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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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BEHIND THE BAR

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

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

CATEGORIES: bartender!y/n, fratboy!harry

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

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

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

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

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

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

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

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

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

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

Tonight, it seemed, was no different.

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

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

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

The first time you ever met Harry, you noticed him long before he finally spoke to you. He was sitting at a booth not too long after your shift started, so it wasn’t super busy yet. He had caught your eye because he wouldn’t stop staring at you and he had a weird bandana wrapped up in his hair. (Or was it even a bandana? Maybe a scarf? You couldn’t be sure.) It wasn’t the creepy kind of stare that made you call the bouncer over, but the kind that made you blush against your every attempt not to. When Matt came in, a bit late as usual, Harry beelined to the bar, sitting down in front of him.

“Y/N, this is Harry,” Matt had said, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the wall and pouring some in a glass, then adding Coke to it before pushing the glass towards Harry. “He’s my little.”

You leaned onto the bar, the surface still dry since it wasn’t packed yet. “I was waiting for you to say hi. Saw you staring for the past fifteen minutes.”

The blush that rose to Harry’s cheeks made you smile at him, and Matt chuckled. “Staring isn’t nice, H.”

“Wasn’t staring,” Harry mumbled. “Just watching you make drinks.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Have you never seen a bartender before?”

“No, fuck,” he said to himself and you internally grinned at making him a bit embarrassed. He was easy to mess with, especially now that you had confirmed that he had, in fact, been watching you. “You’re just good at it.”

You looked to Matt. “He thinks I make good drinks,” you informed your co-worker. “What do you think, Harry? Am I better than your big?”

Harry could tell he had dug himself into a hole, his eyes sweeping between you and Matt. “I—I don’t know—maybe?” Matt’s eyes widened and Harry stumbled over his words, trying to correct course. “No, no, Matt’s better. Matt is definitely better.”

You leaned forward a bit more, inching closer to Harry. “Thought you said I was good at it?”

You could feel his eyes drift to where your cleavage was exposed from the deep-v of your black t-shirt. “You are.”

“So which one of us is better?”

“You.”

Matt groaned and you moved away, a triumphant grin on your face. “Not fair,” Matt said. “Harry’s got a crush on you, of course he’d say you’re better!”

Harry choked on his drink and you raised your eyebrows at him. “A crush, huh?”

“Shit,” Matt said. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

You bumped your hip against his. “It’s ok, Matty boy. I figured that out when he wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

Harry blushed and you moved away, tending to the other customers at the bar.

That night had begun the back-and-forth between you and Harry, a playful dynamic of flirtation and jokes that usually left you triumphant and Harry blushing at the bar. He kept showing up early and Matt would tell you things like “Oh, he’s just coming by to drop off my charger” or “He just wants to chat.” All of them were excuses for Harry to be in the bar with just you, Matt, and a couple of customers, him having your relatively undivided attention. He’d tell you terrible jokes and ask you questions about your classes or family, most of which you ignored. You never asked him questions back, just let him talk and you listened, although you pretended like you didn’t, because you didn’t want to encourage him.

The truth was, though, you didn’t mind him. You kind of looked forward to those conversations. When he got really drunk he was a bit more annoying, repeating your name until you finally paid attention to him, only for him to say nothing except “You’re cute” or something along those lines. He entertained you, at least, and that was more than could be said for most of the patrons.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different than usual. “Y/N!” He said, shoving himself between two people who had managed to snag one of the green vinyl covered bar stools. His hair was messy, perhaps a bit sweaty, and he was swearing a black t-shirt, a silver chain tucked under his shirt. You could immediately tell he was decently drunk already, based on the glassy expression in his eyes and the grin on his face. “Want to hear a joke?”

You wiped off the bar with the towel over your shoulder before answering him. “Sure.”

“What did the therapist say when a naked man wrapped in cling film went into their office?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, resting your hands on the bar and looking at him dead on. “What did they say?”

Harry was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Clearly I can see your nuts.”

You groaned and Harry just guffawed. “Harry, that was horrible.”

“You just have no sense of humor.”

“Says the guy making jokes like that,” you shot back. “Now, what do you want?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “Five fireball shots.”

You had to take a second before replying because the thought of a fireball shot makes you want to vomit. The combination of the cinnamon flavor and the burn it sent down your throat was one you hated, but it seemed Harry enjoyed it. “Really, Harry? Fireball?”

“What? It’s good!”

You shook your head, but grabbed shot glasses, laying them out in a line on the bar. “You’re insane.” You turned, grabbed the bottle of Fireball, and then returned to him.

“Make it six,” he said, slashing you a smirk.

“If it’s for me I am not drinking it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you told him, cocking your hip. “And I have good taste in alcohol.”

“Y/N, please,” he begged, pouting slightly for you.

Sometimes he was such a child, you thought as you gave in, grabbing another shot glass. “Fine,” you told him. “But this is the only time.” He grinned at you, and you just poured the shots, drawing a line down the glasses with the alcohol.

He snagged one of the shot glasses and you took one at the end. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his shot, and you did the same, knocking the glasses together enough for a clink to ring out.

You tipped the shot back, letting the burn of the cinnamon whiskey fall down your throat. You swallowed, dropped the shot glass to the counter, and looked to Harry. He was grinning, his empty shot glass on the bar. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Then he picked up the shots, holding them together in his two massive hands, his rings clinking against the glass. You watched him walk away, his shirt disappearing into the throng of people, and then your attention was caught by another patron, asking you for a Long Island iced tea that made you laugh once you had turned away from them.

The night passed with many empty bottles of vodka and gin, the drinks of choice for all the girls who came up to the bar, and you nearly ran out of Budweiser, since it was on tap and the cheapest beer. You were bopping your head along with your playlist, Piece Of Your Heart by MEDUZA ringing through the speakers. The electronic music was supposed to help keep your energy up, but it was three AM and you were beginning to tire, the whiskey and coke you made yourself doing little to keep you going.

People were starting to filter out of the bar, groups heading to get a late night snack or head home. You were thankful for it—if you could start cleaning before official close you would be happy, perhaps being able to get home sooner.

“Can I get another whiskey coke?” You turned and Harry was sitting in a barstool at the bar, right in front of you.

You nodded, grabbing a glass and the handle of whiskey. “Where’d all your friends go?”

“They left.” He drummed his fingers against the wood, the light of the bar catching on the silver of his rings. You were a bit fascinated by them, if you were being honest. Why he wore them, where they came from, what they meant. The same questions rang in your head in reference to the tattoos that littered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt.

“You didn’t go with?” You pushed his drink towards him and returned the jack to its spot on the wall.

He shook his head, taking a sip of the drink you made him. “I was going to wait for Matt.”

You raised your eyebrows and then nodded towards where Matt was leaning over the bar, talking to some girl whose drink had long since been emptied. “I think he’s already got someone waiting for him.”

Harry looked to where Matt was and then shrugged, before turning his gaze back to you. “Guess I’ll just hang out with you, then.”

“Oh really?” You took some empty glasses off the bar where people had left them and dropped them into the bucket under the bar to be taken back to get cleaned.

“You’re more interesting than him anyway.”

You laughed, grabbing an empty shot glass and putting it in the bucket. “And why is that?”

“You’re hot.” He didn’t even pause before he replied.

He licked across his bottom lip after he said it and you couldn’t help but watch the action. It wasn’t like you didn’t know Harry thought you were attractive—you did. It was just that he had never outright told you, or been quite this forward. Usually he was skating around the topic and now that he wasn’t you didn’t quite know what to say. So you said the first thing that popped into your head. “Have you been behind a bar?”

“Only at the house.”

“Your frat house does not count as a bar.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It is not a bar, Harry.”

“Fine. Then no, I haven’t.”

You took a step away from him and waved your hand at the space. “Would you like to?”

This time, it was him raising his eyebrows at you. “What am I going to be doing?”

“I’ll teach you to make drinks.”

“I know how to make drinks,” he scoffed.

“Jungle juice doesn’t count.”

He huffed and then pushed away from the bar, standing to his full height. “You’re being mean,” he stated, but walked to the end of the bar and came around the side anyways. “It feels so different from back here.”

You turned, one hand on the bar and the other on your hip. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Feel…powerful, I guess.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “So, Mr. Bartender, what do you want to make first?”

Harry considered his options, looking around the bar and taking in the options in front of him. He looked a bit overwhelmed, if you were honest. You glanced around, checking on how busy it was, and you were thankful that it was pretty much empty, so no one would probably be bothering you and Harry. “I’ve always wanted to make an Old Fashioned.”

“Can do,” you answered, grabbing the proper glass from the shelf, and a bottle of your favorite bourbon, setting both on the counter in front of you. “Do you know what’s in one?” He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks, and you smiled to yourself. He could be so goddamned cute sometimes. “It’s whiskey, bitters, and a bit of sugar. Do you know how to muddle?” He shook his head again, and you nodded, grabbing the rest of the supplies you would need.

You spread it out in front of you, popping a sugar cube in the old fashioned glass. “So this is the bitters we’re going to use,” you informed him, passing him the bottle of Angostura bitters. “Put two dashes of that in the glass over the sugar.”

“What the fuck is a ‘dash’?”

“A bit,” you told him. “Just do it.”

He did as you asked, tapping bitters into the glass. “Is that enough?”

You nodded, and then grabbed the soda gun and pressed the button for water, adding a bit to the glass. Then, you passed him the muddler, which got very little use at this bar. In fact, you hadn’t made an Old Fashioned in ages—it wasn’t exactly the drink of choice for most college-aged people. “Now, you’re going to muddle this—like mix them together, crushing the sugar.”

“Why does mixology have the weirdest terms?” He said under his breath and you snorted. He did as you said, listening to your instructions, crushing the sugar and mixing it with the bitters in the glass, the sugar dissolving in the glass.

“Good. Now you add the ice.”

You pulled back the top of the cooler that held the ice, and Harry grinned as he picked up some with the scooper and filled the glass with it. “Always wanted to do that.”

“And now you have.” You shut the top of the cooler and passed him the bourbon and a jigger. “An ounce and a half of bourbon,” you informed him.

He reached over and took the bottle and jigger, and his close proximity made you inhale. You could smell cologne, a bit of sweat from the party he was at earlier, and a trace of smoke as he moved. The scent had your spine straightening, your mind just as muddled as the contents of the glass. How did he smell so good? He was a college boy. Who gave him the right to be so goddamned attractive and smell this delicious? His long hair, the length not quite reaching his shoulders but close, swung slightly in your face as he pulled away, the tips of his curls brushing against your cheek. He was so close that if he turned his head, your lips would meet.

You tried not to think about that.

But he lingered close to you as he poured the bourbon in the jigger, your sides nearly touching, just half a step away from one another. If the music hadn’t been playing, you probably would’ve been able to hear him breathe and he could’ve heard your breath hitch when his bicep flexed as he held the bourbon. Your eyes trailed over the tattoos on his arms, dancing over the ship and the rose at his elbow, all the way down to the anchor at his wrist.

“Now you’re the one watching me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, where he was looking at you, smirking. “Pour the shot in, Harry.”

He looked back to the jigger he was holding, and tipped it into the glass, the amber liquid dropping through the glass. You handed him the stirrer and he twirled it in the glass, before setting it back down on the bar. The sound of his rings hitting the glass sounded in your ears as he grasped the drink, bringing it to his lips.

His eyes were on yours as he tipped it back slightly, letting the alcohol pass between his lips. You tried not to focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sipped. When he lowered the glass, his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and it made you tug your own into your mouth softly. Then you asked, “How is it?”

With his gaze trained on your mouth, he answered, “Delicious.”

“Y/N!” Your head bounced up to see Mike darting his head inside. “Time for close.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he was right—more time had passed than you realized. “Shit—yeah, sorry Mike. Matt,” you called down the bar to your co-worker who was very caught up in his flirtation. “Will you kick all of these people out for me?”

“Even me?” Harry asked and you roll your eyes at him.

“You can stay,” you told him and he gave you a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “As long as you help me clean up.”

While Matt kicked the remaining stragglers out, making sure the ones that are too drunk get in an Uber, you and Harry cleaned up. He helped you flip chairs on top of tables and pick up the glasses littered across surfaces, even in the bathroom. You filled the bin with the glasses and took them into the kitchen, filling the industrial dishwasher to the brim. He even took a rag and wiped down the tables, singing along to the Tame Impala you’d turned on and finishing off his Old Fashioned. You put the bitters away and the remnants of the drink he had made, and toss some lime rinds into the trash, wiping off the last bit of the bar.

“I’m going to head out,” Matt called to you from the door. He’s got his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces. “You good, H?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to walk Y/N home.”

This was news to you. “I drove,” you replied.

“Then can I snag a ride?” He asked, and you shrugged. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Also, the idea of making him walk didn’t sound like a good idea, even though the frat house wasn’t too far from the bar.

“Sure.” You grabbed your purse and leather jacket from where you’d stashed them under the bar, and pulled them on. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You waved goodbye to Mike, who was left to lock up, and walked around back to where your car was parked. It was a must have for you, not wanting to walk home at four in the morning after a long night of working. Plus, you never drank much while you worked—all you had had was that disgusting Fireball shot earlier in the night and a whiskey coke throughout the evening. Harry followed behind you, his hands in his pockets as he walked, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.

“It’s dark,” he said when you turned into the lot.

You unlocked your car and turned to look at him. “It’s four AM. Of course it’s dark.”

He moved towards the car, pulling open the passenger side door. “No, I just mean that it’s dark for you to be walking to your car alone.”

“Oh.” You tossed your purse into the backseat and slid into the driver’s side, flipping on the ignition. “Matt or Mike walk me to my car most nights.”

His long legs ended up a bit cramped in the passenger seat of your car and it made the corner of your mouth turn up. “Good,” is all he said before pulling on the seatbelt and clicking it. You reversed out of the spot, your phone automatically connecting to the Bluetooth as you flipped on your turn signal. “That’s the wrong way.”

You turned and looked at him. “Don’t you live at the house?”

He shook his head though. “No, I’ve got an apartment with some brothers on the West side of campus. Take a left here.”

You absorb this information and switch the turn signal. “Why don’t you live there? I thought most people did.”

“I like the privacy, I guess. When you live with all your brothers, they tend to know every bit of your business.” He was looking out the front windshield and you did the same, eyes on the dark streets in front of you. Being this close to him in the car had your body temperature spiking a bit, although you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Harry was just the boy who flirted with you every chance he got and was Matt’s little. He was just someone to entertain you on slow nights or when you were stressed. Right?

“Take a left at the light,” he said, breaking you out of your trance. You flicked on your turn signal and eased into the turn lane, swinging your car onto a side street. “I’m having a birthday party next weekend at the house if you want to come,” he suddenly said.

Your eyes bounced to Harry, who wasn’t looking at you, his palms resting on his knees. You could sense the tension in his body—was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? “Is it your 21st?”

He quirked a smile at that. “How’d you know?”

“Well, you’re a junior. I just assumed.” Matt also might’ve mentioned it once or twice, but you didn’t tell Harry that.

A blush crept across his cheeks. “I—uh—it’s on Saturday at nine. We’re hitting the bars after, but the thing at the house is just going to be brothers and drinks and some music. Pretty low-key, I think.”

“I’ve got work,” you told him. “But I’ll try and stop by before my shift. I’m not supposed to be there until ten.”

He nodded quickly and you tried not to think about the fact that Matt was never going to let you live this down. What were you even doing, saying yes to Harry? You weren’t even interested in him. He was just a boy to flirt with, someone who told you bad jokes and ordered Fireball shots. “It’s right up here,” he said, pointing to a house off to the right.

You slowed the car in front of a one-story bungalow, a couple of cars in the driveway and lawn chairs on the front lawn. “You live in a house?”

“Somehow it was actually cheaper,” he explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Plus, kind of nice not having people complaining about the noise.”

The area was definitely still on campus, but you didn’t know anyone who lived over here. “Are your neighbors all students too?”

He nodded. “Some other brothers have a place a couple houses down, there’s a house of Pi Phis over there. But yeah, it’s all students. On game days it’s a fucking mess.”

You put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. “I can imagine.” Harry didn’t make any moves to get out of the car, just sitting there staring at the dashboard of your old Toyota, his hands fidgeting on his thighs. “Harry?”

“Fuck,” he exhaled, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “I...” Then he glanced over at you, and under the dim streetlamp you could see the expression in his eyes. It’s one you knew well. It’s the look he gave you when you wore your favorite lace bodysuit that was conservative enough to wear out, or when you gave him just as flirtatious of a comeback as the one he served you.

Then, all of a sudden he was moving towards you, his hand curving around the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. It was awkward, the seatbelt holding back your shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from leaning towards him, meeting him halfway. His lips tasted like bourbon and bitters, a trace of Fireball when you nibbled on his bottom lip that was just tucked between his teeth. He was sweet with an edge of fire, and when he tilted his chin slightly to change the angle, rotating his head just enough to kiss you deeper, you knew you were fucked.

For so long, you had been trying to keep him at a distance. Just let him exist as a flirtation, nothing more than that. You’d ignored the thoughts that blazed through your mind when you were drunk with your friends and saw him at a party, his lips on some girl, and you wondered what they would taste like on yours. Now that he was kissing you and you knew what they tasted like, there was no way you would be able to forget.

Especially the way his fingers threaded through your hair, his rings cool against your warm scalp. How he tugged on your lip with his teeth and you let out a soft whine, pulling him closer by the neck of his shirt. The fact that it was nearing four thirty in the morning and you were in your car making out, your seatbelt still on, didn’t seem to matter. The exhaustion that had been all-consuming earlier was gone, your body rushing with adrenaline from the feeling of his mouth tucked against yours, his hands on your skin and the way his lips searched for yours when you pulled away for air.

“I should go home,” you said, breathing heavily as you moved back into your seat.

Harry was looking at you intensely, his lips slick from your saliva, his cheeks flushed from kissing you. His hands still lingered on your neck and hip, and you weren’t ready for him to let go. However, you needed sleep, otherwise the rest of the day was not going to be pretty. You had a paper due on Tuesday you had to write and if that didn’t happen this afternoon after you slept you were fucked. “Yeah,” he finally answered, pulling away. “It’s late.” He shuffled in the seat, turning to push open the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

You nodded, and with one lingering look at you, Harry slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. Under the dim lights you watched him walk to his front door, pulling open the screen door and unlocking it. Once he was inside, you finally turned back on your car and put it in drive, peeling away from the curb without a glance back.

On Tuesday, you were knee-deep in edits for your paper when your phone screen lit up with a text. Despite the fact that you told yourself you would be ignoring any notifications that flashed across your screen, you were intrigued by this message because it was from a number you didn’t recognize. So you leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair you were sitting in (chosen to make sure you stayed awake) and grabbed your phone.

The sight of the message made you choke on air.

Hey, Y/N, this is Harry. Matt gave me your number, I hope that’s ok?

That was it. The whole message. What the fuck were you supposed to do with that? “Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, because now you couldn’t ignore it. You had your read receipts on, something you turned on one time when you were breaking up with an ex and wanted him to know that you were ignoring his messages on purpose, and never turned off. So now Harry knew you had read his message.

So you typed back, hey! what’s up?

The typing dots appeared and you had the sudden urge to throw your phone halfway across the room as you waited for his reply. But you didn’t, because Harry’s text popped through before you could take any actions to make it seem as though you weren’t staring at your phone waiting for his text.

Just wanted to say thanks for the ride home on Saturday. Then, in a separate message, Also, the invite for my birthday party still stands, but no pressure.

You nibbled on the edge of your thumb nail, your other thumb poised over the screen as you considered what to reply. You decided on coy. i'll see how it goes :) you wrote out, and then thumbs up reacted to his thank you text.

Looking forward to it is what he replied with, and that felt like the end of the conversation, so you locked your phone, turned it on Do Not Disturb, and tried to re-focus on the paper open on your computer screen.

It took everything in your body not to check your phone a couple more times, just to see if he’d kept the conversation going. You had no idea what to say to him—he was the one who texted you in the first place. It seemed like his job to keep the conversation going, not yours. So you let the conversation linger, not even saving his number in your phone.

When Saturday rolled around, you considered for a long time whether or not you were going to go to Harry’s birthday party. Matt had texted you too, combining the text with a notice that he wasn’t working that night and Lucy was covering his shift, which meant you were going to be doing all the heavy lifting. Lucy was a freshman, new to bartending, and most definitely was hired so she would be ready to replace you when you graduated next year. The fact that Matt texted you told you that Harry must really want you to come, even if it was just for a bit.

So you turned on your getting ready playlist and grabbed your favorite bodysuit—it was long sleeved and high necked with a mesh leopard print, meaning that when you wore your black bralette underneath it, it would show through. It was enough to get eyes on you (you could neither confirm nor deny if you specifically meant Harry’s eyes), but not too much that you felt completely exposed, thanks to the long sleeves. You grabbed your black jeans, even though in an ideal world you would’ve chosen your leather skirt instead, but the last thing you wanted was alcohol stuck to your legs all night or some asshole seeing up your skirt when you bent over for ice.

You kept your makeup simple, but in line with the outfit—a light smokey eye, eyeliner, and a tinge of a deep red to your lips. Rhea, your roommate, let you use her dry shampoo, so you sprayed it at your roots, giving your day-old hair some revival. With a pair of gold hoops and a pep talk, you were ready, your phone and wallet slipped into the pocket of your trusty leather jacket.

You had never been to a frat house when you couldn’t hear the music pounding from outside. But as you walked up the grassy front lawn to the KDR house, it seemed quiet—all the lights on, even. You rapped on the door twice, running your hand through your hair as you waited for the door to open. When it did, a guy was standing there who you were pretty sure you recognized from the bar—he was close with Matt and Harry, you thought.

“You’re the bartender, Y/N!” He said, pointing at you with his index finger, lifting it from the red solo cup he held in his hand.

“I am,” you replied. “Harry and Matt invited me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and you tried not to read into that too much. “Come on in, I’m Caleb, Harry’s little.” And that, you realized, was why he was always hanging out with Harry and Matt. You followed Caleb down the hall, which had composite photos on the wall going back to the 70s and 80s. It was weird being inside the house with all the lights on, because you could actually see everything for the first time. You saw what was usually a coat room and discovered it was actually a study of sorts, bookshelves with textbooks and random course books lining the shelves and a couple of old leather chairs in the corner that you usually stashed your jacket on.

He turned into the long living room and kitchen, which was where most of the parties happened in their house, and you were met by a pong table and a collection of boys, many of whom you recognized from the bar. Your eyes scanned over the group, and you found that you were, unsurprisingly, one of four girls in attendance. The others were next to brothers, an arm slung around their shoulders. You found Matt and Harry easily in the crowd, Matt saying something to Harry with his palm pressed to Harry’s chest, his other hand gripping a can of Natty Light. How he could drink such watered down piss while being a bartender you didn’t know and you quickly decided you would be ragging on him for it the next time you worked together.

“Bartender girl!” One of the guys called out, and that made Harry and Matt’s heads immediately swivel towards where you were standing. The discomfort that had been lingering was suddenly there in full force. You hated being the center of attention, something most people never expected since you thrived at the bar. The key part of being a bartender, though, was you had the bar between you and the patrons. It was a safety net, something that gave you power and confidence. Without it, though, you felt naked in a situation like this.

The sight of a tiara on Harry’s head, though, immediately made you feel more at ease. The words Birthday Princess were printed on the tiara in bright pink writing, and the sight of it resting in Harry’s hair brought a smile to your face.

Matt immediately broke into a grin and widened his arms, which you rolled your eyes at. “Y/N! You made it!”

You walked over to him, having nothing else to do, but didn’t give him a hug. “Barely. I can’t stay long—I’m supposed to be there at 10 so Lucy doesn’t kill someone with her heavy handed pouring.”

He chuckled, and then gave Harry a clap on the back. “I’m going to go check on the beer. Have fun, H.”

It left you and Harry alone—or as alone as you could be in a crowded room. Your eyes roamed his body, the black silky shirt drawing in your eyes, white stitching that spelled out his last name on the chest, the way it was unbuttoned low. It was the first time you’d been able to see his tattoos—the edges of what seemed to be wings on his collarbones that you wanted to see the rest of, and a silver chain with a cross hanging on it lying on his chest. You could feel his eyes on you too, and steeled yourself under his gaze, trying to remain confident as you stood in front of him.

“Nice tiara,” you said, breaking the silence.

He blushed, reflexively reaching up to touch it. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

“It’s literally a bright pink tiara on your head, Harry, how could I not notice?”

“Matt and Caleb made me wear it. My other little, Tyler, bought it and insisted.”

“Can’t let the family down?” You said, the corners of his lips lifting.

“Guess not.” A silence fell between you again and you busied yourself by investigating the space you were in. The worn couches on the wall, a massive dining table with alcohol covering it, dishes in the sink and a stack of red solo cups on the counter. It seemed like exactly what you would expect from a fraternity house, even if there wasn’t a party going on. Finally, he cleared his throat and thickly asked you, “Want to play pong?”

You blinked, not expecting the question, but shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ll drink any you don’t want to,” he said.

“Why? Think I’m not any good?”

“No—I just—you drove, right?” He was stumbling over his words and it made you give him a small smile. You decided to be a bit of a tease, and brushed your fingers over the stitches on his shirt, just to mess with his brain a bit.

“I did,” you answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be drinking too much.”

His eyes widened a tad and you watched as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Let’s see your skills, then,” he finally said and you followed him over the table, where they were setting up for another round. He set down his cup on the side of the table and you fiddled with the cups, making the lines straighter. “Ready?” He asked you, his body shifting closer to yours. There was just a hair of space between your hips and you sucked in a breath before nodding.

You hadn’t thought this through, you quickly realized, because pong meant that there was barely any space between the two of you, and he kept brushing against your back and arm as he moved around. When he passed you the ball his fingers touched yours and your eyes would flit to his, only to find his green irises looking right back. The scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath wrapped around you when he laughed close to your ear, the contact of his skin on yours when he gave you a high five and lightly gripped your hand for just a beat too long sent shivers down your spine. When he picked up a cup to drink from it, you watched as his lips—the ones you had kissed exactly a week ago—wrapped around the rim and the beer slid down his throat. You were actively trying not to think about kissing down the column of his neck as you looked back to your cups on the other side of the table.

“Can I get gentlemen’s?” You asked and next to you, Harry nodded, agreeing with your decision to re-rack. The guys playing you quickly reshuffled your cups and you dropped the beer-covered ball into a cup of water to your right. When you picked up the ball and rolled it between your fingers, you decided to tease Harry a bit more, because it was your favorite pastime. You offered the ball to him, clasped between your thumb and forefinger, and looked him dead in the eyes. “Blow on it for good luck?”

His eyes widened, but then a cocky grin drifted across his cheeks. He leaned in and blew softly on the white pong ball, his pupils dark and focused on yours. Then, at a volume only you could hear, he whispered, “Sure you don’t want me to blow something else?”

Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had your pulse stuttering, you licked your lips and replied with, “Let’s see if you’re so cocky when I’m on my knees.” You turned back to the cups and with ease, you threw the ball as it sank into a cup. You peeked a glance up at Harry, only to find him already staring at you, blinking in rapid succession. “Your turn, Styles.” You grabbed the other ball and pressed it to the stitching on his chest and his lips quirked up, snatching the ball from your grasp.

“Kiss for good luck?” Your eyebrows lifted at his words and he was smiling at you, a cocky gaze fixed on you.

“In your dreams,” you answered with an eye roll.

“Oh, baby, you’re already in them,” he whispered as he tossed the ball. It hit the rim of your one remaining cup before falling in perfectly.

His words rang loudly in your ears as Harry raised his arms above his head in success, ignoring the words he just had said to you. You, however, couldn’t say the same. They were running through your head on a loop. He dreamt about you? You wanted to know more, wanted to know every bit of his dreams, what they looked like and what you did in them.

At the sound of your name you blinked, pushing yourself out of your daydreams. “Yeah?”

It was Harry, his palm resting on your lower back and burning the skin with his touch. “It’s almost ten.”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling your phone from your jacket. “I—shit I have to go. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’fine. I’ll walk you to the door.”

You waved goodbye to your opponents and some of the other boys you had been introduced to. Harry’s hand left your body as you both walked, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed. “Happy Birthday, by the way,” you said as you turned into the hallway, the chatter of the boys over the music fading a bit.

Harry dug his hands into his pockets and smiled at you. “Thank you. And thanks for coming. It—it was nice, having you here.”

The softness in his tone was in direct conflict with the banter at the pong table, but you didn’t mind. You kind of liked that the two of you had this duality, the ability to go each direction. “I had fun.” You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and turned the knob on the door. “I’ll have a birthday Fireball shot waiting with your name on it, Birthday Princess.”

That made his smile turn into a grin, his dimples popping out as you stepped across the threshold and onto the front porch. “Looking forward to it, love.”

As you walked away, you tried not to let his term of endearment fill your every thought, but it was hard, especially when you looked back and he was standing in the doorway, watching you walk to your car. You exhaled and opened the driver’s side door, realizing that you had dug yourself into quite the mess with this boy.

You had been watching the door out of the corner of your eye all night, waiting for Harry and all of his friends to arrive. Lucy had noticed and pestered you about it, but you hadn’t given in. You didn’t feel like the entire bar staff knowing your personal business—Matt was plenty. You busied yourself by serving patrons, making an absurd number of vodka tonics (which you despised, but you had found freshman girls preferred them to gin, for some reason) and opening bottle after bottle of beer.

You were humming along to Broken Clocks by SZA when the door opened and your name was called over the bar, Matt’s voice booming in the space. “Y/N, I need a shot for the birthday boy!” Harry was standing next to him, Matt’s arm thrown over his shoulder, a grin on his face.

You turned and quickly queued In Da Club by 50 Cent, before grabbing the bottle of Fireball off the shelf. When you turned back to the bar, Harry was standing in front of you, the Birthday Princess tiara unfortunately absent. “Where’s your crown, Birthday Princess?” You asked, pouring the dark liquid into a shot glass for him.

“It’s a tiara, Y/N,” he corrected, snatching the shot. “And Caleb accidentally broke it.” You could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the color in his cheeks that he was more than a few drinks in, no doubt doing shots with the rest of the party before hitting the bars.

“Good to know,” you answered, and just because he was so goddamned cute, you grabbed another shot glass and poured yourself a shot of Fireball.

“Takin’ a shot with me?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Harry was about to say something when the music changed and he let out a cheer, Matt and Caleb and another boy, who you assumed was Tyler, pounded on the bar on either side of him. Then, they began to sing and you could help but guffaw.

“Go, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty/It's your birthday/We gon' party like it's yo birthday/We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday/And you know we don't give a fuck/It's not your birthday!” They sang, and you couldn’t help but join in at the end.

“Shots, shots, shots!” Matt cheered, and Harry lifted his shot glass, raising his eyebrow at you.

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

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

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed lightly on his cheek, a pout settling onto his lips. “Shut up, Styles.”

“Meanie,” he said, moving back to rest normally against the bar. “You have to be nice to the birthday boy, didn’t you hear?”

“Not if he’s a prick,” you informed him, resting your hands on the lip of the bar and locking your elbows, leaning slightly forward. “Now, do you guys want anything else, or are you just going to annoy me all night?”

“Four whiskey cokes,” Matt told you. “And make ‘em strong.”

