lectures was hectic but with only one on Thursdays and none on Fridays, you found working these two jobs fit in nicely, plus you needed the money. You currently lived in student accommodation so that was all paid out of your student loan. But feeding yourself and living in an expensive city like London meant you had to work. Plus you were saving for after graduation and you were hoping for a holiday.

Your dorm was actually pretty nice, it was one of the newer buildings and you'd lived here since you started University. Lots of people in the block had moved to flat shares, but you were happy where you were. It was close to both jobs, the tube and Uni and it overlooked the park. It was one room which had a small ensuite shower room and an even smaller kitchenette. Along with your desk, double bed and arm chair, it was home.

Audrey was filling up the freshly made cakes counter when you got to work at 9am. The cafe she owned, The Cosy Coffee Corner was situated as you'd expect on the corner of the high street. It was in no way modern, it was full of mismatched tables and chairs, massive sofas and comfy arm chairs. The walls were filled with art work and book shelves that were over spilling with books. Audrey looked up as you entered the cafe, the bell above the door jingling away, calling out a greeting as she carried on her work.

Saturday mornings in The Cosy Coffee Corner were always busy; during the week the place was filled with students but on days like today it was full of locals. You'd get dog walker calling in for an early morning take away coffee after being at the park opposite. Couples embracing a weekend off together sitting on one of the many sofas reading the newspaper.

There was something so warm and inviting about the cafe. Audrey was in her fifties and had run the place for about twenty years. The interior counter and fixtures had been updated but the idea behind the cafe still remained the same. Anyone was welcome to select and read any of the books on the shelves and stay for as long as they liked as long as they purchased a drink.

The Cosy Coffee Corner served hot drinks as well as a variety of home made cakes, pastries and sandwiches. Audrey would be in the cafe everyday from 6am preparing all the food you needed for day. She shared the duty with her sister in law, who worked part time with her.

You were finding working both jobs and Uni work tough since you were so close to graduating. But you couldn't afford to give up either jobs and you knew as soon as you graduated you weren't going to head home to Nottingham. You had made so many friends here and knew that London was where the best opportunities for Interior Design job's were. Plus, Audrey had said you could have extra shifts when you graduated, as had your boss at the pub.

By noon you'd served quite a few people and the sofas were all taken. Mr and Mrs Davidson has taken their usual spot by the window, watching the world go by as they read the newspaper. When a young women entered the cafe with a massive bouquet of flowers, heads turned.

"Hi, I have a delivery for Emma Pearce." She said.

"Um, that's me." You replied taking the bouquet from her.

Who would be sending you flowers, you thought as you opened the card.

"Thank you for saving me last night. N x"

You stared at the note dumbfounded. No one else knew you had helped Niall last night. You hadn't mentioned it to Jasper or Luke, not wanting to embarrass Niall in any way.

Audrey didn't ask you who they were from as the confused look on your face deterred her.

There was no way in hell they were from him, were they?

One week later

The flowers Niall had sent you were still looking beautiful sitting in a vase next to your desk. You'd woken up to your usual 8am alarm and got yourself ready to go to the cafe for work. As you sat and ate a quick breakfast of cereal, you stared at the flowers that you had received last Saturday. When you tried to send Niall a private message on Instagram and Twitter it wouldn't allow you to as he didn't follow you. So that put an end to the thank you message you spent 2 hours working out in your head.

Audrey was once again arranging the food counter when you entered The Cosy Corner Cafe that morning at 9am. She greeted you as usual as you walked past her to put your bag in the staff room.

You were just placing Mr Robsons coffee on the table for him when you heard the bell above the door jingle. Turning your head to greet the new customer, you froze.

Niall had just walked into the cafe, looking ridiculously good for 9:30 in the morning.  Dark jeans, Brown boots and a incredibly cute thick knit navy jumper. Perfect for a cool morning on a spring day. You made your way back to the counter placing the empty coffee tray with the rest before taking a deep breath and turning to face him.

"Hi Emma." He said, before you even had the chance to address him.

"Hi Niall, how are you?" You replied brightly.

Keep calm.

Don't be nervous.

"I'm great thanks. You?"

"Yes, good thanks. What can I get you?"

What you should have said was, thanks for the flowers. But you completely chickened out. There was still that niggling fear that they weren't actually from him and that someone was playing a joke on you.

"Just a regular Americano please?"

"Drink in or take away?" You asked him awkwardly.

"Um, drink in please?"

"Can I get you any pastries, freshly made by the owner this morning." You smiled trying to ease the tension in the air.

You hadn't expected to see him again. Ever.

"No, I'm good thanks."

"Ok, that's £2.40 then please."

He nodded and fumbled in his pockets for the change. Handing you the money he avoided eye contact with you. You rang the purchase through the till, handing him his 10p change.

"Take a seat and I'll bring it over for you." You said before turning around to the coffee machine.

"Did you get my thank you gift?" He suddenly blurted out.

"Yes I did. The flowers were beautiful Niall, thank you. How did you know I worked here?" You replied as you started to make his coffee.

Clearly he wasn't going to just sit down. You were completely baffled by his behaviour. He had sent you the flowers and had now seeked you out at your work place.

"Heard you talking to one of your colleagues at the pub. I hope my eavesdropping was ok, I just wanted you to know that I appreciated you saving me from my impending doom." He smirked.

You laughed then.

"Impending doom?! I'm sure you would've escaped without me. Just wanted her to know that her behaviour wasn't ok."

"I thought......um........I might hear from you when they were delivered." He said, suddenly taking great interest in the leaflets on the counter in front of him.

"Well, your social media accounts can't receive private messages from people you don't follow so....... "

"Didn't think about that." He said the realisation on his face.

"I hope you didn't think I was ungrateful?"

"No, I didn't think that. Thought maybe you just ...... Well I'm not sure what I thought." He replied trailing off.

Taking the coffee from the machine, you placed it on the counter with a smile.

"I didn't tell anyone about that girl, in case you were wondering." You said continuing to smile, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness again.

"I didn't think you would." He smiled back. "Not that it matters."

"Does that type of stuff happen often?" You asked him softly.

"I wouldn't say often, but it has happened a few times before."

"Honestly, that behaviour is not ok. I'm sorry that happens to you."

"Unfortunately it comes with the territory." He said letting out a sigh.

"Well it shouldn't."

***********

Niall's unexpected visit to the cafe yesterday had been playing on your mind. He'd sat by the window in an arm chair drinking his coffee for almost an hour. Scrolling through his phone and occasionally catching your eye, you smiled when you caught his gaze. The cafe had been busy though and with a steady stream of customers you hadn't really had a chance to speak to him much. Niall had given you a wave as he left and that was it.

But you didn't have time to worry about him, Uni work was keeping you busy and you had a massive project to hand in within the next two weeks. Sundays were your day off but you spent them doing course work. Most of the students in your block were hungover from the night before so the halls were quiet and you could concentrate.

After a couple of hours you were happy with how the project was going as you'd made really good progress. Once this was done you knew you would have to work on some revision for your exams. The whole idea of graduating was so daunting.

Deciding to take a break you threw on some flip flops and made your way out the door. The supermarket was less than ten minutes walk away and you decided to take a walk there and get some food for the week. With your hair piled up on top of your head and some comfy leggings matched with an oversized Uni sweatshirt on you made your way through the quiet streets of Battersea.

You loved living here, it's one of the reasons why you hadn't moved out of halls like your friends. Your two closest friends here, Hannah and Jess lived in a house share thinking they'd embrace the independence more there than the individual dorm rooms. However, staying in these didn't make you feel like you hadn't been independent. You just couldn't be bothered to move. The search for a flat share would have to become a priority though after this project was handed in; University life was ending for you.

Grabbing a basket as you entered the store you made your way to the fresh fruit first, grabbing some apples, grapes and bananas. You knew this store well and didn't need a lot so within ten minutes your basket was full and you made your way to the checkout.

Once you'd paid, you walked away shoving your purse in one of the bags that was clanking with the bottle of wine you'd brought when you collided with someone.

"Sorry, wasn't looking where......"

"Emma?"

"Niall......hi!" You smiled.

Shit, you looked a mess, had you brushed your teeth this morning?!

Yes, you had.

But you hadn't brushed your hair, choosing to just pile it on your head.

"How are you? Do you live around here?" He asked.

"Um, I'm good thanks. Yeah, my um hall of residence is about ten minutes from here."

Fuck you were stumbling over your words like an absolute twat.

He just nodded at you. God you were such an idiot. Why were you suddenly all tongue tied around him?

Maybe because you'd been fantasizing about him non stop since he left the cafe yesterday.

"Well, it was great to see you. I better go." You said quickly, pulling the handles of one of the bags over your shoulder.

"Yeah.........good to see you too." He smiled, giving you a wave.

You turned on your heel and walked away, pushing the hair that had come loose behind your ears. Great now you were blushing.

Walk quickly you thought.

"Emma wait!" He called out.

You stopped and slowly turned around.

"Do you need a lift?" He asked, making you blush even more.

Was he blushing to?

"No, I'm ok. It's not far." You replied.

"Honestly, it's no bother." He said as he indicated to his car across the car park.

"I mean......yeah that would be great."

"Here, let me take those." He said as he reached over and took the two bags you were carrying. Then the wine bottle clanked against a glass jar, making you cringe.

"See you've got all the student essentials!"  He laughed, somehow easing the awkwardness.

"Well as a third year who has to work as well I don't get to go out much." You replied laughing.

"You must be working hard with graduation just around the corner?" He said as he placed the two bags in the back seat of an Audi that probably cost more than twice your three years tuition fee.

"Yeah, revision and projects are taking over. Not long now and I'll have to use my degree in the real world." You smiled.

He smiled back and after closing the door he leaned across and opened the passenger door for you.

"Thanks." You mumbled to him as you got in the car.

Your halls of residence was just a ten minute walk so the car journey was even shorter and with your directions Niall pulled into the car park. Instead of stopping outside the door, he parked his Audi in a designated space.

"So um thanks for the lift."

"It was no problem, I'm in no rush today. Only popped out for some milk." He replied smiling.

There was an awkward silence for a moment and for some reason your mouth spoke the words before your brain could argue with you.

"Do you want to stay for a coffee then? If you're in no rush that is."

He finally turned to face you. "I'd like that."

For some reason now you were in the safety of your comfortable dorm room, you felt more relaxed. Kicking off your flip flops at the door, you took the bags that Niall had insisting on carrying up and placed them on the small counter at the kitchenette.

"Its not much, but normal for a dorm room." You said as you watched him look around.

"It's a nice space. You've got a great set up here with the kitchen area and then your working area. Are you doing design or something?" He asked noticing your pin board above it with pictures of various living rooms.

