#i am actually more correct than him always. i know them. they r my close personal friends and actually they live in my ribcage

[softboyscully]

chris carter thought scully and mulder shouldnt be together bc they wouldnt want to investigate the x files anymore if they did. does he know how wrong he is abt his own characters

#i am actually more correct than him always. i know them. they r my close personal friends and actually they live in my ribcage #msr #mudler #scully #dana scully #fox mulder #chris carter #x files #the x files

[starry-blue-echoes]

Okay, I just got here. Sorry for intruding and I'm kind of freaking out about part 4 of Star Swap.

Because there are two Jotaros. Why is nobody talking about the fact that there are two Jotaros? Am I missing something??? 

Unless I am completely failing in Star Swap lore, in order to not become super convoluted and insane, a universe is localized to a Swap… probably? Anyway from what I understand three universes have an event happening in them and Star Swap is a series… except there's also an OLDER Jotaro here in Part 4! which would be the same Jotaro that experienced part 4 as Josuke! Which is causing problems in my brain.

… I was thinking it's either Joseph and Giono is the exception -Thanks to Hermit Purple Rrequiem- and swaps actually jumps across universes making Older Part 4 Jotaro have that Canon backstory.

…Or… hear me out..

 JoJo

 Specifically, Jotaro gets some of that Time Jumpy Amnesia and has not a single fucking clue what happened to himself.

JUST HIM 

No one else

He is the sole one that gets bonk with a forgot stick

For all Jotaro knows: he blacked out, got possessed, and went to Egypt. Everything went well. His mom got cured and people survived, but STILL. said person that possessed him made a bunch of friends and now Jotaro has to deal with them. HE has to rely on other people's information to figure out what the hell HAPPENED.

Jotaro still gets that Battle Experience in and gets those cryptic forgotten fog of memories from the trip But Yeah

Jotaro has no idea what happened to him when that guy was possessing him. Jotaro doesn't know! he doesn't remember shit!!! All people got is theories.

I have a lot of thoughts and this is probably not even an issue.ARGGGG

.. I'm here thinking that for The Star Swap parts 3 and 4 to connect in an interesting way is Memory Blockage or else Part 4 Older Jotaro would have to walk on fucking eggshells if something wasn't blocking his memories because if he talks or says anything that doesn't link up then he breaks time. Jotaro's fault for actively getting involved!

Probably. I don't know!!! I'm just thinking!!! 

you're correct, Parts 3 and 4 have been criminally neglected amongst all this chaos, so this is p e r f e c t

to clarify the universe shenanigans of everything: I've always been thinking that each "set" exists in its own universe. 1 and 6, 2 and 5, and then 3 and 4 all exist in their own sort of "pocket universe" just so we don't need to keep track of of all the inevitable changes and how they influence each other

that being said, funnily enough what you've brought up with Jotaro is REALLY close to what I've been imagining too!

Jotaro is So Fucking Lost when he wakes up back home. He feels like complete and utter shit and is covered in more bandages than he's ever had before. The last thing he remembers is his mom leaving after visiting him in the prison cell after he tried to shoot himself with Star Platinum

only...... when did Star Platinum have a name? When had it stopped being an evil spirit?

when had he stopped being scared of it?

Kakyoin and Joseph are of course INCREDIBLY worried by Jotaro's apparent and very sudden shift in personality. And of course, this panic only multiplies when they find they think Jotaro's stand has been changed as well. They immediately think it's a Stand attack......

but then Holly steps forward and denies this. That this is how Jotaro normally acts and more importantly, that she remembers seeing Star in the jail

now, technically this might be bending the rules a little bit, but I think it would be interesting to give Holly some..... memory weirdness. Maybe we can tie it into her Stand somehow, or maybe it's just For The Plot, but Holly has two distinct sets of memories before she collapsed from her illness

One where Jotaro comes home with her, quiet and awkward and open in a way he hadn't been since he was a child. And another where he refused to leave and shot himself in an attempt to goad a spirit hovering over his shoulder

this then raises the incredibly uncomfortable idea that the Jotaro they'd gone to Egypt with was the imposter. That there had been a fake in their midst the entire time and they never knew. Was he working with Dio? Another group? What was his goal? Why had he done it? And of course, the biggest question of all, where was Jotaro the entire time and why doesn't he remember?