Throughout the night, their group achieved higher and higher levels of drunkenness. They started singing a Cheetah Girls song in their corner booth, much to your enjoyment, and Matt got on the table, something Mike only allowed because he was an employee, and made the entire bar sing Harry Birthday to Harry. When Mamma Mia came on, Tyler—who you were increasingly discovering was pure chaos in a body, perhaps even more chaotic than Harry and Matt combined—tried to start a conga line through the bar. Not only was he stopped by Mike, but also by the sheer number of people packed into the space.

Meanwhile, you were left behind the bar, fielding drink requests and racking up students’ credit cards with drinks they probably would forget ordering in the morning. You even had one Beer Baptism, an exciting element of the night, when some hockey player informed you he has drank every beer on tap, meaning he had achieved his Beer Baptism status. Harry and Matt lost their shit in the corner when you announced it and rang the bell over the bar, before grabbing two full pints of the hockey player’s requested beer of choice—Budweiser, for some fucking reason—and poured it over his head.

After three, the bar had started to empty out, but the four musketeers in the corner were still going strong. Harry kept coming up to you and asking for a shot of this or such and such drink, and even requested to make an Old Fashioned behind the bar again. You told him he was too drunk to make it right, but next time he could. Every time he came up he offered some sexual innuendo or bad joke, a lingering touch on your hand when you passed him his drink, or a wink that left u scowling at him. He even unbuttoned his shirt a few more buttons so by the time it was just him and his lineage in the corner, it was barely even on him. The whole idea of “No shoes, no shirt, no service” was quickly becoming a possible line you could use, especially when he kicked his feet up on the table and Caleb was trying to grab at his boots and pull them off, much to your amusement.

At 3:45, there were no patrons left except for the booth full of boys, so you had Lucy start cleaning up while you grabbed a beer—your first drink of the night other than the shot you did with Harry—and walked over to the boys. Harry was on the end, since he kept on coming and going from the booth, his knees spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the seat. At the sight of you approaching, he straightened up and set his drink down on the table.

“Hey,” he said, drawing out the Y as you slid in next to him, his arm falling easily around your shoulders.

“Hello,” you answered, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re man spreading all over my booth, Styles.”

Tyler snorted and Harry shifted, pulling his knees in closer together. “Didn’t know it was your booth.”

“I work here, you know.”

“I noticed,” he answered, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you. “I like this top you’ve got on.”

You sipped on your beer before replying, “It’s a bodysuit, actually.”

“So I’ve got a genuine question,” Matt said, leaning in towards you from across the table. “How do you pee with that on?”

“It’s got snaps on the crotch.” For some reason Tyler and Caleb blush at the word crotch and it makes you smile internally. “Can be a bitch to take on and off, though.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned his cheek on his palm. “I never fully understood the appeal.”

“Well,” you said, placing your beer on the table. “They tuck into pants and skirts so there’s smooth lines. But also it kind of feels like you’re wearing lingerie.”

That had all the boys blushing, including Harry, who said, “So that’s like lingerie to you?”

You glanced down at the lace long-sleeved bodysuit you wore and shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I always thought lingerie involved less material, not full on sleeves.”

You mulled this over, and decided to push his buttons a bit more. “So is a babydoll not considered lingerie to you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up and if you were being honest, the expression was positively adorable. You wondered if it was the face he gave when he couldn’t figure out a math problem or was looking at IKEA instructions. “The fuck’s a babydoll?”

“Other than a pet name?” You threw back and Harry quirked a smile. “It’s like a…sexy nightgown, I guess you could say.”

“Sexy nightgown.” Harry stated, mulling over the thought in his head, and you watched as he brushed a hand through his hair, considering the concept. “And that would have more material than what you’re wearing right now?”

You shrugged and took another sip of your beer. “Arguably.”

“Then yeah, I guess that’s still considered lingerie. A sexy nightgown, huh?” He blew out a breath of air and looked to the boys across the booth from you. “Damn, the girls I’ve been seeing have been holding out on me.”

The boys laughed, but you wanted Harry’s attention back on you. Maybe it was the close proximity of his body or the smell of his cologne that overwhelmed your senses, or the way you could see the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen and the low rise of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, but you wanted him. Badly.

So you reached down and placed a hand on his thigh, high enough to make his breath catch but not too high where you were actually touching him. Just close enough to make him consider the prospect. “You’ve been picking the wrong girls, then,” you said, the words low in your chest and Harry’s eyes were on you in an instant. Immediately there was movement on the other side of the booth, Tyler, Caleb and Matt sliding out one by one. “Leaving, boys?”

Matt nodded. “H?”

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left your face and the weight of his gaze had your heart pumping a mile a minute. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His fingers moved from the booth seat next to him to cover your hand that rested on his thigh, slowly inching it up his pant leg. “I’ll take him home,” you said, glancing back to Matt. “I’ll let you know when he’s home, okay?”

Matt gave Harry another look, and then nodded, obviously trusting you to take care of his friend. “Let me know if you need anything.” With that, he turned away, waving to Lucy and giving Mike a slap on the back on his way out.

Your attention turned back to Harry, who had somehow slid closer to you on the seat. “What was all that talk about lingerie, hmm?” He asked, the hand that rested next to your shoulder moving to rub the top of your arm, heat surging through your veins at his touch. “You always chew me out for sayin’ shit to you, and then you go and say that. In front of my friends, no less.”

You drummed your fingers on his inner thigh and caught the way he swallowed thickly at the feeling. “I wanted to see what you’d say, I guess.”

“And?”

“I now know you’ve never seen a babydoll. Or nearly enough lingerie.”

He sucked in a breath and then leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “Is that your way of asking me if I’d like to see your collection?”

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as he grazed your hair with his nose, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He had your insides moving in circles like they were on a merry-go-round, consumed in nothing but him. Slowly, you lifted your leg closest to his so it hooked over his knee, tugging yourself closer to him. “Perhaps.”

Under the low lights of the bar, the green of his eyes twinkled at you, your coyness making him grab at your knee, kneading his thumb into your skin over your jeans. “You told Matt you’d take me home.”

“I did.”

“What’s the likelihood we could change the destination on that ride home?”

Your hand moved from his thigh to his torso, skittering over his shirt and tucking against his exposed skin, his butterfly tattoo flexing under your touch. “I could be convinced. What did you have in mind?”

“Your place,” he said, hand squeezing your knee tightly when you scratched his skin softly. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“You’re drunk,” you told him simply.

With a combination of tenderness and need that had you desperate for him, he nudged your temple with his nose and said, “I won’t be in the morning.”

“Is that right?” The feeling of his breath in your ear made you grab at his side, pulling at his skin with your hand, wanting just to feel him in some way. You were sober and yet he had you feeling drunk, drunk on need and desire. “Then come on, Birthday Princess.”

The wood of your front door slammed against your back the second you shut the door behind you, Harry’s body pinning you to the door. His hands tugged on your hips and your hands were in his hair and the sounds falling from your mouth were positively sinful. The way he pulled on your bottom lip and sucked on it, making you press up into his body, hands tugging at his shirt, how his hands fell to your ass and squeezed, you squeaking into his mouth. How he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hips, allowing your centers to meet, and he shakily exhaled. It was consuming, kissing Harry, trying to keep track of what he was doing and then finally giving up and just losing yourself in him, in the way he touched you and made your entire body erupt in flames.

“Jump,” he said, pulling at your other thigh and you did so immediately, not even wasting a beat before hooking your ankles around his hips and letting him grind into you.

You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of the friction from your jeans meeting and rubbing into you, and from the way his breath caught, you knew he was just as affected as you were. His necklace swung on its chain as he pulled away and sucked a line of kisses down your neck, just as you had thought about doing to him earlier. When he prodded at your pulse point with his teeth and then licked over the spot you tugged on his hair, his name a broken whimper on your lips.

Hands met skin, both of you needing more and more. You pushed at his shirt, the predominantly unbuttoned garment falling easily from his shoulders and pooling at his elbows. The fresh skin served as an opportunity, and you took it, bending your head and licking across his collarbones, his head tipping back at the feeling. You sucked a mark onto the protruding bone, right over the wing of one of his swallows, and blew on it when you were done, Harry hissing above you.

From the way his fingers were digging into your jeans and you were panting in his hold, you knew that if you didn’t slow things down they were going to get out of hand—and quickly. So you lightly pushed at his shoulders, his gaze bouncing up to your eyes. “We should stop,” you mumbled, sucking in air finally. “Just—just sleep for now. Yeah?”

“‘m feeling more sober now,” he said, diving back into your neck, but you pulled on his hair, hauling him away.

“I had to literally help you walk to my car.”

He pouted at you. “That was a weak moment.”

But you shook your head at him, having none of it. “I want you at full capacity,” you told him, and his jaw dropped slightly, just enough to part his lips and you to press a finger into the space. His teeth tugged on your nail and finger pad, eyes on yours. “Want you fully sober so I can see what I’ve been waiting for.” Then you dropped your finger from his lips and ran it along his jawline, watching his eyes try to take in every one of your motions. “Plus, I want you to be able to remember my lingerie collection when I model it for you.”

When Harry groaned, it was deep and unrestrained, a demand from the most feral part of him. His head dropped to your chest and you pushed through his locks, his panting breath on your skin through your bodysuit. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep with that image running through my head.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed down on them so you could unhook your ankles and drop to the floor. “I think you’ll manage. Now, c’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

His fingers threaded through yours as you pulled him through your apartment, thankful Rhea was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so she wouldn’t be awoken from the giggles that left your mouth when Harry tripped over your shoes and the corner of your bookcase in the living room. You led him to your bedroom and left the door open, walking over to your dresser, kicking off your booties on your way. “Are you going to take this off?” His fingers graced over the top of your shoulder and you inhaled sharply.

“Yes.” You unhooked your hoop earrings and dropped them into your jewelry box. “Is that a problem?”

“Slightly,” he answered, fingers trailing down your arm. “I was hoping to do that myself.”

You turned around so he was facing you, eyes blown out in desire and cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed that night. “Then do it.”

His tongue darted out quickly, licking the center of his lips, and then he smiled at you, a boyish look of delight. “Is this my birthday gift?” Fingers brushed the top of your jeans and you nodded. “Goddamn, aren’t I lucky.” He popped the button and drew your zipper down, eyes fluttering to yours to make sure you were okay as he moved his hands to your hips, pushing the material down. “Holy fuck,” he suddenly breathed out and you glanced down.

The tattoo on your left hip had caught his attention, his palm resting just above where it started, his eyes trained on the ink on your skin. “What? You’ve got plenty of them.”

A chuckle left his mouth, and then he just shook his head. “You keep on surprising me.” His fingers crept down your skin, brushing against the chrysanthemums that covered from where your bodysuit sat on the rise of your hips to a bit down your thigh. “Does it mean anything?”

You nodded slowly. “It was my grandmother’s favorite flower.”

He must have noticed your word choice, because he quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before bending down and kissing over your tattoo. You inhaled sharply and watched as he tugged your jeans the rest of the way down your legs. Once you’d stepped out of them, he rose back to full height. “Can I take this thing off?” He asked, pulling softly on the hem of your bodysuit.

“Yes.”

“Snaps, hmm?” He ducked his head and you widened your legs enough for him to be able to tuck his hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit and you couldn’t help the whimper that felt from your lips, the sound of it making Harry smile. “I can feel you.” He pressed lightly to your center through the two layers of material and you gripped the dresser you were leaning against.

You hadn’t been this wet, this in need of someone in such an all consuming way, in ages. Most people would have probably been embarrassed, but you just nodded, affirming his statement. Yes, you were wet, and yes it was all for him.

In a flourish, he gripped your bodysuit where the snaps laid and pulled, the sound of the fastenings coming undone cascading through your silent room. “Convenient,” he muttered to himself. Then, his hands pushed the mesh fabric up, revealing your black lace thong and the stretch of your bare stomach. “You know,” he said, squeezing at the curve of your torso, “I quite liked this thing. All that mesh. Could see your bra all night and it drove me fucking crazy just having to watch and not be able to touch you.”

When he pushed it above your breasts, revealing your lacy bralette, you lifted your arms and let him pull it over your head, the fabric falling to the ground. “Well, now you can,” you informed him.

The gaze he fixed you made your skin tingle. Without another beat, his hands were on your breasts, fingers brushing across your skin and then dipping into the material. With your breasts exposed, he whispered your name, forgotten on his tongue when he leaned in and fastened his lips to your nipple, the skin hardening immediately from the wetness on his tongue.

Curses left your mouth in a string, hands tugging on his hair as he prodded at your skin. He didn’t linger there though, seeming to be too focused on the greater task, because he lifted his head from your chest after a minute or so. And then his hands were at your back, unhooking your bralette and pulling it from your body, revealing your nearly fully naked body to him. His thumbs brushed over the solar system tattooed on your ribcage and you shuddered at the feeling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, eyes taking you in. “Good god.”

The heat that rushed to your cheeks you couldn’t stop, so instead you distracted yourself with teasing him. “Take your shirt off.” His eyebrows raised, but he followed your directions, unbuttoning the final button and pulling the material off of his shoulders. As he was about to drop it to the ground you stopped him, taking the fabric in your hands. He watched in fascination as you pulled it over your shoulders, buttoned the middle two buttons, and then looked up at him. The shirt covered most of your ass, the tops of your thighs and your tattoo exposed.

“Like my shirt, huh?”

You nodded, and then decided it was your turn to touch his skin. Your hands criss-crossed across his exposed chest, brushing across the marks you had left and down, tracing his nipples until they pebbled, and then down to the laurels on his pelvis, barely peeking out from the top of his jeans. Then, you popped the button on his jeans, and when he didn’t stop you, you pushed them down his legs, struggling a bit with how tight they were, but succeeding finally. He was left in nothing but his briefs, a lion tattoo on his thigh exposed to your eyes and some small ink on his knees you thought was cute. You wondered how drunk he was when he did it, but decided not to ask.

“What happened to getting ready for bed?” He asked, hands running up and down your arms.

“We’re dressed for bed, aren’t we?” You turned around though, and led him out of your room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. “Go ahead—I’m going to get us some water. Use anything you want, except my toothbrush. There’s spares under the sink.”

You left him to his own devices and made your way through your apartment, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water, tucking a bottle of ibuprofen under your arm. He would need it in the morning. After leaving them on your bedside table, you headed for the bathroom where the door was open, Harry brushing his teeth at the sink. You slid in next to him and he moved to the side, allowing you to grab your face wash and splash water on your face, swiping the liquid in circles over your skin. After your moisturizer and eye cream, you started brushing your teeth, trying not to focus on how Harry was just leaning against the wall watching you.

“You good over there?” You asked, spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush before dropping it into the jar on the sink that held them.

He nodded. “This is going to sound weird,” he said, “but I feel…comfortable with you. Like this kind of shit,” he gestured to the bathroom, “I’ve never done this.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“No,” he grumbled, grabbing for your hips. “I don’t usually get ready for bed when I spend the night with girls.”

You tried not to read into that statement, to wonder if you were some normal hookup or something more. Instead, you leaned in and pecked his lips, before tugging him out of the bathroom and towards your room. “Water’s on the table,” you told him, shutting the door behind you as you stepped inside. “And some ibuprofen, if you want it.”

He walked over to the opposite side of the bed and gulped down the water, tossing some of the medicine on his tongue and finishing off the water. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” you answered, and then pulled back the covers on your bed. You settled in between the sheets, and watched as Harry slid in beside you, obviously trying to gauge what you wanted. Once he was comfortable, you shuffled towards him, and without thinking too much into it, you rested your head on his chest. He immediately brought his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Night,” you mumbled.

“Night, Y/N.” His voice was gravelly from exhaustion and alcohol, and you shut your eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

You blinked, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, as you woke up. Sunlight was streaming in your curtains, which despite being blackout curtains, could do little to hold back at the sun in the morning. As you gathered your senses, you realized that the other side of your bed was empty. Picking up your head, you took inventory of the room—Harry’s boots on the floor, your clothes haphazardly tossed in your laundry basket, your phone charging on your bedside table and a full water glass sitting there.

You had finished yours last night, if you remembered correctly. But you shrugged and grabbed the water, chugging it as you unplugged your phone and checked the time. It was noon, which was the normal time you woke up after a shift, meaning you’d had somewhere between seven and eight hours of sleep. You could’ve slept for hours, but what was more urgent than a couple more hours of sleep was where Harry had run off to. Slowly you pulled yourself up, Harry’s shirt still adorning your body, and walked out of your room and into the hallway, where the smell of coffee hit your nose immediately.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Harry said when you walked into the open plan kitchen and living room. He was sitting at the bar that divided the room in half, a cup of coffee in his hand and a bottle of Pedialyte on the counter next to him. “I’m glad you found the water. I was getting pretty close to waking you up.”

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising the glass to him. You meandered past him into the kitchen, where you grabbed a coffee cup—this one was from a National Park you’d visited the summer before with your family—and filled it with coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“Two hours,” he answered. “I have a hard time sleeping after a big night out.”

“Pedialyte?” You asked, nodding to the bottle on the counter.

He grimaced and set down his cup. “Yeah. I went out and got it while you were asleep.”

Sun was streaming in the white curtains in the living room, casting the whole apartment in a bright mid-day glow. Harry was in just his jeans, no shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had worn out. “Did you wear that out?”

He glanced down at himself. “Yeah. Stole one of your big sweatshirts, too.”

“Did you now?” You shifted away from the counter, rounding the counter so you stood in front of him. “Which one?”

Green eyes followed your hand as it landed on his knee, moving it away from the other one to create space. When you took a step forward, you could hear his breath hitch and gave him a coy smile, your free hand sliding up his thigh. “Your green one. Said Obsession on it, or something—it was the only one that fit me.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s my ex’s.”

He huffed. “S’mine, now.”

“Is it now?” You asked, setting your cup on the counter next to Harry’s. “Planning on taking over for him?”

“As an ex?”

You shook your head, hands drifting up his torso. “As the guy who gets to wear my clothes.” You tried not to think about what those words meant, what you were asking him, because your mind was too wrapped up in him to even be thinking about your intent.

“Happily.” His hands finally landed on your waist, ring-clad fingers pressing into the skin covered by his shirt. “You know, you look good in this.” Fingers slipped under the material of his shirt, the white Styles on the chest stretching over your breast as you breathed.

“It’s black,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing even. “Everyone would look in it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kneading your sides. “Dunno about that.”

Both your hands and Harry’s explored each other’s skin, taking inventory of every rise and fall, roll of skin, the places that made each other gasp just a bit. It felt good, being this intimate with someone just like this, nothing but one another’s hands. “Then what’s so special about me wearing it?”

Palms cupped your breasts, squeezing delicately, his full forearms tucked underneath the fabric of his shirt. “That you’re the one in it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “You, wearing my shirt, my last name on your chest.” He blew out a breath and you tweaked one of his nipples in reply. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a dream.”

“How about we move this to my bedroom,” you said, slipping your hands up to his shoulders. “And I finally show you my lingerie collection?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He was standing, your hand in his, and pulling you in the direction of your room immediately, a giggle leaving your lips at the sudden movement. “Somebody’s eager.”

“You’ve been talking about this lingerie for like twelve hours, love,” he said, shutting your door behind you. “I fuckin’ dreamed about it.”

You pulled out of his grasp and he fell down to your bed, where the sheets were twisted from sleep. His messy long hair and shirtless torso drew in your gaze, the way he leaned against your pillows, watching you. “Did you now?” You turned to your dresser and pulled out your top drawer, where your lingerie lived. “Close your eyes,” you told him, peeking back at where he laid.

Once he followed your instructions, grumbling about missing out on half the show, you pulled out your first item—a dark blue babydoll, lace appliqué covering the skirt and a bow nestled between the molded cups, a matching g-string that you slid over your hips. You fluffed your hair, suddenly wishing you had had the forethought to wash your face before you took on this endeavor.

“Open,” you told Harry, and turned in his direction.

“Holy fuck,” he said in one breath, sitting up immediately, as if a jolt of electricity had ripped through his body. “Is this a babydoll?”

“Good memory,” you replied, leaning against your dresser. You didn’t know what to do with your body other than just stand there and let his eyes trail over you. “Thoughts?”

“How would you feel about never wearing clothes again?” He asked, gnawing at his lip. “Just that.”

You blushed, and picked at the hem of it. “I think I might get cold.”

“I’ll give you a jacket.”

“How kind.” You turned around and when he whined, you turned just your head to him. “There’s more sets to show you, you know. Close those eyes, mister.” He did as you asked and you pulled off the lingerie, lovingly folding it back into your dresser. Your fingers ran over the lace in front of you, trying to decide which one of your, admittedly many, sets you wanted to show him next. Finally, you settled on a pink lace set that was essentially see-through. You’d never worn it before—it was one of your newer purchases, one you’d chosen after a successful test grade.

You pulled up the panties and hooked the bra behind your back, sliding the straps up your arms until they settled comfortably on the dip of your shoulders. Then, you turned and at the sight of Harry sitting there, patiently waiting, you decided to reward him a bit. You walked towards him, and when you reached his form, you settled your hands on his shoulders. The touch made his eyes flutter open, and the second he saw your body his eyes widened. “Wow,” was all he could say as he studied the material covering your skin.

“What do you think?” The more his eyes lingered on you, the more you loved how you burned under his gaze.

He licked his lips and reached out, thumbing across the top of the lace thong you wore. “How is this one even better?”

You tilted your head to the side and pressed closer to him, his palms falling down your sides as you stepped between his knees. “You’re the first person to see this one.”

“Really?” He seemed like a kid in a candy store after being told he could buy whatever he wanted. “I’m honored.” You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned, snatching your hips back between his hands. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got more to show you,” you informed him, pulling his hands off of you. “Patience, Styles.”

“Baby,” he rasped, the pet name falling from his mouth with ease, and you wondered if you would ever forget how it sounded. “I don’t know if I can survive much more.”

Your eyes fell to his pants, where you could see his hard-on, the outline of his dick straining against the tight denim. “Somebody’s desperate.”

“Tease,” he shot back. “I’m serious, though. I’ll let you finish later.”

You considered his proposal, but ended up pulling away. “One more. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

He groaned, but nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as you moved away from him. At your dresser, you found the set you were looking for, a dark green set. The bra was a balconette cut, lace appliqué covering the cups and running up the straps. You pulled on the suspender belt that matched, the straps dangling down your legs as you put on the thong next. Then, you grabbed a pair of black stockings and clipped them to the bottom of the suspenders. You fluffed your hair a bit and then turned back around.

“Open,” you instructed and when Harry’s eyes opened the moan that left his mouth ran down your spine like fire.

“Fuck.” The word was all he could say, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of you standing there. “Come here.” You didn’t move, though, wanting to hear him beg for you. This set had your confidence soaring through the roof, the combination of the material on your skin and Harry’s gaze making you want to see what you could make him do for you. “Please,” he finally said, shifting towards you.

So you walked over to him, slowly, keeping your shoulders back so the bra strained across your chest. When you reached him you placed a hand on his bare chest, pressing him slightly back so he rested on his hands, eyes staring up at you as you rested a knee on either side of his thighs, sitting down on his lap. “Worth the wait?”

His hands immediately moved, settling on your hips, sliding over the green lace. “You’re going to kill me,” he rasped, words rough in his throat. The sight of his pupils blown out in desire, chest rising and falling under your palm as he took in your body in this set made you grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips towards yours.

The two of you met in a blaze of fire, need flowing between you as he tugged you closer, your center brushing over the denim of his jeans. When you whimpered he suckled on your lip and you pulled at the roots of his hair, needing to hear him groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear every one of his sounds, to take inventory of him and store it away for later when he wasn’t right there in front of you. Lips met and parted, slotting together with ease as you both surged towards one another, begging for more.

His hands were covering every inch of you, pulling and grabbing and scratching at your skin, somehow bringing you closer and closer to him. When you began to rock against his jeans he let out a hiss, pulling your hips down onto his even more. Then his head dipped, nudging up your chin as he found your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin before licking along his marks, leaving you a whining mess in his lap. You were cradling his head, not wanting it to end, just to make him continue and continue and continue.

Now that you had him, you realized how long you had been waiting for this, even if you pretended like you weren’t. You had wanted him since the first time he made a bad joke and told you you looked beautiful, when he responded with a quick remark, countering your sass with plenty of his own. He met you tit for tat, ebbing and flowing with you like waves on a beach.

Your fingers wound around his cross necklace and tugged, just enough to get his lips to leave your skin and look up at you. “Tryin’ to get my attention?” He teased, squeezing at your waist, tight enough that he would probably leave marks but you didn’t mind. In fact, you looked forward to inspecting each inch of your body and seeing what he had left behind.

“Your jeans,” you mumbled. “I want them off.”

He chuckled lightly. “Now who’s the desperate one?”

“Shut up,” you said and he just smiled at you, his dimples poking out.

“Go on, then.” He watched as you slid back on his thighs and popped the button on his jeans, before getting up so you could pull them all the way off. Once they were on the ground, you moved towards him, but he stopped you. “Lay down for me, love,” he said, eyes trailing down your body as you stood in front of him.

You didn’t bother with sass, just falling to the twisted sheets and looking at him as he crawled towards you. His fingers found the clips of your suspenders, and you nodded at him, giving him silent permission to begin to undress you. When he released the stockings and began to pull them down, he kissed every inch of your revealed skin, creating a line down your calf that had your breath coming out in pants. “Harry,” you said, the last syllable of his name trailing off as he did the same thing to your other leg.

“Yes?” He asked, eyes popping up to you. His hair was a mess from your hands and you loved it—the sight of him with wide eyes and puffy dark pink lips, color in his cheeks and marks on his chest from your nails. When you didn’t respond, unable to even create words as he slipped his hands up your body and tugged down the suspender belt that sat at your waist, he said, “You’re going to have to speak up if you’ve got something to say, baby.”

That pet name. It was going to be the death of you and you had no idea why. Maybe because of the emotions swirling in your chest as you looked down at him, the way you wanted to simultaneously lie in his arms for hours and jump his bones, but also just hold his hand and hear him talk to you. Perhaps it was the fact that no one had ever called you that like he did, with desire and passion laced in the word, a tenderness and an edge to it that made you weak in the knees. “I need you,” you finally uttered.

“Do you now,” he responded, leaning forward on his knees so he hovered over you. “Can you be more specific?” Impatient, you grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers to your center, where you had soaked through your thong long ago. A low groan fell from his chest at the feeling of your wetness, and he peeked up at you from where he was touching you. “You’re soaked through,” he said in awe, brushing against your center and making your back arch up. “Fuck, Y/N. Is this for me? Did I get you like this?”

“Yes,” you drawled, pushing down onto his finger. Your mind was spinning, eyes fluttering shut and just losing yourself in the feeling of finally having contact where you needed him most. “Please,” you begged finally, rocking against him with your hips, chasing more.

Harry moved without pause, pulling your underwear down your legs and running his finger between your folds. The feeling of his touch on your warm flesh had you squirming, his name mixed in with curses as he rubbed softly in a circle. “That feel good?” He asked and you could feel his eyes traveling over your body even though your eyes were squeezed shut from the feeling. When he brushed his index finger against your hole which was dripping for him, you gasped, hips jutting down against him so the tip of his finger brushed inside of you. “God, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Then, he dipped a finger inside of you and you cried out, desperate and needy for him, unable to contain the sounds falling your lips as he built up a momentum, curling his finger inside of you and hitting your sweet spot. “Another,” you said, eyes finally opening so you could see him.

And the sight didn’t disappoint. His eyes were on your center, watching his finger move in and out of you, and you could see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, a small wet spot where his tip was. The fact that he was leaking while fingering you somehow just added to your pleasure. He added a second finger and pressed them deep inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your entrance and making you buck up against his fingers. You were squirming on the bed, unable to stay still because he was building an orgasm inside of you like no one else ever had. You could feel your belly tightening and your high was rising, sweat beads forming at the back of your neck.

When he rubbed on your front wall you let out a helpless cry. He had found the spot that made you go insane and you could tell he was happy, a smile stretching across his face. “I’m close,” you panted.

“What do you need?” His words were low and they just made you want him more.

“Your mouth.” The words were broken, but he seemed to understand because he shifted immediately, falling to his stomach between your legs and pulling you towards him. He decided to go harder, because he slammed his fingers into you at a brutal pace and matched it by licking at your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. His tongue was sin against your skin, circling your clit and making you cry out. You dug your fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands, his name tumbling from your lips in a beg and a whine and a prayer all in one.

It didn’t take long before you were coming, the feeling rushing up without you even realizing, your back arching and hips bucking against his fingers and mouth. He lapped at you through it, eyes open and watching your orgasm, the shudder that left your mouth and how you fell into the mattress when you came down. When he pulled his fingers from you, you hissed, and he just kissed your pelvic bone, before sitting back on his heels and dipping his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits that were covered in your juices.

“Get over here,” you demanded, hooking your foot around his hips and pulling him towards you.

He clamored over you, his lips finding yours once again, and you sighed into the kiss, pulling his mouth closer to you. You needed him like you had never needed anyone else, a feeling that took over your body and ran your mind. When his head dipped and he tugged on your earlobe you whined. “Can I have you,” he asked into your skin. “Please? I waited and I just…fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes,” you told him, hands falling to his waist and pushing down his briefs. “Condoms are in my bedside table.”

His head bounced up at that and he reached over, wrenching open the drawer and searching blindly for a packet. When his fingers found one he moved back over you, the foil falling next to your head. Then, he pushed his briefs the rest of the way down his legs, letting the material fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Next was your bra, his hands moving to your back and deftly unhooking it, pulling the lace from your skin. “Beautiful,” he hummed, nestling his face between your breasts.

You chuckled, brushing his hair back. “I swear, boys and boobs,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, picking up his head. “Don’t make me out to be some horny teenager.”

“Aren’t you?” You teased, picking up the condom between your fingers.

“No.” He took the packet and ripped it open with his teeth. “I’m twenty-one, baby.” Then, he rolled the condom down his length and you watched, absorbing his fully naked body for the first time. The cut of the muscles under his skin, the way his tattoos stretched across his torso, the full length of him that you decided you wanted in your mouth after.

He brushed his tip against your slit and you whined unabashedly, rocking towards him. “H,” you mumbled, “please.” That was all he needed, because without another pause he was pressing into you, bottoming out in one go. You let out an unrestrained moan, grappling at his shoulders as he sunk onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours. As he pulled out and pushed back in, a groan from his lips filling the space between you, you watched his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together and he bent his head, resting his forehead against your collarbone as he found his rhythm.

Once he did, it was heaven. His sweaty skin meeting yours as he drove into you at a brutal pace, but one that felt fucking incredible. Your ankles hooked around his hips and held him close inside of you, and you tugged on his necklace to pull his lips to yours, needing the softness of his tongue inside your mouth again. Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking on his strands when he pushed in particularly hard, and he groaned. He liked his hair being pulled, you discovered, and you decided to keep at it, threading your hands through his locks and pulling whenever he hit that spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Like that,” you rasped when he latched his lips to your neck, most definitely leaving a mark on your skin. “Yes, H, just like that. Fuck, you’re so deep.” Your words were a mess, just a stream of consciousness, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he slammed into you harder and pulled your leg higher, tugging it so that your foot rested over his shoulder and your hamstrings stretched. And when he pushed back in, you scrambled at his back, drawing harsh lines down his skin at the feeling of him reaching a new depth.