"Yeah, studying interior design and doing a business course along side it. Been working on my final project for it this morning. It's why I took a break to the supermarket and why I look a mess!"

"You don't look a mess, far from it." He replied softly, once again not being able to reach your eyes as he spoke.

"So um coffee?" You asked.

Making your way over to the kitchenette you started the kettle and began unpacking your shopping. There wasn't much so it didn't take long, and soon the kettle was clicking off.

"So what are your plans for after Uni?"

"Well I really don't want to go back to live with my parents so I'm going to rent a studio flat, hopefully around here and work at the bar and cafe until I find a proper job. Well that's the plan!" You said, as you handed him his coffee.

"Have you started looking for jobs yet?" He asked as he took a seat in your arm chair.

It was then that you noticed Niall was looking at the vase of flowers sitting on the table next to your desk. The card with his hand written message perched on the bouquet.

"I have yeah, just two for now. Both paid internships and one of them has the possibility of working in some of their European offices for work experience."

"What cities?"

"Paris, Berlin and Rome." You replied, as you took a seat on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs to get comfy.

"Wow, that would be amazing!"

"I know, just need to get the grade I'm predicted now. Would be amazing to live and work in a foreign city for a few months."

You spent the next hour chatting about your future plans and also Niall's recent tour. He had visited some amazing cities and you were incredibly envious. You kept dreading a lull in conversation, but it never came.

Niall talked about the building he was living in and showed you some photos. You knew his building as it was nearby. He had a beautiful layout and had taken advice on how to furnish it but had come up with most of the design ideas himself.

The nerves you had felt when you'd first seen him earlier in the afternoon at the supermarket had gone. The confidence you'd felt when you'd first met in the pub had returned.

The sun was setting across the park opposite your building and you switched on some lamps to light your room.

"I should get going." Niall said, as he reluctantly stood up from the comfort of your arm chair. "Leave you to get on with some work."

"Yeah, I should probably get on with some revision." You smiled.

"What days do you work?" He asked as he placed his empty mug by the sink.

"Thursday and Friday night and then Saturday all day." You replied.

"So you might be free Wednesday night?"

He looked at you at you nervously, waiting for your reply.

"I might." You answered, trying not to smile too widely.

"I have tickets to the Lewis Capaldi gig in Brixton if you fancied going?"

A date?!

You paused for a second, trying to not seem too eager to reply.

"I mean my cousins and some friends are coming too."

So it wasn't a date. You could deal with that.

Having spent the afternoon in his company, you had seen how he was funny, charming and intelligent and you were more than happy to keep things as friends in order to spend more time with him.

"That sounds great, I'd love to."

"Here," he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Add your number in here and I'll text you the details."

You took his phone from him, entering your name and number into the device before handing it back to him.

"Ok, so I'm definitely going now." He said, laughing softly.

"I'll walk you out, these halls are like a maze."

You stood on the steps on your building and gave Niall a wave as he got in his car and drove away. You hadn't for a second thought that you'd ever see him again after his appearance at at the pub last weekend. Him turning up at the cafe yesterday and literally bumping into him at the supermarket had been surreal. 

And now you got to spend time with him again in three days time.

Part Two

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186468644173/lost-without-you-part-two

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 3c

"You're just trying to butter me up..!" She giggled, feeling his hands roaming and something else pressing against the underside of her thigh as she sat across his lap.

“I’m not. I’m trying to make you feel better. More sexy and confident. Don’t forget Mrs F, you’re wank bank material. You sexy milf!”

"Charlie!" She blushed.

“What?”

"Stop finding that so funny!" She whined, pouting at him.

“Does it not even make you a tiny bit wet?” He whispered.

"I prefer men not boys." She smirked.

“A certain man with a certain cock.” He whispered and kissed her earlobe.

"So long as he doesn't keel over on me again. Which he will do if he keeps up with these!" She remarked, gesturing with the cigarette that was still in her hand.

“I only have one. Or two. Just when I’m sad and need to think about things.” His hand moved up her and groped her breast, “I could just fuck you right now.”

"So I did make you sad?" She sighed.

“No I...” He paused, “I didn’t know what to do or how to broach the elephant in the room without you taking my head off.”

"I just hate that it's always there looming over us like a shadow - that it's the first thing your mind jumps to."

“Your weight?”

"That you think I'm gunna relapse."

“I worry that you will relapse and I won’t notice.”

"I can't seem to hide anything from you for long."

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

"Its probably a good thing. It's those blue eyes of yours, they do funny things to me!"

“Just like your green eyes do funny things to me.”

"You don't seem to be looking at my eyes most of the time." She teased.

“No it’s your breasts and arse.” He admitted.

She giggled before giving him a kiss. Pulling back she wrinkled her nose. "You taste like an ashtray!"

“Sorry Mrs F.” He cupped her breast again, “Do you fancy going upstairs and... reacquainting ourselves with one another?”

"We're supposed to be watching a film with the girls..." She reminded him, a naughty twinkle in her eyes.

“We’ll watch the final film with them.” He smirked.

"You never know what might be in store for you later." She smiled as she stood up from his lap and handed the cigarette back to him.

“I look forward to finding out.”

11pm

Peter had gone out into town with a few of his friends from work.

"Fancy a round of shots?" His colleague Damian asked.

“Yeah why not?”

Damian ordered the drinks and placed two in front of Peter. "Get those down your neck and go talk to that blonde who's been giving you the eye for the past hour!" He encouraged.

“What blonde?” Peter asked before he knocked back the two shots with Damian.

"Her over there." Damian attempted to point her out subtlely.

Peter followed Damian and nodded. “Alright, I will.” He took a few seconds but he found himself heading over to the girl.

She gave him a dazzling smile as he approached. "Hi."

“I’m Peter.” He smiled, “You look gorgeous:”

"Thanks. I'm Holly."

“Can I buy you a drink?”

"Sure. Vodka and coke please."

He smiled and went to the bar. He ordered two vodka and cokes and a short while later, returned to Holly. “You here alone?”

"With a couple of mates. You?"

“Yeah, same. You from around here? Holby I mean.”

"Yeh, grew up round here. Came back a few months ago after uni. Are you from Holby?"

“Lived here all my life.” He smiled, “What did you study?”

"I just qualified as a vet."

“Oh woah. A vet? Congratulations.”

"Thanks. What do you do?"

Peter sipped his drink, “I studied chemical engineering at Uni, I work in that sector.” He blushed.

"Cool." She leaned slightly closer to Peter. "This place is really rubbish, do you know any better bars or clubs?"

“Yeah. I know a better bar we can go to if you fancy it?”

"Sure. Lead the way!" She giggled.

He finished his drink and held his hand out for her.

She took hold of his hand. "Aren't you going to tell your mate that you're leaving?" She giggled as she allowed him to lead her outside.

“Nah. He knows. He was the one who encouraged me to come and talk to you.” As they left the club and got further into town, Holly began to shiver. So Peter took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thanks." She smiled.

“It’s alright.” He took her to a bar just by the river on the outskirts of town. “Another vodka and coke or something else?”

"Another vodka and coke thanks."

He didn’t let go of her hand as they waited to be served. His thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"I've not been here before, it's nice." She remarked.

“It’s my first time here too.” He admitted.

"But you said..?" She giggled.

“That I knew a better bar?” He laughed gently, “I remember my mates telling me it was a good place. Kinda figured it would be a good idea to try it out.”

"Ah, thought you'd chance it?" She smiled.

“Yeah.” He smiled.

Eventually they managed to get served and found a spot by one of the windows overlooking the river.

He found himself gazing at her. Damn, she was gorgeous!

"Like what you see?"

“Yeah, you’re really pretty.”

"I thought seeing as how it's new year's I'd best make an effort."

“You look good! Great in fact. That dress suits you.”

"It wasn't just the dress I made an effort with." She winked.

Peter nearly choked on his drink. “Do I get to see what’s under your dress at some point?”

"Depends..."

“Depends on?”

"Well, it takes more than buying me a few drinks."

“I’d like to take you out for dinner one night.”

"I'd like that." She smiled, moving closer to him.

He met her eye and then looked at her lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, a little nervous. For the first time in a long while, he really liked someone who wasn’t Sarah.

"I was hoping that you would ever since you first came over." She smiled.

He smiled and lent forward, his lips brushing against hers.

She slipped her hand around his neck as she kissed him back.

He deepened the kiss, his hands on her waist.

Holly moved her other hand to grope Peter's arse.

He slid his tongue into her mouth.

Her tongue dueled with his. She was pleased to discover that he was a great kisser in addition to being really fit.

Eventually pulling away to catch their breaths, Peter let out a small giggle.

The general hubub in the bar was getting louder - it was almost midnight.

They began to count down for new year.

12am

"Happy New Year!!" Tilly and Lottie yelled as they watched the fireworks display on the TV.

“Happy new year, you troublesome three.” Charlie smiled brightly at his three daughters. “Happy New Year, baby.” He kissed Duffy tenderly.

"Happy New Year." Duffy smiled, snuggling up closer to him under the blanket that lay over them.

“Here’s to another year with you and our children, driving me crazy.”

"Cheeky! You're the one that drives me crazy!" She giggled.

“I don’t.” His hand slowly ran up her inner thigh under the blanket.

She shifted her leg slightly, flashing him a mischievous grin.

His fingers began to stroke her jeans.

Duffy tried to keep her attention on the firework display but Charlie's wandering hand was proving very distracting and she found herself melting under his touch.

Charlie’s hand slipped into her jeans though he was mindful of their teen daughters being in the room.

Emily was busily making some notes in a sketchpad she'd brought down from her room just before the display started.

Charlie whispered in Duffy’s ear. “Fancy sneaking off?”

"You are a bad man!" She giggled softly, moving to get up from the sofa as quietly as possible.

As she stood up, Charlie slapped her arse hard.

All three girls groaned, “Urgh! You and mum are so gross!” Tilly replied.

Duffy blushed scarlet as she turned and playfully pushed Charlie through the door into the hall.

Charlie chuckled and pulled Duffy in the direction of the stairs.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs pulled Jake's attention away from Krystal. Turning he recognised one of the lads from his year. The teenager looked panicked.

"Jake, dude, your brother's puking in the garden!" He gasped.

“What?” Jake stood up hurriedly, he looked panicked. “Shit!”

"He was just chilling and then suddenly his eyes went all funny. He slumped over and puked."

Jake apologised to Krystal and ran down the stairs and into the garden. “Louis?”

Krystal followed Jake into the garden just as Louis appeared to be improving somewhat.

“What’ve you taken!” Jake demanded to know.

Louis blinked at his brother several times, a dopey smile on his face. "Hey bro." He slurred.

"He's fine, just take him home." One of the other boys shrugged.

“Come on! Get up! I’m taking you home.”

