#sorry if they look different/wonky i haven’t drawn them in a bit!!

[mothsshoes]

hello petrigrofers i have returned for lesbian visibility week

[angelisverba]

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too. 

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments. 

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on. 

Because it definitely was one.

 A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big. 

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind  flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement. 

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy. 

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers. 

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy. 

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted)  and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus. 

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out. 

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows. 

You know, like with a brush and paint can. 

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music. 

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet. 

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up. 

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days. 

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.  

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair. 

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose. 

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture. 

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?” 

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.” 

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by. 

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

    “Okay, how do you want me?”

    He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work. 

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor.  The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’). 

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing. 

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank. 

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing  a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?”     Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well. 

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.” 

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?” 

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large,  orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted. 

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says. 

    “Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.” 

He looked up at her then, a small smile on  his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?” 

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus. 

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?” 

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things.  I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.” 

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”  

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly. 

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away. 

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth. 

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then, 

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back. 

.

.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter. 

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still. 

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had). 

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice. 

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase. 

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register. 

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n. 

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup. 

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees. 

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words. 

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie. 

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?” 

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy. 

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again. 

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled. 

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress. 

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.  

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.  

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet. 

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?” 

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day). 

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him. 

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD. 

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap.  Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her. 

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly. 

Affection. Love. Companionship. 

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go. 

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was. 

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention. 

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink. 

.

.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on. 

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin. 

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics. 

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw. 

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.  

“Let’s go.” 

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation. 

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no. 

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear. 

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart. 

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her. 

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol. 

    Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor. 

    She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair. 

    The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it. 

 Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror. 

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen. 

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing. 

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch.  When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast. 

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this. 

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table. 

Biting into her toast, she opened the book. 

    Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. 

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.” 

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him. 

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. 

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.” 

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.” 

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.” 

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did. 

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room. 

    Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

    When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

    “It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

    “I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.” 

    She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs. 

    “Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

    “Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

    “But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure. 

    “Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

    Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

    Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony. 

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check. 

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding. 

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her. 

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need. 

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation. 

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed  of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.” 

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended. 

    He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

        Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need. 

    His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

    Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button.  Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased. 

    She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound. 

    “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire. 

    And when it died out,

    She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm. 

    She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

.

.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library. 

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.” 

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.” 

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’ 

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know. 

“Okay now, what’s your budget?”  she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest. 

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool. 

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.” 

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.  

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.  

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.  

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.” 

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape. 

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.  

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again. 

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in. 

    She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him. 

God.

    Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted. 

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough. 

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself. 

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself. 

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.  

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa- 

Not falling. 

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes. 

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face. 

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so. 

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot. 

    All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really. 

    “Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).  

    “You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

    “Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands. 

    “Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”  

    “HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

    “Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?” 

    “Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

    “Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks. 

    It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.” 

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?” 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her. 

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.” 

    “The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

    “The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back.  “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

    “That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth. 

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?” 

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

    “That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

    “Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

    “I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.” 

    Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

    “Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her. 

    A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight. 

    She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.” 

    Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened. 

    Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her. 

    “All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.” 

    Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast. 

    “Thank you so much for h-”

    “Y/n?” 

    Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

    Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter. 

   “Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?” 

   Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual. 

    Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

    Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.” 

    Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy. 

    “Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.” 

    “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.” 

    .

    .

    And it definitely didn’t. 

    On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

    There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals. 

    “Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

    She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

    There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

    Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

    One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had. 

    Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there. 

    By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought. 

    “Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.” 

    Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans.  Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

    “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

    “Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating. 

    Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented. 

    She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside. 

    Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them. 

    Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

    She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist. 

    Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down. 

    Perfect. 

    She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

     Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things. 

    Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of  ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

    .

    .

    It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done. 

    She started in the back. With the plants. 

    Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green. 

    The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

    Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out. 

   As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy.     Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells. 

   She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

   “Y/n!” 

   Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants. 

   Grey sweatpants. 

   Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath. 

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.” 

   “Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

   “You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.” 

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly. 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him. 

   With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room. 

   Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice. 

   She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in. 

    When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

   Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

    Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it. 

    “Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands.  Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

   “Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

    Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

    “Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

  He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

  “Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

  “Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.   

    “Lead the way.” 

    So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

    “S’very nice back here.” 

    “Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?” 

    “Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm. 

    “So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

    “Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises. 

    “Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

    “It’s that serious?” She asked. 

    “It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table.  “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items. 

    “No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?”  Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand. 

    “Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.” 

    “Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in. 

    “Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

    “You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.” 

    Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck. 

“What was that?’ she hums. 

    “‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.” 

    Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty. 

    “Uhm, thank you?” 

    “You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time. 

    “Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.”  She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other. 

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.” 

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?” 

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?”     “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said. 

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold.   Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his. 

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in. 

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

    “Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

    “Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.  

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream. 

    “The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?”     “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

    “Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!” 

    “Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

    “So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break. 

    Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

    “You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

    “Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.” 

    “Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with  a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with  his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.” 

    Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her. 

    “What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

    “Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

    Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup. 

    “What did you get?” He asked her. 

    “Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron. 

    “Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

    Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

    The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth. 

    “Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.” 

    “How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in. 

    “Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

    “Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

    “W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his 

    “‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.” 

    “Harry, I-”

    “Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her. 

    “Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression  unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

    “Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

    “But it’s your home.”

    “I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

    Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job. 

    “Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter.  “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle. 

    “Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.”     The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

    “Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.” 

    “You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could. 

    “I do not sound like that,” He whined. 

    He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head. 

    “There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars. 

    “So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

    Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really.  Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.” 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

    “Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel. 

    They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye. 

    He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response. 

    “Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’. 

    “Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two. 

    She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased. 

    “No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world. 

    Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead. 

    “SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

    She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too. 

    “I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s  lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out. 

    “Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door. 

    Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise. 

    God, what had she gotten herself into?

    .

    .

    Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

   And received a text from him that same night.

    She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck.  The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

    She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles. 

    Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her. 

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him. 

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s 

What do you think :D ??

    And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way. 

    However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book. 

    Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

    Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

    Like

    This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment   

        Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through. 

        are you doing anything this weekend? 

        Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

    No. why? she responded.

    so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

  and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink. 

    Saturday? 

        Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out. 

.

.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

.

.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it. 

She cried. 

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with 

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name. 

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

.

.

Friday. 

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her? 

She said yes.They were set to meet next week. 

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers. 

.

.

Saturday. 

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes.  It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date. 

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house. 

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills.  A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.  

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name. 

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.” 

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them. 

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad. 

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her. 

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing. 

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver. 

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white. 

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.”  He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing. 

“Thank you, Felix. You too.” 

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice, 

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms. 

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him. 

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister.  His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening. 

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners. 

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it. 

“How was-”

“So, you-” 

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.” 

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him. 

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n. 

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels. 

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?” 

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8,  Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone. 

“I-I,” she stutters. 

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low. 

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?” 

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess  and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but  Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door. 

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face. 

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed. 

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through. 

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library. 

“Y/n?”  Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?” 

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.” 

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know. 

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce.  “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.” 

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots. 

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge. 

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink. 

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.” 

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back. 

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream. 

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry. 

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her. 

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long.  Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision. 

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her. 

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.” 

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.  

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster. 

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her. 

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek. 

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him. 

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?” 

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy. 

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her. 

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.” 

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her.  The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.” 

Lemus Knox. 

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct. 

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro  ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Until You Return From the Front Line *Isiah JesusxOC

A request from @everythingandyou

Summary: Tommy’s eldest daughter, Avis, falls for Isiah Jesus but before they can have a whirlwind romance they’d always dreamed of, Europe crumbles. 

//Judging that the ages for the children in the series are wonky enough, I’m just going to have Isiah, Finn, and Avis in their late 20s, Charlie 18, and Ruby as 14.

           Dear Dad,

It’s been about a month since I’ve arrived in France. There are a lot of lovely girls my age. There’s a girl from Birmingham as well! I hope you’ve heard from Uncle Finn and Michael as I haven’t received any letters from them as of yet. I heard from Charlie about a week ago and it sounds like he’s becoming acclimated. It’s been a bit difficult as I’ve never seen such wounds before. There was a young man, couldn’t be more than twenty, who lost a leg. I’m hopeful the war won’t last very long. But I worry for Isiah and the others. Give Ruby and Lizzie my love and let them know I’m always thinking of them.

Love,

Avis

           It was an absolute nightmare. Tommy thought he could raise his children and never have them know the horrors that he and his brothers knew. The War was in the past, Charlie would never know the fear of being buried alive by a tunnel or the sound of bombers in the air and rifles through the night.

           But no longer. Britain had once again declared war and no able-bodied young man was safe from the draft. Charlie, a proud boy enlisted much to Tommy’s anger.

           The two fought over the decision for a few days. Charlies argued that it was the same thing his father had done. Tommy argued that, yes, it was the same thing he’d done and that’s why he was trying to protect his only son.

           Despite the power he had both in Parliament and in the community, Tommy couldn’t pull enough strings to get his son discharged before he was shipped off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Before Charlie left, they had a party for him at the Garrison. Tommy’s three children were all there. Avis was the oldest and the last thing Tommy had left of Greta Jurosi, the first love of his life. Next was Charlie, and finally, little Ruby who was actually taller than her older sister and nearly as tall as her brother.

           Drinks were flowing and spirits were generally up even though Charlie was leaving for the front lines. Everyone tried to remain optimistic. Maybe things would be settled and the young man would never even see a lick of combat. That’s all they could hope for.