“Feel so good,” he mumbled, words broken as they spilled from his lips. “Y/N, god, so good.” His hands fisted in the sheets and you dug your nails into his shoulders when he swiveled his hips slightly, brushing every inch of you. When you squeezed him, his head tipped back, exposing his neck and you leaned up, ignoring the burn in your hamstring, and licked up his throat. He rasped your name as you pulled at the skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making a mark of your own for him to enjoy later.

You fell back down and slipped your leg from its spot on his shoulder, and pulled him close to you, wanting to kiss him again. His lips seemed to be your new obsession, wanting nothing more than to be touching them constantly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, slotting your lips between his and kissing you fiercely as he pistoned in and out of you.

There were going to be bruises on your inner thighs, you were sure of it. You would be feeling the impact of his hips on your thighs for days, every time you sat down the muscles would ache and you would remember this—him moving in and out of you and panting in your ear, mumbling about how good you felt around him, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved fucking you. The prospect of feeling him for days was one you looked forward to.

When he gave a particularly deep thrust you moved up on the sheets, grabbing hold of his neck to hold yourself steady, and he moaned. You peeked down at him and as he moved back in, you asked, “Did you like that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a broken confirmation. “Again, please.”

You’d never really done this before, so you decided to be careful with him, just a bit of pressure using your fingers. With four fingers on one side of his neck and your thumb on the other, halfway down his neck, you pressed down on his skin when he drove back into you and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. The heel of your palm rested on the hollow of his neck as your fingers squeezed on either side of his neck, watching in rapture as he fucked into you harder and leaned into your touch. Slowly, you loosened and then tightened your grip, changing it up to make sure he was getting enough air.

“Is that good?” You asked, trying to focus as he drove harshly into you, the sound of his hips slapping your skin filling the room. He bobbed his head and pressed into your palm, so you squeezed your fingers again, wanting to give him what he asked for.

“I’m close,” he said, voice husky.

“Me too,” you answered, kicking your heels higher around his waist and pressing up into him so he reached even deeper inside of you. You could feel that same high building inside of you, an intensity waiting on the brink as he pressed into you, your fingers pressing into his throat again and again.

Then he pulled away slightly, rising up so his arms were fully extended and you couldn’t quite choke him anymore, so your hand fell to his bicep, squeezing at his skin as he somehow moved both faster and deeper inside of you. His hands dug into the sheets and he drove in and out of you at a pace unmatched, your head falling back to the mattress. You were panting, eyes glued to the sight of his necklace swinging back and forth as he moved, the tension in his muscles and the sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and reached down between you two, rubbing your fingers over your clit because you were just seconds from the edge and you needed it. Harry’s eyes took in the sight in awe, and his jaw dropped slightly, a curse ripping through his throat as you clenched around him and threw back your head, a deep moan falling through the air. You were squirming underneath him, Harry’s hands having to hold onto your torso to keep you steady as he thrusted into you, finishing himself off as you came, tightening around him. His name left your lips in a beg and he picked up your hand, bringing it back to his throat.

With a tight squeeze, your fingers wrapped around his throat like before, he bucked into you once more and then was practically growling as he emptied himself into the condom, body shaking against you. You unwrapped your hand from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him down to your chest, wanting him close as he pulled out of you. “Holy shit,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you laughed softly.

“You ever had someone choke you before?” You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his spine as he settled.

“No,” he said, his lips puckering against your throat, light kisses to your skin. “Kind of liked it, though.”

“Kind of?” You squeezed his butt cheek in jest, and he squeaked against you, making you fully laugh, body rumbling against him. “You literally picked up my hand and put it there.”

He tucked his face deeper into your neck and you could tell he was embarrassed. “Okay fine, I really liked it.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I did too. It was my first time doing that.”

“Yeah?” He picked up his head and propped it up on his palm, looking at you. “Was it okay?”

Pushing back the hair from his forehead, you nodded. “I thought it was really hot.”

A smile quirked up on his lips. “You mean you think I’m really hot.”

You whacked his shoulder and he feigned pain, jaw dropping slightly. “Stop fishing for compliments.” He rolled his eyes at you, but moved off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the trash. Red marks covered his back from your nails and you ran your hand over them, watching as he shivered from the sensitivity. “If anyone sees your back they’re going to think you got fucking mauled by a bear.”

He turned his head and raised his eyebrow at you. “A bear, huh? I thought it was just this really hot girl.”

“Good to know you think I’m hot too.” He laughed and turned fully around, crawling back into bed with you.

The sheets were sweaty but you didn’t mind, you just wanted to be close to him. He laid down on his back and pulled you in, your leg draping over his and your breasts pushing up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder and you let out a breath, relaxing into his hold.

After you’d been lying there for a few minutes, he cleared his throat and you looked up at him. “You know,” he said, “I don’t know if this was obvious, but I really like you.”

His ring-clad fingers trailed up your back, drawing circles against your skin. You considered his words, rolling them over in your head, and considered your own feelings. Where did you stand? You knew you liked him based on how you felt around him, this just constant desire to have his hands on you. The way you could joke around with him and the banter between you made you feel at ease, a kind of comfort with him that you hadn’t found with anyone else. He was gorgeous and kind and a bit of an idiot, but you found it endearing. You also, admittedly, loved how obsessed he was with you. “I like you too,” you replied, turning your head so you could fully look at him, your chin resting on his chest.

He looked down at you, sliding his forearm under his head. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, kissing the skin nearest to you. “Really like you, even.”

“Well thank god,” he said, pinching your skin slightly. “It would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

He smiled at you. “I might’ve introduced myself as your boyfriend to your doorman.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed up, moving so you could hover over him fully, hands on either side of his head. “Does this mean I have to go to all of your formals and shit with you?”

“Obviously,” he replied, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “And my drinks at 260 are going to be free.” You huffed at his request for you to make all his drinks at the bar you worked at to be free, but Harry was having none of it. “Come on, baby, I’ll come to every one of your shifts.”

“Fine,” you answered, sliding your knees up his sides so you could sit squarely over the laurels on his pelvis. “But you have to bring me a snack.”

“Oh,” he said, quirking up his lips in a smirk, “baby I’m a full meal.” You swatted at his chest and he laughed, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before tugging you back into him. You fell into him with ease, unable to hold up any walls to him anymore. Somehow, he had busted through each one of them and you didn’t want to rebuild them. Having him wrapped up in your heart was perfectly fine with you, you thought to yourself when he kissed the top of your head and asked if you wanted pancakes.

Yeah, you decided, you could get used to this.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for bartender!y/n!!!!

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 19 of 27: Cursed

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

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A/N: Better late than never lol! Here it is! Thank you for being patient though! ilysm <3 This was a difficult one, I hope you like it! Btw, I recently found out that Dracos mum is called “Narcissa” and not “Narzissa” in the english version. She’s called “Narzissa” in the German Books. However, I’ll keep calling her Narzissa in this story (because I’m lazy and don’t want to change it). Enjoy!

Words: 3.4k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post war Warnings: tw eating disorder (mentions of it) --> please be aware that the way eating disorders are approached by the purebloods in this story is not something i (the author) approves of. I just thought it’d be a more realistic way for them to act like this.

It felt wrong.

Draco only used the Room of Requirements to be with you. He never went here on his own. Not that he would ever admit it – but the room scared him. The last time he’d been here alone was at the beginning of this school year. He found out then that it didn’t change for him anymore. All he saw when he walked in were the dirty, cracked windows and the flies and spiders that died in front of them. Old furniture, forgotten books and dirt was scattered around, piling up and towering over him.

As he stood there, his gaze was drawn to the end of the room. Hiding behind the corners, buried under black linen, there it was. The vanishing cabinet. He felt its presence. Looming, waiting, calling for him. Alright, to be fair, the last part was probably only in his imagination. It didn’t change his feelings towards this particular room of Hogwarts though.

It was different when you were with him. It changed for you and turned the monster that it was for Draco into a purring housecat. With you, it felt like a vacation. As if he had travelled to a small cottage, far away from roaring cities or ancient castles.

However tonight, you were not here. Astoria Greengrass had taken your place. She sat on a couch across from Draco, back straight, hands neatly folded in her lap. Her black hair was tied up in a bun and not a single strand of hair was out of place. The spitting image of her mother, Draco thought. He had always wondered about how different the Greengrass sisters looked. Astoria inherited the sharp features, thin lips, and slim figure of her mother. Daphne resembled their father a lot more with her round face, long blonde hair, and the doe-like eyes. The both of them were like night and day. Yin and Yang.

Draco looked around the room which had turned into a smaller version of the Slytherin common room. All the important details where there – from the green colors to the Slytherin emblems on the pillows and carpet. Only the windows were out of place. They didn’t offer him a view inside of the lake but were the same cracked ones, he had seen one too many times in his life. It reminded him that he wasn’t here with you.

It felt wrong.

***

Draco leaned back against the chair. He crossed his leg and his fingertips tapped a non-recognizable rhythm on his right upper thigh. Astoria didn’t look up at him when she spoke. He could tell that the words had been carefully chosen in advance. Remembered and recited in front of a mirror. Yet she couldn’t meet his eyes. Draco noticed the way she plucked at the skin on her thumb.

When you’d ask him tomorrow for how long the conversation went on, he wouldn’t have an answer. Time seemed to stand still the moment Astoria opened her mouth for the first time.

“Say something,” she whispered when she finished, and the silence became unbearable.

Draco noticed that there wasn’t a fireplace. Another thing that the Room of Requirement had gotten wrong.

“Say something,” Astoria repeated herself, her voice shaking a little more this time.

Draco stopped the tapping. “Is that why?”, he finally asked.

She hesitated and then nodded. Draco sighed and looked out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while.

Astoria scoffed. “Me too.”

“I am,” he looked back at her.

For the first time since he had entered the room, Astoria lifted her head. When her eyes met his, he saw the anger in them. “I’m dying and all you have to say is ‘Sorry’?”, she spat out.

“You don’t know that,” Draco said matter-of-factly.

Astoria raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“That you’re dying.”

She looked at him as if he was a little slow in his head. “I … I just told you.”

“You told me about the family curse,” Draco corrected her. “No one can say if it will happen to you.”

She let out a huff, stunned by his reaction. Had he not listened to a word she said? “I told you about the clairvoyant at Knockturn Alley!”

“Seers say a lot of shit.” He shrugged and added: “Especially when you pay them.”

Astoria lost her posture – with wide eyes and a shake of her head, she let herself slump back against the pillows. “I can’t believe you’re not taking me seriously.”

Draco sighed and began tapping on his thigh again. The same rhythm from before. “I am, Astoria. I believe you.”

But I don’t want to, he added in his mind. He had heard rumors of the Greengrass curse before – only once, when he was maybe eight or nine years old and while he pretended to be asleep on an armchair, he listened to his mother and her friend.

“The poor woman,” Narzissa had said. “And those girls …”

“We don’t know if it will happen to them,” her friend replied softly.

“Why risk it though?”, he remembered his mother ask. “And decide to give birth to not only one but two girls?”

“Well, if one dies, she will still have the other.”

Looking back, the joke was tasteless and not the least bit funny. He didn’t remember how his mother responded to it. Back then, Draco didn’t understand what the women were talking about. So he had shoved the memory back and forgot – until tonight.

When Astoria came up to him at the Winter Dance, she was more … vague. Talking about how something had changed in her life, how decisions were made for her and that she was left with no option but to finally confine in him. Merlin, Draco had thought she was pregnant. This was worse – for obvious reasons.

“If you believe me, why are you like this?”, her voice ripped him from his thoughts. Draco hadn’t notice that he was staring out of the window again.

He cleared his throat and focused back on the Slytherin girl. “I believe you’re overexaggerating.” It was the truth. Or better – it was a truth. The one he was able to share with her.

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not!”, he replied with a sharp voice.

Astoria flinched.

Draco sighed and leaned forward. “Look,” he continued, much softer now. “I’m sorry. You’re obviously very scared of this – and honestly, who wouldn’t be after receiving such news.” He paused. “But didn’t you just say you never experienced any symptoms?”

She looked to the ground. “Yes.”

“See?”, a smile played around the corners of his lips. “Stop beating yourself up about it.”

Astorias gaze stuck to the ground. His words didn’t ease her pain, he saw that. “I … Look at me, Draco,” she then mumbled.

Draco tilted his head. “I am.”

“No, truly look at me!” She lifted her head. “What do you see?”

He stared at her for a while. What do you want me to say? He refrained himself from asking that. Instead, for the first time in years, he truly looked at her. Her school uniform was in perfect condition, no spot or loose thread in sight. The diamond earrings sparkled in the soft light and around her neck hung a delicate golden necklace. Her outer appearance was perfect. As always. The only thing that was different were her eyes. He frowned when he saw it. The fire in them. Gone. The arrogant spark, challenging every Ravenclaw and Gryffindor that didn’t get out of her way fast enough. He wondered when it had left her.

“I resemble a corpse! I swear, my grandmother had a better complexion than me on the day she died!”, Astoria continued after another minute of silence.

Oh. Draco blinked. She meant that? He wouldn’t have noticed that in a hundred years.

“And I’m so thin and –”

“Because you’re starving yourself,” Draco interrupted her and immediately scolded himself for it.

Astoria, who was in the middle of shifting to a different position, stopped, and stared at him. “What?”

Draco pondered for a moment about his next words. Astoria and her fucked up relationship towards food wasn’t a secret. Well, not since fourth grade when rumors started spreading about the true reasons of why she was always so eager to get to the nearest bathroom after meals. And then her bones began to stick out underneath her school uniform. Everyone noticed it. Everyone looked the other way. Problems like hers … they weren’t uncommon among their circles. Yet, they were problems to keep to behind closed doors. They were private. Nothing to talk about.

“Everyone needs an outlet for the stress that comes with living like we do,” his father had once said. “Women are just worse in finding the right one.”

Oh, how he hated his father.

Draco smiled sadly at Astoria. “Everybody knows, Astoria.”

“Knows what?”, she asked sharply.

“That you have issues with food.”

Astoria blinked. “I … you’re such an asshole,” she then exclaimed. “You’re an asshole, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco sighed and shifted positions. “Anyways,” he tried to change the subject. “You’re scared, I get it. But so far, you don’t have any symptoms. In fact, you started feeling ill once your mother went with you to see the seer, right? It frightened you and now you can’t stop focusing on that fear.”

Astoria scoffed. “Thanks, Mr. Therapist. You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m just guessing. It doesn’t make sense to care so much about something that might not even happen to you.”

“Doesn’t make sense to you, you mean”, Astoria corrected him.

Draco frowned.

“Because your problems are much more important.”

“My problems are real.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say in this situation. Even Draco realized that. The words had just slipped out. He hated to admit it but the egocentric, narcissistic part of himself believed them.

Astoria stood up abruptly. She smoothed over the fabric of her skirt and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear. She then looked at him, no expression on her face. When she spoke, her voice was calm and quiet: “Fuck you.”

With long steps Astoria made her way towards the door.

“Shit,” Draco mumbled under his breath and got up as well. “Astoria!”

She didn’t turn around.

“Astoria, wait! Please!”

The last word made her stop, hand already reaching for the doorknob. As she turned around, there was a bitter smile playing around her dark red lips. “Why?”, she asked him. “I trusted you with something and all you’re giving me is shit.”

Draco looked down to the ground and then back up. “I don’t know how to respond to this.”

“With empathy, Draco,” she folded her arms in front of her chest. “You might want to look that word up.”

Draco let out another deep sigh. A part of him secretly wished she would ignore him and just leave. It would be easier for him. Knowing this wasn’t an option for her, he finally walked towards Astoria. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. His words had failed him, they had made everything worse for her and he hoped from the bottom of his heart that this would ease her pain just a little. Astorias body went stiff at first – only after a few seconds did she let her body relax. She leaned into his embrace as if someone took a weight off her shoulders.

“You know I’m here for you,” Draco whispered. “And I will be there in case …”

“In case, I’m dying after all.”

When Draco breathed in, he could smell her lavender shampoo. “Yes.”

Suddenly, her petite body began to tremble. At first Draco mistook it for giggling, then he heard the soft whimpers against his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine. I promise.” He hugged her tighter.

“You can’t promise me that,” she sniffed.

Draco let go of her and took a step back. He put a hand to her cheek, making her look at him. “The curse hasn’t been around for decades. It might skip your generation again.”

Her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy, silent tears running down them. “I’m so scared.”

“I know.”

“Please marry me.”

Draco closed his eyes at her plea. His head suddenly hurt and he wished you were here. You’d know how to handle situations like this.

“Astoria …”

“I know you don’t love me,” she interrupted him, her voice still trembling. “You couldn’t.”

He opened his eyes, looking at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You love her.”

Her. You. Draco blinked. “What? No, I –”

“I realized it on New Years Eve.” She wiped the tears from her cheek, still holding on to him with her other hand. Astoria cleared her throat. “I didn’t believe it in the beginning but … it’s so obvious. You love her so much, how could I ever expect you to look at me the same way you look at her?”

Draco shook her head. “Astoria –”

“But you know the relationship has no future. Neither of your families would ever agree to it. You know it. You know it in your heart.”

The piercing pain in his forehead grew stronger. When he’d remember this moment, Draco wouldn’t be able to describe his feelings. Her words barely managed to get through to him. You love her, he heard her say over and over again. You love her.

No. He didn’t love you.

He couldn’t.

“Marry me,” Astoria repeated herself and took a step closer again. She had to lift her head to look into his eyes. “My family will secure the future of the Malfoys.”

“I …”

You love her. You love her. You love her.

“What do you get out of it?”, he finally managed to get out and tried to focus back on her, feeling weirdly out of breath.

Another tear rolled down her cheek. No sobs this time. “Once people will be able to see the sickness …”, she hesitated. “I won’t be looked at as the second daughter who’s living in her sister’s shadows.”

You love her.

Draco furrowed his brows at her words, utterly irritated by them. “Nobody thinks that, Astoria.”

She laughed. “Yes, they do! Daphne has always been prettier, smarter, more desired. I can’t compete with her. I am the leftover Greengrass that no one wants and that’s now dying from a family curse. Because of fucking course it would hit me and not my picture perfect sister!”

Draco stared at Astoria.

“But with you,” she continued. “With you people would see that I’m more than that. That I’m worthy of attention and of love despite … being me.”

This is wrong on so many levels, he could hear your voice in his head, clear as day.

“Have you met with the therapist yet?”, Draco suddenly asked out of the blue.

“What?” The Slytherin was thrown off by his question. “Yes.”

“Did you talk to her about this?”

Hearing this made her drop his hands, taking a few steps back. She buried her face in her hands, taking a deep breath. “Oh, fuck you, Draco!”, Astoria muttered. “Stop trying to analyze me!”

“I’m not!”, he assured her. “But … Astoria, this is so fucked up what you just said to me.”

She looked back up at him. “You’re such a hypocrite.”

“Excuse me?”

She chuckled. “You spent a few months with a Gryffindor and now you act like our values mean nothing to you when you are the one who used to scream ‘mudblood’ the loudest.”

Draco swallowed.

“Merlin, what is wrong with me,” Astoria sighed. “After everything I just confessed, you don’t find it in you to show me a little mercy and change your mind?” She smiled at him sadly. “Do you want to marry me?”

“No.”

You love her.

***

The talk with Astoria left him feeling uneasy.

It handed after she asked Draco to marry her a second time and he declined. She nodded when she heard his answer, sniffled, wiped the remaining tears away and left. Not without saying “You’ll change your mind sooner or later”. When she was gone, she didn’t take the anxiety with her. Draco had to deal with that on his own. Now, as he walked through the halls of the old castle, his steps were stiff, and he had deep lines between his eyebrows.

“Calm down, she has no symptoms,” he mumbled to himself as he turned another corner.

Yet.

What if he would be wrong after all? What if the curse wouldn’t skip another generation of Greengrass women and fall upon her? What if she would die and he made her last remaining years even more miserable in her eyes because he turned down the proposal?

What if, what if, what if.

He wanted to talk to you about all of it. You’d tell him he didn’t have to feel bad. He didn’t owe Astoria. He shouldn’t be put in this position in the first place. You would find the right words. To be honest, Draco knew all of this himself. He just wanted to hear you say it out loud. Hear the words from another person to ensure that he was right. That he wasn’t crazy or selfish for not sacrificing his life, his future, for a dying girl.

“She’s not dying,” he reminded himself. A Hufflepuff boy passed him and frowned.

“My family will secure the future of the Malfoys.” It was the argument his mother had used against him countless times. He was certain that he’d hear it a lot more often soon. He was aware of how strong the argument truly was. His family could return to their former glory with all the luxury that came along with it. Fancy parties, status, high-paying careers – something he had been promised his whole life and that was stripped away the moment he was forced to become a Death Eater. The promise of a good life. An easy life.

Maybe life shouldn’t be easy for them. At least not so fast. Maybe his father shouldn’t come home from Azkaban one day to live like nothing ever happened. No, Lucius Malfoy deserved to suffer longer than his time in prison. And ultimately, so did his mother and Draco.

Draco gritted his teeth at his thoughts. He couldn’t marry Astoria. Not for that reason. Not to make the life of his family easier. His parents needed to work and plea for their redemption. Just like he did.

“Watch it, Malfoy!”, Seamus Finnigan hissed when he bumped into him. He came out of the library, a stack of books in his arms.

Draco didn’t look at him. Until now, he hadn’t even noticed that he was walking towards the library. It made sense though. The bag that hung from his shoulder seemed to become heavier with every step. The black notebook. He needed to write.

***

You sat alone on a table, hunched over a book. More of them piled up next to you, accompanied by an overused quill and bottle of ink.

Exams, Draco remembered. How easy it was to forget those mundane things in the midst of all the sadness. Exams, followed by entrance tests to become an Auror. Draco smiled at the thought of you fighting evil. He was certain that you’d excel at it.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, not caring about the annoyed huffs and curses from students who almost ran into him. He watched you. The way you sometimes licked the tip of your finger before turning a page. How you sighed and frowned when you didn’t understand a passage.

You love her. The words shot through his mind.

It was different to the scenes he had read in books when he finally saw it. When he blinked and it was suddenly so clear to him. His heart didn’t stop, his knees didn’t become weak, he didn’t hear violins around him. No, a ray of sunlight that fell through the window and hit your face, caused you to lift your head. In that moment, your eyes found his. A smile played around your lips as you waved at him and pointed at the seat next to you. And it was so clear to him, that he wanted this all along: to be with you. To come home to you.

You love her, Astoria had said.

And he knew she was right.

***

A/N: How did you like it?? I’m so excited to hear from you!! <33

CHAPTER 20

HP Masterlist General Masterlist

Tag List: @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @renaissance-confiance, @doitforthevine67, @ilovemollyweasley, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @scoote-rankle, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @just-addicted-to-bangtan, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen , @natsiboo, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings, @slytherinprincedracom , @katiaw2, @saintkore, @nctnight, @lifestragedy, @obxmxybxnk, @spideydobik , @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @dracomalfoyswifey, @jpow345, @realistic-breadstick, @abbs-is-tired, @alwaysbeanunknownfan, @niallsarmveinstho, @is-this-a-febreze-commercial, @acciowilltolive, , @sexytholland, @faangirl101, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @mendesmuffinsss, @lilxnvm, @kill-the-teen-memories, @darkusangelus, @itsbebeyyy, @hesaidimcrazy, @jenniweaslee, @hpxpjo, @brisbubble, @xomaymay, @shitnstuffillregret, @serialkillme, @angel-tears15, @panicattheeverywherekid, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @nobleking, @tashii-blr, @ddaeing, @randogirlo-fando-main, @sadgirlnumber92899, @captivateing, @bitchyegirl, @smiithys, @ninipoo1, @intheawks, @nothanksnyla, @calpal-4ever, @dracosathenaeum, @belsandthings, , @kiwi-sloan, @xdmx, @lexi-ravenclawdracomalfoy, @kvyenxay, @live-awkward, @babebenhardy, @bitchysweets-blog, @cravingmusic, @frau-moon, @ohissandhalasta, @broken-but-beautiful-cassie, @lil-black-heart, @vminenthusiastt, @dracos-sluts, @mrmoonyy, @saucysuazo, @fuzzzwald, @matsuno-nadeshiko, @amber-arsenault , @loveableasshole, @spideycures, @echpr, @shiningstar-byulxx, @twinklebug2282, @bloodiedroses, @klthmef, @ostorian , @bi-chai-tea, @maddieisnotok, @amandaluvssupernatural, @makeoutwithstiles, @i-am-addicted-to-tea, @tenclouds, @lovingdracomalfoy, @lannaax, @dr-bitch-bby, @fallinallinmendes, @suckerforparker, @runninglownad, @piercinghorizons, @dosicas, @yanaaaaaaa, @akzer300500 @hoseokslily, @dracofeltonmalfoy, @emilianamason, @tothemoonwithclifford, @gcldreinhart , @angelofthorr, @k-k0129, @musicalmuffindog1410, @andydre4m, @mxl-foyrecs, @seeinorange, @vlgsqd , @justmimithings, @allthevoicesinmyhead, @pipppaaaaalouisee, @yessirrz, @2think2twice2 @spencerreidisbootiful, @find-a-little-faith, @thatguppienamedbae, @emmamarie7708, @dontpanicitsdan @jordaangx, @ceeellewrites, @drxcomvlfx, @7minutes-tomidnight, @coldheartedslytherin, @wingardiumdepressionosa, @perfect-storm95, @danisaur1324, @unlikely-y-bliss, @trentdijklfc66, @saptediavoli, @treestarrrrrrrr, @aangsupremacy @yaanasluv, @megamihatake, @lavenderblossom12, @bimbelle, @beiahadid, @weasleytwinswheezes, @bogikrmn, @gublerslut, @prongsandprancer, @superkawaiicandyfloss , @instantllamaruins

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Deep End - Chapter 2: Birthday Boy

…in which Harry gets the birthday surprise he didn’t ask for.

Word count: 4.7k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Thank you for all the love for Harry and Ezi after chapter 1. Please let me know what you think about each chapter so I can be motivated to write faster 😆

“Humans are so funny. You make up false stories about us and refuse to believe anything that isn’t the same as your imagination,” the siren said.

Harry tossed his head back and laughed. He held out a finger at her. “No, mermaids aren’t supposed to exist. You’re not supposed to exist.”

The siren narrowed her sharp gaze, and Harry quickly moved back a bit in fear of her grabbing his leg and pulling him into the water. To his surprise, she said, “And who are you to decide that? A useless human with a useless tail–”

“Okay, enough with the tail joke.”

“–can’t even survive the drowning deep. You don’t want to believe we exist, so you won’t have to carry the guilt of trashing our homes and murdering our kind.”

Baffled, Harry worked his jaw while silently cursing himself for never taking part in those debate classes back in school. Well, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that one day he would have to debate with a deadly siren in a cave on his goddamn birthday!

He shut his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Look, lady. I’m only one small human, with a bigger than average human tail, FYI.” The siren eyed at his crotch in disbelief, so he quickly crossed his legs. “But that’s beside the point! What I was trying to say was that, if you’re seeking revenge, I can’t satisfy you because I’m not responsible for trashing the ocean or shit like that. I’m a singer, alright? And I don’t even live here. I’m from London. A land far away. If you wanna murder a human, I suggest looking for Elon Musk.”

The siren stared at him like he was the mythical creature. “I’m not familiar with all the names you mentioned,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, which had been a big distraction for him. Good to know that he could still get horny while facing death.

“Don’t you guys have fish Wikipedia?” he asked, and she tilted her head, looking rather confused. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you should know all the facts about humans. That sounded like discrimination against sirens.”

For the first time since Harry met this siren, she actually smiled at him. “You have a lot of funny words, you strange creature,” she said, her eyebrows knitted in fascination.

“You know what?” Harry exhaled sharply. “Since you’re my kidnapper, I’m gonna stop arguing with you in case you still wanna kill me. But today is my birthday, so I can’t be kidnapped. I haven’t posted a thank you message on Twitter yet, and I might get cancelled for that. Celebrities get cancelled for literally anything nowadays. It’s annoying.” The siren blinked at him, her pink lips slightly parted. “Right,” he breathed. “You don’t have a Twitter account.”

“You said you were a singer.”

“That’s all you got from my long speech?”

“What is it? Singer.”

Harry bit his dry lip and frustratedly combed his fingers through his damp hair. “I sing. Use my voice to entertain other people.”

“Oh, like sirens.”

“I guess.”

“Except that we use our voice to kill people.”

“What?”

“Sing for me,” said the siren despite Harry’s horrified look. She seemed excited as she rested her folded arms on a boulder and gazed up at him with a twinkle in her crystal clear blue eyes. “Let’s hear it. I didn’t know humans could sing. Let’s see if it’s good.”

“Fine.” Harry blew out his cheeks and cleared his throat.

He began to sing.

“Walk in your rainbow paradise–”

“What’s a rainbow paradise?” the siren asked, but he didn’t stop singing to answer her.

“–brown skin and lemon over ice.”

“Why are you singing nonsense words?”

Once again, he ignored her, this time, closing his eyes. “I get so lost inside your eyes. Don’t you believe it? You don’t have to say you love me.”

“Love,” the siren repeated the word as if she had never heard of it in her whole life.

Harry opened his eyes and found that she was looking at him as if she could see right through him. He went on, “You don’t have to say you’re mine. Oh honey, I-i-i-i walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you.”

“Why would you walk through fire for someone?” the siren wondered out loud as she stared off into the distance, her strong brows knitted. “That's stupid. Fire is hot. I saw the humans on the boats use it one night. I almost burned my fingers trying to touch it.”

“Yeah, don’t play with fire.”

“Then why would you walk through it?”

The siren pouted, and Harry caught himself smiling at her naivety. “It’s supposed to mean that you’d do anything for the person you love. Even risking your life.”

“That’s stupid,” the siren repeated her earlier remark. For a second, Harry saw a curious little girl and not a dangerous sea creature from earlier.

“Well, it’s just a song,” Harry told her. “I personally wouldn’t do that for anyone, either, but some people do love with all they have, and would sacrifice everything for the one they love.”

An angry frown had replaced the siren’s previous perplexed expression. “Some humans murder the ones they claim to love,” she said in a cold voice. Harry felt a chill running down his spine, but then the siren went on with a softened expression. “Sirens are not supposed to love. Love is a weakness for my kind.”

Harry nodded. “Bet you don’t even have a heart.”

The siren cocked her head; a corner of her mouth raised subtly. “Every living and breathing thing has a heart. Sometimes it’s valuable. Sometimes it's not.”

“Only valuable if it’s the heart that you want,” replied Harry.

For a long moment, the siren looked into his eyes as if she was trying to read his thoughts. Could she do that? Read his thoughts?

Beads of sweat were trickling down his back as his heart began to race; he could hear it in his ears. Suddenly, the siren was pulled beneath the water. Harry stiffened at once. The ocean was still for a moment, then two sparkling tails burst through the surface. Harry’s jaw fell slack with a soundless scream when he saw another siren sinking her fangs into the first one's neck.

The other siren had bright red hair and a silver tail. There were visible scars all across her pale, lanky arms, and he couldn’t see her face. Legs too stiff to run and hide, he stood on the edge and watched in absolute terror. The scene in front of him was madness as the sirens screeched, their tails flapping, creating violent waves as they sank their claws and teeth into each other’s flesh. Harry could see blood. The first siren was not as strong as the one that was attacking her. He must save her. Maybe a part of him knew that she wasn’t entirely evil. Maybe because she was the only hope for him to get home. Either way, he couldn’t just stand by and watch her die.