Louis giggled as he tried to get up, tripping on his own feet.

With great difficulty, Jake managed to get Louis home. “Our parents are going to kill us!”

Louis just giggled. He didn't understand why Jake was stressing so much, everything was just fine.

Jake tried to quietly get Louis inside the house, he didn’t want to alert their parents. “You’re stoned, aren’t you? Fucks sake, bro!”

Emily walked out of the kitchen as her brothers arrived home. The twins were aleady upstairs and she was just getting a drink before going to bed. Her eyebrow rose instantly at the sight in front of her. "What the..?"

“Where’s mum and dad? Are they in bed?” Jake asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “Help me get him into bed, Em. Please.”

"Yeh, they're otherwise occupied." She smirked. "What happened?" She moved to help Jake.

[eltanin-malfoy]

Eye For An Eye (Kill Or Be Killed II)

pairing : draco/fem-collegestudent!y/n (not that romantic.. or platonic)

word count : 4.1k

warnings : angst, mentions of murder/poisoning/sex, swearing, smoking

Chapter 1

a/n : any and all feedback is highly appreciated. requests are still open! s/o to @unpeustupide for being a great editor!!!!

Chapter 2 : Eye For An Eye

He’d thought of rushing out after her as she’d been exiting before, but no, that was an awful idea. He did not need the girl assuming him to be some kind of a stalker pursuing her at night, which, after noticing her feisty nature, would likely lead to one of two negative outcomes : 1. She decides to attack him with her umbrella (he could subdue her, for sure, but his skin was sensitive, he didn’t want the bruising to stick out on him like a sore thumb for officers to identify later), or 2. She calls the police (he could attempt to knock her out if she did, but he wasn’t exactly into getting all messy that way, or in any kind of way. He was attempting to kill her with a heavy dosage of potassium chloride, to begin with. Cleanest way possible). So he headed right back to the Employee’s Only room, pouring himself a cup of black coffee and feeling smug at his own genius. Experience really is the best teacher.

Right after his shift, he’d walked home, her name on his lips. He’d whispered it a couple times, any passing stranger might’ve even thought the boy was in love with a Y/N.. but they couldn’t be more wrong, could they? He’d continued to think about her, tried to figure out where she lived, or anywhere else she spent her hours. She’s a student. He thought, puffing on yet another cigarette as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, fiddling with the edge of his coat with his free hand. A university student, right? Didn’t look like a schoolgirl to me. Wasn’t even wearing a uniform to begin with.

He stepped out onto the fourth floor, walking towards his very luxurious place of residence. Sigh. The loud hip hop music playing in his neighbour’s house pounded out as he walked across. He tossed the used cigarette butt in his fingers to the side and delved his hand into the pocket of his coat, pulling his house key out. He walked over to the last door on the floor, quickly reaching to unlock it. He stepped in and covered his left ear, flinching slightly as the pounding got even louder. He walked away from the wall he very unfortunately shared with them and quickly locked the door behind him.

He then scoped out his apartment (not.. very small, just the one bedroom, couch, sub-standard television and a tiny kitchen) to make sure there had been nothing shifted around since he’d left. A necessary precaution, since not only was his landlord notorious for being very nosy, but also venturing into a career path as risky as he was planning to was not without its many, many risks. He then walked over to his (very uncomfortable) bed, pulling off his bulky coat and pacing around a bit.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the girl’s name. It was easy enough to remember it, to write it down in his notebook, to look it up on the internet (on Incognito mode, of course!)… but it wasn’t easy to figure out who she was, exactly, or what way would be easiest for him to get at her. Could just push her into oncoming traffic or something.. No need for the chemicals and everything, seen how easily she falls.  A smile crept its way onto his face as he stared out the window facing the rickety study table he’d somehow managed to buy for his apartment. He shook his head. No. No, it’s too easy. I want to see the light escape her eyes. At first, holding on like as if onto some stray rocks onto a cliff side. I want to see her fight with herself. For her to want to slip away. I want to win.

But how?

He pinched his nose bridge as his brain clouded up with thoughts. How many universities are there around here to begin with? He hesitated, sitting up straight and fiddling with the pale blonde mop of hair on his head nervously. Who’s to say she’s a student at all? Can’t just jump to conclusions like that.. could just fancy carrying backpacks. He shifted towards the side, gaze travelling over the many cracks on the wall. I don’t recall her having a backpack in the supermarket.. so, again, probably a student.

But if she’s a student, she’s got to have somebody paying her fees, right? He furrowed his brows, a bit confused. Oh come on, you can’t go soft just like that.. She’s clearly an awful person, right? All three minutes you’ve managed to see her, she’s shown off nothing but her lack of empathy. Besides, you just need to make sure she isn’t.. well connected. Just separated enough from everyone in her life for no one to notice after she’s been missing for a few weeks. Or months, if that’s possible. He knew this was for him.

Unable to make much progress in that instance, he decided to give it a break and take another fix of nicotine. He got up and eased onto his bed, reaching over into his coat to take out the same pack and his beloved lighter. He then kicked off his shoes, bringing his legs up next to himself. He quickly ignited another cigarette and got up, walking over to the table to stare at the street below. It’s almost December anyways. University final exams have been over a week or so already. She’s either still living at her dorm, which would be.. hard to work around, or has her own apartment, hopefully without a roommate. Or, her roommate may have gone home while she stayed.. or.. maybe she’s home from uni? How the fuck am I supposed to tell-

No sooner had he lit the last cigarette in the pack that all of a sudden, his neighbour actually turned off that goddamn cacophony. Somehow, the silence surprised him. W-what’s happening? It hasn’t been this quiet all fifty days since I moved in! He heard their front door opening and couldn’t help but listen in to what was going on. Not exactly his fault the walls were that thin.

“Seriously? You’re here to see me now? Do you not understand anything about boundaries?” His neighbour’s voice was.. quite loud, to say the least. It was almost louder than the awful music he chose to play at all hours of the night. “Seriously, Cormac? You haven’t returned a single call or text I’ve sent you this whole week! And the last.” The girl’s voice struck out to him like a bullet.

“Y/N, I’ve just been busy.. You know me, baby.” His voice was a bit softer this time, possibly growing afraid in front of that she-devil.

“Oh, shut up. We both know you’ve just been ignoring me. Did you really think you could end.. this by ghosting me?” Her voice rose an octave as she voiced the second part of her question.

“Well.. come on, I wasn’t ghosting you. I just.. forgot to check my messages.”

Draco could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Just.. stop it. Do you really think I’m that daft? Goddammit! Maybe I am, can’t believe I gave you even a second of my life. You really are as big of an asshole as everyone says you are!”  

“You can’t just.. come to my house and insult me!” He exclaimed.

“You can’t just treat a girl like a used tissue paper.” She shot back.. Shit. “And I’ll bet you’d still text me in a couple of nights when you felt horny again, you bastard!”

One of them then hit the wall they shared and Draco sprung back slightly, not realising how close he’d moved in to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Fine then, if that’s what you’d like to believe!” Cormac yelled.

“You don’t get to act like the victim, you fucking bastard. Why don’t you go cry in the lap of whichever girl you’ve slept with?” She roared and one of them paced off quickly, walking to the door.

Draco decided to follow along, but trying to come up with a way to piece together a conversation through which he could try and interrogate his neighbour so as to find out as much as possible about his ex. Wait, she bought something for a car. That means she’ll be driving out of here soon.. never mind, there is no parking lot in this sketchy neighbourhood. He shook his head, walking over to his front door, staring out of the small peephole and at the hallway in front of him. He did, in fact, manage to get a good look at this prospective victim.

“If you have a shred of self-respect, don’t you ever contact me again!!” She cried out, kicking the wall to the side of his neighbour’s door, then flinching back slightly in pain. Dumb bitch.

“I will not, you clingy bitch!” Cormac returned, which led to her bringing her palm up and smacking it across his face, leaving a red streak over his cheek. Draco had a sudden sense of deja vu, as though from a dream, or another life..

“I have nothing more to say to you.. “ She grit her teeth and began walking to the staircase, not showing any sign of weakness in that moment. ‘Cormac’ was still holding his cheek, clearly in pain after her attack. The lad even opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He deserved that, but, is she really always this violent? Would make it hard to take her down like that..

He quickly walked back over to his bedroom, staring out the window as he awaited her final exit. He reached over and turned off the light, realising that this would be a very good way for her to realise that he was watching her. He watched her step out, shivering slightly in the cold as she crossed her arms. He finally took the last and final puff of his cigarette, and let out a good long exhale. He tossed the cigarette butt out the window, which prompted a soft noise. Y/N turned around at this and even looked up. Her gaze somehow preemptively travelled upwards, staring at the fourth floor windows before pausing for a second at Draco’s own. She squinted slightly and stared down at the floor, before heading off again.

Damn it.

People.

He quickly headed back to his front door and peered out, smiling to himself as he caught a glance of Cormac still stood there silently, for some reason waiting for her to return. He opened the door and proceeded to lay it on thick. The Malfoys were known for being sly after all, and he kind of felt like acting for a bit, anyway.

“Hey, mate. Couldn’t help but hear what just went down.. You doing alright there?”

Cormac’s flushed a bit at this, obviously embarrassed at the way his new neighbour had come to know of him. “Hey.. I.. yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” He paused for a second, sizing him up. Maybe he’s a little intimidated. Draco could feel how awkward it was getting and decided to take care of that himself. He walked over to his door and held out his hand for him to shake it.

“I’m Draco, some of my mates like to call me ‘Drago’, you know like dragon? Just poking at this huge fear of lizards.” Draco laughed to seem idiotic, yet ordinary. Wasn’t too hard, Cormac forced a giggle. What was he, a fucking schoolgirl? “Sorry I didn’t come to see you yet, moving has been a little tricky.”

Cormac slowly lifted his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet ya. I’m Cormac.” Yeah, I know. “When did you move in, actually? I hadn’t realised..”

“Couple months back. D’you wanna pop in for a beer? Looks like you might need one.” Cormac smirked at this.

“Could never say no to one of those.” Draco grinned and walked back over to his flat with him, opening the door and leading him in. Get him drunk. Get him talking. You can do this.

He took a deep breath.

***

A good hour of stale small talk later, Draco had enough information to have some sort of profile on her. As soon as Cormac headed out the door, Draco locked it behind him and trashed the bottles the bloke had taken upon himself to finish, while he threw out the one he’d decided to have. He decided to write everything up as quickly as possible, wanting to make sure he could get all that information on paper while it was still in his head.