           Across the room, Tommy spied Avis. She was a beautiful young woman with dark hair and her mother’s green eyes. Ever since she was little, she wanted to be a nurse. Growing up in Small Heath and around the rise of the Peaky Blinders she’d seen more than her share of injuries. So, with Tommy’s support, she completed nursing school and worked with ill children. Despite her rough upbringing, she was a gentle figure in the family.

           And now she was dancing very close to Isiah. The sight wasn’t too strange as the two had grown up together. She, Finn, and Jeremiah’s son were inseparable on the streets of Small Heath.

           Little did Tommy know; Isiah was Avis’s first kiss. Her first love. When they turned eighteen, he gifted her a promise ring which she never removed.

~~~~~~~~

           As the music slowed down, Isiah pulled Avis closer. “I need to tell you something.” He whispered to her.

           “You’re enlisting.”

           He frowned. “How did you find out?”

           Avis pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Finn told me you two went.” She answered quietly. “I didn’t want to believe him until you told me yourself.”

           “I’m sorry but I can’t stay here while Charlie’s over there.”

           Avis nodded and the two were quiet for a moment as they considered the possibility of being separated. Neither were sure the longest time they’d gone without seeing each other. It was like they were magnets, just due to be drawn back to each other at the end of the day.

           “I’m going too.” She finally spoke again.

           “What?” Isiah stopped swaying with her and lifted her chin so she was looking at him.

           “They told us in the hospital that they needed nurses.” She explained, her green eyes locked on his. “And I signed up. If you’re all going then I am too.”

           He shook his head but he knew there was a very slim chance she would ever change her mind. She had strong convictions and that was one reason why he loved her so. “I’m guessing there’s nothing I can say to make you stay here?”

           She smiled and shook his head. “No.”

           “Stubborn girl.” He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

           “I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy pulled his daughter aside the next morning. “There something you want to tell me?” He asked.

           Avis attempted to feign innocence. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what her father was trying to call her out on. Her relationship with Isiah? Her decision to enlist as a nurse? That one time when she was ten and broke a plate but blamed it on Charlie? “Tell you what?”

           “I saw the way you were with Isiah last night.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How long has that been going on?”

           Avis averted her eyes and rifled around her purse for a cigarette. “A while.” She admitted. “Why?”

           “Av, I don’t want to control you. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

           “But you’re worried that people are going to look down on you because your daughter’s dating someone who’s black?” She snapped and glared at him.

           “What?” Tommy shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m talking about him providing for you. He’s a Blinder, Avis.”

           “And?” She threw up her hands in disbelief. “He’s intelligent, dad, you know that. If you gave him and Finn more responsibilities on the tracks then maybe they could make more money.” She accused.

           “That’s what you want, aye? Your husband working on the tracks? You could date someone of better social standing, Avis.” Tommy wanted nothing but to have his children succeed. To never allow them to see the slums of life, the worst of the worst of living. They would never go hungry, they would never be cold in the winter, they would never be afraid of being evicted.

           “I want someone who I love more than anything else.” Avis shot back at him. “I’m not marrying someone I don’t love.”

           Tommy ran a hand over his face, deflating slightly. “I understand you love him but…”

           “But nothing, dad. There’s nothing you could say to change my mind. I love him, isn’t that enough?”

           He looked at his oldest daughter, the apple of his eye. Perhaps he was just making up excuses. Maybe he was afraid of her getting old and starting a family of her own. It probably wouldn’t have mattered who she loved. He would protest because time had moved too fast. She’d grown too fast.

           “Dad, I enlisted.” Avis decided the time was as good as any to tell him the other news. “I’m going to serve as a nurse.”

           “No, absolutely not.” Falling in love was one thing. Going into a war zone was another thing. “I will not have you and Charlie over there. Absolutely fucking not.”

           “What am I meant to do here? I’m a nurse and I want to do what I can!” She cried.

           “What if I lose you both, aye?” Tommy stood up and began pacing anxiously. “What if you two both come back in boxes? I’m gonna have to tell your sister that you’re gone?”

           “Nothing’s going to happen to us, dad, we’ll be okay.”

           “You don’t fucking know that!” He shouted. “Neither of you have no idea what the fucks happens in those trenches. You both want to be proud of your fucking country when this country left me and your uncles for dead, buried alive!”

           Tears began to brim in Avis’s eyes. “I won’t be worthless. I’m going to make a difference.” She whispered tearfully. “I won’t sit around while men die. I’m going.” She asserted and left before Tommy could yell at her more.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Avis returned home from France a few weeks before Isiah and Charlie. Tommy refused to let go of her for quite some time. She was home, now he just needed to get his son back and the world would be right again.

           It was like there had been a never-ending alarm over the world for years. But finally, at that moment, everything went completely silent. The echoes faded and now everyone was left to pick themselves up, gather their dead, return home, and find out what normal had been.

           Isiah had been shot twice, once in the leg and once in the shoulder. Finn had nearly lost his arm to a grenade. Charlie had grown very ill from the gases. Michael had a bullet lodged in his back that would have to be taken out by surgeons in London. They’d all been through hell and back but at least they were returned home alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Isiah grinned and dropped his bag when he saw his Avis pushing through the crowds on the train platform.

           “Baby!” She squealed and leapt into his arms.

           “Oh, I missed you so much.” Isiah spun her around, hugging her tightly and then kissing her deeply. He never wanted to let go of her again.

          After a moment, Avis pulled back for a breath. She took in his handsome features, tracing her thumb over his cheek. “I missed you more.” She sighed with relief and kissed him again. Feeling him hold her again was reassuring. Not even a world war could tear them apart. They’d always return to each other.

Masterlist 

[blackdahlia-parker]

What you reading love?

Part 2- Tom Holland x female reader

Summary: you were meant to be studying for an exam that you had the next day, but instead of returning home so your boyfriend could help you, you decide to head to the library and got too interested in a particular book. What happens when Tom catches you flustered while thinking about him in a public library?

Warnings!: Smut! 👀 throughout, dirty talk Please don’t read if you are uncomfortable.

Please Read part 1 if you haven’t already 🙃 someone asked for a part 2 so here it is-

“But Why did you say you hated my teasing love?… If you didn't like it then why were you a moaning mess hmm?” “Ahhhaa T-Tom” was all you could reply . Flip— he’d caught you good you thought, as he continued to move his finger, slipping in and out, in and out at an extremely pleasurable pace. Just then a woman walked past as he went deeper on purpose as he saw her. He was really putting you at risk now. “Ahhhaa—cheeky shit!” You screeched, as you attempted to push the both of you further into the hidden corner of the shelves, gasping for air. Removing himself from within you, he laughed quietly as he forced his middle finger into your mouth and got you to suck on it, ravishing it like a dummy. You made yet another filthy noise, but you just can’t help it. God you were embarrassing yourself.

“Shhh darling!, you just can’t keep your mouth shut around me can you? Why’s that then hmm?” You couldn’t really speak probably with his rough finger in your mouth. Muffled, but you tried at least; “n-no reason babyyy” you looked up at his face and just melted into his mocha eyes. There were crinkles around them as he grinned. “oh yeah I’m sure it’s for no reason” he sarcastically replied winking. Why did you have to be looking at those damn eyes as he did that? You were just drawn to them....they were like a whirlpool. Drawing things to the very centre. Ending in dangerous results. Dangerous but good mmmm. “I can tell how much you like me now Y/N. I mean it’s pretty evident now isn't it? Now, slurp you filthy wet  mess off my finger. There’s a good girl.”

“hmmmhhh hmmmhhhh hmmmhhhh.’’ You tried to shut your mouth but failed, so you just did as your boy told you to. You teased him, getting a small lick of his finger before quickly removing your mouth from around it and then going back to suck it hard and then grabbing his hand to shove it in and out. Leaving your saliva on his now wet finger that your tongue swirled around slowly in attempt to turn I’m on. And you had succeeded in doing that for sure.

You were still lost in his deep eyes, watching as they turned from looking like day time, to the pitch black night sky. They looked mysterious and it excited you to not know what he was gonna do next. He then removed his finger when he was satisfied that you'd cleaned it enough. He’d felt his stomach twist at the explicit sight of you sucking his swear finger hard, twirling your tongue around it while not once taking your eyes from his. “God y/n, if there’s something you need to do, you make sure you do it properly don’t you? I bet the teachers at college love you because you suchhh a good little girl aren’t you love? ” your knees shook at the comment. You could listen to his voice all day and wouldn’t get bored. You loved being praised. He knew it too so he did it purposely all the time, being the big tease that he is.

Leaving you standing by the shelf, he went and grabbed the book again. The one you were reading earlier. As he studied the book, he tried to find some of the most erotic pages and you studied him. Your eyes stuck to his face. He turned you on so much and made you soak all the was through your underwear when you saw his focused face. He has a bit of a wonky nose from breaking it a couple of times, but nevertheless it was shaped really nice. His small lips looked larger than usual, as he licked them until red and puffy while he read. You bit your lower lip at this and you could've sworn it nearly bleed. “Oww” you silently gasped, while bringing your finger up to touch it. You stared at his long, curly brown locks that draped down his forehead on his concentrated face. Your head taking you to the most sinful of thoughts, as you imagined his head among your thighs, hair tickling them and sending tingling shivers to your pussy, while he would lick up every drop, and look up to you with those damn eyes. ‘Shit’ you thought.