because it's obvious Jotaro was somewhere. He has skills and knowledge he hadn't before. He's different, he's grown in some ways, but has receded in others

Electricity and loud sounds terrify him in a way that can't be described as simple fear

they do what they can to help and figure things out, but they can never find any leads. It actually during these investigations that Jotaro decides to start working with the Speedwagon Foundation on the side and "rekindles" his friendships with the Crusaders

(he finds himself drawn to Kakyoin at times. Or to be more specific, he's drawn to his Stand. The colors and shapes and eyes all feel so tantalizingly familiar, and sometimes he finds himself talking to the being as if expecting a response)

years go by, and the fog around his memories stays. It bothers him less as more time passes and he makes new memories with people who had a headstart on their relationship, but there's always a quiet niggling in the back of his mind about what could've happened

and then a decade later he finds a boy with a different face but identical Stand and temperament to match

#star swap #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #jjba part 3 #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #star platinum #jjba kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin #jjba holly #holly kujo #sb answers #angstaceanon

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 2: Saidin

I am running out of pictures so rapidly it's alarming. It's as if I've moved beyond the territory of the show and the comic books and so all we've got left is text, which is apparently terrible for engagement. Also terrible for engagement is warning people about spoilers, which is why I won't tell anyone who doesn't already know that this post contains spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time series. Come right in and make lots of outraged replies about how I've ruined everything for you instead.

This chapter starts with the dragon's fang symbol, probably because it's literally called "Saidin" and Rand will be fucking things up with it.

All the women who came insisted on speaking to Moiraine immediately, and alone. The news that Moiraine chose to share with the rest of them did not always seem very important, but the women held the intensity of a hunter stalking the last rabbit in the world for his starving family.

It's almost like they're working for an Aes Sedai, and not just any Aes Sedai but one of the few left who tries to live up to the old standard. I'd think that pretty important too unless I was literally dyingn of thirst.

Or ever, he added to himself. Moiraine had kept them there all winter. The Shienarans did not think she gave the orders, not here, but Perrin knew that Aes Sedai somehow always seemed to get their way. Especially Moiraine.

I get that you're stir-crazy bro but do you really WANT to be wandering the wilderness in the middle of winter, fighting battles that you can avoid by staying still? What alternatives do you have other than "Don't do what Moiraine wants because she's Aes Sedai"?

“The Tinker woman is going to die,” she said softly, eyeing the others near the fires. None was close enough to hear.

It's times like this you can remember why Min doesn't particularly want her powers. She's probably seen quite a few people who were going to die soon by this point, just because when you walk by so many people in a city it's bound to happen sooner or later.

“Is that her name? I wish I didn’t know. It always makes it worse, knowing and not being able to. . . . Perrin, I saw her own face floating over her shoulder, covered in blood, eyes staring. It’s never any clearer than that.” She shivered and rubbed her hands together briskly.

I wonder if these omens she sees are realistic enough to be as traumatizing as seeing the actual thing.

He thought of the wolves. No! The scouts would find anyone or anything trying to approach the camp.

Good job helping fulfill Min's prophecy, Perrin. Things might have been different if you'd used your resources to your fullest advantage.

She had told him; she had tried warning people about bad things when, at six or seven, she had first realized not everyone could see what she saw. She would not say more, but he had the impression that her warnings had only made matters worse, when they were believed at all.

Poor Min.

It had made him cautious and careful, and regretful of his anger when he let it show. “I am sorry, Min. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I did not mean to hurt you.” She gave him a surprised look.

Really I think my problem with Perrin is that it's very obvious that he has completely over-corrected for problems in the past to the point where he's now too afraid to do much of anything on his own.

“Strange,” she said softly, “how you seem to care so much about the Tuatha’an. They are utterly peaceful, and I always see violence around—” He turned his head away, and she cut off abruptly.

And again, it's other women tearing Perrin apart with words much more than him hurting them physically or emotionally. Perrin's problem is that at heart he absolutely agrees that violence is damaging even in self-defense but he exists in an Age where that self-defense is very necessary.