Student at London School Of Business. (of course she picked the subject his father favoured the most!) Seems like she lives somewhere nearby though, wouldn’t be walking around in the middle of the night like that, not too far from campus. He even wrote ‘Ex said the only time he really liked her was when they fucked’ which Draco then decided to strike through. (Unnecessary and irrelevant to case!) Has a public Instagram profile - Oh fuck. He nearly hit follow. Wouldn’t that have been a fucking disaster. He just scrolled through all the food, frivolous spending, and countless other idiotic highlights of stupid Y/N and her stupid friends and her stupid life. He’s probably doing them all a huge favour.

But this was basically all he knew about her. Cormac was obviously uninterested in discussing his now ex, with whom he’d only been with a couple months, and would rather discuss recent soccer matches. Draco politely obliged with that, but was very, very happy to see him off when he finally decided to leave.

After writing everything up, Draco informed his manager that he’d pick up the late shift again the next day, setting out a plan to scope out his victim’s college campus and pick up on her schedule.

***

The next morning, Draco woke up bright and early to the sound of his stupid phone alarm going off. He reached over to turn it off and pulled his patchy quilt over his head, but then soon reminded himself of today’s mission. No. Not today. It’s time.

Draco had downloaded an app onto his phone last night. One that connected people happy to walk others’ dogs. Frankly, he didn’t give a flying fuck about dogs, but, he had to find a way to walk around the area without looking like a total creep. It worked. He managed to find someone nearby who wanted their beagle walked the next morning, so he reached out, and managed to arrange to pick it up at eight o’clock the next morning, which would hopefully be enough for him to make it to the campus in time for her to get there.

He was thinking of putting on a disguise too, but his plan was a bit.. immediate, so he didn’t exactly have a lot of time. He decided to skip his usual long hair routine, those expensive hair products one of the few luxuries he allowed himself to purchase. Instead, he decided to tuck his hair up behind a baseball cap. Not only was that totally uncharacteristic of him to wear, but it also seemed to perfectly mask one of his most striking features. He’d decided to go ahead and shave, however, wanting to hide any of that pale stubble that grew onto his face.

He didn’t exactly own any cosmetics, he’d thought it genuinely wasn’t for him, even after various female friends of his encouraged him to try it. Of course, before, it was also his dad who would clearly have disapproved, but even now, he didn’t understand why he would waste all that money.. in an effort to look better. I look just fine.. but.. I need to look different, for once. But, alas, there was no way for him to contour his face now and make it look even the littlest bit more pointed. No real way for him to color his skin to make him seem just a bit more tanned than he was. So, he decided to just busk it and bear it with a grin.

His clothes however, he decided to change up a bit. He didn’t own a lot of brightly colored clothing at all, and it was almost a joke among his old friends to tease him about how much he fancied wearing dark clothes. But good old Pansy, on his birthday earlier in the year, she’d taken it upon herself to brighten up his closet. She’d bought him a couple of floral patterned Hawaiian shirts, as well as a couple of multicolored sweaters. The Hawaiian shirts would look a tad out of fashion and probably even more weird out like this.. so, he settled on one of the sweaters. He even put on a pair of boxy sunglasses that would block out the greyish sapphire of his eyes.

My best features won’t be on display.. but it works for the cause, he decided, as he looked himself over in the mirror. He set his cap tight on his head and took a deep breath, walking over to his night stand to pick up his phone and wallet. Alright, time for the first step of your first mission. Don’t get too jittery. She’s just a girl. A very rude, annoying girl. He set them in his pocket and cleared up behind himself, tidying up his bed in an to attempt to shrug off his nerves.

Not to mention, stupid. He reminded himself as he stepped out.

***

He headed to his nearest convenience store after he got out, picking up a new pack of cigarettes. He lit one up to fill his insides with tar (rather than with doubt), and walked over to the dog’s owner’s place, engaging in some polite conversation and finally escorting the dog away. It was a small brown beagle, about two years old. The dog sniffed him up the moment he arrived, but Draco managed to get it out of the building without it noticing anything too weird about him.

He fixed his sunglasses one last time as he neared the campus, looking around a few times as the dog walked around and annoyed other pedestrians with its nosy snout. He checked out the map on his phone one last time before finally nearing the campus he’d been thinking about for most of the night.

He reached for yet another cigarette, but fumbled slightly, dropping the pack on the floor. As soon as he leaned down to pick it up, the goddamned dog decided to run up at someone and his leash fell out of Draco’s loose, shivering grasp. It’s the nicotine, THE NICOTINE.

The dog barked, almost in celebration, and continued across the campus, running along the lawns as Draco finally clutched the pack and ran off after him.

You’d never think something so small and annoying could be so fast. His heart began to race, almost uncharacteristically. He was an avid soccer player back in secondary school. He didn’t exactly have a low stamina. Suddenly, the dog stopped in its tracks, sniffing desperately at someone’s grey sneakers. He heard a soft giggle and froze himself, slowly looking up to lock eyes with… his own victim.

How’d this bitch managed to calm down the other? He thought to himself. She didn’t seem to recognise him, so he tried to keep up an act. She knelt down and began to stroke its head, drawing attention to her short, perfectly manicured nails. Fucking priss.

“Your dog is so cute.” She uttered, her voice all flowery and sweet for some reason. He gulped and bent slightly himself, his hands on his knees as he looked down at the mutt. “Thanks.. I agree.” He forced his voice to be a bit more gruff and raspy. Like one of those guys on WWE. She smiled and looked up at him again, almost curiously. “He’s a beagle, right?” He? “Uh.. yeah. Only two years old.” The dog made one of those soft, squeaking noises that made Draco cringe, but she looked at it with even more fondness.

“You’re such a sweet boy, so sweet.” She scratched between his ears and looked up at him again. “He really is. You’ve trained him so well.” He chuckled and felt his cheeks flush. What? You are really out of it today.“Hah.. thanks. He can be a bit annoying sometimes, though.” She just shrugged slightly. “Ah well, isn’t every boy?” She sighed, and Draco was suddenly reminded of last night’s events, which of course, this innocent dog owner knew nothing about. “I guess so.” He didn’t really know what to say at this point..

“But, you seem nice. Do you.. stay around here?” That same smile returned to her face and she fluttered her lashes. What is she doing? She just broke up with that prick last night. “I.. uh.. No.. j-just visiting a friend.”   He croaked out, reaching down and grabbing his leash. “Oh, um, alright. Nice to meet you.” She slowly stood up, smoothing out her hair. This allowed him to get a good look at what she had on : a thick purple turtleneck sweater and yet another pair of dark jeans. That same plaster from yesterday was visible through the fabric. “I should get going..” She started, looking down at the barking dog again. “Bye bye!” She waved at the animal, then up at him again, walking off. Draco did the same, albeit reluctantly.

He turned around and looked the other way, clenching his jaw. You can’t.. get friendly with your victim like that! Thank god she’s so dumb, otherwise she would’ve seen right through your shoddy disguise. The dog yipped again. Oh goddammit. He turned back towards Y/N to see her looking back at him, before flinching and walking off again. What is she doing? She didn’t recognise me. Oh fuck, or did she? She started off at a brisk pace, rounding the corner and walking to another building.

The dog decided it needed to empty its bladder, so it walked over to a brief patch of mud by the concrete to do its business. Draco followed and decided to wait at the position a few minutes, so he could continue and follow her to her first class.

Soon enough, it finished up and he lead it to a courtyard, where there were students sitting around and even perking up as they noticed the dog. Shit.. they’re just going to blow my cover.. I should get out of here. He turned to leave, pulling the dog quickly along with him.

*** Even though his trip to her university had been.. unsuccessful, he reassured himself. Thank god she feels the need to document so much about herself on social media. I’ll get more on her in no time. He headed back to the dog’s owner’s and returned it, lying and telling him he’d been an absolute angel. He rolled his eyes the instant he shut the door, quickly walking off and back to his place.

He decided to smoke a few more cigarettes in an attempt to de-stress and thought to walk down to his apartment building’s basement to kill time until his next shift. He walked past the wall of mailboxes for each of the many flats in the building and stopped as he realised there was something sticking out of his own. He didn’t have the key for it, but the haphazard way this envelope had been wedged in, it was clear he didn’t really need it. He tossed the cigarette in his hands to the side and reached to pull it out.

Careful.. He thought to himself, holding up the metal flap and drawing out the surprisingly light envelope. He wasn’t careful enough, though. The flap drew back alarmingly hard and pushed his hand out of the mailbox, leaving a slight cut on his finger. He drew his hand back and looked back at it, pressing it in an attempt to stop the slight bleeding.

He grabbed the envelope tightly in his bleeding hand and walked back up the stairs, hands in his pockets as he winced slightly in pain. He unlocked his door as fast as he could and walked inside, shutting it behind him as he walked over to his couch. He took a seat and looked the envelope over. Hmm… no return address or sender? That’s weird.

He opened it up, a small trickle of his blood down the side of the paper. He pulled out the letter, which was a single note folded in half. His fingers quickly unearthed the message inside, and he couldn’t help as the feeling of absolute shock flooded his mind, a crease furrowing in on his forehead as his eyes widened behind his dark shade.

Be careful, Malfoy. I can see you.