You came back to reality and pushed the naughty thoughts away, while you focused on his little freckles which was very pretty and hopefully didn't have a chance of sending you back into a dirty daze. The flaws and details on his face were immensely beautiful, but there was one thing that was more….. Your body attempted to keep you from looking but it failed miserably as your eyes said differently, they wanted to be blessed. Your eyes slowly went down from his face, passed his upper body and down to his lower, catching sight of the outline of his big fat cock—

Just as he found the page, he looked at you. You were guilty as sin. Your jaw dropped as you tried to think of a misunderstanding. He'd caught you good and proper. What you thought of was rubbish; “I’m so sorry T-Tom, I know what it looks like b-but….ummm…..i wasn't looking at y-you” He shook his head and laughed as he ran his tongue over his lip, “Nuh u uhh darling, I don't want your excuses.” He wasn't normally this confident but he forced himself to be, purely for his girl’s fun. Your whole body shook. “Don’t worry, you wont have to wait for much longer for my cock darling, in fact I have the page i wanted right here’’ and with that, he pointed to it. Page 289. Sh!t.

For some reason you remembered specifically what was on that page, and you began dripping again. “T-Tommm…” you quivered, “are we really gonna do what it says in the b-book h-here?” As much as it excited you, you had a slight frightful look in your eyes. You were in p-public. “Yes my dear….Do you comply to any of this?” he questions. “N-no not really… I guess I can’t complain” You were a stuttering mess…and what the hell did you just agree to??!!

You didn't bother checking what time it was, at least you both were hidden, but god help if he does you good. You were still stood up. He decided that it was best if You kept your ruffle skirt on and just slide down your underwear. But even that was enough. You’ll never be ready for what was to come…

He read from the book; “Thomas roughly swirled his finger around her clit. She was soaking, which proved to him how much of a naughty girl she was. This wasn’t allowed. Not without his permission” he did as the book mentioned, he reached up and grazed around your clit a little at first. So light that at one point it hit a spot and tickled. You jaulted , wrapping your arms around his thick neck and turned rouge. “Ohh hheehe” you gasped while giggling. But then he smirked and began to rub pastily and abrasively up and down the area. You looked down to where his fingers were and nearly came at the sight of how good he was handling you. “Ahhaaa Tomm—Oh uuuu—Such a good husba— boyfriend, yeah boyfriend.” I mean you secretly wanted to marry him. He felt so pleased with himself. He was making you forget reality , making you think he was your husband. all that was on your mind was how good he was pleasuring you...in public. Where the hell did he learn to move his fingers like that? “T-Tom ahaaa, Oh my goddd baby!” Now it was his turn to say “shhh”. You then whisper yelled at him, as he continued to rub around the most pleasurable spot in the whole of your body; “What do you—Ahaa— Ohhaa—What do you expect—ahhaa T-Tommy?!.”

You sounded like an uneducated child trying to form your sentences (except with the moaning…) He then chuckled mischievously and came to a sudden stop. Your mind couldn’t figure out why. He was on the ground…what the he—Then it hit you like a ton of bricks, as he licked a stripe all the way up the inside folds of your pussy. You gulped as he swallowed your wetness all the way down his throat, in one massive gulp. “Tommyyyyyyy!!!!” You really began to whine now. He got up from the ground. You was fuming. You raged; “what the heck??!! that’s all i get is one lick??, please stop teasing me Tommmm.’’ “Haha, patience baby, or I’ll just leave right now. Leave you here on your own to sort your own mess out. It that what you want darling hmm?” You certainly did not want that. “No!” You replied hastily (just in case he did leave you). He chuckled darkly; “I thought as much love. Now behave!” He snapped. And with that he spread his hand wide and slapped your ass cheek firmly, causing you to Yelp as a trickle of wetness ran down your thigh from your dripping core. And to top it all once he’d done that, he moved his hand and brought it back and slapped down onto your pussy this time it felt so good and stung just a right tiny amount, making your clit tingle as he then rubbed his whole palm over it in a traumatically slow motion. You were flooding. He tutted as he felt such wetness. “Ahh-haaa mmmm p-pleaseee” You rocked yourself on his hand uncontrollably. Tom shook his head and licked across his bottom lip at what you were currently doing and then spoke, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. Lips ghosting your ear. “My little SLuT!”. He then blew on your ear. It was short and simple but sent shivers right down the side of your face. And with that he gave quick grab to your pussy, pinching it into his hand. You whimpered, eyes falling backwards. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand this.

“Now where were we?…. Page 289…’’ he stated, as he began to recite the book’s words again….

“Thomas laid his girl gently to the ground as he got down beside her.”  “ooofff, you heard it, lay down dear” he said breathily and smirked as he put his palm flush to your heaving chest and slowly lowered you down while he grabbed on to support you. You were now eyeing him from down on the library’s floor. You cannot believe you are doing this, stomach fluttering as you started to get a little excited at the thrill of it all. He continued to read… “He pulled his jeans off while he put on a seductive show for her.”  Tom did as the book said, as he pulled his jeans off traumatisingly slow and he seductively rolled his hips in a grinding motion. You saw his dick move with his body through his pants and gulped, eyeing it with strong lust for him in your eyes. You hadn't expected it, but as soon as his jeans were off, he yanked his underwear off quicker than she she thought was possible, but in a very sexy manner. Being the seducing God that he is.

OH MY GOD! It wasn't only you that was dripping…He was too. You stared at it. Long, red and tip releasing sex juice. “Mmmhhmm, yum” you accidentally said a little too loud for your liking. He stared at you intensely, not saying a word at your reaction to him. Instead he just shook his head , tutted and his pupils dilated until they were almost black.

He wanted to devour you. His gaze made you scorch. “Quit looking at me like that , or I’m going to cum before you even shove it in me!” He growled at your words, “Is that so darling?, am I that flippin’ delicious?” You just nodded in response. He was incredibly satisfied with himself for this. But just then, he lost all of his smiles as he instantly thought of something vital. “Oh sh!t Y/N!.....we don’t have a condom do we?” Your eyes widened a large amount as the boy reminded you. Tom was ultimately quite sad as he was getting excited all that time and for nothing to come of it. “Well.....actually.....” you spoke....embarrassed and anxious to speak.....”I actually have ......a cond— well you know....one of them handy in my b-bag” You blushed furiously. “Ahh do you now?”, your boyfriend questioned amusingly “are condoms a thing you keep handy in your bag on a regular basis?” He questioned again....expecting your answer to be ‘no’ but instead it was this; “well.....this is quite embarrassing....but um—yes Tom, yes they are.....I don’t really know.....I’ve just wanted to do this for so long, I’ve wanted you to do at least something to me again for ages....and I guess they really did come in handy” you smiled a cute, innocent toothy smile......but not for long.....

A fire lit in Tom’s stomach. He was ‘in’ as they’d say. “Aww that’s really cute Y/N......but just you wait.....the noises you’ll make darling won’t be so adorable sounds.....and they’ll be all for me.....isn’t that right, my little princess?” He winked. You could’ve collapsed to your death. What an embarrassing end that would have been. You can see it as headlines now; ‘cause;- her boyfriend turning her on too much, too frequently’. You internally laughed at the thought but decided to play back, “wanna bet?” ......”oh yes please baby” he smirked “it’s on!, I bet you’ll be moaning like a wild animal” he then lowered his voice into more of a whisper.....”trust me , you’ll be jelly by the time I’m done with you darling.” Something was telling you that he would be right. You were wobbling already. ‘Pathetic’ you told yourself, as you gave one of your knees a smack, attempting to stop the wobbling , unsuccessfully. You huffed.

Before he proceeded to look at the book, he approached Your bag that was right beside the by the shelf and found a condom in the side pocket. Oh god, one of many....you had a stash...you wanted it bad. His eyes went big at this, as he returned to you and the book’s not so religious words;

“After Thomas has his underwear off, his errection was in full sight and he was oh- so relieved that his ‘penis was free as his balls escaped the tightness of his boxers too.” Tom held in a laugh at the word ‘penis’ but couldn’t hold it any longer, his cheeks burst and mouth flying open with a cute, toothy laugh while he had his moment. He knew it was a little childish but he just couldn’t help it. The classical way that bit of the book was written was hilarious to him. Looking down at the page again, he processed the words to speak “He could feel the cum inside of them , desperate to pour out with sexual desire. The air hit his throbbing cock as it grew hard. He got to the ground, where he knelt down in front of her centre, with her whole body flush to the floor.” You both blushed furiously at this. If you weren’t eager before, then you were now. You just loved the thought of all that liquid within him “mmmm”

Tom stopped and spoke to Y/N in real life; “Red Hot is it love?” you just groaned as Tom said this and he continued looking at the book, reading to himself before speaking to you again. “ohhh this is kinky darlingggg, what he does next. I mean it’s normally the girl that .......you know........but if that’s what want, then I’ll do it....only for you ...How do you want it pumpkin?” Your eyes water, you wanted to feel him so badly and intensly. Your feeling for him were immense. His were too. You spoke; “Like the book T-Tom pppleaseee!!” You began to whimper like a helpless animal trapped in a cage. He grinned, “Alrighty then love” and then chuckled as he spoke the cringy words of a famous song.... “I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road, I’m gonna ride ‘til I can’t no more...”. “Oh my god Tom” ,You gushed but laughed at how he killed the mood. But it certainly didn’t stay that way for long.....

“The man reached for her legs and pushed them slightly back towards her head. Legs in air, ass on show as he brought his length pointing directly downwards , leaned over her , practically sitting on top of her,his red cock plunging into her sopping centre.”  Tom wasn’t sure if this position where he rode the girl, possibly even sitting on her was even possible, it might not have even existed but it apparently did in the book so regardless, he went for it.....good.