Before Harry could even think of a way, a bony hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him into the sea.

Harry’s dreams were thick with blood and haunted by the siren’s face. He’d been in the dark water, drowning, and the last thing he’d seen was her sapphire eyes glowing with the sunlight above as she’d stretched out her arm to grab him before he sank deeper. He woke up gasping, still feeling the saltiness of the ocean on his tongue and the pressure of water on his lungs.

He found himself lying on his bed, fully naked under the covers. Had he been dreaming?

Kneading his temple to chase away the headache, Harry scanned his sore eyes around the room and screamed when he saw her sitting in the corner. Naked. He looked away as soon as he caught her ocean blue eyes staring back.

The siren was in his room. And she had legs!

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed.

He heard her standing up but couldn’t bring himself to look. She sat down on the edge of his bed, smelling like the ocean. Not the fishy kind of smell; one that was unique, and Harry liked it even though he shouldn’t.

“This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream,” he mumbled to himself while clutching the duvet to his chest.

The siren, now a human girl, let out a sigh. “It’s not. This is real. I’m real.”

“You’re not.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re...naked.”

Even though Harry wasn’t looking, he could feel her questioning gaze pinning on him. He grabbed the covers and shoved them at her. “Cover yourself.”

“Oh...okay.” The siren did as she was told as Harry quickly placed a pillow on his private part. He finally looked at her, and she smiled while covering her upper body and the area between her legs with the duvet.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Better. Okay, why are you here?”

The siren’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”

Harry shook his head.

“We were talking when my sister attacked me, then dragged you into the water. You were lucky I saved you twice and brought you back to where I’d found you. This is the only palace on this beach, so I assumed it was yours.”

Harry sat and stared her face, trying to detect a lie but failed.

The siren rolled her eyes. She seemed disappointed as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder, exposing the huge bite mark on her long pale neck. The skin had healed, and the blood had dried, but the area was still bruised. Harry fought the urge to touch it. There was no way this was really happening.

The siren shot a glance at his ankle. And that was when Harry noticed the red claw mark around it. He shivered at the flashbacks of a siren with red hair and a silver tail charging straight at him with her mouth wide open, her sharp teeth ready to tear off his flesh.

“Sorry about my sister. She could be very...deadly,” the siren in front of him said, looking remorseful.

Harry eyed her up and down once again. Finally, he broke his silence, “What happened to your tail?”

The siren refused to look him in the eye as she said, “My mother found out that I saved you, a human, so she cursed me.”

“Cursed you?”

The siren said nothing; the corners of her mouth lowered as she stared down sadly at her legs.

What kind of The Little Mermaid plot is this? Harry thought to himself, yet didn’t say it because it shouldn’t be a joke. She’d lost her tail, which meant she couldn’t go back to the ocean. Ariel from The Little Mermaid had wished to become a human. This girl had been cursed with the life she never wanted just to save him twice.

Harry buried his face into his palms. “Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It is your fault.”

His head whipped up at her honest response. “You always say what you think, don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Harry sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Never mind. How...how do I get you back to your mermaid form?”

“Siren.”

“Sorry, siren. How do I help turn you back?”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly, clutching the duvet to her chest. “But I need a place to stay until I figure it out.”

Harry thought for a moment and nodded. “I’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“What’s a hotel?” the siren asked, her eyes round. “And why can’t I stay here in your palace? It’s big and you live alone.”

“This is a house, not a palace,” Harry said. “But I’m going back to London tomorrow, and I can’t take you with me.”

“Where is London? I want to see London.”

Seeing her so excited made Harry laugh. “No, you don’t; trust me. It’s not sunny there. Always dark and gloomy and raining.”

“It’s not sunny underwater, either.”

Harry held up a finger and kept his mouth open for a moment as he pondered over what she’d said. “Good point. But I’m still not taking you to London. That’s not a good idea.”

The siren’s eyebrows drew together. “It was your fault I’m in this situation.”

Harry gasped. “You’re so manipulative!”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“It means you say things like that to get me to feel sorry for you, and so I have to help you.”

“Oh, then, yeah, I’m manipulative,” the siren said. “Take me to London with you, or I’ll find you in London and make your life hell.”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. As if he hadn’t been traumatised enough by all the events that had happened today, now he had to take responsibility for the life of a mythical creature. If he had been a bad guy, he would have just let the government have her and keep her in a lab like that Oscar-winning movie about the dead girl and her fish lover. But Harry wasn’t a villain. Sure, he could be an asshole, but he couldn’t betray someone who’d risked her life to save his. Twice.

Maybe if he’d just say yes and then leave quickly in the morning, he wouldn’t have to deal with her. He’d ask someone to take care of her, pay for a place for her to stay and her food. Her mother would have to take her back eventually. He didn’t know about sirens, but even in the animal kingdom, mothers never abandoned their children.

“Fine, I’ll take you to London,” he said. Seeing the smile on her face, he was lowkey thankful that he was so good at lying. “First, you have to put some clothes on. Wait here.”

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, holding a pillow in front of his crotch and one behind him to cover his butt, then padded awkwardly to his closet to change and get her something to wear. When he returned, she was still sitting on his bed, humming a familiar song and kicking her feet as if testing out her new body parts. He found it endearing, but of course, he wouldn’t tell her.

He handed her a bathrobe. “Put this on. I’ll find some real clothes for you later.”

The siren accepted the bathrobe and stared at it as if she’d been told to put it in her mouth and chew. She glanced up at him. “I don’t understand the purpose of this.”

“To cover up your private parts.”

Suddenly, she seemed sad. “I think I’m broken.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

She looked at him again, pouting. “I don’t have a tail.”

“I can see that.”

“No, I mean, a tail like yours.”

When Harry realised what she meant, his face burned, and he cleared his throat into his fist. “You’re not supposed to,” he said awkwardly. “You’re...a female. I bet male sirens don’t look the same as you, right?”

“There’s no male sirens,” she told him.

Harry cocked his head to the side, squinting his eyes. “Huh? Then how do you guys...you know?”

She blinked innocently at him. She didn’t know.

“Mate.” The word made Harry cringe. “How do you mate?”

“Sirens mate with mermen. We only need them for children.”

“Okay, that’s...new…”

Harry would be glad to find out more, but this was definitely not the right time. He waved his hand, urging her to hurry up. Clumsily, the siren got to her feet. Harry didn’t intend to stay here while she changed, but since she could barely keep her balance, she had to hold onto his arms. He stood there, staring at the ceiling as the duvet dropped. She was completely naked in front of him now and so dangerously close. The voice inside his head was telling him not to peek. Fuck. Why did she have to be sexy?

“Do you...um...do you need help?” he asked as she seemed to be struggling with the bathrobe.

“No, thanks. I got it!” she said between ragged breaths, then, “Hey your tail is growing!”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the front of his boxers, his face heating at the sight of his erection. He gently pushed her back onto the bed and rushed to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she shouted after him. “I need to see it in its full form!”

“This is its full form!”

“It’s still small.”

“Shut up! It’s not!”

Ezili felt bad for lying to this human.

Well, lying was the whole point of her mission, but he had been so nice to her when he found out she couldn’t return to the ocean. She blamed her new human heart for these emotions. Siren Ezili would never feel sorry for this ugly creature. No, wait, this one wasn’t ugly. The mermen were ugly. As much as she despised humans, she must admit that most of them were beautiful.

When this human wasn’t looking, Ezili would regard him with as much curiosity as he had regarded her in secret. The way his brown curls swept back messily. His defined jawlines. The deep dimples in his cheeks. The look of wonder in his eyes. He looked about her age, but his eyes were innocent, greener than seaweed.

She looked away as he caught her gawking. They were sitting at a small table on the floor. The room was darkly lit by the light in the corner. On the table was a mushy pile with little fire sticks on top.

“What is this?” Ezili asked, inspecting the object.

The human smiled at her, the firelight dancing in his leaf-green eyes as he said, “It’s a cake. We’re celebrating my birthday.”

“You told me not to play with fire.”

“We’re gonna put it out anyway.” He winked at her. “A little fire won’t hurt.” Ezili watched the human take out a little black thing and flick his thumb. Fire flared out, making Ezili flinch. “Relax,” he chuckled and the fire vanished. “This is called a lighter. It makes fire. This is a cake. These are candles.”

“What do we do with the cake?”

“We eat it.”

“You eat fire?”

The human laughed at Ezili’s distressed look. “No, silly. We blow out the candles, then eat the cake.”

“Oh,” she said, making him laugh harder. She found it disrespectful and annoying. Was this creature making fun of her? “What’s so funny?” she asked through gritted teeth.

The human stopped laughing, yet his dimples were still visible. “I can’t believe I’m celebrating my twenty-fourth with a siren,” he said.

“Who do you usually celebrate with?” Ezili asked.

“My friends or family,” the human said. “My friends were supposed to be here but their flight got cancelled due to bad weather.” The sadness in his eyes disappeared as he gave a dismissive wave and laughed. “Oh well, it’s not bad being alone. In fact, I’ve been alone my whole life.”

“That’s sad,” Ezili murmured, mesmerized by the candles.

“It’s not,” replied the human. “Some people live their whole life surrounded by others, and yet, they’re still lonely.”

As he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, smiled, and blew out the candles, Ezili sat there and pondered over his last words.

They didn’t eat the cake right away, because the humans said they ought to eat it after dinner. Apparently, humans ate three main meals a day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sirens ate when they were hungry, so this was very new to Ezili. She picked up the small shiny thing that shaped like her mother’s trident and pushed around the foods on her plate. “What is this?”

“Fish,” the human said with a smile.

“Dead?”

“You expect me to eat alive fish?”

Ezili scowled at him. “That’s what we eat.”

“You’re human now. Try cooked fish.”

When she didn’t do anything but stare at the plate, the human nudged her hand with his knuckles. “Come on. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you the raw fish in the fridge.”

Ezili doubted that this imbecile creature would poison her with these colourful foods to get away with his responsibility, but at the same time, nothing was impossible.

However, she would probably faint if she didn’t eat. This dinner actually smelled good, and her stomach was rumbling because she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. And so she stabbed the fish’s burned flesh with her little trident, closed her eyes and put it into her mouth. It was soft, salty and a bit spicy, and...surprisingly delicious. She quickly took another bite, and another, and another.

“Wow, you’re really hungry, huh?” The human chuckled. “You like it?”

Ezili nodded fast, unable to answer because her mouth was full.

The human seemed satisfied. “Good. Means I’m a great cook.”

Ezili chewed fast and swallowed as the human began to eat. She tried to copy the way he held the little trident and the knife, and felt like she’d changed. Her mother would hate her so much for enjoying this. And Koa would make sure everyone in their kingdom knew and turn her into a laughing stock.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she said, breaking the silence, mostly to distract herself from thinking about the mission and her family.

The human thought for a second. “Hmmm, I have a bunch so I don’t know where to start.” Then, after a pause, “Why did your mum do this to you? Doesn’t she love you?”

Ezili wished she could stab him for bringing up the topic she’d been trying to avoid. Instead, she sucked in a breath. “She does. It’s just...the way sirens show love is different from humans. We teach our children to be strong from the moment they are born. Sirens live dependent on one another to survive, and so we always have to look out for one another. I guess that’s love for us. My mother is the Sea Queen. She’s very powerful, and so she has high hopes for my sister and I. My sister is better than me, though. I’ve always envied her.”

“Your sister is scary as hell,” the human remarked. “But if your mum is the Queen, you must be a princess.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, so does that make me Prince Eric?”

“Your name is Eric?”

“No,” the human chuckled. “It’s a reference from The Little Mermaid. You should watch that film. You’d probably hate it though. Anyway, it’s so weird that we don’t know each other’s name. I’m Harry.” The human, well, Harry, put his hand across the table. Ezili didn’t know what to do with it so she just stared.

“I’m Ezili.”

Harry smiled, picked up her right hand and shook it. His hand was bigger than her and warm. She liked it.

“Cool name. Can I call you Ezi?”

Ezili instantly pulled her hand back. “No, you filthy creature. That’s not my name!”

“Ezi is short for Ezili.”

“What?”

Harry ignored the look of confusion she was giving him. “Or I could call you Bubbles. That’s a cute nickname.”

“Why Bubbles?”

“Because…” He tossed his head back and groaned. “Damn, woman, you gotta read the story, too. I can’t make these jokes if you don’t get the references.”

Ezili had so many questions. Just as she was about to ask, the black thing on the table lit up and started playing a song that startled Ezili.

“Sorry. My mum’s calling,” Harry said as he picked up the thing and swiped his fingers across it. “Right on time.”

“Is your mother trapped in that thing?” Ezili asked, clutching the hem of the shirt Harry had told her to wear. It was too big on her but she loved that it was comfortable and kept her warm.

“No, this is a phone,” Harry said, shaking the magical device with light coming out of it. “So my mum’s in London, and when she calls me on the phone, her voice gets transferred through it, and I can hear what she says.” He pushed himself up and told Ezili, “I’ll be right back.”

Once Harry was gone, Ezili sat there and tried her best to process all the new information. It was only her first night on land and she was already going through it. This mission was harder than she thought. Still, she had no choice but to continue. She must have that heart, and her mother would be so proud.

When Harry woke up this time, he was on his private jet.

“Hey.”

He screamed, causing Ezi to fall back into her seat in front of him. He whipped his head around and saw that they were the only two people in this cabin. Before he could even come up with a question, Ezi got up, her hand resting on either side of his seat as she leaned forward, until her face was so close to his that he could smell the vanilla scent of the cake in her breath.

Her eyes sharpened at once. “I know you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No...I didn’t.”

“You did, Harry. You were going to leave me at your beach house. I heard you talking on the phone last night with someone else after talking to your mum. You mentioned a hotel room.”

Harry had booked a room for her on the phone last night. He should have done it on the website.

“But guess what?” A corner of her mouth lifted. “I might not have the ability to control tides anymore, but I still have my voice. And so I can control humans with it. I sang you to sleep last night. Then when your servants came to take you to this metal bird, I made him carry you to the magic black carriage and I came here with you. You think you’re one step ahead, you’re wrong. Try that again. I dare you.”

Harry swallowed hard. He could feel his palms sweating as he rubbed them against his thighs. “Okay, I’m sorry for that,” he said. “But you can’t control people like that. If someone found out what you’re capable of...what you are...you’d be in big trouble.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow as she slowly backed away and stood straight with her arms across her chest. Thank God, Harry’s mother called just in time. He immediately got up and excused himself to answer the phone. He left a pouty Ezili in the cabin and went to the exit to talk to his mother.

“My precious boy, are you on the plane right now?”

“Yes, Mum,” Harry sighed.

“Good. I just need the name of your date for the seat arrangement.”

Harry stiffened for a second then quickly glanced over his shoulder to check if Ezi was eavesdropping. Fortunately, she was distracted by a magazine.

“Like now?” he asked his mum.

“Yes. Last night you told me you found one.”

Yes, Harry remembered that part, but he’d only said that so his mum would stop pestering him.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I did.”

“Her name?”

He hesitated before saying, “Ezili Hans.”

Hans as in Hans Christian Andersen. The writer of The Little Mermaid. If he had the energy to be happy, he’d give himself a pat on the back for the creativity.

“Great,” his mother said, sounding as if he’d just told her he was getting married. “I’m so excited to meet this girl.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I-I said ‘Well, of course’,” Harry said and covered it up with a nervous laugh.

When he got off the phone with his mum, he felt a light tap on the shoulder and turned around to see Ezi. Shit, had she listened to–

“I promise I won’t use my singing voice to control you again,” she said, to his surprise. "Please. I cannot survive on my own." She twisted the hem of his band-tee uneasily. Even though she looked super cute in his t-shirt and joggers, she was still too underdressed for someone that was travelling on a private jet.

“Fine. You can stay,” he heard himself say while trying to imagine her with actual clothes that fit her.

Ezi’s blue eyes lit up, and the smile that rarely showed up on her face caught Harry off guard. He almost forgot what was happening.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But we need to set up some rules.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles wrting #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles series #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots

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v-hope · 5 years

Text

Mint Choco

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Army!Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff and more fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Hoseok convinces you to go out in the middle of the night to cheer you up after having dealt with the constant hate coming from his fans, or the one in which you realise you might not dislike mint choco ice cream as much as you thought you did after all.

A/N: This can be read as a stand-alone one shot or as part 15 of my social media au “Hobi’s Girl”. Also, for this au’s purposes, Y/N doesn’t like mint choco ice cream, my apologies to all of you mint choco lovers but a girl’s gotta do what she gotta do 😔✊🏻 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy 🥰

You got this. You got this. You got this. You got this. You go—

Those three words kept repeating over and over in your head like a mantra as you took a fair amount of time walking down the stairs of your apartment complex; wanting with everything in you to believe you were indeed cool about the whole situation, when truth was, you were most certainly not.

Nervously tugging at the long sleeves of the light grey sweater you had settled for wearing after Yeonsu and you had made an entire mess out of both your wardrobe and hers, later matching it with a pair of dark skinny jeans and sneakers to complete the perfect casual outfit, you could not help but wonder if you had maybe underdressed. Hoseok had not really mentioned what the two of you were doing, if anything, you were pretty sure he had no idea either considering how late at night it was; yet it was still Hoseok. Jung Hoseok, the fashion icon. Not only that but you were also meeting him for the first time...

Fuck, you were most definitely underdressed, weren’t you?

Just when you were about to turn around and run back to your place so you and your best friend could once again go through pretty much all your clothes again, however, your phone buzzed in your back pocket — just like that feeling your heartbeats speed up, even more when you read the text Hobi had just sent you, letting you know he was right outside waiting for you.

Deciding not to answer him considering you were just about to go out, you took a deep breath; trying one last time to calm yourself before meeting him.

It would be alright. He was just Hobi, not J-Hope your bias from BTS whom you had been head over heels for ever since they debuted. No, this was Hobi. Seok-ie. Your self-proclaimed baby, for crying out loud. Not like that helped too much either, for let’s face it, although you had only been talking for a little over a month now, you were absolutely head over heels for him, too.

Nevertheless, with that thought in mind, the one of him not being this intimidating idol you had loved for so long, but the guy you had been talking and flirting with these last couple of weeks, the one who called you cute pet names and always wanted to be there for you, you finally made it out of your complex.

Simple as that, and even though half of his face was being covered by a black mask, you recognized his figure at the other side of the rather dark street, right in front of you. His back was casually leaning against his expensive car as his eyes remained focused on his phone; probably waiting for your answer, you guessed given his slightly furrowed eyebrows.

Not being able to hide the huge smile that had just parted your lips at the sight of him, and silently rejoicing on his all-black outfit being just as casual as yours, you looked to both sides of the street before making your way over to him.

“Should I have worn a mask, too?” you spoke up to catch his attention.

Before you could mentally punch yourself at the way your voice had betrayed you by breaking a little given your nervousness, his chocolate eyes were on you, quickly adopting the shape of two crescent moons the second he realised it was actually you.

Pulling down his mask just low enough for his mouth to show, you felt your knees go weak at the up-close view you got of his bright smile.

“Hey” he managed to say, followed by a blissful giggle as he gave you a brief side hug that left you longing for more. “No, no. Not at all” he answered your previous question, “I just wasn’t very familiar with this side of the city and didn’t know if it was too crowded, so…”

“Well, now you see it’s not” you smiled, motioning around to point out how visibly deserted the place was. “Great for sneaky moments like this. Awful for late nights out when you lose your wallet and have to walk back home all alone, trust me”.

Your words earned a small laugh for him. “Well, if there’s ever a next time just give me a call and I’ll go pick you up” he offered.

“Oh, yeah” you snorted, “because I would really disturb the small amount of sleep you get at night”.

He shrugged, unconsciously moving closer to you. “I wouldn’t mind. I can make time for you if you need me, you know?”

Your gaze abandoned his for a second, staring down to your feet and biting your lower lip as you tried your best not to let his words affect you as much as they were already doing right then, only to later fix your eyes on his beaming ones once again.

“What is it?” he wondered after a few seconds of silence, in which you had done nothing but look at him in pure adoration.

“Nothing, I just…” his head nodded reassuringly for you to go on, “I just can’t believe it’s really you”.

Hoseok laughed under his breath, tilting his head slightly back as he stared at you with squinted eyes and pouty lips. “So what, all those times we video called weren’t proof enough of it being actually me?”

“You know what I mean” you lightly laughed along with him.

“Yeah” his stare softened, “I can’t believe it’s really you either” he confessed.

Because never in your wildest dreams would either of you have thought you would respectively end up meeting your ultimate bias and the girl you had seen one miserable time at one of your concerts. But the world works in mysterious ways, and the two of you could not be happier about the way things had worked out for you.

“So, um…” he cleared his throat, finally breaking the eye contact as his eyes shifted to the passenger’s door before holding it open for you and motioning towards it. “Shall we go?”

“What a gentleman” you couldn’t help but tease with a small smile.

Rolling his eyes with clear amusement in them at your statement —which earned a giggle from you that made his heart jump—, he closed the door after you had gotten inside and rushed to the other side of his car to take his place on the driver’s seat.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked once he turned the engine on.

“I don’t have one” he sheepishly admitted — his eyes focused ahead of him as he started driving away from your place. “I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk somewhere nice, maybe to a park or—”

“Isn’t that...” you cut him off mid-sentence, “too risky?”

His shoulders moved up and then down as he sighed heavily. “Everything is kinda risky when you’re an idol, to be honest…”

“I’m sorry” you couldn’t help but apologize, even more at the way his mood had seemed to slightly drop at the thought of that. “It must be hard…”

“It’s okay” he reassured you, throwing you a small glance that was followed by a sincere smile. “I love my job, I really do. It’s just…” he fell silent for a second, turning left as he continued driving without a clear destination, “I just wish things would be easier when it comes to going out and dating… and us, you know?”

You smiled sweetly, not really thinking twice when you reached for his hand and held it in yours, yet knowing he appreciated that small act of yours when he gently squeezed it as a smile curved up his lips.

“Maybe we could just drive around like this for a while?” you proposed. “Or you could just park somewhere so you don’t have to worry about driving”.

“And you would be okay with that?” he cocked one of his eyebrows.

“Of course” your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at how utterly surprised he had sounded.

“Don’t you at least want to grab a bite or something?”

“Mm…”

The way your lips puckered up as you were deep in thought caught Hoseok’s attention, and he would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the sudden urge to lean in and steal a kiss from you right then.

“Something sweet would be nice…” your eyes trailed off to the window, as if the Seoul streets you were driving by would give you the answer. “Oh, ice cream!” you exclaimed excitedly, causing him to stare fondly at you and how adorable he thought you were, “and then we can just stay in the car listening to music and talking or whatever”.

“That’s really all you want?” he couldn’t help but wonder again.

“Why do you say it like that?” you pouted. “I just wanna spend time with you, I don’t mind what we do”.

“Ah, stop doing this to me” he said overdramatically, letting his head fall on his seat as one of his hands clutched at his chest and a smile curved up your lips. “One condition, though” his eyes went to you.

“Tell me”.

“This doesn’t count as our first date, because it is so not what I had in mind for it”.

Feeling the heat reach your face in a matter of seconds, you turned to look out of the window for a moment; collecting yourself before your eyes were back on him. “Okay, this doesn’t count as our first date then”.

That was how, half an hour later, Hoseok had parked his car in front of a lake that provided the two of you with the perfect view as you silently enjoyed your ice creams while Hobi’s playlist played quietly in the background — the moonlight illuminating the water in such soothing way that made the whole atmosphere feel even nicer.

As much as the sight ahead of you was beautiful, your eyes found themselves travelling over to the man next to you, quietly admiring his delicate factions and slightly long dark brown hair before they focused on the mint chocolate flavoured ice cream he was currently savouring.

“You want some?” he offered, having caught the way you were intently staring at it.

“Oh. No, thanks” you declined politely, feeling once again the heat reach your cheeks.

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really” you admitted, bringing your green tea ice cream up to your lips.

Hoseok’s mouth fell open in astonishment, staring at you without moving a muscle for a couple of seconds. “Okay, it was nice to meet you” he said once he ‘came back’ to his senses. “I can’t date a mint choco anti, I’m sorry” he joked.

Trying to hide your amusement —and also trying your best not to freak out over the way he had deliberatedly used the word ‘date’ right then—, you nodded understandingly.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too” you dramatically reached for the door handle, “but I don’t want to date a mint choco lover either, so—”

Before you could even open the door to make your dramatic exit, you had him reaching over to your side and grabbing your hand to prevent you from doing so; pulling you closer to him as you both laughed wholeheartedly, almost enough not to notice how close you had ended up being to each other.

With your face being almost pressed against his chest while his face remained near your shoulder, you found yourselves staring into each other’s eyes, only inches away, once you straightened yourselves up.

As if snapping back into reality, he cleared his throat after having pulled slightly back and away from you — not being uncomfortable at all with how close you had been until then, yet not wanting to make you uncomfortable on the other hand.

“Have you even tried it?” he tried to initiate conversation again. “Mint choco, I mean”.

You nodded. “Once”.

And that had been enough for you to know it was not your cup of tea. However, Hoseok was not having that.

“Okay but you seriously need to try this one, love. It’s really good”.

Staring reluctantly at the ice cream cone he was holding up to make his point, you ended up agreeing with a small ‘okay’, mostly because the look he was giving you right there made it impossible for you not to give in to his wishes.

The way your nose scrunched after he had brought it up to your mouth for you to have a taste, however, was enough to let him know your perception had not changed much from the other one time you had tried his favourite flavour.

“You hate it that much?” the disbelief was clear in his voice.

“I don’t hate it” you corrected him. “It’s not bad, I just... wouldn’t choose it”.

“So green tea it is for you, huh?”

“Yup” you emphasized the ‘p’ for cute purposes, having succeeded given the way he was lovingly looking at you. “Wanna try?” you offered, bringing your cone up to his lips.

“Sure” he accepted immediately, having a small taste of it before his lips formed a perfect ‘o’ at the delightful taste. “That’s really good”.

“I know, right?” you smiled, bringing it back to your mouth so you could have another taste as well. “Much better than mint choco” you pushed it.

“Okay now that’s just crossing the line” he called you out, determinedly having some of his delicious ice cream as he dramatically glared at you.

Not being able to hold back your laugh, you ended up closing your eyes and throwing your head slightly back as you let it escape your mouth; only to find Hobi’s adoring eyes fixed on you once you opened them again.

“What?” you questioned shyly, feeling so little yet so secure somehow under his piercing stare.

With him moving closer to you, you felt a shiver running down your body when a smile curved up his lips; and you swore you could’ve melted the moment his free hand went up to cup one of your cheeks.

“I like seeing you smile” he confessed quietly. “You’re feeling better?”

“Yeah…” you said sincerely. “Thank you for not letting me sulk in my room for the rest of the night…”

“That’s what I’m here for, angel” he smiled sweetly, tenderly drawing circles on your skin with his thumb. “Again, I’m really sorry this is happening to you…”

You sighed, placing your hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Seok-ie” you reassured him what you had already said over text.

“But they’re my fans…”

You shook your head to keep him from speaking any further. “Stop blaming yourself for it, baby”.

Somehow, hearing you call him that pet name for the first time in person, was enough for his heart to feel at ease and for him to drop the topic.

“You do know all those things they’re saying are not true at all, don’t you?” his hand travelled down to your chin, pulling your face slightly up so he could lock his dark eyes with yours.

“I mean…” you shrugged, trying to take importance away from it, “they are kinda right about a few things…”

“No, they’re not” he was fast to determinedly disagree. “You’re not delusional. You’re not desperate. You’re not annoying. And those who were saying you’re not attractive?” he scoffed, not being able to disagree any more than he already did with them. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, anyone would have to be blind not to see it”.

“I’m really not—”

“Y/N” he cut your off before you could even begin to deny his words, “you’re so fucking breathtaking you had me looking for you for weeks after the concert, just because I couldn’t bear the idea of that being the first and last time I’d see you”.

Feeling like your cheeks would burn up anytime by then at his words, you found yourself taking the closeness of your faces to your advantage — letting your forehead rest faintly against his, in a way of letting him know how much his words had meant to you.

“I really meant it when I said you’re the best, you know?” you mumbled, loving the way his eyes had lit up at that. “Even if you’re a mint choco stan”.

Hobi laughed lightly, gazing down to your lips as his thumb traced over them. “And I really meant it when I said I’m happy I found you” he referenced the first conversation you ever had. “Even if you’re a mint choco hater” he joined in your teasing.

Not saying another word, he leaned in just enough for his lips to press lightly on yours, getting just a small taste of them before pulling slightly away and looking into your eyes for some kind of sign of you being uncomfortable by his actions. When he found nothing but elation being displayed on them, he couldn’t help but smile softly; not wasting another second to close the space between your mouths once again, only this time with no intentions of breaking the contact between them anytime soon.

His hand still on your cheek managed to keep you in place for him to intensify the kiss, just as your free hand travelled to the back of his head so you could entangle your fingers on his brown locks.

It just felt… right. Everything about it. From the two of you being together, to just sitting in the car eating ice cream in the middle of the night, to the way your lips fit so perfectly with each other’s.

Everything seemed to have fallen right into place.

And so, when you pulled away a good couple of seconds later, letting your breathings mix as you tried to catch your breath, the two of you were wearing the brightest of smiles on your faces.

“What?” he wondered after hearing you hum something under your breath, which had only caused his smile to grow wider as he faintly bumped his nose on yours.

Biting down on your lower lip, your eyes gazed up to meet his. “I think I could start liking mint choco from now on…” you giggled shyly, still savouring the fresh taste of his mouth on yours.

A low chuckle abandoned his mouth, pushing your chin slightly up so he could softly brush his lips on yours. “Let me help you with that”.

Just like that, his addictive lips were back on yours and the melting ice creams in your hands were long forgotten. You would deal with that later.

tag list: @lets-keepit100 @aquietkerfuffle @hobicomeholla29 @hhhhwww7 @brinnalaine @thefickive @zxlla @dreamcatcherjiah @booklover240 @luneseok @randomkoalablog @seokssbagel @thestral-balerion @unadulteratedlyunique @pikapikaachuu @salty-for-suga @biaisezabini @extaevaganza @jennygracekent @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @btsxdoll @cvbachacbitch @dearest-sunshine @tirednation @shakes0peare @moralita76 @re-sugance @rosiegukk @yeontanie21 @notinmycomfortzone @slxtfortae @cherryjiminiee @creepysweet @hobi-love @betysotelo18 @zaryas @kpopgirlbtssvt @bubblegumcat229 @suga-bangtan @uxwi @lovelymultiwrites @rjsmochii @margaritafariasw @lilliaflurr @lidda @seoulgotmysoul @sunskook @jayhope88 @magicshop-myg @longlivebnc

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mccall-me-maurice · 3 years

Text

LOTF Drabbles for every single one of my ships based on songs on my playlist while I wait for the movers to finish

Jalph [Boom Clap - Charli XCX]: “You’re the glitter in the darkness of my world.”

Jack glances at the fair boy’s face from across the classroom. Somehow, even with the disgusting lights the school provides for their students, Ralph manages to make them appear as if they’re worth $100. It’s probably just the way that the redhead views him, only knowing portions about the boy, as if he was glancing through a keyhole. The feelings that boil under Jack’s skin - froth spilling over the edge of the pot and into the fire - consume his every waking day, plague every thought that rushes through his skull. But he has to place a glass lid on top of the water because god forbid anyone figure out that he was in love with Ralph Allebach. God forbid anyone figure out he was queer. Because in the end, he was just a fucked up kid drunk on the love he had for his nemesis. A kid the real world would tear apart, limb by limb.