Chapter 3

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Jesse

Jac: I think I've actually lost it fully now Jesse: ? Jac: You'd tell me, yeah Jesse: go on Jac: If I've been talking to imaginary people for the last two years, I'll be fuming at you Jesse: you've barely said owt for the last 2 years Jac: yeah, and that's served me so well today, Jesus Jac: Savannah Moore is here Jesse: add her middle name in an' all Jesse: ain't sure who you mean Jac: This is why I don't talk, twat Jesse: Sav's here and you feel what? Jac: More shocked than you are Jac: have you been checking her UCAS app or her socials, like? Jesse: you knew she might Jac: I stopped thinking maybes and what-ifs about her a long time ago Jesse: half an hour ago? Jac: Shut up Jac: you aren't helping here Jesse: I'm asking how it went Jesse: seeing her Jac: Inconveniently and mindfuckingly well Jesse: alright Jesse: start with the 1st bit Jac: Inconvenient? Jac: Well, it's inconvenient because she's still the most perfect person who's ever existed Jac: confirming that I was right every time I looked at a pretty girl and thought that she didn't compare to her Jesse: she's single now, I heard Jac: Therein lies the headfuck Jac: because one minute she's complimenting me, telling me she's missed me and everything else I could possibly wanna hear Jac: then the next she's talking about marrying Princes and having lots of perfect babies Jesse: with what word? Jesse: or words Jac: Perfect Jac: that's what she said Jac: that I was Jesse: not much of a headfuck then Jesse: she's being clear Jac: but it's not though, is it Jac: 'cos this is how she used to talk to me Jac: and we know what happened there Jesse: then either she's trying to tell you fuck all's changed Jesse: or she's testing the waters to see what could Jac: This is just Jac: unreal Jesse: what did you say back? Jac: I'm not prepared to read that back yet Jac: I was just trying not to overstep the mark and freak her out the whole time Jac: but obviously, some shit came out Jesse: shit that you wanted to come out or nah? Jac: that depends Jesse: on her Jac: Yeah Jesse: alright, what do you know about how her 2 years were? Jac: right Jac: she didn't like her school Jac: her sister did Jac: her dad is controlling as fuck, sounds like Jac: her mum had some kind of breakdown that was a long time coming and Sav didn't see her much and feels guilty about it all Jac: oh, and she had a boyfriend the whole time, obviously Jac: but he dumped her at the end of school Jesse: and she missed you Jac: yeah Jac: and that it weren't the same, with anyone else Jac: talking, being mates, like Jesse: that's loads Jesse: that's her letting you in Jac: She's a pretty open person Jac: I think Jac: I don't know Jac: not like us Jesse: you gave her nowt back then Jac: Not exactly Jac: I didn't spill my heart out there and then but I tried to be honest Jac: without being too much, you know Jesse: yeah Jac: Am I making a horrible mistake Jac: going back Jesse: not by talking to her Jesse: sounds like she needs it Jac: What do I need? Jesse: a drink Jesse: but not if you're seeing her again Jac: We're going shopping Jac: I had to get half an hour so I could scream into a pillow Jac: and message you, obvs Jesse: clothes? Jac: Potentially, but shit for my dorm, mainly Jesse: don't try anything on Jac: that's your advice, yeah? Jac: tah Jesse: 1st bit Jac: Don't hold out on me Jac: go on Jesse: slow it down Jesse: much as you can Jac: Alright Jesse: there's loads you don't know Jesse: she still might not know herself Jac: She definitely still projects straight Jac: whether she's thought about any other possibility privately, yeah, I don't know Jac: but then I might've said I fancied some Scottish lad accidentally so I can't say much Jesse: nice one, you prick Jac: I'll miss you too, dickhead Jac: she was going on about boys, I had to say SOMETHING Jesse: did you ever reckon she might be going on about boys to see what you'd say Jac: Pretty sure it was her ex she was chatting about, so unlikely Jac: and I couldn't drop in that I'd had fantasies about digging his eyes out with rusty spoons so Jac: it made sense at the time Jesse: last thing you said to her you were straight an' all Jesse: and you confirmed it 2 years on Jac: but I'm clearly painfully in love with her 😩 Jac: it's some bullshit that I've got to put that out there again to be shot down, again Jesse: she might need you to put it out there so she can do something Jesse: she might be reckoning she's going mad right now Jac: It'd be an effective way to get her off the course, but I don't know if I can handle the guilt of making her move to another shithole Jesse: it was her mum that tried to top herself, weren't it? Jesse: just realised Jac: What Jac: oh no Jac: you're 100%? Jesse: might not be Jesse: but I remember people talking about something Jesse: the time-line isn't off Jac: Shit Jac: well, I'm gonna need you to check because I had no idea Jac: she asked if I heard what happened with her mum but she obviously didn't go into specifics when I said nah Jac: what did I even say back, fucking hell Jesse: if it were her, she made a big scene about her 💔 on Facebook or somewhere beforehand Jesse: be easy to 🔍 Jac: How did I miss this Jac: I mean, I know how, I had to purge her from my life completely but Jac: that makes a lot of sense Jesse: you're fuming about the boyfriend and I get it Jesse: but who else had she got Jac: I'm not fuming at him Jac: like I wasn't actually fuming at Isabelle Jac: I know it's my own shit, but that didn't stop me holding it against them because it's easier Jesse: his existence, whatever Jesse: I'm saying everyone needs someone Jesse: it don't mean she doesn't want you Jac: that's the point, she's entitled to date whoever she likes, trust whoever she likes, and she should have that Jac: but when I wasn't enough that left me with no one Jac: and I was pissed at any lad who dated her for supposedly being half of me but still getting 1st place, and pissed at Isabelle for not being half of her but thinking it were the same in any way Jac: It was just Jac: I was angry all the time Jac: and she doesn't need that Jesse: she does if you're gonna do or be fuck all with her Jesse: she needs to know what it were like for you and you need to know what it's like for her Jac: I know Jac: but I don't know if I can open myself up to the possibility of that much hurt again Jesse: if you want me there, I'll be there Jesse: country not the convo Jac: I've been here all of ten seconds Jesse: give a shit Jesse: and bagpipes might be what this track needs, selfish prick Jac: 😂 Jesse: you ain't asked me my thoughts on how fit the Scottish are either Jesse: could be well in Jac: I've already covered that nicely without you, tah Jac: and fuck all people here are Scottish, it's mad Jesse: 👍 Jesse: do me better then Jac: Am I a compulsive liar or what? Jesse: bit strong Jac: I said I was more honest now Jac: and I did say some shit I meant to Jac: but why the fuck couldn't I just Jac: say it Jesse: you can't undo all that straight girl bollocks in a day Jesse: she don't even realise Jac: I just didn't wanna let her down when she said her kids needed best friends Jac: that's as mental as it sounds Jac: fucking hell Jesse: hang on Jesse: what Jac: not kids like current, she's not had a load Jac: when we were friends, the plan was, we go to uni together then we get jobs in the same field and then we have kids and live in the same place so they can be friends forever like us Jac: I am aware male friendships tend not to go that hard Jac: straight girl bollocks Jesse: I dunno what the fuck to say to that Jac: This is what I'm saying Jac: she'll just drop stuff like that Jesse: she wants to doing everything in her life with you forever, that's really gay Jac: only with 🤴🏾🤴🏾 in tow Jac: it'd 🤯 if I suggested we could take the spunk and run Jac: not part of the fairytales, is it Jesse: that's the point Jesse: she wants what she's been conditioned to want Jac: Maybe by year three we'll be sorted Jac: our head of department legit warned us that loads of people split up once they start #realizingthings on this course, like Jesse: right laugh Jac: 🧠 Jac: the laugh is me being able to help anyone's fucked head by the end of this, like Jesse: I dunno, you've helped me a bit Jac: if you write a song about this I'll expect a fucking fat check out of it Jesse: I can get my own straight boy whenever I want Jesse: you ain't special Jac: How dare you Jesse: 🖕😏 Jesse: 🤠 Jac: I should just Jac: never attend lectures and never leave this room Jesse: piss off Jesse: she'd come 👀 Jac: I can't be her maid of honour Jac: something's got to give, at some point Jesse: then don't Jesse: give her the options Jac: well easy in theory Jac: like LOVE ME OR LEAVE isn't an insane thing to throw at someone Jesse: like she hasn't thrown loads of mad shit at you Jac: If I could be more like her, I would Jac: 1000% she's not sat in her room freaking out right now Jac: she just does and says what she wants and moves on Jac: I do none of the above Jesse: how's that working out for her? Jesse: she sounds buzzing to me Jesse: not fucked up at all Jac: We're both insane Jesse: when you met her she was crying in a bathroom Jesse: just saying Jac: I remember, thank you very much Jac: I feel like I was a fucking predator Jac: like I knew she was vulnerable or some shit Jesse: don't start Jac: If I'd focused on being a better friend Jac: none of this would've happened Jac: just saying Jesse: you wanna be more honest, you said Jesse: how is suppressing how you feel and friendzoning yourself doing her any favours Jac: She said I always say the right things, when it matters Jac: it worked Jac: 'til it didn't Jesse: the right things for her Jesse: stop being a dickhead and say the right things for you Jac: but Jac: fuck me, you know Jesse: we all take the piss out of Jude but she's the happiest for doing it, deny it Jac: if you want me to do anything, saying I'll be like Jude is a bad tactic Jesse: it ain't about what I want Jac: yeah well Jac: reckon our time is up Jesse: bit rude Jac: I told you at the top you had half an hour Jesse: she's kept you waiting years Jesse: might make it forever if you're right about the best friend babies bollocks Jac: you wanna have a word with your own mixed messages Jac: first you want me to tell her everything, now you want me to stand her up Jesse: you fucking heard me say slow it down Jesse: that's not spilling owt in a changing room, Jackie Jesse: sort your head out Jac: Don't call me that Jac: and don't be pissy 'cos your advice has gone in about 20 different directions Jac: it's a confusing situation, I did not need you to mansplain that to me Jesse: shots fired, Jacqueline 🤠 Jesse: I ain't got the full story and neither have you Jesse: can't do nowt about that personally Jac: that's why I'm going to go see her now Jac: I'm touched, you're so upset about me leaving Jac: but I'll be back at Christmas Jesse: I ain't about to leg it from my emotions Jesse: I can say I'm upset Jac: No shit Jac: your bread and butter Jac: I'm gonna get paid for understanding other people's, not my own Jesse: I just Jesse: not again, you know Jac: I'm fine Jac: seriously Jesse: Dad ain't entered the chat Jesse: you can't fob me off with no fine Jac: this wasn't a 'meant to call the samaritans, called you by mistake' situation though Jac: I really am Jac: no real emergency here Jesse: alright, but if takes longer than 2 years to get a word out of you should this go tits up again, I'll be fuming Jac: you should say you enjoyed the peace and quiet Jesse: it was shit Jac: I know Jesse: I'm chuffed you get to have another crack at it but Jesse: trying to write some less angsty bollocks here Jac: I've got to see it through regardless Jac: we all know that Jac: she's here, we're on the same friggin' course, there's no ignoring it now Jesse: well yeah Jesse: just if you could gimme 😁 or 😍 for next summer, I'd have a hit Jac: if you can get your own straight boy, you can get your own 😁 or 😍 Jesse: you really need to have a word with yourself about this aversion you've got to inspiring me Jac: you'll be on the list of top users with me if you don't stop stealing people's angst and heartbreak for dollar Jesse: soz I don't have my own Jac: ugh Jac: go away now, bastard Jesse: 👍 Jesse: good talk Jac: was passable, anyway Jesse: have Jude rate it /10 Jac: she gets the room to herself Jac: she owes me rn, not you Jesse: what rating's she got Sav on? Jac: She's not dare do that in years Jesse: if she knew it'd be - figures Jac: again, using our sister's poor taste is nothing but affirming Jac: she doesn't like you, by the way Jesse: Jude? Jac: Ha, no Jac: Savannah Jesse: knew that Jac: Well it cheered me up a great deal Jesse: fancying both me and you would be a headfuck too far for her Jac: Don't be disgusting Jesse: it would Jesse: especially as she only likes lads if they're exactly right Jac: Boring, is what you mean Jesse: safe Jac: lacking personality Jesse: long as they make up for it in looks Jesse: so she can take a good 📸 Jac: ew Jac: not even Jac: they look like male versions of her, which is to say less refined and nowhere near as pretty Jesse: psychoanalyse that Jac: don't take a degree Jac: if they look like her, they look like her dad Jac: or her ma, whichever way she's feeling it Jac: then she can do it right and no one gets hurt Jesse: 🤢 Jac: 🤷 Jac: don't judge Jac: 'cos ours have only fucked you up in ways that make you decent enough at 🎶 that it's worth it Jesse: tah for giving 'em all the credit Jesse: nowt to do with me Jac: come off it Jac: you get enough general acclaim Jesse: sound more thrilled Jac: If you think I'm about to express an emotion for you Jesse: not that thick Jesse: finished school and everything me Jac: I was there Jac: believe it or not Jesse: 👻 Jac: 🙄 Jac: something like that Jesse: piss off and see your girlfriend then Jac: 👍

[chut-je-dors]

5TL ask masterpost

Hi!!! Since there are SO many. SO SO many asks about 5TL in my inbox right now, I thought of (instead of working on a crucial uni deadline I have coming up) putting them all here and writing one long-arse post (so that people’s dashes won’t be..... overwhelmed with asks. Also less tagging). So here we go - Hopefully you get your answers here! Consider it as a fic........... it’s that long. Starting from the oldest!