Pushing your legs back,he set the book aside and he got over you in a leaning but practically in a sitting position and pushed, sinking in deeply until he couldn’t see himself anymore when he looked down.Your tight pussy took every inch. “Good girl” he praised you.

“Ohhh Tom , T-Tom feels a-amazing. Ohhhh please moveeee, — take it out a-and s-slam it back innnn.” You choked on your rather long sentence. (You’d rather be choked by him though;) ), as you moaned and moaned. Tom found this so flipping sexy, but had to block your pretty, filthy little mouth. He put a hand in front of it as you continued your muffled begs for him to move. He begins to bounce up and down at a purposely aggravating slow pace. You groaned at the speed he was going, wanting him to thrust into you with all his might.....harder and faster becauseyou was a naughty girl and that’s how you liked it. “Oh god Y/N, young so tight, it can barely fit in.....and .....uhhhhh—wettt....do I really make you feel that gooooddd baby?, ohhh— listen to the sound of my cock as it pounds you. Our skin  s-slapping togetherrrr......sss—sounds like heaven doesn’t it darlinggggg?” There was a pause as he gave you a chance to take the sound in.....you getting extremely week in the knees, and then; “Do you love my thick cock- b-baby?” He said in between pulling in and out. “Do you?.... D-describe— it— to— me, Ahhhaaa.” He moaned. Your whole body shook .....you absolutely loved hearing a boy moaning, especially your boyfriend. You were so glad he wasn’t embarrassed to just let it all out and be as vocal as he needed to be <3. His voice reached a peak at the end as it went more into a high pitched whimper. Oh my God Y/N though, that was so hot and endearing. you thought his helpless, submissiveness was swoon worthy.

You struggled to hold back from making sinful noises but somehow managed, and you cheekily lied to him about what she thought of his massive dick. She silently laughed before speaking; “No Tom, I don’t like your stupid cock. I-its t-tiny and under—undersized and your so bad at s-sex!” He stopped moving for a minute and pulled out, you immediately wanted him back. He began to actually worry that that’s what she actually thought. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. He wandered In Your eyes for an answer. Then you burst out laughing at his reaction. “Ohhh you nasty girl” Tom said, “you got me thinking there for a moment.  Now look who’s killed the mood? ....and it was a sexy one at that!” He shook his head playfully waiting for your reply. “I’m sorry Tom. I really liked your fat cock in me actually. It felt really good babyyyy” she faked a little moan to wind him up. Tom squinted his eyes at you with fake anger for this, but felt proud. But you needed him back in you now!!! You spoke to him again; “Tom, i need your cock inside me n-now!” you begged. “my what?” he asked…..as if he hadn't heard you in the first place. Right then you thought. You decided to joke again at him for that. “Your tiny, little, undersized,….microscopic—Ow!’’ he touched your pussy and spoke,“Oh, is that area sensitive? I apologise.” Tom gave an evil smile, “you were saying?”

You rolled her eyes at his touch and shifted; “I need your huuuge  cock inside me Tom!!!” Tom nodded, “that’s right baby, that’s better.” Tom chuckled darkly as he slammed back down into you harder than he ever has before.

“Tommm, *slap* oh this *slap* t-took a dramatic t—turn, *slap* Ohhaa my Godddd!!! *slap*W-what happened to y-you? So r-rough *slap*T-tommy, uuuuu— Y-your so goodddd!!” He slapped your ass with each powerful thrust. It was stinging.He groaned in reply to your moaning all because of him….all him… “What do you think * made * m-mee like this darling? Hmmm?” He questioned,while you looked up and saw the most un-holy sight of him bouncing up and down and in and out of your tightness at the speed of light. Another kink of yours was him questioning you with the words ‘hmm?’...you don’t know why it just made you soak continuously. You replied to him “I - I don't p-particularly know what made you like this Tommm” You could barely breathe. “Darling ohh Darlinggg— of-of c-course you- you do. UhhUUu. You really upset daddy by what you said earlier, so n-now your paying for it….You asked to be done better, so that’s what I'm going to do, my P-Princess.”

Those words were nearly all it took…you were sure that you were about to spill and drip down all over his cum filled ballsss, but you forced your body to hold it all in. There was so much inside you right now, and you could tell that his cum was piping hot by the temperature of his balls as they whacked against your groin. You thought of the words ‘Daddy’ coming from your boyfriends mouth. Who knew he could talk so dirtayyy.

He read the words of the book for one final time; “Thomas went in, and I mean in. Hard and deep as she gasped for air. A hitch in her throat. He finally moved one hand from her hip. where it had once resided for some time and brought his own fingers to his mouth, as he licked one, brought it to her nipple, wetting it and blew.”  You as shuddering like jelly beneath Tom, as you knew that this was coming next. Your boy began to lick his thumb and then lifted your t-shirt slightly. You had no bra underneath. His lips curled up at the religious-free sight as he brought his wet finger to your nipple, removed it, still bouncing and slamming into her, leaning close and blew on her breast’s damp nipple. You jolted,

And kicked your legs further up in the air at the tingling sensation, when the cold air hit your soaking nipple. Oooff. You loved this so much. You wanted more. You wanted to be his slut. You was enjoying it a little too much if you ask me. As you kicked you nearly caused Tom to fall off of you ; but gladly he hadn't or he would have gone tumbling into that bookshelf….someone would have surely caught you both for sure then…phheww!

But the thrill of it was purely amazing. You yanked at his long curls while he was resting inside you as your pussy flooded; “mmm Ahhhaa yesss”, a wet liquid just continuously ran and poured out of it. Pulling your t-shirt down, Tom pulled out of you. His hand now deciding to go elsewhere. But before he could move, you quickly grabbed his fat cock and tossed his back down on Top of you (but not inside) , and you forced him to grind on you like he did to that umbrella during his lip sync battle- him grinding on that umbrella was so F-ing arousing. Shit. He wiggled his cock and his ravishingly radiant ass, as you lay on the floor getting the best of views. God you wanted him to grind on you hard. That ass had a scrumptious shape. Plump and rounded. ooff and the sight of him when he wore tight trousers that clung to it was to die for. You heaved, heaved and heaved as he sped up and he growled like a possessive bear, not wanting anyone else to hear moan but him. Nobody else deserved to. But that was impossible. You were just so loud. He was just grinding but that was enough. His ass and cock banged your skin harshly but then came to a stop as you reached out and grasped it, tugging it towards your mouth. You wanted to taste his flesh. Mouth wide open, But as he realised before it even reached your mouth, he slapped your hand causing you to let go of his dick. You felt miserable. “NO!’’ he said harshly, Yanking his massive length away from you...

A/n- thank you so much for reading part 1 and this, I really appreciate it.

Part 3 anyone? 😂💓

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Blow By Blow ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’. Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, LV Issues, Brother issues

Notes: My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows With Brotherly LV

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One

~~*~~

Read Chapter 2 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge’s years in Underfell had prepared him for many difficulties in life. He’d learned how to set up traps to protect his territory, he knew how to stretch a meal for days, providing just enough nutrition without limiting his magic. He knew when to keep quiet and avoid riling the hair-trigger temper of a ruler whose decisions were not always what was best for his people, and he mostly knew how to deal with a brother who could be infuriatingly mysterious, bordering on cruel, even when the decisions he made turned out for the best.

None of that had prepared him to deal with a Bun whose motherly instincts were fiercely roused.

If Edge were asked to describe Janice in one word, he would choose efficient, and efficient was exactly correct to define how she promptly took him over. She was on her feet in an instant and, despite being at least two handspans shorter than him, she hustled him into his office and into the first available chair.

There was a small minifridge in his office with cans of soda and bottles of juice that Edge offered to guests that he didn’t mind staying. The little tray of ice cubes in it hardly produced enough to fill a single glass, but Janice took it out. Edge watched in confusion as she carried it out of the room with her, but she returned with a small zip-top bag, very likely one she’d emptied of her own lunch. The faint tremble in her hands was alarming, but she dumped the ice neatly into the little bag.

Edge didn’t offer a word of protest throughout, nor did he when she knelt next to him, her soft brown eyes wide with concern as she pressed the bag of ice gently to his face. The only protest he offered was a slight hiss at the cold. Edge was well experienced in battle and even he knew when to surrender.

“Oh, this must hurt terribly!” Janice fussed as Edge took over the duty of holding an ice pack for the second time that day.

“It doesn’t,” Edge said honestly. It probably would have been paining him by now if Stretch hadn’t been the one to heal it. Stretch hadn’t healed him often, but enough times that Edge noticed his healing technique focused more on stopping the pain first. It wasn’t the normal focus; most healers would concentrate on the injury…unless they were on a battlefield and their concern was to get the injured soldier back into the fight as quickly as possible without the distraction of pain. He’d never questioned why Stretch learned healing as if he were in combat triage; somehow, he suspected having the answer wouldn’t be worth the price.

He flinched as Janice gently pressed the backs of her fingers testingly to his cheekbone, forcing himself to relax. As a mother, surely she’d learned some healing techniques. The fur on her fingers was soft enough to be ticklish, and Edge tried to hold as still as he could while she confirmed what Blue had already noted. Stretch had healed the injured bone as much as was possible, for now.

He’d never felt her magic before. He wasn’t sure how it was for other Monsters, but for him, magic had a distinct scent that always faintly lingered but rose strongly whenever it was used. Red’s was reminiscent of his own, a sharper version of spice. Stretch’s was sweet, thick and honeyed, addictive, at least to Edge. Blue’s was fresh, almost soapy, while Sans was oddly vinegary and Papyrus a subtle, strange spice all his own.