She rolled her eyes at Perrin, a wry twist to her mouth. “All I wanted was to live as I pleased, fall in love with a man I chose. . . .” Her cheeks reddened suddenly, and she cleared her throat.

1. Min, almost no one chooses who they fall in love with. 2. You're lucky you're blabbering in front of Perrin and Loial and not anyone with an understanding of love because for all your "don't like to talk about your visions" thing, you sure are signposting it for everyone.

The Ogier looked at them, suddenly shy, his ears twitching. “Promise you will not laugh? I think I might write a book about it. I have been taking notes.”

Really, you could argue that Loial has hardly been swept up into the ta'veren stuff at all yet. If he'd met anyone so interesting as Rand and crew, he might have chosen to go traveling with them anyway. After all, his choosing to leave the groves had nothing to do with them.

Uno, who could hardly say a sentence without a curse, spoke now with the deepest respect. The others echoed him. “Honor to serve.” Masema, who saw ill in everything, and whose eyes now shone with utter devotion; Ragan; all of them, awaiting a command if it were Rand’s pleasure to give one.

While Rand of course dislikes this treatment, I do think that having to deal with this for a few months is the start of his arrogance. You can't be treated like this by every normal person you spend time with without it starting to rub off on you.

And aside from Moiraine and Lan, there were only the three of them—Min, Loial, and him—who did not stare at Rand as if he stood above kings. And of the three only Perrin knew him from before.

It's rather unfortunate that Perrin instinctively understands why Rand needs him here and tosses that aside much later on in the story. All three of the boys seem to backslide a bit as a result of what happens to them.

A man—a thing!—everyone was taught to loathe and fear from childhood. Only . . . it was hard to stop seeing the boy he had grown up with. How do you just stop being somebody’s friend?

Prejudices - even really rational ones like "Don't trust the dudes who can and will melt you in their sleep" - tend to have a hard time sticking around in the face of empathy, which Perrin to his credit does have a lot of. It's why he's a little better at dealing with this stuff than Mat.

He began to laugh mirthlessly, his shoulders shaking. “I have the duty, because there isn’t anybody else, now is there?”

Rand's not going mad from the taint here, but rather from the reality of his position finally setting in. The weight of the world is on his shoulders so it's understandable that he's cracking under the strain. And that more than anything is why Moiraine is right to have him wait - if he did go out onto the Plain in this state he'd probably snap in battle instead of thrive like he has before.

Perrin almost laughed himself, in confusion. “If you agree with her, why in the Light do you argue all the time?” “Because I have to do something. Or I’ll . . . I’ll—burst like a rotted melon!”

Like Perrin, Rand's big problem in this sequence is that he doesn't have any viable alternatives and just whines a lot instead. There's a lot Rand could be doing (more training with Lan, trying to learn politics from Moiraine, studying with Loial, etc.) but instead of dedicating himself to his fate he just laments all the deaths that are happening in his name instead. This is naturally only going to lead to more problems down the line.

Rand shivered; despite the chill, there was sweat on his face. His eyes were still shut tight. “Oh, Light,” he groaned, “it pulls so.”

Nope, this isn't taint madness either (I will be doing my best to demonstrate to you why NONE of his craziness in this book can be chalked up to that specifically). Remember: Rand is a wilder and he's still in that awkward "could easily draw enough power to burn himself out because he doesn't even know the proper exercises for starting out with the power" phase.

Rand stood with his head thrown back, his eyes still shut tight. He did not seem to feel the thrashing of the ground that had him now at one angle, now at another. His balance never shifted, no matter how he was tossed. Perrin could not be certain, being shaken as he was, but he thought Rand wore a sad smile. The trees flailed about, and the leatherleaf suddenly cracked in two, the greater part of its trunk crashing down not three paces from Rand. He noticed it no more than he noticed any of the rest.

The land and Rand are one, so he externalizes his temper tantrum out onto the world to avoid having to acknowledge his actual feelings.

Rand looked around as if seeing things for the first time. The fallen leatherleaf, and the broken branches. There was, Perrin realized, surprisingly little damage. He had expected gaping rents in the earth. The wall of trees looked almost whole.