Rogermon [Walk Away - The Script]: “(S)he finds colour in the darkest places, (S)he finds beauty in the saddest of faces.”

A flower bud sprouts in the garden of Eden, without even knowing that it had just entered paradise. It sinks its roots into perfect soil, the plant itself never realising that it had found a home where other’s didn’t even know of its existence. Simon Cortés was like Roger Volkov’s garden of Eden. Every time the boy created a scar or slashed open a mental wound, Simon was there to heal it. He would administer the pill, absorb the bad things with his own light, stitch every laceration that used to leave Roger doubled over and overflowing with rage. Simon Cortés was an angel trying his hardest to turn a devil to the right side of the coin.

Mauram [The Other Side - Jason DeRulo]: “This could be perfect, but we won’t know unless we try.”

Maurice always felt like there was nothing in the world to fight for. No matter who came in and out of the house inside of his brain, nobody would stay for very long. Nobody could stay for very long. He never made room for anyone in the four walls, knowing that he had enough space for himself and that was good enough. Or, it used to be good enough. But one can only live in a house all alone for so long before they start to long for someone there with them. At the very least a neighbourhood surrounding him, so maybe he wouldn’t be all alone. Which is exactly what Sam Pinch did. He slowly found the materials and built his own residence right next to Maurice’s. A boy who the brunette never wanted to talk to, who he actively avoided at the beginnings of their friendship, had opened the front door and never swung it shut. Because, in the end, Maurice couldn’t call anything home if he didn’t have Sam.

Robric [Capital Letters - Hailee Steinfeld]: “When we lie so still, but you’re taking me places.”

Robert was honestly bored with his life before he met the twins. It was the same daily routine, get up, get ready, go to school, attend choir practice then rinse and repeat. Falling into something familiar did feel nice at times, knowing that every hour of the day was used to it’s fullest and that he could predict when things would get done or when he’d have free time. But the twins brought a specific spice in his life, one that everyone else had failed to do. In the end, it was mostly Eric who forced Robert up and out of his comfort zone, aiding him in more mischievous tasks and generally becoming the brunette’s backbone. Eric was there, in the hospital, when Robert sprained his wrist, apologising profusely about ever making him try to climb a tree to grab an apple. And even in the immense pain shooting through his wrist, he blamed himself for ever doing. It occurred to him then, in the hospital waiting room, that no matter what happened to the two of them, Robert would always find a way to defend Eric. Even if the boy was clearly in the wrong. When all was said and all was done, Eric was the most important thing in Robert’s life. And he was oddly okay with that.

Billiggy [Breaking Your Own Heart - Kelly Clarkson]: “The very thing you’ve been the most afraid of, you’ve been doing from the start.”

Bill can’t remember ever apologising to anyone. For anything. His pride has always been greater than that, never letting the blonde stoop so low as to get on his knees and beg someone for forgiveness. In all honesty, he’s never done anything bad enough to need to beg someone to just let him have another chance. If you really wanted to look at it through a kaleidoscope lens, then one could assume Bill was petrified of hurting someone’s feelings and then needing to apologise. But that heart gripping sensation was something he had to conquer upon apologising to Peter Curtis for past mistakes. He’d known he was probably in the wrong at the time and convinced himself that he was right in some sick, twisted manner. So when he stuttered out the words to try and excuse his behaviour, Bill knew that they didn’t sound as genuine as he wanted them too. But Peter just chuckled and claimed that he had known for a while that Bill didn’t mean it, and out of everyone in the choir to forgive, he was more than willing to part on good terms with the blonde. And that’s how Bill Borg found himself in an unusual friendship with the boy he once called Piggy.

Wilrold [Jet Black Heart - 5 Seconds of Summer]: “But these chemicals moving between us are the reason to start again.”

Of all the people in the world to fall in love with, Wilfred Lucio chose his childhood best friend. And he’s almost certain that Harold Miracle has fallen in love with him too. Between the way he spends every waking hour with Wilfred and how he clings to the boy as if they’re attracting sides of magnets. He’s never that way with anyone else, in fact, Harold gives most people serious attitude when they ask him innocent enough questions. It is almost as if nobody else in this world matters to him quite like Wilfred does. Which is probably why the two do everything together, they’re practically conjoined at the hip. And that’s why nothing hurts the teal haired boy more than watching Harold run off and be free on his own, blind to the fact that his own best friend was drowning in an unconditional love for him that couldn’t be stopped, no matter how many barricades were built.

Perciberry [This Town - Niall Horan]: “And I know that it’s wrong, That I can’t move on.”

Max’s worst fear was always losing Percival. It was always watching the soft smile that breaks out on his face dissipate like sugar in boiling water. So when the brunette comes to Max, tears streaming down his cheeks and nose tinged red from the crying he’s still doing, the boy assumes the worst. For once, his intuition is right. Percival doesn’t give a reason, doesn’t let the other have any insight. Just sobs out a break up and retreats, broken cries still ringing in Max’s ears. Weeks and weeks pass and the boy knows that he’s still in love with Percival, he still loves the way he laughs as if everything is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, he still loves how Percival insists people call him “Percy” because it’s easier for the boy himself to remember. Despite every path Max taking leading him directly to the feet of Percival Wemys Maddison, he knows that deep down in the base of his heart, something made him unloveable. He was the one who tore them apart, he was the thorn in their side. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but he’d lost the one person who swore to love him until death. And Max would still take Percival’s hand and grip it tight if he asked.

Jalter [Use Somebody - Kings of Leon]: “You know that I could use somebody, someone like you, and all you know and how you speak.”

Johnny is one of the only people in Walter’s life who doesn’t judge any of the choices he makes. He tries to advise the boy in the right direction; steer him on the right path, but he will never tell Walter what he can and cannot do. This fact is endearing in a way, making the dark haired boy want to wrap his friend up in a tight hug and spin him around until they couldn’t stand anymore. Everlasting support was something Walter always lacked from others, so getting it from the strawberry blonde just boosted his self confidence and the image he chose to paint himself as. It takes him years upon years of being Johnny’s friend before he realises that the boy was always by his side not because he just wanted to be there for Walter. But because he couldn’t stand to watch the boy do it alone. Johnny has made Walter the centre of his galaxy subconsciously, just letting the raven haired boy become the sun and letting himself revolve around him. But to Walter, Johnny was the sun and he was the moon. The boy would light him up no matter what happened, always shedding the pure radiance of joy onto Walter. He wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the feeling.

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orbitariums · 4 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟑)

part two

hope everyone is doing so lovely! i’m so excited to post this third chapter and i’m glad we’re on this journey together <3 thank u for reading!!! this chapter is supa long, please get a snack honey lol.

taglist is closed!

playlist

word count: 9.4k

warnings: age gap, sex work, dirty talk, straight filth, smut, squirting, toys, (virtual?) domination, cute dialogue!!!

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

Steve was flooded with morning meetings that whole day. Still you existed somewhere in the back of his mind, while he was filing through briefings and reports. He tried not to let the thought of you creep up, something he was unknowingly resisting because he didn't want what the two of you had to be bigger than it was.

But he was also trying to focus. He knew already, like muscle memory, that it would be impossible for this to become anything serious, anything beyond your work as a cam girl. You might have a connection, but you were just doing your job, and he was just satisfying himself. Right?

And you knew too that this couldn't become anything serious. And it wouldn't, you had convinced himself. So he came out of the blue, so he surprised you. But he was still a customer. And while you had connections with your customers, it never went beyond the workplace. Though he still resided in the back of your mind.

It wasn't until Steve was on break and heading down to the kitchen to make himself some food that he decided to fully address the events that had happened last night. When you asked to see him, he was almost scared at first-he felt that things could shift permanently because you had asked him that. But ignorance is bliss, so he'd brushed off the thought of that happening, and convinced himself it wasn't a big deal.

But it had to mean something right? He could see himself going down a winding tunnel of you wanting to see him more and more, and the end would be catastrophe- that is, if he showed himself. But he knew he had more sense than that, could end things if necessary. It wasn't that serious, not yet.

And while he was nervous, he still thought of you with fondness, thinking of your youthful glow and how it seemed like you were drawn together in perfect timing, how much he liked talking to you and respected you. It wasn't all bad.

The thought was enough to talk to somebody about it, except it wouldn't be Tony this time. Steve knew Tony's response would be straight forward - not to talk to her, and to find another cam girl. And he'd ask why Steve was accepting requests to talk with her about unrelated matters in the first place. And maybe the fact that Steve didn't want to hear that, didn't want things to be so straightforward and disciplinarian, should've been a warning. But he didn't listen. Instead, he went to go talk to Bucky about it.

"Shoot," Bucky said after Steve told him he had something to tell him. Bucky stuffed practically an entire piece of toast in his mouth, his hand on his hip as he sat on the edge of one of the kitchen tables. With a full mouth he continued."'S it important?"

Steve shrugged, holding a cup of coffee just below his beard, feeling it steam up his face. He took a big sip.

"I dunno. I'm trying to decide that myself."

Bucky raised an eyebrow,

"Well..."

Steve sighed, setting his coffee down and leaning against the counter beside Bucky so they could talk.

"I met this girl. Well, met is a strong word," Steve cocked his head to the side, after considering the quirks of his situation. He then started to wonder if Bucky would even know how to help him with this situation, it was so oddly specific. He continued anyway, under the intense, questioning gaze of Bucky. "I... found this girl online. On a cam site."

Bucky nearly choked on his toast, his eyebrows raised as far as they'd go,

"You? On a cam site? You? You're on a cam site?"

The more Bucky repeated it, the more surprised he seemed to become, and Steve could only watch with amusement at his close friend's bewildered expressions.

"You say it like I'm one of the cam girls," Steve joked, shaking his head, but Bucky only stared at him, incredulous.

But then he came back down to earth with a slightly impressed shrug,

"Well. I gotta admit, I never expected this from you, and you're my best man. But I guessed there had to be a reason you've been so much better these past few days, and there had to be some reason you weren't bringing it up. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Steve grinned,

"It's not that I was keeping it from you necessarily. I just didn't think I should put it out there, even if it's just between the two of us."

Bucky smirked,

"Captain America has a dirty little secret. I respect it."

Steve didn't say anything, but that was slightly true. Half of him wanted to keep things under wraps, the other half of him wanted it to be his own little secret, something that was only for him. You could say he wanted you all to himself, which wasn't untrue - during your public show, though he enjoyed it, it felt less personal and thus made him rethink his actions.

He wanted it one on one, wanted to know he was partially responsible to bringing you to that point, and that you brought each other to that point together, just the two of you. So, in some ways, it was his "dirty little secret."

"The girl I watch, she's amazing. I mean, we had a real connection, since our first private session-"

"Private session? Maybe I did teach you well all these years," Bucky nodded.

"Actually, this was all Tony. Anyway, I've been watching her, and yesterday, after her show, she requested to talk to me. Not the other way around. She wasn't even doing private shows that day. Anyway, I accepted, and maybe that wasn't the right thing to do, but it didn't feel... wrong. I talked to her, and she said... she said she wanted to see me. As in through the camera."

Bucky took a few moments to absorb and contemplate, and nodded slowly,

"And you're wondering if that's as serious as your mind wants it to be."

"Basically. I mean, I don't feel like this is something I have to avoid or be careful with. We're not declaring our love for each other. I'm just another customer. That's what I want to believe, at least."

"I mean, you're always gonna be taking that risk. You're talking to someone who's as good as a stranger. And your 'connection', it's exactly what it sounds like. You're another customer, but you've just taken a liking to each other. As far as I'm concerned, that's okay. And as for her asking you to show yourself... it's tricky. I mean, I've been on my fair share of sites like that, but I'm not well versed in it. I don't want to say it's not serious just for it to end up being serious. You know how these things go," Bucky smiled softly, and Steve nodded, though his eyes seemed a bit troubled as he looked down at the floor.

"Right..." he trailed off, folding his arms.

Maybe he just needed to hear that he shouldn't talk to you anymore, to ease his concerns. Maybe Bucky was right. It has the potential to be serious, but it might not be. He didn't know what to think.

"I don't know bud, but the fact that you're asking me tells me it's been on your mind. And I know you, you don't let things stay on your mind long unless they're important. Could be that this is important to you," Bucky offered, but Steve waved his hand dismissively, a little too fast.

"It's - it's not..."

Bucky raised his brows,

"You think about her?"

"Sure," Steve shifted, folding his arms slightly. "But not more than my work or anything. I don't view her as a priority, Buck. It's normal that she'd be on my mind, I mean, this is all new to me. I'm stressing for no reason, aren't I?"

He decided he was stressing for no reason. He wasn't obsessed with you, wasn't head over heels for you. He wasn't placing you over his work. It was just the shock of the new situation, the unexpected, big bang of an introduction of you into his life -- that's what he convinced himself, to put his mind at ease.

Bucky raised his hands up,

"Hey, I'm not assuming anything. And honestly Steve, if you are... thinking about her. I think that's good. As long as it's something healthy, I don't think you have anything to be worried about. You deserve some type of distraction, and maybe that's what she is. You don't have to worry about things getting too serious, trust me. You've got a little time on your hands, that's all."

Steve took Bucky's words to heart, absorbing them so they could soak up all his previous thoughts -- which would be squeezed out in a matter of time as the reality of your relationship revealed itself. He deserved a little distraction, though he valued you on a more humane level.

He didn't have to worry himself about the potential it could have to become something serious and something dangerous. He was smart enough, had a strong head on his shoulders. He just had a little free time. That was all.

✺ ✺ ✺

"I told him 'I wish I could see you through your camera'," you groaned, sprawled out on your bed, just hours before your next show that Friday. "Was that stupid?"

You pouted, your lips glossy and full, shoving chips into your mouth as you bitched and moaned into the phone. You were talking to one of the girls you'd met on girlsonfilm, named Jane, who went by Scream Queen. Her specialty was being an alt dominatrix girl, who attracted lots of submissive men. You admired her work, and you were close friends. She laughed on the other end,

"Hon, it's not stupid. I wouldn't ask or tell a customer that, though. You've been doing this for some time too, but you're still learning."

You frowned, fiddling with your gold rose shaped necklace,

"I know. I don't wanna scare him off."

"Please, you won't. I guarantee he'll be on your show again tonight. Men don't scare from a beautiful woman like you, not easily."

You cooed, smiling to yourself,

"Aw... bitch if you lived in Cali you would so feature on my show, I literally love you."

"I love you!" she exclaimed. "We'd make hella money just by being in each other's presence on camera, it'd be crazy. I gotta fly out to Cali."

"Right?" you chuckled.

You felt a little more at ease now. You hadn't been thinking as much about Steve as he had been thinking about you, but that didn't mean he wasn't on your mind. He was a special customer to you, even though you'd only just gotten to know him. You just liked him in what felt like a more unique way. And ever since you'd brought up seeing him on his camera, you had some regrets. You felt like it made you seem needy, bringing up old habits.

In your last romantic relationship, you were always wanting something, things that you shouldn't have had to ask for. But ever since you got out of that relationship, you had decided to be more self sufficient. That was part of the reason why you were financially independent and constantly did so much work. You no longer depended on others for certain things, not like you had before.

But in addition to reminding you of old habits, you felt awkward about the whole situation because you didn't want him to feel pressured or uncomfortable either. You didn't want it to feel like you wanted something more because you'd asked to see him. As far as you were concerned, the two of you, especially yourself, were far from wanting something more. For your own safety. You might have really liked him, but at the end of the day, he was a customer and that was that.

"Well," you flopped onto your stomach. "I feel better now, so thanks. I'm doing a couple private shows after my giveaway, maybe I'll see him again. Or... hear him, rather."

"If he does end up showing himself, keep me posted. I wanna know if he's as sexy as he sounds."

"Oh trust me, I will. Honestly, if he keeps watching my shows, I wanna teach him how to dirty talk. I think then it'll be something serious," you joked, shaking your head. "Alright, well I gotta get ready. Bye bitch!"

"Bye biiitch, have fun tonight, I'll be tuning in."

You blew her a kiss and hung up, your spirits lifted after your brief conversation. You started getting ready for your next show, hoping that Steve would continue to tune in. Unbeknownst to you, he was anticipating your show tonight as well, though a small part of him was hesitant - should he continue to watch regularly? He'd let himself indulge. One more night couldn't be an issue.

When you came on, you were excited to see that the amount of viewers had increased. You figured that since you were advertising a giveaway of your underwear, more people would feel inclined to join, take their chances. You smiled when Steve joined and waved,

"Hey, Steve! How's it going?"

Steve — GrantRoberts Good. How are you?

"I'm good, thanks for asking. Alright, hi everyone, thank you so much for joining! I see we've got some new viewers tonight, so nice to meet you. I'm sure you all know that today is a very special day, because I'll be giving away —" you stood up so the camera could see below your waist, showing that you were wearing a pair of purple lace panties, the pair you had been boasting about the week before. "These!" you chimed.

Steve raised his brows at the cheeky way you operated, looking over the pair. They were cute, looked expensive. The butterfly design on the underwear was detailed and there were white gems on either side at the top. You had said last week that these were a favorite among your viewers, he understood why.

You explained the rules of the giveaway and how it would be working, and explained that there was a link pinned in the chat box to sign up for entries. Once you posted that link, tokens and sign up notifications came flooding through. You watched with a full smile, before slowly getting to the show.

Steve decided he wouldn't be entering the giveaway, to keep his own discretion, and because although he definitely saw the appeal, he wasn't big on keeping someone else's underwear unless he knew them in real life.

You started by rubbing yourself through your panties, making a big deal of how wet you were, how you were soaking through the panties and wouldn't be washing them. That was how you knew you'd get people to pay up and enter your giveaway. Steve watched in amazement at the way you moved, your delicate fingers gently running over your clit through the lace panties, slipping the panties to the side every once in a while to dip your fingers inside of yourself, proclaiming how tight you felt and how much you wanted more than just fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

Needless to say, you put on a show, and you really were soaking through your panties by the time you were done. Steve lost track of how many times he came, and it was then that he realized that maybe he liked this side of you more than what he had seen before. It was teasing and tantalizing, almost theatrical, except you were really taking your time to please yourself.

And for some reason, it practically made him short circuit. The idea of him realizing that he had more sexual interests than he was aware of basically seduced him. And knowing that he was coming to these realizations because of you made him feel hungry and crazed.

He liked how you were barely touching yourself, teasing yourself yet still dripping through your panties, making a show out of a little thing. He kept a slow pace to match your own, edging himself and feeling grunts get caught in his throat each time he stopped himself from coming.

You were absolutely mystifying, drawing him in more and more in every way. Your soft moans, quieter and more needy than usual, were like music to his ears. He loved the way your legs shook when you had to hold off an orgasm for the purpose of the show, so that you could hold off and increase the value of your giveaway, lengthen the time you gained tips and coins. By the time you were done, he had cum on his chest, legs and a little on his bed sheets, which he cleaned up gingerly, watching as you signed off.

You slid out of your panties and held them up to the camera, practically purring when you finally spoke,

"Look what I did to them. Soaked in all my juices and cum just for you. Well, for one lucky winner! Tip up to increase your chances."

You giggled, biting down on your lip, and continued,

"Well, thank you for watching. Now, I do wanna do some private shows with a few of you. So, send in those requests and tokens and I'll pick a lucky few."

As you waited for the requests to go in, you noticed Steve's name and his large donation — of course you'd go on private with him, but you wanted to talk to other customers as well. So you queued up a list of who you'd be talking to and placed Steve, the best, for last.

Steve got a notification that you'd be talking to him, and while you signed off, he stayed on the site waiting for his turn. Each show you did was only about five minutes, and he had twenty five minutes to spare before he got the chance to talk to you. Those twenty five minutes he used for contemplation and thinking like always.

If he wasn't spending his spare time with you, he was either thinking or distracting himself from thinking by spending time with his fellow Avengers. And now that there was nothing to do, all he could do was get lost in his thoughts. He thought of his conversation with Bucky - though he had come to the conclusion that he shouldn't worry so much and that he deserved a distraction, there was still some part of it that tugged at him.

The fact of the matter was that, he did think about you. A lot, actually, and it had only been a few days. He thought about the kind of unhinged pleasure you gave him that you had allowed him to tap into for the first time. He thought about the need you fulfilled. He thought about how he liked you, how he felt like he knew you on a personal level and that he sensed that you were truly a good person. He liked that about you, all those thoughts. But ever since last week, the thoughts slightly intimidated him at the same time.

Take a breath, Steve, he thought. Maybe it was old age making him nervous about everything. If Tony could do the same things before becoming Ironman and still live the way Tony was currently living, Steve could have his own little pleasures. His brain just kept doing the back and forth.

You were happy when Steve's time came along. You were so caught up in your other customers that you had nearly forgotten what you were looking forward to. When it came to Steve, all your nerves were due to excitement, and the good kind. You weren't worried about the strength of your connection and if it would become overbearing, and you had reassured yourself that you weren't being needy or pressuring him. You felt at ease.

You clicked his name feverishly, waving your hands up at the camera when the log opened. Yet again he wasn't showing himself, but you didn't let that bother you. You had all the time in the world to talk with him, because you didn't put a limit on the time. You didn't do so pointedly, you just did it so you wouldn't have to be preoccupied with the time limit.

For you, talking to Steve at the end of your list was like de-stressing and winding down, nothing more and nothing less. You weren't viewing him as more than a customer. It wouldn't be inappropriate to talk for a while.

"Hey, Steve!" you waved, grinning toothily.

Steve chuckled when he saw you and heard the genuine happiness in your voice. There was something sweetly innocent about you, despite the fact that your job was anything but innocent, and the fact that he had seen every part of you within the first day of getting to know you.

Still, he knew that didn't take away from the bright personality you seemed to have. Your duality as a focused businesswoman and giggly young college girl both impressed him and held a special place in his heart.

"Hi, Moonrose. How are you?"

"I'm lovely, and yourself?"

Steve let out a deep sigh he didn't know he'd been holding in. Talking to you relieved a lot of unconscious stress, and with that deep sigh he found a lot of relief,

"I'm good. It's been a long day. Lots of labs, lots of meetings."

It wasn't entirely a lie - he did have lots of meetings that day, and you were in the back of his mind throughout all those meetings, but no labs. He wouldn't tell you he'd been thinking of you though, and you decided that you wouldn't tell him you'd been thinking of him either.

"The life of a scientist," you joked playfully.

You felt comfortable, even more comfortable with him than the last time, simply because it felt like you had both gotten past that awkward stage.

"I mean, you can relate. Must be busy having all the jobs you have. I mean, you're a student, you're working on clothing, you work with a state rep, you're doing this every other day. That's gotta take a toll on you," Steve listed off everything you'd told him about.

He kept that in mind, how busy and occupied you were, because you still carried yourself so well. Maybe it was just for the purpose of customer interaction; he wondered if you acted or felt the same outside of this private world of yours.

You blushed slightly, flattered that Steve remembered everything you did and that he even held it in close regards to what he did on a daily basis. You knew you juggled a lot of things, but to hear someone else say it felt so much more validating, whether it came from your best friend Aaliyah or from Steve.

"Aw, that's nice of you to say," you smiled warmly. "It can be a lot, honestly. Sometimes it feels like I'm doing too much, but... it's what I have to do! And for the most part, I like doing too much. It keeps me focused. Helps me cope with... life."

You got a little sheepish. You didn't want to get too into the things you were really coping with.

"I can appreciate that," Steve nodded. He raised his brows to himself as chose his words carefully. "My job can be... demanding."

"Oh totally, I'm sure. Lots of math and shit. What gets you through it though?" you asked, and Steve chuckled slightly to himself at your vernacular - it reminded him how young you were.

Steve breathed out a heavy sigh, taking in the question thoughtfully. What the hell got him through it? He supposed it was knowing that he was doing good for the world, knowing that he had a team to work with and back him up at all times, and the fact that he was in control for the most part. But as for actual coping, he was almost at a loss. Almost.

"Honestly?" he rubbed at his beard, and you bit down on your lip, giving him a flirty smile.

"The cold hard truth," you ensured him, puckering your lips and putting on your best game face.

"Honestly, talking to you, probably. I don't really know how to destress," Steve felt suddenly insecure about putting this detail out there.

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable (though you had heard worse from men who were wound up like Steve), and he felt like he was delving into a personal topic. Not that you didn't already know that he was stressed out, but he didn't want it to seem like you were his saving grace. Though, you weren't far from it.

He continued,

"I just mean... ever since that first time with you I've been feeling lighter on my feet. I mean— I don't really... I just don't have a lot of coping mechanisms. I don't really get to have fun."

Once he spit the words out, he felt even more stupid. He had just let you know that you had basically changed his entire mood since the day he'd met you, and something like that felt almost like a confession. Like you were delving into more serious topics. He had made his problems clear since the first time, but telling you how much you helped him felt like he was putting deeper trust in you.

But of course you didn't see it as a deep confession. You saw it as him being true to his feelings and being honest with you, which wasn't a big deal to you since you were in a business that involved making connections and basically building men like him up. You grinned, a sparkle in your eyes as you listened to him stammer over himself. It was no wonder he was a scientist, he had this sort of nerdy charm to him.

"I'm glad to hear that Steve. And maybe it's less that you don't get to have fun and more that you don't know how."

Steve shrugged. He had always been called boring by Tony, and Natasha took jabs at him about loosening up, getting out there and enjoying this modern world. And while he had insecurities around the fact, he still wasn't a happy go lucky party person as a result of the jabs. He was same old Steve, with the same old struggles. He looked regular on the outside (as regular as someone as big as him could look), but he felt like an outsider.

"Maybe."

"Have you ever tried?" you prodded. "I mean, outside of this. And honestly, kudos to you for putting yourself out there like this. I mean, you literally jerked off with me your first time here. I take it back. You do know how to have fun. You just... don't know where to find it."

Steve's face got hot. Even as he watched you more, talked to you more, nothing could compare to the first time being with you. It was definitely out of his comfort zone, doing something as extraneous as he had, and with a stranger. And when you described it like that, it seemed so much more inappropriate, but in a way that made Steve's pants bulge. And the fact that you could talk about it so casually intimidated him in the best way.

"I guess you're right," Steve replied, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized you were actually spot on. "I'll keep that in mind."

He grinned, and you giggled,

"Good. I'll be your therapist. But like a sexy one. A sex therapist."

You and Steve laughed at your stupid joke and Steve raised the question,

"Okay. What gets you through it all? You're a young college girl, I'm sure you know how to have fun."

You raised your brows playfully at the suggestive nature of the question, although clueless Steve had no clue it would sound a certain way to you,

"Oh yeah, totally. College girls, you know us. Drinking, partying, having sex with all our friends. I'm kind of a total slut." A beat passed, Steve trying to figure out what to say — like he was rerouting. You chortled, unable to hide your snort laugh. "I'm kidding, Steve."

Steve laughed hesitantly. He didn't know what young people did these days,

"Yeah, silly me."

"You're so cute," you blurted, shaking your head playfully. "But, honestly? I do know how to have my fun. I mean, I do it mindfully though, 'cuz I have shit to do, you know? Party hard, study hard. I go out with friends for drinks... and between me and you, I was doing that before I was twenty one."

Steve nodded understandingly,

"Some part of me wants to reprimand you for that, but I don't wanna rain on your parade."

“You don't have to rain, you could just spank me if it's that serious," you scoffed with a laugh, again saying the dirtiest things nonchalantly, unbothered. You were constantly flirting with customers, but with Steve it came much more naturally.

"Spank you?" Steve choked out.

"Yeah, you know? Like a little slap on the ass," you turned around, your ass in the camera, and gently smacked your hand against your ass, which was clad in a sheer bodycon dress that you had made yourself.

(looks something like this)

You were being playful, acting the precocious, girly way that you would with your friends. You thought nothing of it. Steve on the other hand, was getting incredibly warm, fidgety, and was trying to ignore the growing tent in his pants.

"Like- like that?" he stammered, breathless, and you nodded, seemingly unaware of his pain.

You turned back around and sat down in front of the camera,

“You must not be a dom, huh. You don't strike me as one. But I'm sure if I pressed the right buttons, you could be."

“Dom?" Steve repeated, as if the word were from a foreign language.

"My, my, my, Steve. I've got a lot to teach you. Oh, but actually, I do have a hobby that gets me through my stress. Besides, you know, masturbating and going out with friends."

Steve smirked, he was intrigued,

“And what's that?"

You bounced up onto your toes so that Steve could see a full view of you on the camera. At first, when you were just sitting in front of the camera, he could only see your head and shoulders. Now he could see all of you, and he could see the dress you had designed.

"Making clothes!" you chirped, so adorably that Steve couldn't help but smile, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest. You spread your arms out, letting the fringe on the dress spread. You placed your hands on your hips and swayed slightly in place. You smiled gently. "For my brand of course. But making the clothes is kind of therapeutic. When you work really hard on something and it comes out with the result you want, it's just this fucking... amazing, gratifying feeling. I love it."

Steve grinned, watching you show off your clothes. He was glad to hear that from you, he believed in you and truly thought you were capable and would succeed in what you did.

"That's beautiful," he complimented your dress. He knew nothing about fashion, but you looked good in whatever you wore - it was a plus that you made it. "Even with all I know, I don't think I could do that."

“Oh, don't be silly. You probably could. You just have to try, remember?"

“I know, I know."

As you stood there twirling and swaying, just letting him enjoy you, he could hear the faint sound of music playing in the background. He squinted, leaning closer to try and hear more. It was a nice song, with an upbeat electronic twist although it was R&B.

"What's this song?" he asked.

You paused, delightfully surprised by the question, unable to hide your ferocious smile,

"What, the one I'm playing? It's called Lost by Frank Ocean."

“Frank Ocean," Steve repeated slowly, so he could remember the name of the artist. You were encouraging him to try new things - why not start with music?

"Have you heard of him?"

"I'm afraid I haven't," Steve replied, and you chortled again.

"'I'm afraid I haven't'," you repeated, putting on his deep voice. "So proper. You like this song?"

Steve shook his head playfully when he heard you mocking him, then answered,

"Yeah, never heard it before."

You squealed excitedly and ran to turn it up, then ran back into the frame.

"I love Frank Ocean, seriously. He's one of my favorite artists. What about you?"

Steve was almost taken aback by the question and took in a deep breath, shrugging as he tried to come up with an answer,

"Gee, I don't know. I think I listen to too much old crap, probably."

"I can get down with that." You scoffed. "Quit bullying yourself."

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in Steve's head. He was enjoying talking to you, but what better way to combine a regular conversation with pleasure? He was feeling his need building up, the longer he talked to you. You said such outrageous things and you were so gorgeous - it was hard for him not to want you. And maybe you could both have some fun with this, and his request wouldn't feel like work, though it would definitely help him get off.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You mind... dancing? To this song, I mean?" he asked, slightly nervous to ask because he didn't want to feel pushy.

You raised your brows in surprise, a wide mouthed smile showing up. It seemed like Steve was discovering what he wanted to see, what would make him feel good.

"You wanna see me dance? Uh, yeah, I would love to. It's hard not to dance to this song. What, you want me to dance like a stripper or something? I don't have a pole - yet, but I can—"

Steve laughed, cutting you off and shaking his head,

"Nah, you don't have to dance any specific way. I guess, just dance how you feel."