Janice’s wasn’t as distinct as a smell; the only way Edge could describe it was soft, velvety as her fur as she let it brush over him.

It faded, leaving him faintly bereft.

“Was it the protesters outside?” Janice asked hesitantly, and suddenly her trembling made sense. Of course she’d be upset if she thought that, she’d had her own painful experience with those Humans, striking with the force of a literal brick.

“No, no,” Edge said reassuringly. “It was just an accident. This is nothing, it’s only a bruise. It’ll be gone in a few days.”

Janice only bit her lip, blinking too hard, and Edge was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t sure how to ease her obvious distress. It was a bruise, painful perhaps, but hardly a fatal injury; in Underfell, he doubted anyone would have even noticed it, or if they had, they certainly wouldn’t comment on it.

From her position on the floor, Janice shifted uneasily. “Edge,” she began, slowly. “I know that where you’re from is…different.” That was unexpected; even within his familial circle, Underfell was rarely brought up. The Monster community wasn’t completely unaware, how else could Asgore explain their existence, particularly with Edge’s LV. They’d kept the details to a minimum, but any interested Monster would know he was from a difficult place. “But, no one has the right to hurt you for any reason, no matter how much they say they care about you. If you need help—"

His astonishment that she’d brought up Underfell made the words take far too long a moment to click. Any irritation he might have felt at the assumption was overwhelmed by a swell of unexpected affection. “Janice, if you’re trying to find a delicate way to ask me if Stretch did this, I can assure you now that he didn’t. He wasn’t even there. It was a sparring accident, that’s all. Truthfully, he was very upset about it.”

“Of course he would be,” Janice exhaled slowly, but her relief was palpable. “He would never…of course. I’m sorry for suggesting—"

“Thank you,” Edge interrupted her flustered apology. He settled a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder at why she’d drawn that particular conclusion on where he’d gained this bruise. Janice didn’t have a spouse, but she did have two children. It wasn’t at all his business, but perhaps Red wouldn’t mind exploring that question. Just in case. Red did always enjoy turning over rocks to see what filth lay beneath them. “I do appreciate your concern.”

He also appreciated her quick nod and the way she briskly climbed back to her feet, dusting off skirt. “Well, then, let me get you today’s schedule. No physical meetings, which might be for the best, but you do have a few scheduled online. Legal sent down a few briefings as well. I’ll bring everything in for you.”

In moments, she’d covered his desk with an orderly stack of papers and folders, swiftly gone over the schedule, and somewhere in that, a cup of coffee appeared for him. She was gone as quickly as she’d come, leaving him alone in his office. Efficient, and Edge never would have suspected that word would fill him with fondness.

There was enough work here already to keep him busy for most of the day, but there was one thing he needed to deal with before he started. He took a sip of coffee for fortification before pulling out his phone, bypassing his text messages for his contact list.

The phone rang three times before Stretch answered with a cheery, “ebott association of toxic control, what’s your poison?”

“Stretch.”

“babe!” Stretch said, all bright surprise. As if he hadn’t known who he was talking to from the beginning. Oh, he was in a fine mood, wasn’t he. That mind of his didn’t settle easily and he’d likely been running everything through his head in circles, working himself up.

Edge flipped through one of the folders on his desk, already looking impatiently for where he needed to sign. “Stop harassing my brother.”

“dunno what you’re talking about.” That breezy tone did not bode well and Edge knew it immediately for what it was. A paper-thin veneer over his actual emotions. This was worse than he’d first thought; Stretch was furious and whether it was at him, Red, or simply the world in general remained to be seen.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Edge said, coolly. He gave up looking at the briefs, flipping the folder closed; this was going to call for far more of his attention than any of them. “Stop it, anyway.”

“i haven’t talked to your brother once today.” Not a lie, of course, damn him, the teleporting triplets took weaving half-truths to an art form. But what Stretch said next chilled him. “maybe i should. wander over, let him know what a shitty job he’s doing at—”

“Do not go over to see Red,” Edge said sharply. His soul stuttered over the very idea of Stretch confronting Red over anything. He loved his brother, knew he wouldn’t hurt Stretch...no. He wanted to believe Red wouldn’t ever hurt Stretch. Physically, certainly not, but Red could wound with words as effectively as he could an attack and those injuries weren’t ones anyone could easily heal. Especially not Stretch, who tended to take cruel words far too much to heart. “I mean it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, it wasn’t for Stretch to snap out, “don’t tell me what to do!”

“What I am telling you is not to interfere with my relationship with my brother!” Edge retorted, struggling to keep his voice down. This conversation had spun out of his control from the very first word and he was grappling with gaining it back, trying to ignore the sudden, pained throb deep in his soul. “The same way I would never interfere with yours!”

The silence on the other end of the line was long and sullen. “fine.”

“Promise me.”

That silence was worse. Stretch did not appreciate giving promises like this and Edge knew it, he rarely asked. But the very idea of Stretch confronting Red in the mood he was in right now was chilling him to the depth of his bones. Someone would be irreparably hurt and he was desperate to avoid that, for both of them.

“i promise.” Hissed through gritted teeth and Edge sighed inwardly. There was going to be a price for demanding that promise and he knew from past experience that Stretch would hold a grudge until it was paid.

“All right,” Edge said, trying for gentle even though his soul was heavy and riled. His LV was responding far too readily to his irritation, like an unlit fuse hunkering in his chest. “I don’t know what scenario you’ve concocted in that head of yours, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Red didn’t hit me. We were sparring together, that’s all.”

He couldn’t help wincing at Stretch’s ugly laugh. “wow, is that what it feels like? getting blatantly lied to? you fucking suck at it, babe, and i’m not stupid. you think i can’t see the difference between a sparring strike and a full-on attack? go on,” he goaded, sweetly mocking, “tell me another lie, see if you can fool me this time.”

His brittle control over his anger broke. “Given recent events, are you sure this is the argument you want to have right now?” Edge snapped. “Because if you’d like to discuss blatant lying, I have a few complaints of my own!”

He regretted it the moment he said it. Blast it, he was letting Stretch’s mood get to him, and his LV was not helping one fucking bit. Last night’s workout had damped it, but not enough, not right now when it was a burning distraction that he did not need.

“Love—” Edge began but the call disconnected. He looked at his phone a long moment, trying to decide whether or not to call back. Finally, he decided against it, tossing his phone carelessly to the side of his desk to bury his face in his gloved hands. He was forced to bite back a yelp at the pressure against his bruises, reluctantly scooping up the melting bag of ice and pressing it to his face.

Damn it all, that hadn’t gone how he’d hoped. He should have known better; Stretch was caught in a kaleidoscope of tense emotions from waiting on Alphys’s tests as it was. All his nerves were as sharp as broken glass, tumbling together in chaos; adding Edge’s problems in was only making it worse.

He shouldn’t have come in to work, sourly thanking hindsight for that much. There was plenty that needed done but working from home would have been a better choice. He would have if he’d realized exactly how much Stretch was struggling on top of how unexpectedly hard he was taking what Edge saw as merely a bruise. He was learning, too late, that in this Universe people took this sort of injury very seriously.

Thoughtless of him; he would have reacted the same if he saw Stretch or Janice with such a bruise and he’d been in this ‘verse long enough to know better.

Well, if nothing else, he could count on work as a distraction. Dragging the folder back over, Edge began working his way through the briefs. The tedium was almost like meditation. His soul slowly settled, his riled LV reluctantly easing back its grip.

Some time later, his phone chimed, but Edge ignored it. He was just settling down; the last thing he needed was a chat with Red to stir things back up again. He drank his coffee and did his job, and his bruised face didn’t hurt, but there was a headache starting to form right between his sockets.

This was going to be a long day.

tbc

[cutiecrates]

Cutie Reviews: Doki Doki Sept 18

Hi guys, here’s the (possibly) long-awaited Doki Doki September review that I probably should have done earlier this past week or two... or three. It kind of got put off, plus I got a new game and a new book I was excited about, and there was a hospital-related incident and some back pains...

Anyway I don’t have much else to say right now so we’ll just get right into it!

This months theme: First Day of School

As the weather gets cooler and we return from our summer vacations, we have to get back into the swing of things. This month’s theme is “Shin-gakki” or First Day of School. This crate is full of items to make school, or the workplace for those out of school, cute and fun!

For this month the Suteki Crate focuses on several practical Sanrio based character goods, namely My Melody, Sumikko Gurashi, and Jinbesan. I approve!

(As usual I forgot the picture until I started writing this.)

I love the adorable pen pouch and memo pen, what about you guys? :3

(Also as a side note, in the comic for the month we’re introduced to a new boy character, Hibiki Shinosuke, who finds out first-hand why Tomomi is avoided in class. He’s really funny, so I hope we see more of him~)

Sumikko Gurashi Pen Case

Our first item is this slim and adorably designed pen/pencil/other small stationery item case. It features the Sumikko Gurashi trying various school clubs, besides the tennis one I got there is also soccer, volleyball, soft ball, music, and basketball.

Besides the music one, I’m pretty happy I got this one because I like tennis. But they all would have been really cute, so I wouldn't have been disappointed either way.

These are also double sided, providing 100% cuteness on both sides!

It’s also made to be discrete while safely snuggling the inner-contents; which means you could probably also use this on a daily basis if you didn’t attend school anymore or was going out for the day. They are on the small side so there are a handful of items that probably won’t fit, but there is also a variety of items that will.

I pretty much use it and the one I got last year (or maybe the year before?) to hold all the pens and pencils I get from these boxes!