And of course, Rand hasn't really addressed any of his internal issues so while he's a little disheveled, nothing has actually changed.

“They’re always there, dreams,” Rand said, so softly Perrin barely heard. “Maybe they tell us things. True things.” He fell silent, brooding.

Rand is of course also snapping under the pressure of Ba'alsy's TAR campaign. The lack of good sleep is already catching up to him here and it's not going to be getting better anytime soon.

Ah well. Next time: News!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #perrin aybara #leya #min farshaw #loial #rand al'thor #uno nomesta #masema dagar #ragan

[azuryuu]

💓 ✏️ 💧 💥

Hee hoo

hee hoo hee - here r more cringe lore. he's so fucking cringe you should put him down. you should clown on him. do it. do it for me.

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

coffee. when he drinks too much of it, it gives him heart palpitations. 

any amount of exercise or high impact sports will also get the blood pumping for sure. his heart also tends to race whenever he feels the adrenaline rushing before a test ala pre-exam jitters. or during an exam when he’s not even halfway through the questions yet, but more than half of the exam time has already passed and he has to speed up and pick up his slack or when only 3 minutes are left and yuu has one more paragraph to finish, so yuu has to write at the speed of sound, no time for mistakes. those moments really gets him going.

of course, he loves the adrenaline and the way his heart starts racing when he’s doing something he knows he shouldn’t be doing, messing with someone or stealing something or otherwise committing something foul and villainous and wretched and dastardly. he loves it when he has a close call, when he is so close to being caught in the act, but gets away with it in the end. the best kind of rush making the rewards even more satisfying.

and who can resist the sheer satisfaction he feels when someone he dislikes is floundering, struggling, trying but failing to understand something that yuu understands easily, simply, naturally. when yuu knows that someone he dislikes is wrong about something, and he is only seconds away from correcting them and getting to see them flustered and lose their composure, flapping their chops and stumbling for words to try and retort, failing miserably and embarrassingly.

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

quote:

“isn’t it funny, how you can live so near and never notice.” — not-them, the magnus archives, mag 3: across the street.

“my manipulations were not intricate, but they were far beyond what was expected of a child my age, and i have always believed that the key to manipulating people is to ensure that they always under- or over-estimate you. never reveal your true abilities or plans.” — annabelle cane, the magnus archives, mag 147: weaver.

lyric:

“i, alone, am like a swaying rootless weed./ on this seething, seething loop line,/ there’s none— there’s no terminal stop./ farewell, darling, darling, darling,/ on the endlessly looping loop,/ keep on walking alone miserably, young lady.” — リンネ (rinne)/samsara.

“there is no flower in this world more beautiful than an artificial one./ that’s because everything is manufactured from lies.” — フォニイ/phony.

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

yuu was bullied for as long as he could remember. since the day he could remember, up until the last day of highschool, he was always othered by his peers. in his younger days, for his bizarre mannerism and appearance. in highschool, for his disposition and a title he never asked for. despite being class president, people would isolate him and scribble derogatory insults onto the back of his white uniform shirt or pour an assortment of liquid on him to humiliate him.

classmates would relay all their menial tasks to him, even things that yuu shouldn’t have been doing alone, like cleaning the classroom at the end of the day or carrying stacks of dirty food plates to the bin at the cafeteria, expecting him to simply carry along without a word, not being able to complain because he’s “just doing his task right, oh so great class president.” or fight back because “a real class president shouldn’t mouth off and just do his job right?”. he was only considered class president if it suited the class, otherwise he was more invisible than air, worse than trash.