You lit up at the suggestion, and laughed, already beginning to sway,

"Is this gonna get you off, Steve?"

Steve blushed, coiled like a turtle going into his shell,

"Maybe."

"Oh, don't be shy. I want it to. I wanna hear your moans, I want it to drive you crazy and bring you release. Is that what you want?"

You twirled slowly, dragging your hands up and down your body, dancing to the beat of the music. Steve watched, already entranced with the way your body, perfectly caught in the tight dress, moved. It almost scared him how perfect you looked, just swaying your body to a song,

"That's what I want, baby."

The words spilled out of his mouth, just like last time. This time it felt much more natural though, easier, as he watched you on the full screen. You smiled, rolling your hips and bringing your hands up in the air to match your motions. You hummed the words to yourself, sang the lyrics,

"Girl you know you're lost, lost in the thrill of it all."

The song was so sensual and felt so personal to you - your job was so sensationalized and it was easy to get lost in the idea of it, the aesthetic. But it was hard work. This song felt like a celebration of that. Steve's spit got caught in his throat watching you sing along, watching your body loosen up and relax as you continued dancing around your room, your body moving freely and in such a hedonistic manner. He liked watching you enjoy yourself, liked watching you in what seemed to be your element. You were so confident, so unbothered. It wasn't awkward that you were dancing alone. Again it felt intimate, felt like he was there with you.

"I'd tell you to dance, but what I really want you to do is touch yourself. Can you do that, Stevie?" you purred, and he grunted at the sound of the nickname you had donned for him.

"Yeah, doll," Steve began to palm himself over his boxers, his breaths becoming heavier as he watched you. It felt so gratifying, so closed off — just for the two of you.

You giggled, as if you hadn't just said what you had said, and got down low on the floor as you danced away, on your toes, and came back up again.

"Hmm," you sighed. "Can I take this off for you?"

Steve's jaw clenched, you already looked so good in the dress, but to see you take it off and continue dancing would probably make him come right then and there.

"Yeah, take that off for me."

You were practically teasing him as you began to lower the sleeves of the dress, still dancing and running your hands up and down your body. You wanted him to savor the moment, and savor it he did. You removed the top half slowly, your breasts tumbling out as you cupped them with your hands. You sighed again, biting down on your lip.

Steve was breathing hard through his nose now, slowly taking his cock, which had been hard for too long, out from his boxers, where it sprung up hard and veiny against his stomach. It twitched painfully, he almost couldn't bare to touch himself. But he palmed the head, slippery with precum, with a few mindful fingers.

"Is that good, baby? You wanna see everything?" you gestured to the bottom half which still hadn't been removed, and Steve exhaled sharply.

"Fuck, yeah I wanna see everything. Take it all off, doll."

You felt your body react to the nickname as you slid out of the dress, clad in a g-string underneath this time. The skimpy nature of the g-string, glittery and glamorous just like you, made Steve moan under his breath. You noted his reaction with a playful smirk, tugging gently at the straps and letting them slap against your glowing skin.

You bit down on your lip and let your entire palm run against your clothed center, swaying your hips in all directions as you slowly pulled down the straps and revealed what was underneath, Steve letting out an audible sigh as he wrapped his hand around himself. He bit down softly on his lip, eyes dark and his lids heavy, trying to restrain himself. He wanted to be at the same pace at you, wanted to see you tease yourself the way you had during your live show.

You sighed out in pleasure, using two fingers to rub at your clit in circular motions while you stood, Steve watching silently. Then you lowered yourself to the carpeted floor, spread your legs in front of you and continued, bringing your fingers to your lips to suck on them before you went back down. The way you did it was tantalizing, so erotic and intimate. You weren't trying too hard, you never were, but this way - slow and lustful, was like you were there with him all over again.

Your eyes became dazed and almost glazed over just at the slight tingle of pleasure. You had been stimulating yourself for over an hour since the start of your public show, but with him you didn't feel tired or worn out. And you still hadn't had the orgasm that you knew would absolutely finish you. You knew how to navigate so you weren't exhausted by the time you were through with your shows and your private chats, but still, with Steve it felt like the pleasure was amplified by a hundred.

"Oh," you moaned, your voice going up a pitch. You wanted more, and you decided you wanted to bring a toy into the mix. "I wanna ride you, Steve."

Steve grunted in response and you slowly got up, crawling on all fours as you dragged out your fuzzy chest full of toys, lube, and other random things for your shows. It was like a cam girl treasure chest. You returned to the frame, smiling devilishly as you sifted through all your materials, finally pulling out the dildo you wanted to use. It was a good size, six inches, and pretty realistic. You waved it around in the air,

"This how big you are?" you asked with a seductive gaze in your eyes.

Steve stroked himself slowly as he let out a sharp almost barking laugh, a surge of sudden and unexpected cockiness running through him (because let's be honest, a supersoldier like him was certainly bigger than six inches),

"Little more."

You grinned obscenely, appreciating Steve's noticeable boost in confidence. And in the back of your mind you thought about the three fingers you had used to accommodate him last time. He was pretty consistent - you wondered just how big he really was. If you knew him in real life, you'd probably jump at the chance to fuck him.

"Think it'll suffice? I'm not sure if I can take that much more right now," you asked teasingly.

Steve chuckled, a warm, deep chuckle that made your insides churn. It was incredible how much a voice could turn you on, how much you liked hearing his voice and wanted to hear it,

"I'll go easy on you, doll."

You raised your brows in pleasant surprise,

"You'll go easy on me, huh? Steve, you're getting feistier by the minute. I like it."

Steve laughed, slightly embarrassed. He just wanted you to do what you were comfortable with, wanted to see real pleasure,

"I just want to make sure you feel good."

"Little ol' me?" you snorted, bringing out your mirror to place on your carpet so you could place the suction dildo on top. You stuck it in place and kneeled before it. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, Steve. You always make me feel good."

You winked at him and focused, beginning to lower yourself and arch your back, your ass in the air as you went face to face with the dildo.

"I just wanna make you feel good," you huffed, eyeing the camera as you cupped your lips around the head of the dildo, pushing your hair behind the ear and looking down as you bobbed your head slowly. Your lips wrapped perfectly around the toy, suctioning and sucking and making it wet enough for you.

"Wow," Steve breathed in slowly, truly in awe of you. He had really never seen anything like it, how dedicated you were to the performance. You were like an artist, a beautiful, twisted artist, and you knew just how to sell your show. And somehow you did such a salacious act with so much grace, made it so sexy and purposeful.

He paused touching himself just to watch you, but that didn't mean he was any less hard. You moaned around the toy, looking into the camera as if you were making eye contact with the man you couldn't even see, as he goaded you on, his voice gentle and deep,

"That's it baby, you look so good sucking that dick."

Your felt your pussy throb around nothing just at the sound of Steve dirty talking. You could tell that the more you did, the more you coaxed him into it, the more comfortable he got with everything. He had surprised you multiple times tonight. You brought your head up, lips making a popping noise as they slid off the toy,

"It's yours."

Steve licked his lower lip, bringing it slowly into his mouth and sliding his closed fist up and down his erection.

"It's mine?" he asked, his voice going an octave lower.

"Mhm, your cock. You ready, baby?" you hovered over the dildo, squatting above it as you readied yourself.

"Yes, go slow," Steve instructed.

"Is that what you want?" you breathed out in pleasure as you teased your slick folds with the head of the toy, rocking your hips slowly back and forth. "You want me to tease myself with your cock?"

Steve let out an unbridled moan, pumping gently,

"Yeah, please. I want this to be real, baby. Like your live show."

You laughed quietly as you lowered yourself down onto the dildo, moaning as you took it in slowly, stopping a quarter of the way and just rocking back and forth, taking his request into consideration. And then, you had an idea.

"Honestly, if he keeps watching my shows, I wanna teach him how to dirty talk. I think then it'll be something serious."

That was what you had said to your friend Jane over the phone, and now was your chance to manifest it. You'd been kidding when you said it would turn your relationship into something serious, but if hearing Steve dominate you and dirty talk to you didn't make you want to fuck him even more, you didn't know what would.

"Tell me what you want Steve. Tell me how you want me to do it. I don't wanna do a thing unless it's under your control," you smirked, waiting for him to come up with something on his own.

In that deep, husky voice of his he spoke,

"Yeah? I want you to tease yourself, and go slow. Match my pace."

You moaned at the thought of him stroking himself at the same pace as you, and lowered yourself a little further,

"Is this allowed, Stevie?" you questioned curiously and innocently, prompting him further.

He got some idea of what you were trying to do, though he didn't have much experience doing it himself - at least not in the bedroom. While he wanted you to please yourself at your own pace, he also thought this might be interesting. You could do both.

"Yeah baby, little more." You slid down further until almost all of it was inside of you, and he pumped himself a little quicker now. He groaned, the noise he made almost guttural. "Yes, that's it Moonrose. Now stop."

You whimpered, your heat throbbing as he commanded you. You were almost losing sense of the fact that this wasn't all real, because it felt so good. You liked hearing him get more dominant with you, though you adored his regular state, which was almost needy.

"Yeah, you can be the boss. You tell me what to do, baby."

Steve grunted, holding back an orgasm as he watched how well you gripped the toy, imagined what it would feel like to really be inside of you. He'd be much bigger, no doubt, and make you howl with pleasure.

"Ride it for me," he ordered. "Slow, then pick up the pace."

"Ride you?" you repeated, beginning to lift yourself up, then back down again, slowly like he told you to. It was big enough to hit all those good places inside of you, make you wetter and hotter, give you those real time reactions. All the panting and moaning, the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you bit down on your lip with fervor.

Steve watched you ride it, pumping himself at the same pace, feeling himself throb and twitch inside of his hand, speeding up when necessary. The both of your moans were loud and unhinged, filling up your respective rooms with righteous release. Steve loved how he could tell how good it felt for you, how you weren't holding back at all, your pussy gliding easily around it, leaving a trail of arousal along the shaft of the toy. You were bouncing fast and hard after a while, gasping and panting and moaning while Steve did the same in the form of groans, grunts and heavy breaths. Like you, he felt lost in translation in the best way - like nothing else was there, just the two of you and your needy bodies.

"You feel so fucking good, baby, don't stop," Steve moaned, breathing harshly through his nose. He felt close, his stomach twisting and turning with yearn.

"Fuck, Steve," you gasped out. You hardly sounded like yourself, in such an ecstatic state. "I'm so fucking close, baby. Steve, can I come?"

You were still leading him, wanting him to be even more dominant and controlling with you, but you hardly needed to. You were basically giving in, you were fully committed to the act of being submissive now. Everything in and around you felt so good, "so fucking warm", as stated by you. And no doubt, Steve felt it too. Watching you take it, watching you moan in pure ecstasy as you threw your head back, your hair tumbling against your breasts, the glint of sweat forming on your forehead, the way your stomach flexed as you moved up and down. You were fucking invincible, Steve thought. Always gorgeous, somehow.

But Steve thought he'd let this last a little longer. You wanted him to be in charge, he'd take that seriously. Like an order.

"No, doll, hold it in for me," he huffed, though he felt himself growing close as well, and couldn't help but cum, feeling it leave him with a satisfied groan. "Fuck, I'm coming."

You whined, pouting,

"Steve, I wanna be able to come with you."

Yeah, it was definitely easy to be submissive.

Steve chuckled slightly,

"That's okay, I can last a long time, darling. Keep riding that dick for me, don't come until I say so."

With a shuddering moan you kept going. When you looked down at what you were doing, the toy disappearing inside of you each time you bent down, you swore you had never been more turned on in your life. Your brows were crossed and your mouth dropped into an o-shape. You were moaning and almost sobbing, the build up feeling unbearable. You brought your hand down, rubbing frantically at your clit,

"Fuckkk, Steve, please let me come."

He came again with a sharp exhale and vicious grunt, but still wanted to hold off for one last one, in tandem with you. He almost felt bad, but the pleasure was so unbearable, and he knew you were enjoying it,

"Ah, god. Hold on, I promise I'll let you come soon if you just wait a little."

You stifled a moan, cupping your breasts as you rode it without the support of your hands on your knees,

"Y-yeah, you gonna let me come, Stevie? Please let me come, oh my god," you felt almost lightheaded with the overwhelming sense of fulfillment, rolling your head back, your eyes rolling back in your head, your glossy lips dropped open in the most sensual of ways. You didn't know what you did to Steve, how much you made him want you.

"Go ahead, doll, come for me," Steve resolved, and when you came it was like a waterfall was crashing down on you. Both because of the intensity and because of the fact that you were squirting, letting go of all that held back release. You knew it was coming yet you whimpered in surprise when it happened, still continuing to ride the toy even as you were coming, watching as it flowed out of you, onto the mirror and more.

"Fuck," Steve cursed, pumping fast and hard as he came again, and again, watching as you rode out your high. He could hardly even process the fact that you had squirted - completely natural, and yet a huge turn on. He slowed his hand, still hard as a rock, but coming down himself.

You were blubbering and saying things that didn't even make sense, Steve slightly grinning to himself as you spiraled out of control. You got off the dildo with a final moan, covering your eyes with your forearm and fingering the rest of your cum out of yourself with two fast moving fingers.

"My god," you groaned, sliding your fingers out of yourself. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were, how aroused you still were, throbbing like crazy from the aftermath. The comedown was a process, you breathing in deep and heavy.

"That's it, doll. So good. It's okay, doll," Steve murmured, helping you come back down.

"Mm," you hummed, removing your forearm from your eyes and forehead and instead covering your face with your hands, giggling. "Oh my god, that's so embarrassing."

Steve laughed,

"Not embarrassing. You did so damn good, baby."

You groaned,

"Ugh, don't praise me, that makes me wanna go again, and I think if I do I'll explode. On the other hand, please do keep praising me."

You laughed again and winked. It was true, because you were so turned on by his voice, especially when it was praising you and telling you how good you had been. Sure, other guys could be dominant, but with Steve it actually felt so real, it made you lose all sense of reality. It didn't feel forced.

"Really, you were amazing." Steve tipped again - he had been tipping the whole way through. And of course his big tips were an incentive, but they weren't the only reason you talked to him. Not at all. "Jesus. I don't get worn out, but..."

"You tired, Steve?" you smiled, teasing. "God, I don't know how I'm gonna clean this up. This is all your fault, you know."

You laughed playfully. To be fair, you had came, like, a lot. Steve's jaw clenched at the sight of it all, but he grinned.

"My apologies."

"Please," you shook your head, wiped the sweat off from your forehead and slowly started packing everything up.

You and Steve chatted for a while longer after that, about trivial things. This was a little unusual. Usually when you finished, you wrapped it up. But you had time, and he had time. And you both wanted to stay and chat. And it was also unusual because usually when you finished, your customer was done too, and there wasn't really room for "chatting" after that. But Steve seemed to want to talk.

"You're fucking hot as a dom, by the way," you noted, pointing a finger at him through the screen.

"Me?" Steve pointed a finger at himself in return. "I hardly even knew what it was, but I've got an idea now."

"Oh, trust me, you're gonna wanna learn more. You're made for this, honestly." You sighed, and looked at the time. "It's late. This was... really, really great. Thanks again."

"Thank you."

A beat passed, a silence between the two of you, though it was almost like you were still communicating. Maybe this really was different. Maybe it really did mean something. You were so in sync, could snap in and out just like that, and still have great conversation. You were both thinking the same thing - this was a real connection. And you were both beginning to give in to those thoughts you wanted to push back, just slightly. But this time, it didn't bring any worry. It just felt nice, blissful. Still not too serious, but still something. What you both didn't know was just how much it really would blossom.

"Well," you said, a sigh of contemplation. "Think I really like this, Steve."

"Me too," he swallowed hardly. He was feeling something, that same butterfly-like feeling he'd felt the first time. "I'm so glad we... uh..."

You waved your hand with a grin,

"It's late, I better go. It was great talking to you again, I actually look forward to this. Weirdly enough. I think I should go, though, I got school."

"I-I got work," Steve stammered, thinking of how you said you look forward to this. He wasn't just another customer, and you weren't just some random girl. The realization was hitting him like a ton of bricks. "I'll see you."

"Yeah," you cooed. Then, with a silly face, your eyes crossed and tongue hanging out you waved goodbye. "Byeee!"

And just like that, there was a shift in his world, in your world. Steve didn't know what he had coming next.

🙈oof how was it y’all!!! i hope not too long LOLLL i had to fit a lot in... next chapter will be some tea! reply wit ya thoughts <3 thank u for reading, stay safe!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers series #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel series #girls on film #orbitariums

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matildashoney · 4 years

Text

Golden

an ‘all i’ve ever known’ first look.

MOODBOARD // TAGS // PLAYLIST // TAGLIST

let’s talk about harry and amelie!

“Not letting you listen to the album all about you in your studio,” Harry says, holding his hand out and waiting at the door of the art studio. “I’m taking you on a drive so you can hear it how it’s meant to be heard.”

“But it’s not even out yet. I want to wait until it’s released, like I always do,” Amelie pouts, holding her paintbrush between her fingers and wiping the excess paint on the linen tarp beneath her.

“Only want you to hear the first song.” Harry walks into the studio and turns the stereo off. “Can listen to the singles and all that, or repeat one, on the way home and then I’ll let you listen to the rest later.” His mouth tugs into a smile as she rolls her eyes, setting her paintbrush down and beginning to twist the caps onto the tubes of paint. “Have to listen to this one as the sun is setting because it’s based on a conversation we had at sunset, and yeah. Trust me on this one.”

“You say that as if I don’t,” Amelie laughs, shaking her head and walking towards him. Harry reaches out for her hand, kissing her hairline as he flicks the light to the studio off and they make their way to the garage, his hands pulling his keys off the hook and mumbling a goodbye to their cat before Amelie is yanking her hand away and bounding up the stairs. “Hold on, I forgot my ring!”

“Only going for a drive!” Harry calls, laughing as he opens the door and waits for her to rush through the walkway and into the garage with him. “All better?”

“Much,” she smiles, running her fingers through her hair and slipping her sunglasses – the sunnies she bought for their holiday last summer that are shaped like hearts on the eyes – on her nose before turning to face him. “Alright, it’s golden hour and we’re about to drive on the highway. Care to tell me what song we’re listening to?”

Harry’s teeth bite into his bottom lip, squeezing her thigh and turning the radio on, his phone connecting through the bluetooth and the chimes beginning to play before it could be paused. “I will, but, I want to share something first.”

Amelie raises her eyebrows suggestively, holding her breath while Harry backs out of the drive into the street, his hand holding her thigh as they begin to navigate out of their neighbourhood and to the furthest end of the highway. “Share with the class, Mr Styles.”

“Fine Line is about you,” Harry starts, sucking in a deep breath and taking the moment in traffic to meet Amelie’s stare, “about the good and the bad that we’ve gone through, especially over the last year. All that we’ve done, all that I’ve done, is because of you reminding me that life is the good and the bad times. I tell you this all the time, but I do this all because of you.” Amelie nods, squeezing his hand on her leg. “This song, “Golden”, is about the day before we started writing in the studio, and we sat on the beach and we talked about everything, and how you always feel like the first instinct you have is to shy away from me, to not be vulnerable.” His tongue wets his lips, the hum of the engine filling the void silence between his words. “Made me think about how in the first few weeks we met, that we became friends, I was so vulnerable with you, telling you about Mum and Dad, telling you about the things going on with the band, m’anxiety and all that. That night, you told me that you might not ever be that open, but it meant a lot that I was. And two weeks later you told me about Jack.” Harry’s throat bobs as he swallows down any tears in his eyes. “Never told you this, but you have no idea how much that meant to me, that you told me; not because of what it meant for our relationship afterwards, but because it meant that you trusted me.”

“Always have,” Amelie says, taking Harry’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Baby, it’s alright.”

“Fuck. Know it’s alright, ‘s just, yeah,” Harry sniffles, taking a turn and parking in the cove at the beginning of the highway, his eyes meeting hers as she pushes her sunglasses into her hair to properly look at him. “That night we were at the beach and you told me that you get scared with how open I am sometimes; it gave me this idea. I was staring at you, and you hadn’t dyed your hair the peach colour yet and it was still a bit blonde and the sun was setting over you and I couldn’t get it out of my head that you were as bright as the bloody sun. And that reminded me of the years of other memories that have to do with you and the sun and that’s where the name came from.” Harry smiles so wide Amelie swears that his cheeks are going to ache, and then she realises that she’s smiling exactly the same. “This song you have to listen to driving down Pacific Coast. It’s a coast song.”

Amelie’s eyes are so bright under the setting sun that Harry swears he could go blind. “Let’s listen, then. You have a show tomorrow and I want to listen to the album at midnight.”

Harry shifts the gear and reverses onto the highway, turning the song on and cranking the volume, rolling their windows down and soaking in the way Amelie’s smile changes into one that is wide enough to reach her cheeks and her eyes are squeezing shut to have only the music in her ears, all of her senses working to take in the vocals and the melodies and the chimes and the guitar and the drums. His hand is on her thigh, his thumb rubbing the skin lightly as her tongue wets her lips and soaks in the beginning moments of the song, no vocals or lyrics.

Golden, golden, golden as I open my eyes. Hold it, focus, hoping, take me back to the light.

“Harry, your voice,” Amelie says, eyes wide and staring, shaking her head and staring out the window, the ocean passing in a blue haze beneath them. “Already, I love it.”

You’re so golden. You’re so golden. I’m out of my head, and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken.

“Holy shit.” Amelie’s eyelashes are wet, her thumb brushing away a stray tear as she sucks in a deep breath and swallows any tears threatening to fall, wanting to fully immerse in the song before giving her thoughts and sentiment. “All in one go, you wrote this?” Harry nods and smiles at her warmly.

I don’t wanna be alone. I can feel it take a hold, I can feel you take control, of who I am and all I’ve ever known. Loving you’s the antidote.

“Harry.”

Harry smiles, “To be fair, you are all I’ve ever known. All of my twenties are with you. All of me becoming an adult.”

Amelie stares at Harry as if the words that have come out of his mouth are that of a revelation that should be spoken about until the end of time, until they no longer have air in the lungs or beats in their heart. His words are truthful, honest. Because they have been together for nearly the entirety of their twenties. Her twenty-fifth birthday was barely over a month ago, Harry’s twenty-sixth coming soon. They’ve known each other since Harry was barely twenty-one, and the growing that they’ve done together is more than either of them could have imagine being apart. Harry’s being honest, yes, but there is also a sentiment to his words, that they’re all each other has known, that they know everything about each other, the good and the bad, and have been through life together. Amelie thinks that she learns something new about Harry every day, a new quirk or habit, sometimes it’s something that Harry doesn’t even notice himself, and it reminds her that they’re friends, first and foremost, at the beginning of everything, they’re best friends.

“All that we go through,” Harry says, cutting Amelie out of her thoughts, “I know that as long as I get to love you, I’ll be okay. We’ll be alright. Hence, ‘loving you’s the antidote’. It’s like, loving you is the solve for it all. It’s pretty cliché, to be fair, but love is pretty cliché.”

“Love is both skill and enthusiasm,” Amelie smiles, leaning over the centre console and kissing Harry’s cheek. “Think we’re doing alright with both.”

“I’ll say,” he laughs, reaching for her left hand and lifting it slightly, nodding to the diamond ring sitting on her third finger.

Amelie gasps, undoing her seatbelt and scrambling into the backseat, mumbling under her breath as Harry stares at her through the rear-view mirror and bites his nails worriedly, asking to have her come back to the front and buckle in her seatbelt for her safety. “Can you please put on your seatbelt? Gon’a scare me half to death, I swear.”

“Needed to grab a polaroid and we left our second one in here after last weekend.”

“Need it for what?”

“Have to take a picture of us listening to the album for the first time. Did it with the first and I want to keep the tradition.”

Amelie kisses Harry’s cheek, again, as she manoeuvres her way to the passenger seat, prepping the camera and leaning into his chest, smiling as the flash goes and the picture is taken with Harry kissing her hair and her smiling at him, “Watermelon Sugar” beginning to sound through the speakers.

“Looks cute,” Amelie grins, setting the photo near her phone to ensure that she wouldn’t forget it on her way inside when they get home. “Which song has my voice on it?”

“That’s ‘Cherry’,” Harry says, turning rolling the windows up slightly to alleviate the volume of the wind inside the car. “Can’t listen to that one until midnight.”

“Is that the one you talked about in the Zane Lowe interview?”

“Mean when I said, ‘That’s my girlfriend’s voice’?” Harry asks, smiling as Amelie’s fingers lace through his, squeezing his hand sweetly. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Not too sure how we’re going to keep hiding everything when we make slip ups like that, Harry,” Amelie hums, her elbow propped on the windowsill, her cheek resting in her palm as she stares at him. “Not that it matters all that much anymore, I mean, it’s been almost five years.”

“Having your name on the album is going to have some conversation stir.”

Her hand sticks out the window, the ocean breeze waving against her palm and the sun shining over her face as she lays her cheek against her arm. Malibu is breezy for December, and it’s nice, it reminiscent of London which has become closer to home than Los Angeles or Malibu have ever felt. “Have to be careful about where we’re taking pictures tomorrow night.”

“Make sure we tell Helene in the morning. Jeff said that there have been fans camping all week for the show,” he says, his fingers tapping along her inner thigh as the trumpets sound through the speakers. “How’s your tattoo?”

“Healing nicely, I’d say,” she shrugs, looking at the freshly inked flower on her forearm, one single flower that they got together, matching, after her birthday. “Met me with two tattoos,” she hums, pausing for a second to count the tattoos scattered on her arms and torso, “Now, I have six. How do you feel?”

“Very attracted to you at all times,” Harry laughs, squeezing her thigh a bit tighter and bellowing a laugh as she smacks his hand away. “I adore you; you know that?”

Her voice is etched with sarcasm and teasing in the most flirtatious way. “Oh, so that’s why you wrote a song about me and named it that. Good to know. I wasn’t sure.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “To be fair, I write a lot of songs about you, Ames.”

“Fair enough,” Amelie giggles, sitting upright in her seat and leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth, turning the volume louder and letting the salty breeze wash over her skin. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“I am,” Harry nods, brushing his fingers through his hair and taking a moment to admire Amelie staring mindlessly out to the sea. Moving to Malibu was their best decision at the beginning of the year. “Have the setlist finalised, Fine Line all the way through, Stevie is coming to sing ‘Landslide’ with me.” His eyes run over Amelie’s face, the way she’s listening to him so adamantly and adoringly. “Have you there. ‘s all that counts at the end of it.”

“Doing that ‘Behind the Show’ thing, aren’t you? I’ll have to make myself scarce,” she laughs, tugging her tie out of her hair and letting the waves fall over her shoulders. Her hair was meant to be dyed light blue two weeks earlier, and then there was a delayed flight from New York and a stressful reschedule, and there they were, dying her hair pink to match the album cover a week before the album was set to release. Harry always loved that about Amelie, the expression and the change, it was felt very natural, very her.

“Mean, how horrible would it be if you were in it? One day the world is going to find out.”

“One day the world will know, yeah,” she says, humming along to the melody of the very first released song of the album and laying her hand over her heart, “but maybe we should do that when you’re not releasing the best album of the year.”

“Already have the ring, Cherry,” Harry snorts, indicating his turn and navigating back to the highway to head home. Only a few more hours until the album would be officially released, and they could listen to its entirety. “Don’t really have to flatter me all that much.”

“How many nicknames do you have for me, now? You say Ames and Cherry. Doll. Angel,” Amelie teases, her fingers lacing through Harry’s as he lays his palm open on her thigh. “Going to add any else any time soon?”

“Wife sounds like a good one to add to the list.”

Amelie turns away from Harry, her cheeks flushed and a blushing colour adorning her skin. “Harry Styles, if you say that one more time, I will be leaning over and sucking your dick as you drive us home. Give you road head or summat for saying a thing like that.”

“You say that like I’ve just said something horrible!” Harry bellows, his laugh making her want to cry out of pure joy, the squeak and giggle that follows suit making her heart so swollen she swears it could break her ribs in half. “Asked you to marry me because I want you to be my wife. Therefore, I’d call you m’wife.”

“I’ll lean over and unbutton your trousers, right now. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Amelie Fay!”

“Do you know how many years I waited to hear you say those words? Too many,” Amelie breathes, her sunglasses pushed into her hair and her eyes meeting his. “My wife sounds hot coming from you.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile, “Heading back home so that we can have dinner and you can finish working because we have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Got me all bothered, now,” she sighs, sinking into her seat and letting the glasses fall over her eyes with her hair tugging along. “Come and keep me company in the studio? Have to finish one of the imitation pieces for the Kahlo Exhibition that’s in Italy this summer.”

“That’s the one I’ll be able to come to, right?” he asks, his mind trying to remember the dates for the exhibits that align with the tour dates they scheduled nearly six months ago. Amelie wanted Harry there, and that isn’t something to take lightly. “Don’t want to miss that.”

Amelie nods, smirking at Harry and taking in the way his features are tightly wound with nerves and anxiety for the evening, his hand swiftly pausing the music before the remaining eight songs can play through the stereo for her to listen to early.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Harry says, smacking her thigh and bringing his hand to his legs, laughing when Amelie furrows his brows at him and laces their fingers together to bring his hand back where it belongs, as she would say.

“Can see why you named the song what you did, baby.”

“Why’s that?” Harry muses, wanting to hear her understanding even though he’s given her the entire reasoning behind the song already. Amelie’s interpretations were always so unique, so interesting to him.

“Because I’m looking at you, right now, and the sun is right there, and it looks like you’ve created the whole universe just like that.” Her tongue wets her lips for a moment. “Like you just shine brighter than every star. Golden, it’s what you are, I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like a feeling, isn’t it? Isn’t that how you felt? Like you’re looking at the sun and there is nothing else that would ever look the way this does.”

“That’s exactly how it felt.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　✧･ﾟ

i wasn’t thinking about posting a preview for the sequel for another few weeks into august, but with this challenge going around i thought it was the perfect opportunity! thank you to @helladirections for making the summer fic challenge that this prompt was part of!

welcome to the world of harry and amelie, for a second time. this is a scene from the sequel that quite literally fulfils the vibe of ‘driving down the pacific coast highway’ and introduces the song that started it all! their story is one that i love so much and i hope you start to fall in love with them all over again.

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runaway-train-works · 3 years

Note

I'm happy to see you are possibly writing again, I love your fics! What WIPs do you have at the moment?

Oh Nonnie! This is so lovely, thank you! I’m really glad you enjoy my fics!

I have had a lot going on this last year with pandemic fucking up my life in more ways than one, as well as suffering from a severe case of writer's block, so I’ve been annoyingly dabbling in lots of things but failing to actually get anything finished. However, I’m hoping the winds of change are finally going to give me a break and so I might actually complete something soonish!

In answer to your question about my WIPs, I fear you might regret asking this question because I have so many! I’ve had to put them under the cut but if you fancy reading more about them then you can check them out, and feel free to ask me any questions about any of them!

And All Because I’m Mad About The Boy

The 5th instalment of my Ad Au series. It’s going to be a long one I think, and will feature them going on their stag dos (bachelor parties) as well as a decent bit of angst! I’ve written the first section as well as some notes on later sections.