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I really like these x3 not only are they cute, but they are functional, well-made, and I like how they’re sleek and slim with a very smooth cloth fabric, rather than bulky and hard, which were the types of cases I had growing up when I attended school.

They were plastic which made them hard and fragile, and they got dirty fairly easy (but to be fair that was sometimes my fault), but I usually made them last until the school year ended. They came in handy due to their bigger size (I could fit some of everything school related in one) and I always had tons of coloring options, and I always found a pink one to buy each year... but I’m pretty sure my middle school self would have preferred these.

Jinbesan Folder

(Sorry the pics are kind of wonky, that’s what happens to a folder that’s been bent for a long period of time.)

Our next item is this large, colorful Jinbesan folder- which is pretty vital for pretty much everyone, no matter the grade. I know I had multiple each year, one for each subject like any other person.

There was a few different designs this was available in, and this one is also double-sided:

(Keep in mind it’s a lot brighter in person than in this picture)

Again, I’m pretty sure I would have loved to use these when I was younger; not that I don’t now though :P but I do have papers I can use it for now so it’s not like it’s going to go to waste... I just need to fix it’s bendiness first.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

This folder material is like a very sleek plastic (maybe vinyl? I don’t really know terms for these things >3<), so I like knowing that if it gets dirty then in theory it should be an easy clean. Prior to me opening the box it was already bent, but staying in the box so long didn’t help it, but that’s my own fault and I’m sure with enough weight I can flatten it again. At least this material can’t tear like paper folders.

Aggretsuko Plush Charm

Who doesn’t love Retsuko? She’s become extremely popular as of late, and as the booklet points out, it’s can be really easy to relate to her sometimes when dealing with school and work (it also helps if you like metal, I enjoy it a bit myself).

This is a plush charm that was available in either form, the cutesy work Retsuko and the released death metal one. I hope I don’t get hate over this, but I actually prefer her normal cutesy appearance; but I can still be appreciative over this one too.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s very soft and squishy, I’m really impressed that as small as this charm is (It’s smaller than most mug in terms of height) it has a lot of perfectly stitched quality. There’s no quality issues, even the little hair tufts on the ears feel soft and silky. The ball chain is also pretty nice too.

My Melody Onigiri Maker

Whether you make your own lunch or someone else does it, or if you just want a snack, it’s nice to have a cutesy element in some shape or form to make it feel all the more special~

This comes in 4 pieces to make the perfect My Melody onigiri (rice ball), as well as drawn and written details to help make it on the packaging; although it isn’t that hard to figure out just looking at it either.

Now as much as I love rice and try to test out food-based gadgets we get, I wasn’t able to do that with this one. I didn’t have the “supplies” and with the hectic things going on, I wasn’t really doing much in the kitchen lately. But I have seen several youtube videos about items like this so I recommend going there if you want to see more. 

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Whether I tested this out or not, I wouldn’t have had very much to say about it. You’ve seen one rice shaper you’ve seen them all, and I have tested previous ones I got and haven’t had any problems (besides the broken one I got like two years ago that they were supposed to be replace and never did).

I love cutesy looking food, even if they can take a bit more time to make, but food always seems to taste better when it’s personally worked on; it also helps to make picky-eaters a tiny bit less-picky :P if you like eating rice and would like to try these out, you can find a variety of them on Amazon.

Amuse Pen

You can’t have a school themed box without a writing utensil of some type. So here we are, at our last item. An adorable pastel pen featuring the popular brand Amuse and it’s original characters.

It’s a bit hard to see here, but I got Alpacasso x3 which is the reason I like this brand, since I always had a soft spot for llama and alpaca- I like that they’re so popular now because I can enjoy them more frequently!

Anyway, each pen comes in it’s own themed color, with matching colored ink. It also has a wonderful and relaxing scent, it smells exactly like an eraser I got in a prior school themed box. But I still can’t identify the scent more than being a light sweet fruit with a hint of baby powder or cotton candy.

It smells really good, trust me. 

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

The pen quality is good, a tiny bit spotty but I think that was my fault for writing on the box rather than paper. Again it’s scented, and it has pretty sky blue ink, so I’m not sure it would be test or signature necessary friendly, but it’d be perfect for everything else!

Oh, also it isn’t a gel pen or fine tip, like what I usually prefer. But you know, I still really like it :3 I don’t have too many colored ink pens (unless you buy a really expensive pen or multi-ink ones, all we normally have are black, red, dark blue, and sometimes dark green) so I get excited when I can add to my collection.

In fact I pretty much stopped buying pens and stationery items from here because I get so many from these boxes.

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 5 out of 5. I’m a teeny-tiny bit bugged by the folder, but that can easily be fixed so I’m not going to blame the box on that. I wasn’t amazed by the items or anything, but I liked them and I love getting to add to my pens and kitchen gadgets. They’re perfect for the time of year they were released and are very practical, so I completely approve!

Quality/Price - 5 out of 5. I’ll admit on terms of price I’m not sure where the box stands this month. The quality was excellent with each and every item, and because of them all being licensed I know that would probably make them costly depending on location. The problem with that is that where I live (and I’m sure in several other states/towns) school products are very cheap when school starts, and even throughout the year. So as much as I prefer cute items to plain ones... I’m not sure I’d go out of my way to spend triple times the amount just for a couple of them when I could use the same money to buy a lot of basic items. But to be fair I don’t know the prices of these things, it’s entirely possible they aren’t as expensive as I think.

Theme: 5 out of 5. Like last months, it’s extremely obvious even without the book. Every September they do a school themed box, but I like the consistency and I’m sure the other subscribers appreciate it too.

Total Rank: 15 out of 15 Cuties. When I first started this I wasn’t too sure how I felt about this box, it kind of gave me vibes from the previous one, where I enjoyed the items but I didn’t feel any sort of inspiration. I assume it stems from often getting “schoolish“ items in my other boxes, but at the same time I liked the concept of getting one box dedicated just to them. Plus I adore practicality considering how much gets spent on these and they have been doing pretty well with that!

♥ Cutie Scale ♥

1. Sumikko Gurashi Case - Again pastels and designs, but just looking at it makes me feel happy x3

2. Amuse Pen - I love it’s pale pastels and colorful design... but the clippy part of the pen’s top that you attach it to things with kind of blocks the image a teensy bit, which is kind of annoying to me. 

3. Jinbesan Folder - I love how it has two alternate designs and is so smooth and translucent. Any time I see something Jinbesan related, I really want to hug it. I feel so warm and comforted looking at it~

4. My Melody Onigiri Maker - As much as I love cute pinkness, that’s all there really is going for it. 

5. Aggretsuko Plush - ...It’s probably really obvious right?

Alrighty, that will be doing it with another review :3 I hope you found it enjoyable (I’d say informative but lets be real it isn’t), and because I didn’t get my April Gacha Gacha box yet, I will be moving on to our October boxes! I’m so excited, not only was October my birthday month, but it features spooky-kawaii items for Halloween~

Until next time, stay cute!

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 18)

Fandom:  The Adventure Zone:  Commitment Rating:  M Chapter Warnings:  None Relationship:  Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count:  1,494

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

Not sure how I feel this chapter, but here it is. Look forward to next week, when we get another reunion.

Chapter Summary:   Flanagan takes a compliment. Addison tries their best. Nadiya thinks about science.

__________________

“I’m going to die,” Remy moaned. “This is it. This is how I go.”

“It’s just curry,” Flanagan said, embarrassed. “Pretty easy.”

“You don’t understand,” Remy said, pointing his fork at Flanagan. “We haven’t eaten anything not from a convenience store or a sewer in, like, a week. This is so much better than sewer granola.”

“They were power bars,” Nadiya grumbled, “and the sewer was clean.” She couldn’t complain too much, though; she was already on her second helping, and Kardala was on her fourth.

“Geez, you guys have really been through the wringer, huh?” Addison said sympathetically.

“Little bit,” Remy agreed. “Oh, hey, man, by the way, sorry about knocking you out back at the ‘Berg. I really didn’t mean to. Glad you got out okay.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Addison said, waving a hand. “I couldn’t, uh, couldn’t stop channeling, so it’s probably good you knocked me out like that. Flanagan took care of me, it was all fine. I mean, honestly, she was the one who –” They broke off.

“It’s fine.” Flanagan sighed. “All three of our powers were sometimes a little… wonky, right from the beginning. I mean, with Mary, obviously, it was a totally different story, but when they were all activated together? Not great. That’s why Addison couldn’t stop channeling, and I couldn’t stop… amplifying? Generating? I dunno. Anyways, when you broke the current, it messed me up a little.” She took another bite of the curry and spoke around it. “Just weird… like, I go non-verbal sometimes. Well. More often than I used to,” she corrected.

“Dang. I’m sorry,” Remy said, his face falling.

“It’s okay,” Flanagan said. “You had to. Mary probably would’ve died, or she would’ve finished channeling and shut down all the electronics, and that would’ve been bad. This is, like, the best of all possible worlds, really. You guys are in way worse shape.”

Remy looked at Nadiya and Kardala. “Yeah, okay,” he admitted. “We’re not doing great. And we don’t know what we’re doing.” He absentmindedly rubbed one hand over his still-bandaged wrist.

“You guys done?” Addison collected plates. “I’ll take care of these.”