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

yuu actually has good control over his own emotions, and he doesn’t really fight or repress any of them. he’s experienced and mature, he knows how to identify his emotions and deal with them, so he can parse feelings like sadness and anger and embarrassment or humiliation with relative ease. negative thoughts and misery are things he keeps as company so he’d rarely act out because of them. i suppose more positive emotions are ones he has less experience in? even then, yuu wouldn’t fret over it too much. he’ll accept them graciously. yuu has no trouble accepting praise or love. so, of all of them, i think the one feeling yuu absolutely despise is feeling helpless. not knowing what to do, not knowing how to do something, not knowing. he hates it. he doesn’t like how it makes him feel small and weak and powerless. he doesn’t like how it opens him up to being taunted at and jeered at by others for his shortcomings. it’s something that yuu would seek to rectify as fast as he can, and yuu has already gotten over his struggle of asking for support. he wants to resolve something by himself, but if he needs help he’s going to ask for it.

overall, yuu is very nonchalant. he doesn’t see the point of feeling emotions strongly. superlatives like “love” or “hate” or “jubilation” or “ire” or “attraction” or “revulsion” or “admiration” or “jealousy” are a waste of his time because he doesn’t let himself be affected or bothered by things external to himself, which in turn makes him emotionally resilient. to feel strongly because of other people or by circumstances outside of himself means to be vulnerable to the whims of other people and circumstances, which he frankly couldn’t care less of and are ultimately uncontrollable and unpredictable. but his thoughts and feelings and actions? those are things he can control and those are the things he anchors himself on.

#yuu stranger lore #twst mc #twst yuu #-; yuu stranger lore #-; ramblings #ento

[tiny-tigers]

Apologies in advance if I miss any points!!

I didn't know Jack had dogs?! 😅 Fred posts his constantly...! Also I think Charlie now lives and works in London so Fred is there a lot to see him (since the other part of their trio is in Oz) Also I kind of like that Jack rarely posts when in Norfolk (not for your sake 😢) but it shows how protective of it he is and probably that his farming plans for post rugby are actually pretty serious?? The less info he shares about the where of that the better...! Clever guy!

Oooh a Cam and Molly wedding would be immense!! But rugby players at weddings stress me outttt 😅 they get too drunk and all class goes out the window...👀😭

You're right, Ellis is a great character! Love watching any podcast he's on - also love how close him and Fred seem to be 🥰 I think he really looked out for Fred when he was the only baby tiger in England camp ❤️ and they seem to have a similar sense of humour! (the punching pics in England camp cracked me up) there's a video of it too...😂👌🏻

You probably would have better luck reaching out by DM! I was going to suggest that but wasn't sure if you'd already tried it! 💕

The more I think about it, the more I think that DK and Fred are on some level the actual besties of the group - I know Fred and Jack have history through Norfolk and they clearly get on so well, but with DK, the friendship seems a bit more lowkey and that sometimes shows a different kind of closeness? They met at uni so they share the same lough friends, whereas Jack has been introduced to them all as a friend of a friend, and the article where DK rang Freddie straight after his family to tell him of his England call up (before he got injured)! Also that video of Fred jumping on his back after the game at Welford road the other month was so adorable 🙈 And I think the greek holiday was couples only, if all the single lads went along then it would become a lad thing and the girls would be on the sidelines a bit! 🥴 It will be SO interesting to see whether their dynamic changes if Dan moves out with R though...will Jack or Ollie move in?? will Guy?? Will Frederico live all aloneeee 😢

And oh my goodness where have you seen that about Fred?! 😳😢 I hope they never see this stuff, can you imagine how uncomfortable it would be seeing complete strangers sexualise you...!

Fred might laugh about him but I think he is really serious about farmwork. He might even be more rich from that than from his rugby career even tho I never seen him spending any money in weird expensive stuffs so he might still have a lot of money on the side. I saw scrum halves were very badly paid but he doesn't have university loans.

I always forgot you didn't follow them since the beginning. 🙈 So it isn't obvious he has dogs and always had. The one in claudia's arms is Hazel but I do not know the name od the others :((((.

But I think Fred's dad is doing some breeding ?? Idk ??? Which explains all the dogs of Fred.

Well it is not everyday he is called clever 🤣 so I Will take it. He is not that dumb I am just kidding because for example he unfollowed some people who were just money 🎣 athletes. And I guess being a bit a dummy is part of his charm like his lisp 😊I think it is adorable but when you start hearing it you only here that 🤣 and when he is anxious it is getting worse it might be because he had gap teeth when little that they corrected. It is weird he doesn't talk about it because I think it might be as annoying as stuttering and it is not his accent but real lisp.