Black Mirror

This is the fic I go on about but have never written more than the opening scene of. It’s kind of Black Mirror meets Total Recall - Harry goes to a company that downloads holiday experiences straight into your brain, and he has a holiday romance with ‘Louis’ A year later, he sees Louis in real life and it all unravels from there.

Boxer ABO AU

Louis is a sassy omega who is quite snobby when it comes to ‘alpha thugs’ that box, but gets dragged along to a boxing event by Liam and meets boxer Harry. Harry asks him out, and Louis turns him down, however, he’s unreasonably miffed when Harry takes the turn down a little too well and precedes to do all the chasing, much to Harry’s amusement.

Cursed Is The Fool Who’s Willing

My ABO fic I have already written 70K for. I need to get back to this, I’ve just come to a point where I’m so stuck with the plot that it’s a real struggle, even though I know how it’s going to end. Very frustrating, but I will finish this if it kills me. The general plot is Louis regularly offers himself up as an omega for alpha ruts, but has a strict no real names, no repeats policy. That is until he meets Harry who gets under his skin.

Dreams ABO

I actually wrote about 10k of this after my very first fic, but haven’t really returned to it. Harry is an alpha in his last year of high school, and Louis is a new omega who decides on his first day that Harry is his alpha and they’re meant to be together. Harry isn’t so sure.

Gotta Blame It On My Juice

I started writing this for the ridic fic exchange but had to drop it and pinch-hit another fic at the time. I even have commissioned artwork for it! The prompt was ‘Louis is a registered sex therapist and he is pretty sure his new next-door neighbor, Harry, has a fetish for old women because he keeps having elderly women over and they always leave his house in a wheelchair (seriously where does he get all these wheelchairs?), turns out he's just a vampire who likes old lady blood the best (that is, until he tastes Louis)

Grumpy Neighbour

This was meant to be a fest last year but never got it finished, based on Harry being Louis’ grumpy neighbour who Louis is pretty determined to win over, so when his shower breaks, he keeps going over to Harry and Niall’s flat to use theirs and walking around in just a towel.

Harry/Troye

Haven’t got a title yet, but based on a Tik Tok of Troye’s where he gets flirted with by the receptionist when he’s getting his sexual health screening,

Housesitter AU

I have a 4K outline of this and I’m pretty into the idea actually. Fake relationship AU based on the film with Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin but a few differences. Louis is high school hearts with Liam, and when he buys a house in the village they grew up as a surprise for them to live in, Liam tells him he’s actually been wanting to break up. Louis has a sort of rebound one night stand with Harry and tells him about the empty house. A few weeks later, he turns up to sell it to find Harry’s been living there and has told everyone he’s Louis’ fiancé as a cover. Cue a fake relationship to help mend Louis’ broken relationship with his parents as well as win Liam back by posing as the perfect husband material, but it doesn’t quite work out like that.

I Was Just Tongue Tied

Gay disaster Harry meets Louis in a sushi restaurant and tells too many fish puns.

If You Bring Your Blue Skies Back

Gay disaster Louis meets Harry on a plane and repeatedly embarrasses himself.

Let’s Get Into Physical

Liam meets Harry in a yoga class and is pretty oblivious to Harry’s advances.

Lumberjack

I was writing this a while ago for a Christmas fest and wrote about 10K, but then other lumberjack fic came out and I gave it up. Based on writer Louis going to his usual remote Scottish getaway to finish his new book, but the new local maintenance/lumberjack type guy Harry is very good looking, very distracting and very NOT into Louis.

Moments

Louis is a married man but goes to a gay speeding dating night with Liam for moral support but meets Harry and his world turns upside down.

Pretences

My Big Bang from last year I never finished (sensing a theme yet?) Got to about 20k but it just got so big. I thought from my outline I had it all worked out but when I actually started writing it, it just seems like such a huge fic that I struggled. Based on Louis being a doppelgänger for the Prince and he’s asked to step in for the royal wedding day when the princess is getting married. Harry is the one that helps him through it all.

Sad Songs Say So Much

Girl direction fic based on Louis knowing when Harry is upset because she always plays the same sad songs playlist so goes out her way to make her happy, and Harry has no idea.

Sharry

Adore You/Lost In Japan canon fic about Harry and Shawn hooking up in Japan.

Shiall

Fake Relationship AU based on Niall asking Shawn to go to a work dinner party as his fake boyfriend, but Shawn plays the role a little too well.

This City’s Gonna Break My Heart

My Narry fic that I’ve been chipping away at, which is disgustingly overdue. Based on the song Heartbreak Weather, where Niall hooks up with Harry one night and it becomes a casual thing but Niall’s more into it than he would like to admit.

Wouldn’t It Be Lovely

Based on My Fair Lady, Harry is an art curator that must turn Louis into a ‘respectable artist’ rather than the tracksuit wearing chav he is. I kind of gave up when I realised that it wasn’t the nicest storyline and Harry would have to be an insufferable dick for most of the fic.

#wips #ask #anon #💕💕💕

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richietoaster · 4 years

Text

As I Am, You Understand

reddie

words: 2,217

playlist

AO3 LINK

me writing tooth rotting fluff impulsively and posting at 3:30am? more likely than you think

READ BELOW IF YOU DONT MIND IT BEING UNFORMATTED

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Richie has a date. It’s not his first date, but it’s the first time he’s felt alive in a long time. He makes sure to shower double the time he usually does, scrubbing his body with his dad’s Sandalwood and Eucalyptus bodywash, and, fuck it, he even conditions his hair too.

He feels like he’s in a movie and that’s how he knows he’s got it bad. Richie dances in the shower using the bottle as a microphone to sing loudly. He feels ignited- on fire. Honestly, it’s a surprise to him that he’s going on a date. To the fucking carnival. What kind of teen movie is this? Richie will be going to college with the love of his life type of shit? Actually, he thinks, that’s not a bad idea.

Richie doesn’t want to think about college, to be fair. He got accepted into UCLA, the best university ever, but all his mind consists of golden brown hair and eyes, consists of his best friend, the love of his life, and-- quite frankly, he’s not sure how Eddie said yes to a date with him. Him. Out of all people.

Richie looks over to his friends at the lunch table and throws a fry at Stanley’s face. “Any you fuckers goin’ to the carnival?” He says as Stan steals another off of Richie’s plate for payback. They’re all waiting for Eddie to get his lunch and come sit with them.

“Yeah, this weekend.” Bev responds, “Ben and I are going on a date.”

“Well, good for you for finally figuring out your feelings. It only took, what? Since the eighth grade?” Richie smirks at them. He supposes he’s not one to talk, since everyone under the sun except Eddie himself, knows about Richie’s crush on him.

“You are not one to talk,” Mike says with a pointed look.

“Y-Yeah,” Bill agrees, “Why don’t you ask Eddie to go with you?”

“Yeah, ask him on a date.” Ben shrugs. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“The worst?” Richie asks incredulously. He counts on his fingers, “Well, one, he could say no. Two, it could make him uncomfortable. Three, he might never talk to me again. Four, he could say no. And, five, he might never fucking talk to me again.”

Stan rolls his eyes, “You’re being dramatic. Just ask him, Rich. I’m positive you’ll get the answer you want.”

Richie shakes his head, “No, nope. Mhm-hmph. I am not asking Eddie.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide, staring right past Richie. Richie feels goosebumps on his arms immediately, because oh. Oh no.. That can’t be good.

Richie turns around and focuses his gaze on Eddie, who’s looking at him with a confused expression.

“Ask me what, Rich?”

Richie turns around to look at his friends for help, but they all exchange glances and get up to move to another table.

“Thanks, you guys. Yeah, love you too!” Richie calls after them.

“What was up with that?” Eddie asks, sitting down next to him, setting his tray on the table.

“I-.. Shit..” Richie breathes out a shaky breath. “I.. I.. we were talking about the town carnival this weekend.”

“Oh.. yeah, I heard it’s gonna be really fun this year.. But what does that have to do with-?” Eddie cuts himself off, and Richie can see the second it clicks for Eddie. “Richie, were you going to-?”

This time Richie cuts him off.“N-Not like that! I mean- or- or- unless you wanted to of course? I don’t know, I figured it could be fun- like the two of us! We always have fun together. And.. And like recently it seemed like things might be feeling different between us- like- like- I don’t know, like-” Eddie covers Richie’s mouth with his hand.

“Richie. Ask me.” Richie’s eyes widen. Eddie removes his hand from Richie’s mouth.

“Eds, will you be my date to the carnival this weekend?” Richie gulps, almost afraid of this just being a cruel, and very unfunny joke. Except, Eddie’s smiling wide, and straightening up.

“Of course I will, you big dummy.” He stands and picks his tray up. “I wasn’t planning on staying long, I actually wasn’t going to even stop by the table.. but I wanted to see you guys. I have to go to the library to work on a project, but..” Eddie bites his lip and Richie really feels like he’s in a cliche movie. “I’ll call you later?”

Richie can barely process what just happened, so he settles by answering with a weak nod.

“Great!” Eddie has a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “I’ll.. call you later, then.”

Richie watches Eddie walk away, and once he’s out of sight, he’s fist pumping the air.

And now it’s an hour before they’re supposed to meet and Richie’s heart is booming in his chest. Honestly, Richie feels like the world’s luckiest guy. Like, for real, how the fuck did he score a date with his best friend in the entire universe? The cutest boy in mankind? It’s completely unreal, if anyone were to ask him.

Richie arrives ten minutes early and sits on the wooden fence to wait for Eddie. He told Eddie earlier that he could come pick him up, but Eddie insisted on meeting up- claims it would be aesthetic, like an eighties movie. The cheeseball.

But as he checks his phone each passing minute, before he knows it, it’s almost an hour. And he’s about to leave, accept that it was in fact, a cruel and unfunny joke, but he hears his name being called out.

“Rich! Richie!” He can hear Eddie sounding out of breath as he gets closer.

“Did.. did you fucking run here?”

Eddie puts his hands on his knees to breathe easier and nods, “I.. I couldn’t find my phone.. Was gonna text you and.. tell you that I’d.. I’d be late…” He inhales deeply a few times after struggling to complete a sentence. Eddie finishes, “but I couldn’t find my phone.. And then my mom was yanno.. Sonia-ing it up..”

Richie stifles out a loud laugh, “Sonia-ing it up?”

“Yeah!” Eddie chuckles. “Her being like ‘don’t go out Eddie, air is bad.’ shit like that.”

“Air is bad..” Richie repeats and continues to laugh. Eddie grins at him and takes Richie’s hand, threading his fingers between his own.

“I’m glad I got you laughing.” Eddie admits.

“Why wouldn’t I laugh at that?”

The two walk in together, immediately going to the ticket booth and buying just enough to ride every ride if they wanted to. But their first stop is to the cheese fries.

“Because,” Eddie shrugs, finally responding. “I was afraid you’d be upset that I was late. I didn’t want you to think that I was-”

“-standing me up?”

“Yes, exactly. But, you know that wasn’t the case, now.”

“I’m not mad, Spaghetti. Can’t be mad at someone as cute as you.” Richie winks and Eddie’s face flushes.

“Yeah- actually, that reminds me- when did you start liking me? Because I’ve been literally pining over you for.. for.. At least freshman or sophomore year.” Eddie leads them both to a table nearby and they sit together.

“Hah,” Richie says, “I got you beat by at least a year or two. I’ve been in-” He coughs, “I’ve liked you since 8th grade when I accidentally made you trip in the hallway going to science class. You picked yourself up like it was nothing, and just smiled at me and said, ‘you’re lucky I like you’ with that little huff you do when you’re either annoyed or embarrassed.”

Eddie does the exact huff that Richie’s talking about and says, “I do not do that.”

Richie smirks at him.

“Oh, fuck off.” Eddie pauses and looks up at Richie through his eyelashes, and Richie thinks for a split second that Eddie might be debating on kissing him, but instead he continues, “I never expected in like, my wildest and probably wet dreams that you would ever like me back. But you were just babbling on and on at lunch and it just.. It just clicked for me. I figured if I didn’t help you out, you’d have a fucking stroke, so, there’s that. You’re welcome.”

“Okay first of all- wet dreams, huh? You have wet dreams about me, do you?” Eddie pushes at his shoulder and chuckles. “Okay, okay!” A quick pause. “And second of all, I wasn’t gonna have a stroke, thank you.”

“Oh, no. You definitely were. And then you had the audacity to be like ‘but it can be a date if you want it to be’ like? Have you not been with me in the same situations the past two weeks? I swear.. We both almost confessed feelings multiple times.”

“When we were in your bed a few nights ago, your head was on my chest and I was actually terrified you were gonna wake up to the sound of it beating so loud.” Richie tells him, “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you then.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually.” Eddie admits. And then they’re both quiet, staring at one another, not sure if they’re supposed to make the first move or not. The moment passes, and Eddie stands up, the empty box of fries in his hand. “I’m gonna throw this away real quick.”

“Yeah, no, go ahead.”

And then Eddie’s returning seconds later to grab at his hand, “Come on, let’s get in line for the Ferris Wheel.”

Richie groans, “But the Ferris Wheel always has the longest line!”

“Stop complaining.”

“Fineeee,” Richie says.

“You’re so dramatic,” Eddie laughs. “Speaking of which, are you excited about UCLA? I know it must’ve been hard picking your major. But I’m glad you went with Theater. You’re an amazing performer.”

Richie is silent for a minute. He was really hoping they would stay away from the topic. He’s terrified of the future. “I.. thanks, honestly. It’s.. It’s so weird, you know? That graduation is literally in like, a month. We have the summer.. Together.. And with our friends.. But then everyone is off to college. It’s kinda scary, Eds. Don’t you think?”

“Well, not really, since we all got accepted into schools in California. I think it’s pretty great. We’ll be closer than you realize. And.. I’ve kept it from you for so long, but.. I got accepted into the University of Southern California.” Eddie smiles softly at him.

“Eds.. holy shit, that is literally like a twenty minute drive from UCLA.. did you fuckin’ plan that?”

“No,” Eddie laughs, “But it is super convenient, right?”

“Don’t think for a minute I won’t be spending every second I can with you. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“Next!” The ride operator interrupts their conversation and holds on his hand for the tickets, which Eddie hands him.

They get in the cart and the guy slams the cart’s gate shut, locking the side. “Keep your arms, legs, hands, and feet, inside the car at all times. Have fun.”

They stay quiet for a few minutes, two times around the Ferris Wheel, and then Richie speaks.

“I was actually afraid you guys would like. I don’t know. Want better friends than me in college.”

Eddie looks at him, “Rich, you know that’s absolutely crazy, yeah? We could never want to replace you.”

“That’s not what I said,” Richie grumbles.

“It’s what you meant.” Eddie retorts. “But that would never happen. We’re all gonna have the time of our fucking lives in California together. Crashing each other’s dorms parties-”

“-you’re gonna be a pariter? Yeah, okay, right.”

“New school year, new state, new me!”

“It’s not New Year’s, Eds.” Richie chuckles.

“Might as well be. Anyway, the point is we’re all gonna be together.. and.. And most importantly,” Eddie links their fingers together, “We get to be together.”

“Aren’t we together right now? I mean-” The Ferris Wheel stops and they’re at the very top. “Do you want to be together? More than friends?”

“Finally you’re getting the hint.”

Richie chokes on his own spit. “Well, I- me too. I want that to.”

“Good,” Eddie rests his head on Richie’s shoulder. “Then that’s what we are. Together. Boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends.” Richie breathes.

“And it’ll be better when we’re out of buttfuck Derry, and in literally one of the most beautiful places in the world.” Eddie says.

“Good.”

“Good,” Eddie agrees, “because like I said, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, Rich.”

“Well, then I don’t plan on going anywhere, so I guess you’ll just have to get used to the fact that I’m gonna be in your future.”

Eddie pauses for a moment, lifting his head off of Richie’s shoulder, “Well.. then, here’s to the future.”

Without missing a beat, Richie looks down and tilts Eddie’s chin up. “No.. Here's to right now,” and leans down to press a soft kiss to his lips, Eddie’s hand reaching up to cup Richie’s cheek. Their mouths move slow and in sync together.

And, yeah, their future may be important, as graduation is slowly approaching and college is nearing closer, but so is this moment.

This moment is the start to a beautiful beginning; their beginning.

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

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#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it 2019 #my writing #sara writes

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blossom-hwa · 4 years

Note

the danceracha and 3racha working aus were so funny i wanted to request a vocalracha one but i have no idea where they could work 😭

God damn you guys really enjoy my lukewarm sense of humor??? Well I just pictured vocalracha working at a tutoring center and bitching about it so here we are! Hope you enjoy <3

3-year anniversary drabble game: send me an NCT/WAYV/Stray Kids/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Half of this is based off of real experiences from when I used to tutor math god that was a TIME

Title: Tutoring Shenanigans

Pairing: no pairings, just vocalracha being dumb

Triggers: a lot of cursing

quick clarification:

seungman: seungmin

watch your foxing mouth: jeongin

watch your foxing mouth: seungmin

watch your foxing mouth: can you please take my shift this Saturday

seungman: no

seungman: the one time I get the weekend off in ages? I'm not going to bother teaching little gremlins math who the fuck do you think I am

watch your foxing mouth: I think you’re a little asshole who’s going to spend the entire weekend just working on homework like the nerd you are

seungman: see I'd say you were right

seungman: but I don’t have homework this weekend

seungman: I actually had other plans

watch your foxing mouth: like what

watch your foxing mouth: no one’s going to ask you on a date lmao

seungman: first of all fuck you

seungman: second of all I was going to drop by at work and maybe bring you a coffee because I'm nice

seungman: but not anymore

watch your foxing mouth: bullshit you never would’ve done that in the first place

seungman: you’re absolutely right but I'm also offended that you doubted me so quickly

watch your foxing mouth: when I asked you to get me water from chan’s cafe

watch your foxing mouth: you specifically asked changbin to fill the cup with ice

watch your foxing mouth: and then you brought the cup back

watch your foxing mouth: and told me to wait

watch your foxing mouth: what the fuck kind of impression do you think that makes?

seungman: that’s fair

seungman: but I'm still offended

watch your foxing mouth: feeling offended is part of your personality

seungman: you know me so well

watch your foxing mouth: which is how I know you’ll take my shift this weekend :)

seungman: you’re funny

watch your foxing mouth: SEUNGMIN PLEASE

watch your foxing mouth: I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH ASHLEY AND HER FUCKING BITCH ASS

watch your foxing mouth: SHE NEVER WORKS

seungman: suck it <3

watch your foxing mouth: I hate you

seungman: love you too <3

seungman: this small girl

seungman: walked into the center

seungman: and told me

seungman: tennis is not a fucking sport

watch your foxing mouth: I can’t believe I was getting drinks and missed that

watch your foxing mouth: what was her reasoning

seungman: ‘you don’t run in tennis’

seungman: huH?????????????????????

watch your foxing mouth: well we’ve established that these kids are rich little assholes

watch your foxing mouth: and have no brains 99% of the time

seungman: you’re right I should expect this

seungman: why do we work here again

watch your foxing mouth: rich kids = rich parents

watch your foxing mouth: rich parents = rich establishment

watch your foxing mouth: rich establishment = slightly higher than minimum wage pay

seungman: fuck you’re right

seungman: idk I feel like I'd be having more fun working at the cafe even if the pay’s worse

watch your foxing mouth: money or fun?

seungman: the ultimate question of life

watch your foxing mouth: fuck capitalism

seungman: you say that yet you’re slaving your ass off teaching basic math to kids who don’t want to learn for a salary that’s a third of what you could be earning as a private tutor

watch your foxing mouth: WELL IF I HAD A FUCKING CAR

seungman: you’d drive it into another tree

watch your foxing mouth: honestly fuck you I'm dumping your shitty americano into the storm drain

seungman: look you hit the tree not me

watch your foxing mouth: IT WASN’T EVEN THAT BAD THE BARK WAS SOFT AND THE CAR WAS FINE

seungman: allow me to repeat

seungman: you

seungman: hit

seungman: a

watch your foxing mouth: SHUT U P

seungman: fucking

watch your foxing mouth: QUIT

seungman: t r e e

seungman: IN A PARKING LOT

watch your foxing mouth: just dumped out your drink <3

seungman: you better be kidding me

seungman: you better be fucking kidding me

seungman: YANG JEONGIN

read by one at 4:49 pm

seungman: I'm transferring that bitch ashley to your table fuck you

watch your foxing mouth: why are you the one who always controls the music player

watch your foxing mouth: I want to play my tunes too asshole

seungman: no one can concentrate with your fucking trot shit playing in the background

watch your foxing mouth: and we can deal with your shitty ‘lo-fi comfortable beats’ or whatever the fuck is in your YouTube playlist?

seungman: if the parents are happy with it then we’re like. legally obligated to keep doing it

seungman: kevin would play strictly beyonce if he was in charge of the music

seungman: you would play shitty trot

watch your foxing mouth: my taste in music is not shitty thank you very very much

seungman: sangyeon would play like. classical music idk he’s an old man like that

seungman: and if we left it up to the kids wap would be playing all day every day

watch your foxing mouth: I hate it when you make sense

watch your foxing mouth: god damn just noticed all of the people working here are male

seungman: except yeji

watch your foxing mouth: oh right except her

watch your foxing mouth: but also where is the female representation???????

seungman: they’re smarter than us

seungman: they’re either out of state for college

seungman: or they can actually drive

seungman: meaning they can afford to tutor privately

watch your foxing mouth: this is why men suck

watch your foxing mouth: we’re not smart enough to turn shit around

seungman: and we end up stuck catering to the whims of rich little assholes who aren’t going to learn jack shit anyway

watch your foxing mouth: sigh

seungman: sigh

watch your foxing mouth: ASHLEY IS HERE I’M NOT TAKING HER MY TABLE IS FULL

seungman: FUCK I HAVE A SPOT LEFT

seungman: OH FUCK YOU SANGYEON

watch your foxing mouth: suffer

seungman: my existence is pain

seungman: suddenly I have the burning desire to learn to drive

seungman: at least I wouldn’t hit trees in the parking lot

watch your foxing mouth: see I know you’re trying to provoke me but I'm not going to give in because watching you deal with ashley is satisfying enough

watch your foxing mouth: my brain is fried

seungman: is this supposed to be news

watch your foxing mouth: honestly I'd be offended but I'm too tired to express it

watch your foxing mouth: I never knew teaching basic addition could be so tiring

seungman: why do tutors exist

seungman: why don’t teachers do their jobs

watch your foxing mouth: idk

watch your foxing mouth: why do we have to do their jobs for them for far less pay

seungman: throwback to the time the owners kept forgetting to give us a raise even though we were the longest standing employees at this shitty center

watch your foxing mouth: don't fucking remind me

watch your foxing mouth: I'm just sitting in the cafe trying to erase all thoughts of ashley from my head

watch your foxing mouth: I wish sangyeon was here today

seungman: god yes that bitch ella is awful

seungman: why does she walk around like she owns the fucking place

watch your foxing mouth: bright ass lipstick and shit

watch your foxing mouth: like no bitch

watch your foxing mouth: I understand you do our schedules but I also understand you’re an asshole

seungman: sometimes I want to set this center on fire

watch your foxing mouth: afuckingmen

watch your foxing mouth: oh hey

watch your foxing mouth: oh fuck

seungman: ?

seungman: why do I hear sirens

seungman: and see smoke

seungman: jeongin

seungman: JEONGIN ANSWER ME YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD

watch your foxing mouth: calm your tits

watch your foxing mouth: didn’t know you cared that much about me

seungman: I don’t

seungman: who would I bitch about work to if you died

watch your foxing mouth: honestly fuck you

seungman: anyway what happened

watch your foxing mouth: jisung set the refrigerator on fire

watch your foxing mouth: it was glorious

seungman: you’re telling me jisung almost burnt this center down

seungman: b u t d i d n t ?

watch your foxing mouth: sadly

seungman: shame

seungman: would’ve loved to see that bitch ella burn

watch your foxing mouth: can’t all have what we want ig

seungman: wait give me a sec I'm clocking out I want to see this mess

watch your foxing mouth: come out quick chan looks like he’s going to cry

watch your foxing mouth: it’s hilarious

seungman: doesn’t he refer to you as his child?

watch your foxing mouth: what of it

seungman: idk

seungman: just if I talked about my parents like that I'd be six feet under by now

watch your foxing mouth: chan’s too soft for that

watch your foxing mouth: bet you he won’t even fire jisung after this

seungman: I know better than to take you up on that

seungman: anyway where is he I want to take a picture

watch your foxing mouth: doesn’t he refer to you as one of his children too?

seungman: what of it?

watch your foxing mouth: you’re right you’re right let’s go watch him suffer

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a-certain-type-of-frog · 3 years

Text

Momentary I

main post • momentary II • word count: 1.1k

“Thanks,” Scarlet tells the woman showing her to her seat, 15B. The person sitting in the one next to hers, 15A, glances up as she sets her bag on the floor and then looks back at his book.

“Hi,” she says politely, pushing her bag under the seat in front of her with a foot.

“Hey,” he says, short but not unwelcoming, looking up again.

“Have you been on for long?”

“Not too bad, I got on in Chicago,” he answers, marking his place with a receipt he had under his leg.

“Planning on getting some sleep?” she asks. Scarlet doubts he’s much for conversation, considering the way he keeps thumbing the edge of his book as he listens, but it seems better to get the basics out of the way up front.

“I’d like to,” he says, “but I can never sleep on trains. Too much noise, too much light,” he waves a hand to gesture.

She nods. “Yeah, makes sense.” She always sleeps on trains, in buses and cars, on a table in a library if she’s been writing long enough. Still, she can sympathize.

He looks down and taps the cover of his book twice, thinking. “Where are you getting off?”

“Boston, you?”

“Same,” he nods.

An hour passes without conversation. She plugs in headphones, listening to a playlist of upbeat, thrumming traveling music; he reads, foot tapping against the wall. An older woman leans across her seat.

“Look out the window,” she says softly. “It’s beautiful here.” She keeps walking down the aisle. Scarlet turns, leaning forward to see past 15A.

He looks up sharply at her, “what?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, “just the view.”

“Oh.” He leans back, looking out into the green. It’s marshy and bright, a dark river flowing past, a few logs going with it. “It’s pretty.”

They lapse back into silence. The scenery rushes past, the river a constant between the trees blocking their view of it. It branches away, and he turns back to his book.

The sun starts to set hours later, and he shuts the book. “Wow,” he says quietly.

“You finished?” she asks, taking out one earphone.

“Yeah. That was good,” he says.

“What was it about?”

“It’s a collection of short stories by Ray Bradbury,” he explains, “so a bunch of different stuff. A lot were sci-fi, but some of them weren’t. I liked The Fruit at the Bottom of the Bowl, which is basically watching someone slowly go crazy after killing someone.”

“That’s intense,” she says. “It sounds cool though.”

“Yeah, it was. Feel free to read it if you want, I’m done.”

“Thanks.” Sci-fi isn’t really her thing, and reading would probably make her motion sick anyway, but she decides he doesn’t need to know any of that. “What are you gonna do now?” she asks.

He looks out the window for a minute, now alternating between corn and empty fields. “I’m not sure. I probably should’ve brought another book.”

The rows blur together as her gaze settles over them, unfocused. “Yeah, maybe. They’re heavy, though.”

“I know,” he laments. “But I refuse to do the ebook thing. It’s just not the same.”

“It’s so convenient though!” she protests.

“It is, but—okay, I’m not like a spiritual person, but I feel like books have a soul, you know? Or energy, or something.” He turns his head to meet her gaze, which snaps back to him. “Ebooks don’t have a soul.”

She laughs. “No, I know exactly what you’re talking about. Something about physically printed words, maybe.”

“Or the smell, or the feeling of the pages,” he continues.

“Okay, if you’re a book purist,” she teases, “how do you feel about dog-earing books?”

That image makes him cringe. “I would never do it, but I wouldn’t like yell at someone for doing it if they own the book.”

“Alright, fair enough,” she concedes. “How about writing in them? Or highlighting them or whatever.”

“That I understand,” he says. “That’s one of the reasons I love used books, getting to read through what other people thought about them. It’s like experiencing it together.”

“Yes, exactly! Those really have a soul.”

“They do,” he agrees, nodding with some vigor.

They keep talking until night falls, the moon a few days from being full, not quite a perfect circle. An older man in the seat in front of them starts snoring. Scarlet starts to feel the full day of travel weighing on her, and considers how she might politely tell him that she needs to sleep now, but every time she thinks about it he brings up another conversation topic she can’t bring herself to shoot down. She finds herself continuing to talk with him, and she doesn’t even manage to feel resentful—somehow, it’s invigorating.

“I’m glad you don’t sleep on trains either,” he says after a lull in their conversation. “I would’ve been so bored.”

“Me too,” she says. Somehow, she isn’t lying. That surprise kills her last lingering urge to get some sleep; they spends the rest of the night talking.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” she whispers hours later.

“It’s the train,” he replies sagely. “We’ll probably never see each other again, so there’s no reason to lie, or hide anything.”

She nods—he’s right.

When the sun rises again, it’s on buildings and cars and streetlights flickering off.

“We made it, we’re in Boston,” Scarlet says, gathering her bag from under the seat and stifling a yawn.

“We made it,” he echoes with a yawn to match.

They’re both silent, watching the world pass by.

“Which stop is yours?” he asks.

“Uhh,” she says, checking her ticket, “the north one.”

“I’m south.”

“Oh.” The car attendant passes by, reminding them that they’re a few minutes out and asking them if they need anything. They don’t.

As they roll to a stop, Scarlet stands, stretching her legs. “By the way, I never asked—what’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

She steps back into her seat to let the snoring man pass behind her. “I guess not, but I’d still like to know.”

“Jackson.”

“Jackson,” she repeats. “I’m Scarlet.”

“It was lovely talking to you, Scarlet.” He hands her his book.

“I can’t take this,” she says. “It has a soul, you know.”

He smiles. “That’s why I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” she tells him. Jackson nods and settles back into his seat—he understands what she meant.

She’s whisked off the train, into a cab, into her hotel. She opens the book to a random page to see a few notes scrawled into the margins. Inside of the front cover, he wrote, “thanks for making the train more than bearable. Try not to forget me.”

Scarlet sleeps through her first day in Boston, missing tickets she had bought for an art museum. She doesn’t forget him.

#tw death mention #tw murder mention #very very brief though just summarizing a short story by ray Bradbury #which I highly recommend btw it’s great #anyway I am trying out something completely new #and I might delete this and repost it on my main blog? we’ll see lmao #writing #creative writing #original writing #short story #short fiction #my writing #not rani related #momentary #momentary fiction #original fiction #short stories #connection #human connection

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 23]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Alright! Let’s go!

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite it being late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight, so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. That in mind, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time. Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you here and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my second question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So, could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted with and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.” He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look back at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

“I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

“I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of thick glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness. It was so caked on that Janus couldn’t even recognize him.

In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

“Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

“Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pat said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

“Oh,” Pat said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

“Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

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“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

“He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

“Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

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Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

“Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

“There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

“Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

“You are the worst partner,” Janus hissed. “When I’m right you owe me 10 loafs of your fresh bread.”

“Branching out from poptarts?” Remus asked.

Janus shook his head. He still wasn’t happy about the state of things, but he could feel himself cooling down a bit.

Khalid came out of the integration room after a few minutes, leaving Pat with Remy. “What was that?” she asked him.

“He got under my skin,” Janus said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “For now, we’re letting him go and then going back to looking for the bomb like we’re meant to be.”