“I’ll help,” Nadiya said abruptly, standing up. “If that’s okay.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Addison said with a shrug, leading the way into the kitchen. Once they both inside, they turned to Nadiya. “You really wanted to help with the dishes?”

Nadiya wilted slightly. Caught in the act. “I want to know anything you can think of about Mary Sage,” she said. “To help us find her. And –” She stopped. “Yeah. You and Flanagan knew her best, right?”

Addison frowned as they started filling the sink with soapy water. “I guess. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll be telling you much you don’t already know. She’s… pretty closed-off. Sarcastic. Resentful, I guess. Didn’t talk to us much.”

“I know all that,” Nadiya pressed, taking the dish Addison handed her and drying it.

“She thought everyone was out to get her,” Addison said after a moment, hands stilling in the water. “Everyone. I knew the, uh, the bare bones of her backstory. With her parents getting arrested and everything. She thinks everyone’s in on it. She even thought Flanagan and I were, and it only got worse after she got the stimplants. She made a run for it, right afterwards. They tried to, uh, sedate her, but it didn’t work. She stole a skimmer and just… ran.” They resume washing. “None of us could really get through to her at that point. She wouldn’t even listen.”

“Fuck.” Nadiya takes the next dish and dries it methodically. “So, hypothetically speaking… if we came across information that said that there was a giant conspiracy under all this and that everyone was out to get her…”

“No wonder she ran,” Addison finished. “It would be her worst fears come true, I think. It seems like she trusted you guys a bit, but after something like that, I bet she felt like she couldn’t trust anyone.”

“She could’ve trusted me,” Nadiya said. “Us. She could’ve trusted us.”

“I know,” Addison said. “And she probably knows it too, deep down. But if she ran off like that, she wasn’t thinking straight.”

Nadiya thought about Mary Sage’s breakdown in the sewers, her quoting the Bible. Saying I’m scared.

Burying her head in Nadiya’s lap.

“It’s not your fault she doesn’t trust you,” Addison said. “Whatever you’re thinking. It wasn’t –”

“I know that,” Nadiya said sharply.

“I’m just saying –”

“Well, don’t.” Nadiya balled up the dish towel and threw it onto the counter. “Don’t just say when you don’t know.” She stalked into the other room, grabbed her bag from where she’d left it on a chair. “Is there anywhere in this house I can get some goddamn privacy?” she snapped.

Flanagan looked over from the table. “There’s a bedroom down that way,” she said, pointing down the hall. “But –”

“Look, I just need a fucking minute to myself, if you don’t mind,” Nadiya said, and without waiting for a response, walked through the door indicated, closing it behind her a little more loudly than she probably should have.

It was a nice room, she guessed. Homier than Jamie’s entire place seemed – somehow, Addison and Flanagan had found knickknacks to put on the dresser, a few pictures to hang on the wall. The comforter, if a bit dusty, was a clean and only slightly faded blue. Nadiya sat down on it, the mattress creaking under her.

God, that felt good.

Nadiya let her face drop into her hands, fingernails digging into the sides of her head. Slowly, the ringing in her ears started to die down. She let out a breath and straightened up again. She still had a headache, though, so she unzipped her bag, digging around in it for ibuprofen.

Instead, what her hand closed around was a small picture frame.

Nadiya very nearly shoved the frame deeper into her bag, but after a second of hesitation, pulled it out.

She didn’t even know why she’d stuck it in her bag. It wasn’t like it held a bunch of amazing memories.

It wasn’t like she even remembered when her parents were together like that.

Her mother was wearing her hijab in the picture. Her father was wearing his glasses, like he’d just gotten up from reading over a journal article. He probably had, and then gone back to it right after they’d snapped the picture.

Don’t get attached, Nadiya, she heard her father say. We’ll be moving on sooner or later. People, places, they come and go. The only thing that isn’t transient is science – and even then, you can’t always rely on it. Well, he was pretty fucking accurate on that point. Jobs, apartments… people, came and went. Mary Sage, transient, leaving the minute she got freaked out. There was no predicting it, no preparing for it.

It was like quantum mechanics, Nadiya thought. Since quantum mechanics was based on probability, there was intrinsic randomness in everything related to it. The laws of physics themselves were random. A biochemical roll of the dice spiraling towards entropy at every moment.

Remy’s mom, Nadiya thought, was probably full of shit. Bonds like the ones she’d described weren’t random enough for a universe like this. In a world where bonds existed, she wouldn’t be on the run from a cult run by a would-be dictator. She wouldn’t be crying into a coworker’s shoulder because her own fucking mother didn’t bother being around, or even in the same country. She wouldn’t be wondering if her father even knew she was missing.

Fuck both of them. It wasn’t like she cared.

Abruptly annoyed, Nadiya shoved the photo back into her bag and zipped it closed.

“Nadiya?” There was a soft knock at the door. Addison. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Nadiya said with a shrug, and the door creaked open, letting Addison in. They looked nervous. “What?”

“I’ve got, uh, an idea of how to find Mary,” they said.

Instantly, Nadiya was razor-focused. “What? How?”

“Well, Remy was explaining the bond thing,” Addison said, “and I thought… maybe that could help. Flanagan and I can mark off some places that seem like Mary’d go, and we can drive around and see if we can feel the pull.” They paused. “You know what I mean by the pull, right?”

“Yeah. I… figured that out. How do we even know she’s around here, though?”

Addison shrugged. “We don’t. We just have to trust, I guess. Trust that she was… drawn to us and to you guys. What else can we do?”

Nadiya clenched her hands into fists. Nothing. There was nothing else they could do. She had to trust – trust Mary Sage, Remy’s mom, Addison and Flanagan. All the transient people who were going to disappear sooner or later.

“Nadiya?”

“Okay,” Nadiya said. “Fine. Okay.” She swallowed hard. “What else can we do.”

[errantknightess]

Lost and found

Pairing: Lavi/Allen

Word count: 2,900

Summary:  Allen finds out about Lavi carrying his ace of spades with him all the time.

A super late Laven Spring Exchange gift for @the14thnea - I’m really very sorry for making you wait this long ;A; Hopefully you will find this fic enjoyable even in spite of that.

[Read on AO3]

The night was stifling, washed blue with the light of the clear full moon, and once again restless.

Lavi lay on his back, watching the shadows drift across the ceiling. He had given up on sleep long ago, his head too heavy with the recent events to allow him anything better than a few fitful naps that left him exhausted and disoriented. The alternative was almost soothing in comparison. Staying awake meant he could at least try to put up a fight against the memories flooding his mind.

The distant noises of the infirmary ebbed and flowed in his ears. It seemed the medical staff weren’t getting much sleep, either. Lavi absent-mindedly picked up the shreds of sounds seeping through the walls: hushed voices from down the hall, brisk footsteps of the nurses, cabinet doors opening and closing with a soft clack. It was always busy in here, even this late into the night, but their return from the Ark had stirred things up even more than usual. With tension thick in the air, the ward was no place for rest these days, neither for the patients nor those tending to them.

His leg twitched sharply, an almost electric sting of numbness running up and down his skin under the bandages. Lavi groaned and slowly turned on his side, his limbs heavy as if he were rolling in molten lead. The metal bedframe repeated his groan in a mocking, high-pitched tone that made his teeth tingle. Out of all the rickety beds in the room, this one had to be the loudest. Lavi settled carefully, the lumpy mattress protesting his every move. Finally, the metallic whining of springs quivered to a stop and the room fell silent again, so silent he could hear his own breath.

And then, like a distant echo, the creaks and cracks sounded anew. This time, though, they were different than the usual tossing and turning – more timid and jerky, the tell-tale noises of someone trying really hard not to make a noise. Lavi recognized them immediately; he had heard them night after night ever since they got here. With his eye half-closed, he held as still as he could, watching Allen slowly sit up on his bed just within arm’s reach.

It was hard to read his face in the dim light, but its ghostly pale sheen alone told Lavi more than enough. Allen shifted under the blanket, his moves short and shaky like a marionette on a broken string. Lavi wondered how he could still move at all; he had to have more fractures than bones. And yet there he was now, ready to leave the bed and disappear God knows where, just like last night and the one before.

The first couple times, Lavi had let it slide, too sore and tired to spy on him. Still, curiosity wormed its way in even through pain and fatigue, and he could only ignore it for so long. That’s all it was, he told himself, staring intently as Allen set his trembling feet on the floor. Just plain old curiosity prickling under his skin, writhing in his chest, gnawing at the back of his throat—

His hand grabbed onto Allen’s as soon as he took the first wonky step past him.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

For a split second, Allen went rigid in his grip, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

“I just… wanted to get a midnight snack.” The weak smile he offered only made the lie all the more obvious. Lavi sighed, squeezing his hand a little tighter than he meant to.

“Come on, Allen. If you really were going to get food, you wouldn’t look this miserable.”

Allen looked away, his pulse beating against Lavi’s fingers in a rugged rhythm. He didn’t answer, but made no move to escape, either, and Lavi saw this as his chance. With a light tug, he pulled Allen closer, leading him to sit down on the bed. Allen gave in to his guidance like a rag doll, his shoulders slumped and shaking as he dropped onto the mattress. He still wouldn’t meet Lavi’s gaze, staring dead ahead with glassy, faraway eyes.

“Hey…” Lavi started, his voice barely a whisper, but still too loud in the choking stillness. Gently, he ran his thumb over the back of Allen’s hand, hoping for a reaction. “Allen? What’s wrong?”

Still no answer. Allen just shook his head slowly, as if trying to chase away some plaguing thoughts.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing,” Allen muttered, finally turning back to him with another half-hearted smile. It faltered as soon as their eyes met; at least he realized his masks were no longer of use.

Maybe that’s what spurred Lavi into dropping his own one as well.