Oh you have nooooo idea 🙄😬😬😬 I have heard of stuffs and 🙃🤡🙃 anyways...

I love the honnesty of Ellis ??? And yeah all podcast are very interesting.

Well my friends advised me not to DM him and he will be at camp so it isn't good timing but I am a bit desperate about it because now that England machinery is back on track he will surely not have time for that.... I might see it in past October like really 🤡 Idk what to do any more to attract his attention and I think it is a bit rude since he knows I am waiting and he still came everyday in stories ??? Like Hello !???. Sir ???? You have time to watch the page so at least answer the damn request or just leave. At this point I guess he hasn't even read the message I wanted or he is completely disconected from what they send to him because otherwise it is mad to took the pain to look all the stories without answering that request. It's why I was skeptical about his reasons to be lazy.... Is it because it's me ?¿¿¿¿ (even looks a bit presomptuous to think it would change anything )

I think Fred and J are brotherly bonded and DK and Fred besties because he has "chosen" DK when he is used to J . Really not the same. J and Fred they had minis and academy together and their Norfolk skin bond and now England careers basically childhood friends so they might have been friends for 17 years easily ??? Who can beat that ??? So I agree that DK is different and more a friend in the way you became friends when you are a grown up.

Yeah but still weird to me DK went off with George Martin ???

Oh no I think they are both nice in their share house dynamics Ollie and Cam must control J 😂🤣 imagine with Fred oh no. Also their houses are in the same street so... And Fred still has the other Ollie ???

Guy will have Harry potter out of the share house he has with Jed Walsh tho.

In real life people were waiting for Fred or J and I did heard nasty stuff but people DM me regularly

and they are under 18 talking about Fred in some terms..... GO FIND A FRED'S FANPAGE then I want to answer 😟😟😟 I am not here to read all the fantasies of people about them... I just said "don't choke on your tea" posting a new cool reel and tadam end up with some comment about their 🍆🙃 Also tiktoks or instagram's post I saw about the calendars from +50 women AND men... 😶 I am not better posting here I guess ???? With that logic tho 🤣🤣🤡😱😬😬😬but at least I am in their age range (I guess)

ALSO SO SORRY I forgot to look after Fred's grad ball and ended up too late for a lot of stories I Guess 😔😔😔🙈 oh no....

[soobmint]

voices | choi beomgyu [f] soulmates! au, 14.2k words

s u m m a r y : after seeing your soulmate for the first time (whether in passing or by actually meeting them), you are able to hear their voice in your head—but only when they are singing. you have never been very interested in finding love, and choi beomgyu has lost all interest in singing. what happens when the two of you begin to change one another’s minds about the things you wish to avoid more than anything else?

c o n t e n t s : soulmates au, strangers to sorta enemies to lovers, guitarist! gyu, freckle gyu, college au, yeonjun is your best friend, gyu is a brat but a cute brat, very fluffy, a tiny bit of light angst

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @chanluster @honeyju​ @magicalstellar @yeonjuniper​ (if you’d like to be added to the taglist for future oneshots, please let me know!)

n o t e : this was requested by my dear friend alice, and i hope i did the request justice! the lyrics used in the oneshot are from genius’ english translation of “runaway.” i hope you guys enjoy the oneshot, and do kindly leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyed it! that would mean the world!

YOU MET CHOI BEOMGYU THE DAY YOU SWORE TO NEVER FALL IN LOVE.

 As dramatic as it sounded, the day hadn’t been quite so terrible. You were sitting cross-legged in the floor of one of the many practice rooms in your university’s music department with a bag of popcorn in your lap, your head leaned back against the wall as you stifled back a yawn. Your best friend, Yeonjun, was going on and on about his most recent breakup, but the story was so similar to all the other breakups he had gone through in the past two years that you were having a difficult time staying focused. The afternoon sunlight trickled in through the windows, reflecting off the symbols of the drum set that rested in the far corner. You scooted to the side a bit so that the light wouldn’t shine in your eyes anymore as Yeonjun paced back and forth in front of you.

 “And then she just stopped talking to me,” He said, running his hands through his hair. “Out of nowhere too! Things had been going so well, but then it was weird. Next thing I know, she’s breaking up with me—get this—over text.”