Anonymous said: 5 thomas lane is definitely, without a doubt, my favourite ever fic. Its bloody brilliant!! I just wanted to ask, we know dave got people being rude about john and paul, and then the incident in the supermarket, but do vera and chuck ever get any shit at school about their dads? Or do other parents ever have a go at paul and john? Love the fic, honestly its my favourite thing. Its absolutely wonderful 💞💞💞

Thank you!! That is always such a lovely thing to hear! <3

Vera and Chuck have been thankfully mostly protected from any kind of homophobia. Chuck’s friends are too young to really care about it, they just go ‘ok’ when Chuck tells that he has two dads instead of one, and as for Vera only her close friends know. It’s not that she would’ve been treating it as a secret, but usually children at that age don’t really talk about their parents openly in class. At least I wouldn’t have been able to tell if some of my classmates had two mums, since you’d spend time in small groups instead of one bigger one, and then interact with the other people in the class only for school work. So since only her good friends know (and they don’t care) she hasn’t had to face any prejudice either.

As for Paul and John, at school events they receive a stink eye at most, since the other parents can’t possibly put up a scene in front of the kids and the teachers etc. Most of them don’t care, but there are always some who will kinda, steer their kid the other way. Paul and John fortunately are aces at dealing with the hurt feelings it causes, and Vera and Chuck are yet to notice that kind of behaviour. Dave is a little bit more perseptive, but then again he’s the oldest and unfortunately remembers some of the early encounters the family had when the world’s - and Liverpool’s - view on gay people wasn’t yet as open as it is now.

Anonymous said: 5tl question!! When j and p DO fight, who apologises first? Who sulks more? (Love this bloody fic)

Both are awful stubborn mules!! It’s terrible. But at the same time they go over the fight in their head and feel sorry about it, and then eventually one of them decides not to be an idiot anymore. But I feel that overall Paul would be less inclined to apologise first if he feels he’s right, and John will come trudging over ‘cos he can’t stand it when they fight for a long time. Then again, if John absolutely feels he’s correct, he’ll hold onto his opinion with tooth and nail, and Will Sulk. John in general sulks more I think, but half of it is tongue in cheek, since they so rarely have actual fights (more like, small-ish disputes)

Anonymous said: Okay I have a 5tl question: when it comes to the kids, which parent is each the most similar to personality-wise? Like for me, I’ve always thought Dave is like a mini Paul whereas Vera just SCREAMS John to me, what’s your opinion on this? Is this something you considered when writing the kids? <333

Oh god this is such a difficult question,, after a 20-minute discussion with @thefrogchorus​, (since this was such a difficult question and I needed her blessed input to sort out my thoughts) we came to the conclusion that they’re kind of a mix of both John and Paul without any definitive traits coming from their parents (Chuck is a mini-John, but that’s also because of y’kno, being his actual biological son). They’re very much their own people in my head, but especially their manners come from John and Paul, whether it be how to win an argument, or how to deal with sadness, etc.

I actually feel like Vera takes after Paul, in a way that when she puts her foot down, she’ll go through fucking stone if needs be, and Paul is very similar to that. Their sense of humour comes from both Paul and John, but I feel like they appreciate the sort of “silliness” John seems to cultivate a bit more.

Anonymous said: Can you tell us more about George and Ringo from 5TL? How did they end up together and what kinda dynamic does their relationship have? :)

George and Ringo met when Paul inherited the cottage from his grandparents back in 1998. George would come along to help rebuilding the cottage which was in a complete shambles. For the first two years Paul, John and George would sleep in a guest room at the farm since the cottage was inhabitable. In the mornings the four of them, since they quickly started getting along with Ringo, skipped over the field that separates the farm and the cottage and they’d work on the cottage all day long.

As was said in chp. 5, “The four of them got along swimmingly right from the first moment, and the very nice lad’s good-natured, calm farm-boy attitude completed the group in a strangely perfect way.“ “George started helping at the cottage  very often, as well.”

So George and Ringo really got to know each other and fell in love during that time. There’s gonna be a chapter eventually that goes over these events, so I’m not going to delve too deep into it now, and some details might change over time, so that’s what you’re gonna have to do with for now :)

As for the dynamic between the two... George embodies this wonderful dry wit that matches perfectly with Ringo’s more good-natured and gentle teasing. Their relationship is easy and fun, very very soft and warm. It’s really quite relaxed, considering both of them do lot of repetitive work that takes a lot of time, and they’re like that together as well, patient and calm.

Anonymous said: Have any of the 5tl kids been lost/ran away at any point and given John and Paul a fright?

I think, in grocery shop, at most. They’ve always been quite adept at keeping the kids under their watchful eye, and the kids haven’t had any urges to run away (because while Dave has teenage angst, he has no urges to like, y’know, leave the family he loves?). Of course even when you lose your kid into a grocery shop it’s a bit of a scare, at least for the Mother Hens Paul And John, (in the early years, not so much anymore since their skin is so tough), but everything’s always worked out fine in the end.

Anonymous said: I have a questionnn: has 5tl John had issues with his weight/ insecurity in the same way that actual John did? Idk I just love getting insights into this universe

I don’t think so, not to the same extent. Probably when he was a teenager he would’ve worried a little over his figure (like all teenagers do) but in this universe he’s always stayed in a relatively good shape, body mass wise (he still can’t lift heavy things but, hey. he’s a scrawny artist cut him some slack) and as such he doesn’t have any insecurities over it. I think, if he ever grows a little bit of belly when he’s older, it’ll be received with good humour and loving taps from Paul :) <3

Anonymous said: is paul always the big spoon in 5tl or do they switch? (WHY do i only think of these questions when im going to sleep jrbhrnsfjsj) 🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔

Bless this question honestly aaahhhh <3333, Paul indeed is NOT always the big spoon, they switch, and BOTH love being the little spoon cos it makes them feels so nice. When they first started dating John might’ve taken the role of the big spoon a little more since Paul was still SMALL (bbbless,,,) but they evened it out. Sappy beings,, <33

Anonymous said: How did Martha join the 5TL family?

In the most traditional way possible: First kids wanted a dog, then Paul wanted a dog, and John grudgingly said “okay, I guess” and then suddenly there was fur everywhere and he had to go outside for long walks everyday no matter the weather and he had to keep a puppy from eating every possible furniture while Paul was at work. Poor John. (But he secretly loves Martha so it’s okay. He gets a little weak in the knees when Paul babbles to her.)

Anonymous said: How old were 5Thomas L. J+P when they started talking about kids/ did poor oleJohn hit the roof and freak out when Paul first suggested it since we know he’s not a fan of kids (except his own ofc)!

I think the discussion took place quite early in the relationship. Paul has always known he’d want kids, and as for John, and I quote the very first sentence of the whole fic,

“Having children had never been a requirement for John to live happily ever after. He would, however, be completely fine with one or two if his future partner wanted them, and he would love the kids with all his heart (if they weren’t absolutely terrible).“

So John has never hated the thought of kids, but for him the thought of them was more along the lines of “yeah I’ll be fine even if I never had them but if some where to come I wouldn’t object to it at all” so when Paul brought the subject up (like “hey how do you feel about kids? I mean ‘cos I kinda love them and I definitely wanna be a dad someday, but ofc not if it meant breaking up with you, ‘cos I’ll much more prefer a life with you ‘cos you’re like the only person I’ve ever loved and wanted to have sex with xoxo :) in fact let’s have sex right now”) John would’ve been like “yeah, cool, if it’s any possible any day i’m game even though i‘ll probably suck at being a dad because DADDY ISSUES” (the key to john’s character in any universe,,)

Remember that when John proposed Paul literally answered with “yeah i’ll marry you ONLY IF I GET TO BE THE POP”, so at that point Paul’s desires were very well known for John, and John knew what he was getting into. And as we know, John adores his kids :) So they’ve pretty much always had the agreement that one day there will be kids if it’s just possible. Only when it became the reality that they CAN adopt Dave, John started becoming nervous with the possibility of fucking up terribly, and even then he wanted to have a kid SO bad, as you can read from Chapter 12: the Bath Scene (which gives me the FEELS). That scene and chapter explain John’s stance on this pretty well! :)

Anonymous said: How tall are the 5tl kids? Just wondering <3 I love this fic

Hahah, thank you! Out of all the asks I’ve got over this fic, this is maybe one of the strangest ones - but it’s not a bad thing! Hahah I love how it got me thinking.

The average 15 year old boy in the UK would be around 5″7, but since Dave is originally from France he’s a little shorter, I’d say 5″4. Vera is 4″6, and Chuck is 3″8 :)

Anonymous said: I can imagine John getting absolutely TURNT around Rasputin by Boney M in the 5TL verse for some reason and it makes me laugh a lot

You are absolutely RIGHT this is the absolute TRUTH and it’s CANON NOW I SAID IT. John loves Boney M if only because they hit him right to where it itches. He loves singing along to Daddy Cool and Paul kinda hates it because Paul likes the Ramones and Nirvana and Rock’n Roll, baby, and then there’s John waving this disco propaganda at his head, but they work around it.

(Occasionally Paul might be caught humming Ma Baker) (Mma-mma-mma-mma-mmmaah)

Anonymous said: Do you have any more 5tl headcannons? The wait is killing me lol

Hahaha so many of them are actual spoilers but have a small list of ones that I can share with you! (Also... this whole post kinda is based on my headcanons so.... ) :D

Dave creates memes about his sucker family and sends them over in the family whatsapp group

(Credit @sunbeatle​ <3)

This also includes the Pepe. John loves the Pepe. He sends Paul Pepe memes all day long. Paul wants to know who this lizard is.