His wounds protested as he leaned closer to Allen, as if his body wanted to remind him that he shouldn’t let himself go this far. Allen’s gaze flicked with a quiet surprise, but he didn’t resist when Lavi gingerly rested a hand on his shoulder, with a touch so light he probably hardly felt it through the bandages.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” Lavi assured, his confidence rising with every moment of this fragile connection. “I get it. But please, just stay here tonight, all right?”

Allen bit down on his lip, fidgeting with the hand that Lavi still held clasped in his own. Long black fingers tapped a silent melody over his calloused knuckles. He parted his lips and sucked in a shaky breath, but it took another moment before he spoke.

“How can you stand this?”

“What do you mean?” Lavi blinked, puzzled.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” Allen’s voice cracked as he explained, a nervous grimace tugging at his mouth. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to lose my mind if I stay here like this any longer.”

“Allen, calm down. You’ll be fine.” Lavi gave his shoulder a little squeeze, but the words didn’t sound convincing even to himself. It was unsettling to see Allen unravel like this, and he could feel his own composure starting to crumble as well. He needed a distraction – anything for their minds to latch onto before they both give out.

“Let me help you. Come on, how about we have some fun together?”

“Fun?” Allen repeated, drawing the word out as if he held it on his tongue for the first time ever. He seemed confused, and suspicious, and yet – oddly hopeful. Lavi smiled; his hand slid up and down over Allen’s shoulder in gentle, soothing circles.

“Yeah. I know something that will lighten you up for sure.” This was a terrible idea, he knew that as soon as it crossed his brain. He was going to regret it. There was no doubt about it. But at that moment, it was the best he could do. Even at the price of his dignity.

“Care for a round of poker, Beansprout?”

The challenge in his tone made Allen perk up in an instant. Lavi had to wonder just how deep his competitive streak ran; it seemed more like some primal instinct to him – but for now, he was just glad to see that sparkle again.

“I thought you hated playing with me.” Allen tilted his head with that shark smile of his. “You’ve never won even once. What’s with this all of a sudden?”

“Oh, you know.” Lavi shrugged. “I just thought you might need some practice. With everything that’s been going down recently, you haven’t played in a while, right? I bet you got all rusty,” he taunted.

Allen’s smile somehow got sharper.

“Don’t underestimate me or you’ll lose your pants.”

“You wish.” Lavi poked him in the nose with his finger. “No, I have a good feeling about this. It must be my lucky night.”

“Well then, let’s see it.” Like a cat pouncing on its prey, Allen stretched over Lavi’s lap to rummage in his nightstand drawer. A moment later, he scrambled back onto the bed, already fiddling with the worn deck in his hands as he settled in.

Lavi scooted closer to join him, smoothing out the wrinkled blanket between them. Something light fluttered in his chest, an odd feeling so pleasant that it almost hurt. It was as if for a moment everything went back to normal. He watched Allen’s expression flicker from glee to focus, his lips drawn into a thin line and a deep crease on his forehead, half-hidden under the messy white hair. Lavi just barely stopped himself from reaching out to brush it away. But Allen didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all; he kept his eyes on the deck, cutting it and shuffling over and over. His hands moved swiftly and as always, fingers dancing through the cards with practiced ease. He made it look so easy. The graceful gestures were almost hypnotic, but Lavi found it hard to give in to their charm. The sight of the cards cascading between Allen’s palms made him uneasy. They had been cleaned and refreshed, but it was still the same deck – he’d recognize it anywhere. Even without his cursed memory, he doubted he could ever forget. Lavi felt his breath back up in his throat as the pictures burned in his brain, preserved as perfectly as in Timcanpy’s recording: a flash of light, empty gray eyes, a rain of paper scattering on the bloodstained grass…

“Are you ready?” Allen’s voice broke him out of the trance. Shaking himself off, Lavi quickly picked up the cards he’d been dealt and looked them over. A lousy hand, not that he didn’t expect it. He should have known better than to let Allen handle the deck. With a sigh, he dropped three and drew again. Even worse. He rearranged the cards and looked up at Allen expectantly.

“You wanna change anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Allen replied, not even bothering with a proper poker face. “So, shall we?”

Lavi just groaned as they both uncovered their hands. Technically, he got what he was aiming for. Allen smiled the widest he’d seen him for days – but now Lavi yearned to wipe that smug smirk off his mouth.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” Allen gloated, gathering up the cards to hand out another round. “What do you say, mister Lucky Night?”

“I say you’re not allowed to deal anymore.” Lavi plucked the deck out of his hands and gave it a thorough shuffle.

“Really, now.” Allen stared back at him with wide eyes, a perfect display of innocence. “Lavi, don’t you trust me?”

“Allen.” Lavi sent him a stone-hard look as he flung the cards back and forth between the two of them. “I trust you with my life, but never with these.”

Allen shook his head with a laugh.

“Well, if that makes you feel better, do go on. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

It really didn’t matter, Lavi found out with growing frustration as they played one game after another. Even with so many chances to figure it out, he still had no idea how Allen kept pulling this off time and again. Losing all the time wasn’t half as annoying as not knowing why. Still, it was worth it. With every game, Allen’s eyes would light up more and more, and with every win, he’d flash a smile – a terrifying smile, granted, but Lavi would gladly take it over that haunted look from earlier.

The longer they played, though, the more that smile reverted back to a thoughtful pout. Sitting so close, Lavi could clearly make out all the tiny shifts to Allen’s expression, and it didn’t take long to notice something was still bothering him. Something was off. Allen has never been this distracted during a game; one moment, he was watching Lavi like a hawk while he dealt the cards, only to stare off past his hand and mouth to himself as if he was counting something in his mind.

“Hey, quit spacing out.” Tired of waiting for his move, and a little concerned, Lavi leaned over and poked him in his bare toes. “What’s up, you suddenly forgot how to play?”

“Far from it.” Allen swatted at his wrist with his cards, revealing another royal straight flush – his third one in the last five rounds. He tossed them on the blanket and stretched out with arms over his head, stifling a yawn. “This is starting to get boring. It’s too predictable.”

“You know, it could be more exciting if you stopped cheating,” Lavi remarked, still assaulting Allen’s foot with his finger.

“Oh? Look who’s talking.” Allen narrowed his eyes, and before he got any reply, he seized Lavi by the shirt, one hand tugging at the fabric while the other snuck right underneath.

“What—“ Lavi sputtered as the ice-cold fingers brushed against his stomach. Allen swiftly reached up and up, with the aptitude of a skilled pickpocket, until finally he pulled back again and triumphantly waved his loot into Lavi’s face.

The ace of spades.

Lavi had almost forgotten about it – no, wrong, he could never forget, but the card had grown onto him like a second skin over his heart, so much so that he barely noticed it anymore. He stiffened, his head starting to spin with the sickening memories again.

“I knew something wasn’t adding up,” Allen exclaimed, flipping the card in his hand with an amused smile. “I have to admit, though, I’m impressed. I didn’t even notice when you took it! How long have you been hiding it?”

“I…” Lavi tried hard to swallow down the bitter tingle at the back of his throat. He couldn’t look away from that little patch of black and white, fluttering in Allen’s fingers like a butterfly, and something in his eye must have clued Allen in. He followed his gaze down and turned the card over once again, his smile fading as he took a closer look.

“Lavi…” he said slowly, fingers skimming over the dark smears of dried blood on the paper. “How long have you had this card?”

“Since we left China.” Lavi’s voice barely broke through, choked and raspy. “Lenalee and I went looking for you when you two got separated. We couldn’t find you… Timcanpy showed us the place, but you weren’t there anymore. This was all that was left.” He gestured at the card, feeling a pesky dampness under his eyelid.

“And you took it with you…” Allen's face softened as he looked up at him with a fond smile. “You had it with you this whole time…”

“I was holding onto it for you.” Lavi managed a smile of his own, a weak one, but for the first time that night completely genuine. “Now that you’re here, you can have it back, though.”

Allen bit down on his lip, thumbing the tattered edges pensively for a few heartbeats.

“Actually, I’d like you to keep it.”

It wasn’t an answer he expected. As Allen held the card out to him, Lavi took a breath and opened his mouth, but found himself lost for words. What could he even say to something like that?

“But… How are you going to play without it?” he blurted.

“Don’t worry, I can manage.” Allen let out a small laugh, still eyeing him with that heart-melting, tender look. “It’s all right, Lavi. Just take it.”

“Seriously.” Shaking his head, Lavi reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Allen’s hand, keeping it in place. “I don’t need it anymore now. You should have it. To help you win.”

“If that’s what you want.” Allen relented, his grip tightening. “But at least let me give you something in exchange.”

Lavi blinked, once again taken by surprise. Suddenly, Allen’s face hovered closer to him, so close he could see the impish glint in his eyes and the tiny tremble of his lips – and then those lips skimmed over his skin, pressing a short, sweet kiss just by the corner of his mouth.

Lavi stiffened as a warm breath swept his cheek, making the hair on his arms stand up. It all lasted only a few seconds, and before he knew it, he felt Allen starting to pull away. Lightheaded and lost, Lavi leaned in, desperate to stop him. Allen’s soft chuckle tickled his chin. The touch grew bolder. Lavi tilted his head, returning it with timid lips as he let Allen push him back onto the mattress.

They settled down to creaks and groans of the springs, pressed up against each other on the narrow bed. Allen's head was a warm weight on Lavi’s shoulder, bobbing slightly to the steady rhythm of his breaths. His white hair spread out like a halo, shining silvery in the dim light. Like mesmerized, Lavi stroked it slowly with a gentle hand, tangling his fingers in the short strands at the nape of his neck.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Allen’s answer was nothing more than a low murmur that trembled through his chest. Nothing more was needed, though. His heart aflutter, Lavi put an arm around Allen’s shoulders, rubbing small soothing circles into his back as they both drifted away.

The night was sultry, washed blue with the light of the clear full moon, and for the first time in a while, peaceful.