 You tossed a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Tragic.”

 “I know you’re being sarcastic, but yes, it was tragic.” He finally stopped pacing and collapsed to the ground beside of you, leaning his head against your shoulder. “Love is so hard. You meet someone, you think it’s going to work and that you’ll spend a long, happy life together. Next thing you know, you’re single and stuck with your best friend in a stinky music room, waiting for some club meeting to start—or whatever it is we’re in here for.”

 “We’re here because we are in charge of organizing the music and theater departments’ performance at the open house next month,” You corrected, flicking his forehead. “And didn’t you only date this girl for like, a week?”

 He sighed, sitting up to glare at you. “Love knows not the boundaries of time, my dear friend. You’ll understand once you find it for yourself.”

 “Calm down, Shakespeare. I am not falling in love.”

 “Unfortunately for you, I don’t think you have any control over that,” He said with a teasing smile. “But why wouldn’t you want to?”

 You scoffed, turning to stare at him. “Well, for starters, you haven’t exactly given me a good idea of what ‘love’ is supposed to be, seeing as you’re crying about another ‘true-love-gone-wrong’ every three weeks. Why on earth would I want that for myself?”

 “Hey, love is different for everyone,” He said. “Just because my love life is vibrant and exciting and full of various names and faces doesn’t mean the same will happen for you.”

 “How do you predict my love life will go, then?”

 He hummed, tapping his finger against his chin in thought. “Well, you’re pretty boring, so you’ll probably be the kind of person that waits until they find their soulmate, then you’ll settle down and live a long, safe and uneventful life with them.”

 “Shut up,” you said as you shoved him, but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. “I think my soulmate is out of the question, though.”

 Yeonjun frowned. “You still haven’t heard him since back then?”

 You sighed, shaking your head as you leaned back against the wall. “Not a thing.”

 It was quiet then as the two of you thought about what this meant. It wasn’t the first time you had been faced with the reality of your situation, but it still felt like a punch to the stomach every time.

 In a world where people waited years, decades even, to hear the voice of their soulmate singing in their head, you had been considered extremely lucky to have heard the gentle voice of a boy in your mind at the age of thirteen. You knew that you had to have met him somewhere—at least in passing—in order to hear him, but you had no clue who he was.

 Yet, in a way, it felt like you did. He sang often—so often you wondered if singing was as necessary as breathing to him. It wasn’t a bother to you though; in fact, it was quite the opposite. The songs he sang always told a story; some spoke of love and joy, others off loss and heartache. You felt like each song he sang held a piece of him, and that piece was something that was shared just between the two of you.

 Until his voice was gone.

 It was rare for him to go a day without singing. Yet suddenly, in your sophomore year of college, days and weeks went by without a single note, and you had yet to hear his voice since.

 Your soulmate had stopped singing, and it was difficult to not imagine that the worst had happened.

 Yeonjun must have noticed the solemn look that came over your face, because he leaned over and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t be so gloomy,” he said. “He could still be out there.”

 You smiled the best you could, although the pit in your stomach remained. “Yeah, I guess he could.” You tossed the popcorn to Yeonjun and stood to your feet, wiping the crumbs from your hands. “Wait here, okay? The other guy that’s supposed to be helping us is—” You paused to glance at the time on your phone, “—ten minutes late. I’m gonna make sure he knows where to come or see if he’s lost or something.”

 Yeonjun nodded, helping himself to what was left of your snack. “Who is the other guy, anyway?”

 You sighed, picking up the piece of paper that the department head gave to you when she asked you to organize the showcase, claiming that it would be a great deal of experience for you to acquire in your senior year of university.

 You were mostly doing it for the extra credit points.

 You began to read the names of the seniors that were in charge of organizing the project listed at the top of the paper. “From the drama department, Choi Yeonjun and Kang Taehyun.”

 “Taehyun had an appointment,” Yeonjun said through a mouthful of popcorn. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

 You nodded, tracing your finger along the page, stopping beneath the next pair of names. “From the music department, Y/N and Choi Beomgyu.” You looked up from the paper, tapping your forefinger against your chin. “Choi Beomgyu? Do you know him?”