“Fine,” Janus relented. “Just do me the favor of tagging him before he leaves. Just that. I beg of you.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “If it will calm you down.”

He nodded.

“Then, let’s go,” she said. When they met back up with Remy and Pat, he saw Khalid make the subtle gesture that would tag Pat like they would have for the Millennium Birds. Pat sent him what could pass as a sweet smile if Janus didn’t know better. Then, they walked him outside, leaving Remy on clean-up duty for the make-shift security office.

“So, I’m free to go?” Pat asked. His bemused expression edged far too much on the side of amused verses confused for Janus’s taste.

“You are,” Khalid said. “Have fun at the festivities.”

His hands went flapping about. “Oh, you too!” he said. “Well, I guess you’re working, but you can have fun anyway, I’m sure.”

“We’ll do our best,” she said.

He gave her a blinding smile and reached forward to shake her hand enthusiastically. Janus rolled his eyes and looked up at the heavens. “It was nice to meet you!” he said, “and you too, Remus!” He turned to meet Janus’s eyes. “Macy Misa.”

Janus pressed his lips together.

Then, Pat turned and walked away.

“Well, now that we’re done with that,” Khalid said, turning to them. “We have only a few more hours before midnight and we really need to find the time bomb.

“Oh,” Pat called. He’d paused a few yards away and turned back to them. “Thanks for letting me go so easily by the way,” he said, “and just in the Nick,” he winked, “of time too.” Janus narrowed his eyes at him. He smiled back. “Wrist check,” he said holding up his arm to show off the timepiece there. Khalid immediately looked down at her own wrist just to see that the one timepiece that could move through the time lock was no longer there. Pat made a gesture and disappeared.

All three of them stared at the spot he’d been for a long moment.

Janus was the one to speak first. “I want. The yellow. To be erased. From my record.”

Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

“What happened?” asked Fred when he and Lena arrived. The tech people were already scrambling to get through to the TPI and get the time lock broken from the outside.

“Remus, Remy, and Khalid got played by Pat or whatever his name is. It certainly isn’t Nick. He was just setting up a joke,” Janus told him.

“Stop being smug,” Remy said. “It’s not a good look for you.”

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

“They guy who fucked me over in 1923,” Janus said, “and is currently in the middle of fucking us all over because he stole the pin timepiece, and by extrapolation, probably the time bomb too.”

“It will be fine,” said Khalid, “because what he doesn’t know is that timepiece has a tracker on it. Wherever and whenever he went, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Speaking of,” one of the techies said. “It’s about to break. You might want to hold onto something.” Janus grabbed for a support beam next to him as the techie put a device on the ground in the center of the base. It blinked once, twice, and on the third blink the ground rumbled. There were sounds of panicked yelps outside. The fail safe for the time lock was not nearly as gentle as ending it correctly.

Everything settled after a few moments, and they all straightened themselves out. Janus’s timepiece buzzed to indicate it was now functioning normally. Khalid had returned her usual timepiece to her wrist and now used it to open a display they could all see. “The pin timepiece’s closest time/space coordinates are…” she trailed off. “Right outside?” She frowned. “That’s strange. Why would he still be here?” She turned to march outside, following the coordinates to a trash can. She pulled the pin timepiece out and stared at it. “Fuck,” she said.

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

“He was stuck in the time lock,” Khalid said. “That’s why he got our attention. He couldn’t leave with the time bomb unless he had the pin timepiece or we broke the time lock. Apparently, he’s smart enough to know that if he took the pin timepiece away from here, we’d probably be able to find him, but he knew we’d break the lock as soon as the pin went missing. So, he must have stashed his own timepiece and went back in time within the time lock to grab it while we were distracted with the past version of him. As soon as the time lock went down, I imagine he left.”

“Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

And everyone knew the only thing worse than a time bomb was a time bomb you didn’t know the location of.

They evacuated after that, of course, and time locked the location once they were out just in case they were wrong, but midnight 3000 struck without thousands of people dying in Brazil, so the time bomb had defiantly been removed from then.

The, they initiated a time travel lockdown for all nonessentials, not willing to let random history students get caught up in an explosion if Pat decided to set the thing off somewhere.

Then, it was a matter of figuring out everything they could about ‘Pat.’ First, they checked the tracker data as Khalid had tagged him with one of the Millennium Bird trackers. It wouldn’t work outside of the zone they’d set up that day, but the record would show his behavior during the time lock after he’d escaped with the pin timepiece.

There had been many little green dots on the map that day as Fred and Lena had actually been doing the job they’d set out to do, but most of those were running around in the south. There had been one green dot, however, that appeared suddenly in the game area about 10 minutes before the time bomb had been stolen.

They could see Janus’s yellow dot almost brush his when he’d been chasing the earlier Pat down, around when he’d lost him briefly. The earlier Pat must have all but handed it off to his future self.

“He doubled back,” Remus commented when they watched the recorded data. It was a ballsy move and one that most people balked at, because there were inherent dangers any time you interacted with yourself from a different point in the timestream. It was ripe for paradoxes. It made everyone at the agency even more worried, because if he was willing to risk that, then what else was he willing to do?

Because of the lockdown of all nonessential time travel, people working for the TPI were not allowed to go home for the night. They were allowed to pick up anyone or anything dependent on them for care like kids and pets if there wasn’t someone in their home time to care for them, but other than that, they were unfortunately all sleeping in their offices for the foreseeable future.

“You are the only tolerable one,” Janus told the cat who upon being let loose in the office by Remus, immediately jumped on Janus’s lap.

“I have literally done nothing to you,” Lena said, but then added. “Yet.”

“You exist. In my space.”

“Can’t we just all get along?” asked Fred. “It’s only been an hour past when we’d usually go home. I went and grabbed milk and I have my giant thing of different flavored hot chocolate under my desk. We can try them all and vote on which is better.”

“Fuck your hot chocolate, Fred,” Janus growled, having been one of the three who had chipped in to buy it for him on his last birthday.

“Don’t go after Fred, jackass,” Lena spat.

“He’s just testy because his boyfriend escaped,” Remus contributed.

Janus’s lips turned down into a frown and he cupped Diesel Fuel’s face. “We agree we’re eating him first, right?” he asked her.

She purred her agreement.

“I’d have it no other way,” Remus replied.

“There is plenty of food,” Fred said, sounding stressed. “In fact, I was thinking we should all chip in on ordering take-out soon. “What does everyone like on pizza?”

“This is not a slumber party, Fred,” Janus pointed out.

“Shut it,” Lena snapped and turned to Fred. “I’m fine with almost everything, except…”

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

Janus rolled his eyes as that started a debate about whether or not fruit and/or fish belonged on pizza. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, which was when there was a knock on the door.

He froze when he heard the familiar voice. “Hello, hello,” said Emile, cheerfully. Janus looked up to see Emile standing at the open office door. Shit. Apparently, the man had decided to give up on sending lackeys to come fetch him and had decided to track him down himself when Janus couldn’t even escape without breaking a time lockdown. They met eyes briefly and Janus could see irritation if not anger in his eyes despite his otherwise cheerful expression and tone.

“Janus,” he said when he’d gotten their attention. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” The word choice told Janus everything he needed to know. Usually Emile was careful with how he said things to make sure people knew they had a choice. Typically he’d say something like, “I was wondering if you’d have time to have dinner with me tonight,” or “I’m about to go get food, would you like to come?” Today, there was no choice in the statement.

Janus still dried to dodge anyway. “Uh,” he said. “We were actually about to order pizza.”

“Go ahead,” said Fred kindly. Janus wanted to strangle him. “We can order pizza with olives if you’re not here.”

“I…” said Janus. “Guess, I’ll be going with you.”

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

“Now,” Emile said a bit of uncharacteristic steel to his tone.

Well, Janus was screwed. He swallowed his nervousness and got to his feet, taking Diesel Fuel with him. He turned to hand her off to Remus with a plea in his eye, but he just got an eyebrow raise in return. Traitor.

Then, he followed Emile out of the office door. “What would you like to eat?” asked Emile.

“Uh,” Janus said. “I don’t know. You asked me to eat, don’t you have any ideas?”

“I don’t actually,” Emile replied. Right.

“…Noddle Bar?” Janus threw out the nearest restaurant he knew.

“The one noodle restaurant? Sure,” Emile answered simply. They walked side by side out of the front doors of the TPI building. Janus actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken these stairs. He usually used his timepiece to get in and out.

The noodle bar was only moderately busy at this time. They were quickly able to find a table near the back and Emile pulled his menu up in front of him. Emile hummed as he flipped through the different displays. “What are you having?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said, only then pulling up the menu himself, but still not quite looking at it.

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

Janus shook his head. “I don’t like those,” he said.

Emile glanced at him through the menu displays. “You used to.” Fortune noodles were a bit cheekily named. They didn’t actually indicate anything about your future. They were just supposed to taste like what you wanted from your future. A grad student might experience a feeling like they’d just aced a paper. A child that they got to stay up an hour later that night. Janus had liked the experience when he was younger, but in recent years, he’d begun to taste the underlying chemicals in the dish until that’s all he could.

“Well,” Emile said lightly, eyes on his menu. “That makes me even more worried for your mental health than I already was because of the almost three years of you avoiding talking to me.”

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

“Forgive me,” Emile said, eyes now focused on Janus, and tone much darker. “How has your life been since I last saw your face 5 months ago during a business meeting and you refused to look me in the eye? Anything interesting happen? Shave your head and let it all regrow? Develop an allergy to peanuts? Join a convent and take an oath of silence that you only just broke today?”

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

“Great,” Emile said clipped. “Small talk over. Order your food.” Janus reached up blindly to select the first thing that came up on the food and drink menu as Emile punched something into his own and both menu displays disappeared, meaning there was nothing between their faces anymore. “You know, I was willing to give you a year,” Emile said. “I was willing to let you deal with it on your own because I thought eventually, you’d come talk to me about it, but apparently I was mistaken. The next year, I thought maybe you thought I didn’t want to talk to you, so I subtly made myself available, and you never took me up on the offer. I thought maybe I was just not being clear, and I should make my desire to talk to you more explicit, but as you have been routinely, clearly avoiding me at every single turn, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. So, let’s lay it all on the table. Is it me or do you need help?”

Janus closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

“Yes,” Emile snapped. “Whatever this is has gone on far too long.”

Janus stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. “And it’s going to keep going on!” he said. The food popped up at that moment. It appeared Janus had ordered lasagna and bubble tea, and Emile had ordered something with spaghetti and a fizzy drink.

“So, you’re just planning to go on being miserable then?” Emile asked, and Janus wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that he didn’t sound angry anymore.

14656

Janus slapped his hand down on the “To Go” button and his dinner was insta-wrapped by the table. “Yes,” he said.

“What exactly do you think you’re paying penance for, Janus?” Emile asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Janus said, paying for both of their meals with his fingerprint.

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Emile said. “All you’d have to do is talk to me. Or even just talk to someone else. Please.”

“Just…” Janus said, grabbing his bag of food to avoid looking at him. “Just, leave me be.” He walked out of the noodle shop without another word.

Chapter 10

“And I thought Remus was going to be the most disgusting roommate in this equation,” Lena grumbled. Janus and Lena were apparently the earlier risers in the group as Fred was still curled up around a pillow and Remus was sprawled out under his desk.

Janus flipped her off.

“Protein infused Poptarts and caffeinated orange juice for breakfast?” she asked. “Just eat an energy bar and have a cup of coffee like a normal person.”

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

“You’re a horrible roommate. This is why they gave us different partners.”

“Yeah, well you snore, asshole,” Janus said after finishing off his meal.

“I’d tell you to go eat shit, but you already did that once this morning.”

A pillow flew across the room and somehow managed to hit the both of them. “S’op fighting,” Fred mumbled. “It’s sleep time.”

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

Janus ignored them, turning back to his integration port to continue to keep plugging in phrases of interest, but he kept getting nothing.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked after a few moments of him huffing at his screen reader.

“Trying to do anything that may change our current living arrangements.”

She puffed out an amused breath. “Can I help?”

“Can you see any connection between these words and phrases?” he asked, pulling away his screen reader and tapping at the words he’d typed out.

“Paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback, love Bug, BB good, Mandy, Macy Misa, I believe, cool, that’s just the way we roll, burnin’ up,” she said. “What are these?”

“They’re things Pat said when we interrogated that struck me funny,” Janus explained. “I feel like he was saying something more than what he said.”

“Hmm,” she said. “PTI for the first three?”

“Maybe,” Janus agreed, “but what about the rest of it? I feel like I’m missing something.”

15080

“Millennia,” Remus mumbled from under his desk. Janus hadn’t been aware he was awake. “He said something something about it being the only time he could see the change of the millennia.” He turned his head to look at Janus. “Considering he’s a time traveler, that’s definitely a weird thing to say.”

“Millennia,” Janus contemplated. “A different turn of the millennia. Oh no.”

“What?” Lena asked.

Janus sighed, and rubbed his temple. “I know someone who studied the 1700-2200s.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No,” Janus groaned, “because now I have to go talk to him.” He stood with a sigh and then paused. “How do I even get to Silver Mountains University without my timepiece?”

Luckily Sliver Mountains ended up only being about an hour away from the TPI by time adherent travel, but considering Janus was used to his travel being instantaneous, it was an aggravating trip. He had to show ID and be buzzed up to the fourth floor since it was usually locked to everyone not traveling by timepiece or who worked in the office.

The receptionist was the same man as before. “I’m here to speak to Professor Eran,” Janus said.

The receptionist nodded. “He mentioned you asked to meet him but didn’t know when you’d arrive. He’ll be done teaching his class in about 5 minutes. You can wait over there.”

Janus nodded and sat, waiting for time to slowly tick by. Virgil arrived after a few minutes, lugging a giant bag with him. He caught sight of Janus and wordlessly jerked his head towards the hallway. Janus followed him.

“What’s in the bag?” Janus asked.

“Early 21st century cell phones,” Virgil said, dropping it on his desk. “I let my students mess around with them for their lab.”

“I see,” Janus said.

“What did you need?” Virgil asked. “You said it was official business.”

“You’ve heard about the lockdown, I presume,” Janus said.

“Yeah, it really screws up my research schedule for the summer,” Virgil said.

15412

“Do you know why the lockdown was instituted?” Janus asked. Virgil shook his head, so Janus explained briefly that they had been trying to find a timebomb on the eve of the year 3000, but it had been swiped by a free agent time traveler. “Some of the things seemed to be references to things that I couldn’t place, and I was wondering if you would recognize any.”

“Shoot,” Virgil requested, seeming intrigued by the prospect.

“Okay,” Janus said. “First, the alias he was using was Nick Jonas.” A weird expression crossed Virgil’s face immediately and Janus paused.

“You said the year 3000?” Virgil asked.

“Er. Yes.”

“Nick Jonas. Year 3000,” Virgil repeated with a snort. “Were Joe and Kevin a part of this too?”

Janus blinked. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“Yo-you’re going to have,” his sentence was broken by a giggle, and actual full-fledged giggle, “have to give me a minute.” With that, he sort of listed to the side and seemed to purposefully fall off his chair onto the floor under his desk.

Janus blinked and when he didn’t surface after a moment, he stood up to lean over the desk and look down at him. Virgil had his arm thrown over his beat red face, as he shook from what Janus thought was suppressed laughter.

“What?” Janus asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just…” Virgil said, sobbing through his laughter. “Just tell me the things he said.”

“Er, mostly he just had weird inflections on words and phrases. There was ‘paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback…’”

“Wait, stop,” Virgil said. “Let me guess a few. That’s Just the Way We Roll, Burnin’ Up, Sucker.”

“The first two were, but not the last one.”

Virgil laughed. “Maybe the last one was just implied.”

Janus frowned down. “What are you talking about? What does this all mean?”

Virgil pulled himself out from under his desk and grabbed his bag of phones. He dug through it for a few seconds before pulling one out and handing it to Janus. “I have a lab for my students where they get preloaded phones from the early 21st century and are supposed to guess the demographics of the person who owns it. This one is an iPhone 3 meant to belong to a pre-teen to teenage girl from the year 2009. Look under music artists starting with the letter ‘J.’”

15810

Confused, Janus scrolled through the old style phone, finding the music app and opening it easily. Upon getting to the ‘J’s, he immediately paused on an artist called the ‘Jonas Brothers.’ He clicked on it and read a few of the song titles. They weren’t all there, but…

“That rat bastard,” Janus said.

“Scroll to the bottom,” Virgil said. Janus did and found a song titled ‘Year 3000.’

“You’re kidding me.”

“Click on it,” Virgil requested.

Janus did, listening to the fairly standard pop like intro from the time period. It wasn’t until he got to the lyrics saying, ‘He told me he built a time machine’ that he cursed, understanding exactly what Pat had been doing. When the singer a few lines latter proclaimed that his neighbor said ‘I’ve been to the year 3000’ he almost smashed the artifact to pieces right then and there.

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Virgil said, “but he’s a comedic genius.”

Chapter 11

Khalid caught him on his way back into the TPI building. “I heard you went to Silver Mountains to follow up on a lead,” she said.

“Yeah, but it was garbage,” he seethed. “All I learned was ‘Pat’ knows early 2000s popular culture and likes to fuck with us.”

She hummed. “I’d still like a report about whatever you found. Who knows what we might end up getting from seemingly inconsequential data.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I have a mission for you.”

“We’re on lockdown,” Janus pointed out with a frown.

“For nonessentials,” she said. “This is essential.”

“What happened?” Janus asked.

“We picked up a small time distortion in France 2027. At the moment, it is small enough not to cause any disruptions, but it is slowly growing, and we don’t know what caused it. Usually we’d just send surveillance agents at this stage, but considering what’s going on, I think it would be best to send a field agent. And it would just be you, because we don’t want to send too many people out at once.”

“Is this related to the time bomb?” Janus asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “At the very least, it’s not it being set off as it was in 2999, but if it’s been altered for some other purpose…”

“I’ll go,” Janus said.

“I’ll send over the mission directive to everyone who needs it. You’ll go in around 3 hours.”

He nodded. “I’ll be ready,” he agreed.

In less then 3 hours, he was dressed for 2027 France and in decontamination. “Well,” he said out loud when he was given the all clear sign, “I hope I don’t explode.” He selected the coordinates on the timepiece and the next moment he was in a small alleyway in the city of Montpellier, France in 2027.

It was a little bit warm, but not stifling even in the mid-afternoon and he could faintly smell the sea on the breeze.

After a moment to get his bearings, Janus made his way out of the alleyway and onto a small street. The street was lined with restaurants and shops as people went about their daily lives. He carefully integrated himself into the crowd and began weaving his way through them. He needed to find the source of the distortion but doing a quick scan with his timepiece told him there wasn’t any sign of it yet. He’d have to wait for it to act up.

For now, he decided to get slightly away from people by heading towards the river. He found a park that had benches along water.

As he walked towards the river, he noticed a man on the bench, angled slightly away from Janus and looking out at the water. He immediately recognized the man. “You!” he exclaimed.

Pat’s head shot around to look at him, and he gave a slight head tilt. Then, he smiled, amused. “You are not the person I’m here for,” he said.

“Well, I am now,” Janus snapped. “Where’s the time bomb?”

“Time bomb?” Pat asked, eyebrows drawing together, but amusement on his lips. “Oh sweetie, the time bomb happened a long time ago for me.”

“What?” Janus asked.

“Oh, you’re just a baby,” Pat laughed. “Don’t you get it yet? The two of us are out of sync timeline wise. You’ve been apparently running around with a much younger version of me, but all of that happened quite a while ago for me. Don’t worry though, it gets better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The time bomb has been long deactivated. Here,” he reached into his pocket and tossed him something. Janus caught it on instinct. “Proof. Don’t worry, we took all of the dangerous bits out years ago from my perspective.” It was the core of a time bomb, the time bomb Pat had stolen if he was to be believed. “You can tell your people it’s safe to remove the lockdown.”

Janus curled his fingers around it. “I don’t get it.”

Something on Pat’s wrist beeped and he looked at it curiously before he stood from the bench, “and I don’t have time to explain it.”

Janus jerked forward to grab his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”

Pat reached up to pat his face. “Don’t worry honey, you’ll be seeing me later.” He twisted his wrist and a small electric current sparked between them. Janus jerked his hand away, and Pat smiled at him. “Or… earlier.” He winked, and then he was gone.

Janus cursed, but he didn’t have more than a moment to be angry because in the next second there was a yelp, and something landed on top of him. He was bowled over into a tangle of limbs and pained noises.

“Oh my god, we need to figure out the height thing,” a familiar voice groaned, just as Janus managed to pull himself away. Pat blinked up at him and his eyes narrowed. “You,” he hissed.

“…What?”

Pat jumped to his feet, leaving Janus on the ground in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he spat, his tone much different then the one he’d been using a moment earlier. His hair was longer than it had been before, and if Janus looked closely, he did seem like he was a couple of years younger suddenly. Out of sync timelines. I’ll see you earlier. Holy shit.

He was suddenly very glad he’d been forced to let the other Pat (the older Pat?) go, else they’d have a whole thing on their hands.

“What are you doing here?” was Janus’s retort as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“It’s none of your business,” Pat told him.

“It is my business,” Janus said, “because for all I know, you are the cause of the time distortions I’m after. Considering that I doubt you have a license for that,” he waved at the odd looking timepiece of Pat’s wrist, “it’s very possible.”

“What are you?” Pat asked, “the time police.”

“Yes.”

Pat dared to roll his eyes, but then he tilted his head slightly. “Time distortions?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

He still had a confused frown on his face. Did… did he not know what a time distortion was?

Just then there was a sudden flash of lightening through the sky despite the absolutely lack of clouds. He and Pat both looked up.

“Is that the time distortion?” Pat asked.

“It’s probably the beginning of it,” Janus said.

“That doesn’t look good,” Pat said as he squinted at the sky.

“Just wait,” Janus answered grimly. He looked at Pat. “Usually I’d arrest you on the spot,” he said, “but I’m alone for this one, and that is far more important at the moment. So, have a nice day doing whatever bullshit you are doing.” He glanced at his timepiece.

Janus turned to walk away from him.

“Wait!” Pat exclaimed, and Janus turned back to him to see that his eyes were wide. Janus raised an eyebrow. “So, this time distortion thing is dangerous, right?”

“Depending on the severity, it could cause time to fracture around this place and time, basically erasing it from existence and killing everyone in it.”

“Well, in that case, I should go with you. To help.”

Janus looked him up and down. “You… have no idea what’s happening, do you? You’re an amateur.”

“I’m not,” he claimed. “I just. Pooling resources. You know?”

Janus sighed. “Well, you going around mucking about this time period without knowing what you’re doing could just exasperate the situation, so fine, you can tag along.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he grumbled even as he rushed to Janus’s side at the permission.

“Sure,” Janus said with an eyeroll. He guessed he was a babysitter now. “I believe you.”

Chapter 12

There was something off about his readings. Clearly the time distortion was starting to pull at this place with the way the weather was flickering between storming and sunny, but he still couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the source of it. He could, however, get that it must be somewhere on this side of the river more into the downtown area, so that’s the way he was walking, Pat close on his heels.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked.

Janus shot him a glare. “Elvis Presley,” he said.

Pat frowned, clearly knowing who that was. “There’s no reason to be mean.”

“You did it to me first.”

“…Introduced myself as a famous musician?” he asked. Janus didn’t respond, and after a moment, Pat laughed lightly. “You really don’t understand time travel, do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Janus said. “Name the three types of time distortions.”

“Just because I don’t know the names of things doesn’t mean I don’t understand them.” He stuck out his tongue. Janus was dealing with an actual toddler. “Unlike you who has a bunch of fancy words, but just caused a time loop.”

Janus scoffed. “I did not just cause a time loop.”

“Maybe not a big one,” Pat agreed, “but you did.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never introduced myself to you with a musician’s name, but now you’ve told me that I will. So, at some point in the future I will have to, thereby making you think to say that now. Time loop.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t count.”

“Does too,” Pat claimed. “Like I have said once before and you may or may not have heard me say before, anything you do to me to get back at me for something I haven’t done yet, just causes whatever that is to happen in the first place.”

“But you’re still going to do it.”

“Then take it up with future me. I haven’t done anything to you.” Then he paused and sighed. “…Which I guess means you’ve done nothing to me.” He seemed to mull this concept over for a long moment. “Well you were a bit crabby about me not knowing what a time distortion was, but I can forgive you for that.”

“And I’m supposed to forgive you?”

“Like I said,” Pat said. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You also haven’t done anything to endear yourself to me either,” Janus grumbled.

“Hmm,” Pat said. “Fine.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “You’re obviously not having much luck finding whatever you’re looking for. Tell me what it is and I’ll help.”

Janus squinted at what was in his hand. “Is that… an iPhone 5?”

“No!” he said. “It’s super-secret time travel tech disguised as an iPhone 5!”

“We’re in 2027,” Janus said. “Not a great disguise. Those things have been obsolete for a decade.”

“Well I’ll keep in mind to have my tech disguised as phones from the right year next time,” Pat said, sticking out his tongue. “Now what are we looking for?”

“If my timepiece can’t find it, I’m certain yours can’t.”

Pat rolled his eyes and tapped on the device’s screen a couple of times. “I’m going to guess it’s that,” he said proudly.

Janus leaned over to look at the screen. “Are you using google maps?” he sputtered.

“It integrates time relevant data like traffic conditions and local weather warnings with time travel technology,” Pat explained. “Something seems to be going on in a museum a couple of blocks that way.”

“I…” Janus said. That was actually a really good idea, usually unnecessary with scouts observing that data beforehand, and Janus wasn’t sure how good the accuracy would be considering whatever was taking it into account was automated, but still a good idea. “Well, I guess since we have no other leads, we can check it out.”

Pat looked far too proud for having only used a piece of tech that hadn’t even been confirmed as accurate. “Then, let’s go,” he said right as a chilly wind started to pick up and a couple of snowflakes began to fall around them. “Before that gets worse…”

Janus let Pat lead with his iPhone. Janus’s timepiece still wasn’t picking up a clear signal for some reason, but it seemed to point in the same general direction as Pat’s. Strangely though, as they got closer to their destination, the signal started to get fuzzier. Pat’s tech seemed unaffected leading them closer to the museum.

When they got to the Musée Fabre museum, Janus stopped. “What?” Pat asked. He was shivering slightly in the cold and holding his arms around himself.

“My timepiece stopped working completely,” he said.

“I’m assuming that’s weird?” Pat said.

“It is,” Janus confirmed, turning to squint at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not the one doing it?”

“If I was doing it, wouldn’t I have just knocked it out from the get go?” Pat questioned.

Janus pursed his lips. “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you have? Maybe it’s a trick.”

Pat’s eyes narrowed a bit on him. “Think what you want, but I’m freezing. Come in with me if you want.”

He dithered from a few moments before following Pat inside. Pat had already struck up a conversation with the woman charging admission into art museum. She was looking at him, her brow knit as he spoke. Janus nudged him away from her getting a confused glance from him in return. He shot a smile at the woman.

“Two adult passes for the museum and the Hotel Sabatier d’Espevran, please,” he said, placing down 14 euro.

“Ah,” she said, still looking at Pat oddly. “Yes sir.” She gave them the passes and Janus quickly shuffled Pat away.

“What is wrong with your French?” he hissed once they were out of earshot.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“You sound like you’re reading Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. No one talks like that anymore.”

“I’m a little rusty,” Pat defended himself.

“Two centuries?” Janus asked. Pat stuck his tongue out like a child once again. “Is that your only way to respond to legitimate criticism?”

“What does it even matter anyway? No one ever expects time travel, at least not for something so silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Janus said. “It’s a legitimate issue. The wrong person who’s watched too much science fiction notices and you’re putting the timeline at risk. Not to mention if there are other time travelers around that aren’t as nice as me.”

“Are there a lot of time travelers around?” Pat asked, sounding intrigued.

“There are plenty, both legal and not.”

“Huh,” he said, “but what are the chances we’ll run into another one?”

“Considering the time distortion? There could be many. Opportunists wanting to capitalize off the chaos, people trying to stop it, like me, and not to mention the person who caused it.”

“Wait, someone made it happen?” Pat asked.

“These things don’t just happen naturally.”

“Huh. So, something like this has to be caused by a person?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “…Why?”

Pat smiled. “No reason. I think we should head upstairs. Whatever I’m picking up says it’s around here, but I don’t see anything. Maybe it’s a floor or two above us.”

“Which is why it’s ridiculous to use Google Maps.”

“Would you rather use yours?” he asked sweetly.

“I’m still not convinced it’s not your doing,” Janus growled. “Why does your tech still work when mine doesn’t?”

“Probably the same reason the ring did,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You may be the most aggravating being in the universe.”

Pat glanced at him with a bit of a smirk. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “It would be a much bigger risk to the timeline than me speaking in French from the 1830s. But, I’m pretty sure the reason mine still works is just a software difference.”

“What the hell do you mean a software difference?”

Pat opened his mouth, doubtlessly to supply him with yet another frustratingly cheeky and unhelpful answer. Yet, Pat did not have a chance to do so as, just as Janus stepped onto the second floor of the museum, the ground started to violently shake. Janus tried to turn to catch Pat as the other man’s foot slipped on the last step, but he couldn’t do so in time. Pat fell onto his hands and knees, sliding back a few steps and smacking his face into the stairs hard once and then a couple of times more after that as he slid.

Chapter 13

The room stopped shaking after a moment. “Ow,” Pat said. He seemed a bit stunned but was still moving at least. He carefully maneuvered himself into a seating position. “Ouch. Owie.” He reached up to poke his own nose. “Ow!” Janus slapped his hand away when he got there. A bit of blood was already trickling from his nose and there was a small cut over his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding too much.

Janus pushed him so he was leaning slightly forward and produced a pack of time appropriate tissues from his pocket. He pulled one out of the package and offered it to him.

He took it and pressed it up against his nose to try to stop the bleeding. He seemed mostly alright though Janus imagined he’d have plenty of bruises down the line. The power in the museum flickered and Janus looked up. Now that he was listening, he could hear people panicking in and out of the museum.

“We should probably get off of the stairs,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Pat agreed. Janus helped him to his feet, and they climbed back up the steps. Janus looked around and found an employees only sign a few feet away. Usually he’d not risk that as it could get him into trouble he didn’t want to be in, but considering the earthquake that had just happened, he could probably play it off as panic.

He ushered Pat into a small room and found a chair and table. He had Pat sit in the chair and pulled out another one of the tissues to dab at the blood coming from the cut over his eyes. “Here,” he said. “Hold that there. I’m going to go see if there are any bandages about.”

Pat took the tissue with the hand not already holding one to his nose. “Thanks,” he said.

Janus nodded and got to his feet. The lights flickered once again but didn’t stay off for now. He didn’t know how long that would last.

19053

He couldn’t see anything that might hold bandages in this room, but there was a second door. “I’ll be right back,” he told Pat, exiting through it.

The lights flickered once more as the door closed behind him and he cursed. When they came back up Janus’s eyes immediately fell on a man. They both froze.

“Remus!” Janus hissed the second their eyes met. “What are you doing here?”

Remus blinked at him for a moment. “Hi. Janus,” he said. “I… come to France for tea sometimes?”

“There isn’t any tea back here.”

“So, there isn’t…” he said. There was a moment of silence. “Uh, so I actually cannot talk to you right now.”

#study break stories #not writing

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