Chuck loves Pepe. He draws Paul a Pepe drawing. John puts it on the wall above their bed.

“John please stop. i'm not having sex in front of the lizard”

John blindfolds Paul so that Paul doesn't have to look at Pepe

“John I am going to divorce you over that lizard.”

Dave: "oh my god pop. it's a fucking frog." Paul: "wHAt part of that LIZARD looks like a FROG to you????"

Plot twist: Paul actually loves Pepe and knows it's a frog but he loves seeing how amused John gets over Paul's loathing; Anything For The Husband

(Pepe idea: Credit for Maria and Daisy. made us all howl with laughter)

John uses a ton emojis, always the wrong and the weird ones. He is VERY aware of it. Chaotic Evil.

Paul used to have the same kind of sunglasses as Kurt Cobain in the 90′s. He actually used them. They looked like this:

Terrible.

Paul sometimes writes poems, mostly humorous ones with a tongue-in-cheek about his life; it’s a nice creative outlet. He also might write poems specifically directed at the kids, so a children’s story but in poem form, and then he reads them to Chuck (or has John read them dramatically, which really fun for all of them)

There you go people! Hopefully this satisfied your bottomless thirst for more 5TL for some time! Don’t be afraid to hit me with new asks and your own headcanons, I love discussing this fic! Cheerio! <3

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The French Connection - Chapter 3

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony.  Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective  

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday.  Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist  |  AO3

Sorry it’s late; I forgot ☹️ I’m not used to posting on Wednesdays...

---

Ellie startled awake at the feel of the mattress shifting, eyes flying open to see a broad back in a tee rising from the bed.

Joe?

He turned then, creeping towards the loo, and she had an out-of-body experience wondering why her uni best frenemy had been in her bed.  It all came rushing back after a moment though, her fiancé’s betrayal straight through to running into Hardy at St. Pancras' and inviting him on her trip.

Too much wine, she chalked her lapse in memory up to, yawning as she looked for a clock.  It was perched on the telly stand, showing an early half six, and she whimpered.  Rolling over she ended up on Hardy’s side of the small bed, burying her face in his pillow.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to go back to sleep, her senses overloaded with his scent, taking her right back to the morning after graduation so vividly she had to physically pat herself down to ensure she was wearing pajamas this time.

Jerking upright she tried to push those memories away, stronger than they’d been in quite some time, and to her horror, not entirely unwelcome.  Stop it, she told herself firmly, closing her eyes and taking measured breaths, that was four years of tension boiling over.  A one-time thing.  Forget about it!

Climbing out of bed herself, she wrapped herself in her dressing gown and started the Keurig, suspecting tea just wouldn’t cut it that morning.  By the time she hit the ‘start’ button Hardy had exited the loo, pausing in surprise at seeing her.

“You’re up?”

She sniffed at his incredulous tone.  “Yes.”  She had to get past him to get to the loo herself, her curves brushing against his hard angles, and she swallowed harshly at a particular bit of hardness in the vicinity of her thigh.  “I’m just…”

“Yeah.”

All but fleeing into the bathroom, she sternly lectured herself as she shut the door behind her.  You have both just had traumatic breakups.  You are here as friends.  It was one time at uni.  Stop thinking about it.

Splashing her face with cold water helped, and she put any thoughts of graduation night, or a potential repeat, firmly aside.  Straightening her dressing gown and re-belting it, she exited to find the room empty.

Where-

Unusually loud sounds of the city tipped her off, and sure enough, she found him on the rooftop balcony with two mugs of coffee.

“That’s yours,” Hardy gestured to the steaming mug on the tiny table.  He was leaning on the railing, watching the first hints of pink peek above the Ile de la Cite.

“Thanks.”  Cradling it between her palms and letting it warm her, she settled next to him as they watched the sun rise in silence, sipping at their coffee and enjoying the sounds of life in the city.  “I can’t believe I finally got to wake up in Paris,” she eventually murmured, once the coffee and any hint of dawn was gone.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Hardy agreed, his voice surprisingly rough, and she glanced up just as his eyes skittered away.

Was he looking at me?  The idea was too absurd to entertain, so she changed the subject.  “What do you want to do today?”

“What’s on your agenda?” he countered, and she blinked innocently.

“Sorry?”

Hardy smirked, gesturing for her to go down the stairs to their room first, then closing the door behind them and locking it.  “Come off it Miller, we both know you’ve got this trip micromanaged down to the minute.  Out with it.”

Ellie couldn’t help the reluctant grin.  After all this time, he still knows me.  That had been evident with her perfectly prepared coffee, but it was nice to know that hadn’t just been a lucky guess.  “Breakfast in the hotel, a few sights on the Ile, then lunch on our way to the Louvre.  Jardin des Tuileries and Place de la Concorde.  Dinner.”

“Sounds good.”

-

Breakfast was easy, their suite including a continental spread every morning, and by eight they were strolling across Pont au Change, the bridge to the Ile right outside the hotel doors.  Given the early hour, the only thing open yet was the Cathedral, and Ellie led him there without saying where they were going, hoping to see his honest reaction to the Cathedral up close.

It was a short walk, one she had carefully sketched out to give the best possible first view of Notre Dame, and they chatted along the way, vaguely discussing their careers to date.  Hardy was mid sentence when they walked onto the square outside the Cathedral, where the bell towers reached to the sky, and they both stopped dead.

“It’s beautiful,” Ellie murmured, amazed that she was finally here, in Paris, seeing sights she’d dreamed of for so long.  “D’you want to go inside?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, a bit breathless himself, and they walked in together.  The first thing that caught Ellie’s attention was the sheer size – the ceiling hundreds of feet up, spectacular arches, and plenty of religious icons and statues.  It was simultaneously awe-inspiring and overwhelming, and she wondered how Hardy’s Scottish Presbyterianism was handling the decorations.

Given the early hour and that the doors had just opened they were practically alone, wandering down the outer aisles and taking in the artwork, from the carvings on the pillars to the stained glass windows.  Reaching the center of the cross-shape they found the aisle, and a view of all three famous rose windows, bright morning sun shining on the altar.

“A bit ostentatious for a place of worship,” Hardy murmured, “but as a historical and architectural sight, nearly unparalleled.”

“Napoleon and Josephine walked up that aisle,” she whispered back.  “Kings and Queens married and coronated here.  Can you imagine?  The pageantry, the beautiful clothing.”

“The smell.”

She elbowed him sharply, only for him to smirk down at her.

“Think about it.  Hundreds of people in here, candles and incense burning, and this is before frequent bathing or things like deodorant.  Would reek worse than the Tube in a heatwave.”  He shuddered violently for effect, making her scowl.

“Why must you always look on the downside?” she wanted to know, crossing her arms as she looked up at him.  “Why can’t you just see the beauty in something?”

Hardy shrugged, expression softening as he glanced around.  “I see the beauty,” he met her eye again, “but I also see what the beauty was meant to mask.  There’s a reason this country has such a violent history, particularly when it came to monarchy, and showmanship.  The things you laud are part of what sparked the Revolution.”

Ellie pursed her lips, turning away.  “I choose to see the good.” She started off back down the aisle.

“As you should.”  He didn’t hurry to catch up with her, but his long legs made easy work of closing the distance anyway.  “That’s why we always worked as partners on projects – we could each see the opposite side.”

“Funny, that’s not how I remember it.  To my recollection, we were horrible as partners, always fighting over the littlest detail.  Sometimes it was a truly terrible experience.”

They burst out into the sunlight at the same time, Ellie starting for the gardens surrounding the Cathedral to see its famed architecture and windows from the outside.

“True,” he agreed readily enough, managing to stroll along and keep pace with her quick steps, “but it made actually working with a partner on the force a breeze, I’ll bet.  How many times did you think ‘this idiot may be bad but at least he’s not Hardy’?  A lot?”

“Shut up.”  It was true, though, and they both knew it.  She’d never had a problem with getting along with anyone after working with him.  Then she realized the opposite must be true as well, and stopped dead. “Hang on, did you think I was difficult to work with?”

Hardy kept walking.  “Come on, Miller, shake a leg.  I dare not mess with your careful schedule.  A place like this, you could actually have my head if you wanted.”

Scowling, she hurried after him.  “You didn’t answer my question. Hardy?  Hardy!”

-

After Notre Dame they visited the Conciergerie, taking a guided tour to learn about the building’s history as first a palace, and later a prison, especially during the revolution.  The small chapel that now existed on the site of Marie Antoinette’s cell sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine.

“All right?” Hardy murmured, guiding her after the tour group with a firm palm between her shoulder blades.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, glancing over her shoulder towards the room, “there’s just something about history like that… women who die like that…”

He nodded in agreement as they caught up to the group.  “I visited the site of Fotheringhay Castle once, as a lad.  I’m not one for ghost stories, but… it felt haunted, even though the castle’s been gone for centuries.”

“‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’”.

Hardy glanced at her in delight.  “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Shakespeare fan, Miller.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she smirked, striding ahead as the tour moved on.  “Keep up.”

-

After lunch at a charming little bistro they entered the Louvre through the iconic glass pyramid, winding their way slowly past thousands of paintings and statues towards the Mona Lisa.

“You have to wait in line?” Ellie asked, incredulous, as they were guided between velvet ropes, the line snaking along the perimeter of the large room.  “For a painting?”

“Gee, Miller, can’t imagine why.  It’s not the reason half the people are in the building,” Hardy rolled his eyes at her, making her stick her tongue out in retaliation.  “Name one other piece of art here. Reading off the wall doesn’t count.”

She sniffled, scowling at his irritating I know more than you smirk.  “Venus de Milo.”

“And?”

“Excuse me,” she said stiffly, arching an eyebrow, “I’m not the one who spent a semester going to art museums to impress the pretty girl in your English class.”

“From what I’ve heard, you might’ve had better luck,” he shot back dryly.  “I enjoyed it as well, reasonably.  There’s more history there than a first glance would tell you.”

“Spare me.”

They shuffled forward in the slowly but continuously moving line, making an effort to admire the otherwise magnificent paintings they passed that had the unfortunate fate of being in the same room as one of the most famous.

Ignoring him, she focused on the rest of the room until it was their turn, getting in front of the Mona Lisa itself and shoulders slumping as she stared at it.  “It’s smaller than I thought.”

“A true work of art,” he murmured next to her, and she wished, not for the first time, to be able to see the world through his eyes.  “Incredible.”

After a moment they continued on, spilling out of the line into a mess of people trying to see the painting without waiting.

“What’s wrong?”

Ellie realized her lower lip was trembling, and she bit it viciously in an attempt to stop it.  “I expected it to be a lot bigger.”

“It is pretty small,” Hardy agreed kindly, “but it’s also a factor of the room.  On a normal-sized wall, it would be very different.  This was a royal palace – it’s enormous, and that changes the scope.”

“Spoken like a bloke who’s had to defend other small things,” she teased, trying for levity.  “Hear that a lot, do you?”

He laughed, shaking his head, and she realized he looked lighter, somehow, than the day before.  “Come on, you, let’s go outside, I know how you love your fresh air.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” she pointed out, letting him guide her out of the museum.

Hardy shot her a supremely cocky smirk, one that seemed almost unnatural on his usually humble face.  “I don’t remember you complaining eight years ago. The opposite, if anything.”

To add insult to injury, the wanker had the audacity to laugh when she walked right into a door frame in her surprise.

“Stop it!”

[eeveedel]

Hi everyone, here’s another fic rec for you! Today I decided to post about a trope that I feel like I don’t talk about enough but that I absolutely love: magic and supernatural fics! I organized the below fics by trope so you can find something you love no matter what kind of fantasy you’re into. I hope you find something you like and be sure to show any of the fics mentioned here lots of love if you decide to check them out! 

Vampires

Run and I’ll Give Chase by Madalynn_Bohemia (24k)

“You go out every night and maybe you’re able to drink without hurting anyone, but you’re still thirsty, aren’t you? Still have an itch you can’t scratch. A need you can’t put a name to. You desire a companion.”

“You mean a keeper?” Harry corrects with venom in his voice. “Someone to put a leash on me.”

“Wouldn’t need a leash, love.” Louis whispers sensually, and he is suddenly behind Harry, too fast for his eyes to keep track of. “You’re practically pliant just by being in my presence. Of course, if you’re into that sort of thing, I could always get you a lovely collar with a matching leash once you decide to take me up on my offer.”

Or, Harry is a fledgling vampire without a maker. Louis is graciously offering to fill that role.

Howls Like a Beast (You Flower, You Feast) by indiaalaphawhiskey (16k)

France, 1754. Château de Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

Read you like some kind of poem by mentalistcbm (11k)

He likes to imagine that he’s always aware of Harry’s eyes on him, but the spark that flashes across his body at how often Harry licks his lips while looking at his throat doesn’t feel like something he’s explicitly and consciously acknowledged before, but it feels familiar. Usual. Right.

(Louis is human, and Harry is lucky enough to be his vampire boyfriend.)

Waiting on You by emma1234 (76k)

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

Love Endless by wubwubnparmaham (171k)

The year is groovy 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright. Would be fine if he wasn't so viciously bullied at both home and school for such a "harmful" sexual preference.

Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this story, haven't we? Believe him, Louis didn't think he was anything special either.

Until he found the mansion. The notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Idaho. No one with a brain ever goes near it, but Louis could use a little excitement in his life...and possibly a Band-Aid or two.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he'd thought, he's now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime, every new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won't they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator...and who the hell is Alexander?

Nocturnal Creatures are Not So Prudent by patdkitten (24k)

Louis is a white witch with a little black cat named Hemlock and a best human friend Liam (they're a lot like Samantha Stephens and Louise Tate). When he's dragged out to a new club Liam's heard about from a friend and classmate, Louis comes face to face with that which witches do not touch: a charming vampire by the name of Harry.

Werewolves

Amaryllis by hattalove (146k)

"Where are we?" "Um. A little while out of London?" Niall tries, seemingly the only one willing to not be mysterious and provide Harry with information, and. Oh. "London London? As in, the capital of England London?" he asks, just in case he'd misheard. "No, the other London," Louis laughs, low and biting. He comes closer finally, the moonlight just enough to reveal a sharp-cut jaw and pale skin. "Sorry, Pup." Nobody's ever called Harry a "pup". Frankly, he finds it quite insulting, but he lets it slide to try and comprehend his current crisis.

or the one where harry gets bitten by a werewolf. louis is the mysterious not-quite alpha, liam and zayn have Things going on, niall is their token human, and together, they watch a lot of TV.

Break open the sky by karmelised (20k)

Being a werewolf isn't always easy. Especially if you have no idea what you're doing.

or, Werewolf au. Harry might be a werewolf, but he still wants to experience Uni like everyone else. Turns out he learns a lot.

Mermaids

Coax the Cold by MediaWhore (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Sirene by iwillpaintasongforlou (4k)

Harry stumbles across a strange and beautiful creature -merman Prince Louis of Sirène- as he walks along the beach one night. When a bit of magic Louis had never dared to believe in has him trading in fins and scales for real human legs, Harry takes it upon himself to show him exactly how this new human body works.

(Louis is a merman who turns into a human and Harry takes him home and takes him to bed.)

If the Surface Begs You Home by QuickedWeen (17k)

Harry is a mermaid from the underwater kingdom of Mercadia who is a little too fascinated by life above the surface. He's kicked out of his home after he winds up pregnant, and has to figure out how to make his way in the world. Louis is the darling of the small neighbouring seaside village who came home after university to take over their local library, and can't seem to stay away from the mysterious pregnant mermaid his friends introduce him to.

To the light by fondleeds (13k) 

“Hey,” Louis kicks his leg out at him, misses by a mile, but Harry’s cheeks still glow at it, all close-mouthed smile and dimples. “It’s Christmas. I refuse to let you be lonesome and dejected on Christmas.”

"It’s not Christmas yet,” Harry says, matter-of-fact, like he knew that before Louis told him about it that first week of December, when the lights had started appearing and Harry had risen out of the water with such wonder and dreaminess in his eyes, the last dustings of snow caught in his wet lashes.

“It’s the Christmas season,” Louis responds. Harry rolls his eyes at him.

AU. Harry is a mermaid lost at sea and Louis is a boy determined to make his first Christmas a memorable one.

Witches

Forget-Me-Not by SexyAsswoMan (26k) 

“I- I can't move” the elder one finally croaked out, and with more distress Harry came to see that the vines had wrapped itself around the lad's ankles. With a dumb nod Harry took a couple of steps forward. He could see Louis flinch with his sudden movement but he tried not to think about it. Instead, he lifted his hands, and tried his best to concentrate, hoping his power would listen to him just this once around the other man and untie him. Ever so slowly, the vines started to detach themselves from Louis's calves, and soon enough, the man was free.

With shaking legs, Louis stood up from the position he was in, and suddenly the air around them got thicker.

“You're- you're a witch.” Louis hissed under the harsh wind, making Harry flinch at the accusation in his voice.

Where Harry had something he did not wish to have. Louis was just trying to figure him out.

Burn by anchortied (21k)

Louis is plagued by nightmares of being burned at the stake. Every time he closes his eyes he can see the flames, smell the smoke, taste the acrid smell of his own death in his nostrils. There is nothing he fears more than this. Besides being something other than what he truly is. Which is, to say in the very least, a powerful witch. One of the most powerful in in the world, as far as he knows. His magic can't even be matched by Liam, who learned quicker than anyone he's ever met, or Niall, who's magic fire could burn through a whole village in a mere moment if he wanted to. When Louis meets Harry however, he realizes that his magic isn't as strong as he thought. And as he tries to navigate through this magic, and the trials of friendships and lost loves that come along with it, Louis finds that being powerful is more of a plague than he realized. A plague that infects more people than he is comfortable with. (A Witch AU based off of The Craft -a very loose interpretation)

Fae

Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule (93k)

“Thank you,” Geoff says, taking a sip of his tea. “What did you tell him?”

Louis has a sip as well, lets the tea burn down his throat too quickly, too hot, and he feels it all the way down to his stomach. “The truth. Essentially,” he replies after a moment, licking his lips, relishing the slightly bitter taste of the brew that’s never quite strong enough for Louis’ liking. At least it’s not decaf. “That my dog scented it. That I didn’t touch the body. That I came here first thing.”

Geoff nods pensively. “Did he believe you?”

“Probably not. There’s only so many people who can drown on dry land before it gets fishy.”

or: Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

Boiling Blood Will Circulate by whoknows (42k)

The wait isn’t long before something starts rustling in the bushes. Harry takes aim, squeezes the trigger, body moving unconsciously. They’re motions he’s done a thousand times before, and his body knows how to do it without the input of his brain now. It’s what makes him such a good shot.

He misses. The shot misses.

Something howls in the woods, a pretty clear indication that Harry hit it, but there’s no telltale sounds of a big body dropping, no animal charging out at him to take him out before he can finish the job.

Something does turn and run, though. “Fuck,” Harry spits out, scrambling to his feet and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder, giving chase. He’s not going to lose this hunt.

The trail of blood goes on longer than Harry thought it would. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but his muscles are burning, chest heaving with exertion, until the trail just - goes dead. No more blood, just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry says.

Fairy Tale Inspired 

Elysian by wonderlou (81k)

“What could be it, Niall?” Harry asks gently with a sigh. He slouches down further into his chair, crossing his arms lazily across his chest. He is bored. He has been bored for five years straight, but even more so now that his one interest has shut himself out entirely. Harry had not even heard from Louis, not since last night, not since he had gotten on his nerves so much that he was torn between knocking him out and smiling in surrender to the slight awe he felt. Louis is opinionated like no one he’s ever seen, but his voice is honeyed; high-pitched and indignant. Harry is nothing short of entranced.

Or, Harry is running out of time to fall in love, but with Louis, it seems as if there’s all the time in the world.

Red by frosteddream (26k)

Shockwaves were sent through the village after the McPherson family was savagely killed. There were people who feared the beast that did it, and then there was Louis, or, as most people liked to call him, Red. (Little Red Riding Hood AU.)

No Place to Call Home by suspendrs (21k)

“What are you smiling about, Harrison,” the boy spits, body language suddenly getting defensive. “I’ll have you know that I’m-”

“Harry,” Harry interrupts, giggling. “My name is Harry. And if you’re not called Peter, then what are you called?”

The boy tilts his chin up slightly, surveying Harry like he’s checking if he’s worthy of knowing something as important as his name. “Well, Herschel, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”

Or, Louis isn't Peter Pan and Harry isn't Wendy and Neverland is nothing like Harry thought it would be, but it's perfect anyway.

Mythology Inspired 

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire (110k)

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

You Flower, You Feast by stylinsoncity (18k)

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

Miscellaneous Themes 

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore (102k)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

the impossible now by stylinsoncity (64k)

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach (159k)

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

Truth in Your Eyes by summerwine (15k)

"...I found it half spilled over by the loveseat not too long ago.” Louis eyed him imploringly with a slight curl to his lips. “My mate gave it to me as a gag gift. He bought it during his gap year from some novelty shop in Belfast. I never did get to try it. I was always sort of intimidated by the label.” Louis twisted the bottle in his hand, revealing the label written in gold, and only now visible to Harry’s sober eyes. Truth Serum.