 Yeonjun pondered for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Ah—that guy!” You weren’t surprised; Yeonjun seemed to know everyone in the performing arts programs at your school. “He’s one of the top guitar students, if I’m remembering correctly. Have you not heard of him?”

 You shook your head, looking back down at his name. Choi Beomgyu. It did sound familiar, but no images or information came along with the words printed on the page. It was nothing more than a tugging feeling in your stomach that made you feel like you knew him from somewhere.

 You began walking towards the door, still staring down at the paper. Just as the tips of your fingers brushed across the metal handle, the door swung open, and you barely had time to glance up and see a head of fluffy black hair and big brown eyes before the door crashed into your forehead so hard you fell backwards to the tile floor.

 With a hiss, you brought your hand up to your forehead, relieved to find a lack of blood there. Your eyes were blurred with tears, but through the fog you were able to see the same round doe eyes you had caught a glimpse of before you hit the ground.

 “Are you okay?” It was a guy’s voice, clear and ringing in your ears. You rubbed your eyes to clear some of the moisture and were then able to get a better look at the boy in front of you. Curly black bangs hung over his brows, brushing just over the tops of his wide chocolate eyes. His sun-kissed skin was sprinkled with a light spatter of freckles across his nose and lightly flushed cheeks.

 You blinked several times before responding. “Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You accepted his hand when he offered to help you stand back up, and soon, you were on your feet once more.

 “Sorry about that,” he said, brushing a hand through his already tousled hair. He leaned forward a bit, tapping his finger against your forehead. “Just got a tiny bump, though. You’ll be okay.”

 You backed away from his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had caught sight of Yeonjun. Your best friend was quite literally on the edge of his seat, perched on the ledge of the desk while shoveling the last crumbs of popcorn into his mouth as if this were some movie unfolding before his eyes. If you had been close enough, you would have hit him.

 “Yeonjun?” Door Boy’s face lit up, and he strode over to give your pink-haired friend a high five. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

 “Hey, man,” Yeonjun said with a grin, ruffling Door Boy’s curly hair with his fingers. “I know, it’s been way too long.”

 “I’m sorry, who’s this?” You asked, still a bit dazed from your unexpected collision with the door.

 Yeonjun looked back at you, gesturing to the newcomer. “Oh, this is—”

 “Choi Beomgyu,” he finished the introduction himself, giving you an overdramatic bow as he said his name. “And you must be Y/N?”

 Things were beginning to click together in your head: Door Boy was Choi Beomgyu. In other words, Door Boy was your assigned partner—the one you would be spending the next four weeks trying to plan a performance with.

 For some reason, the fact that you had met one another by him slamming a door into your face didn’t leave the best feeling in your chest.

 “I look forward to working with you, Y/N.” He gave you a big, lopsided grin, one that any other person would likely find heartwarming.

 You forced a smile in return, rubbing your hand across the bump on your forehead. “Same here, Choi Beomgyu.”

 -

 PERHAPS IT HAD A BIT TO DO WITH HOW POORLY YOUR FIRST MEETING WENT, BUT SOMETHING ABOUT BEOMGYU REALLY GOT UNDER YOUR SKIN.

 The day after you had first met one another, Yeonjun had asked everyone to meet up in the coffee shop inside the campus library. This time, Taehyun from the drama department was also able to be there. You had gotten to know him pretty well over the past four years because of how close he and Yeonjun had become, so the three of you hung out often.

 In fact, for the first fifteen minutes of the meeting, it was just the three of you sitting there. You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek in agitation before taking another sip of your coffee. “Does this Beomgyu guy have a thing for being late?”

 “Relax, Y/N,” Yeonjun said absently from across the table, his attention focused primarily on his cell phone screen. “Not everyone’s a time freak like you.”

 “Time freak—What does that even mean?” You crumpled up the wrapper from Taehyun’s straw and threw it at Yeonjun. “Unlike you, I actually care about getting these extra credit points and would like to organize this event properly.”

 “Hey! I care!” Yeonjun placed a hand over his heart, as though he had been wounded.

 You and Taehyun exchanged a side glance with one another, eyebrows raised.

“Stop looking at each other like that! I do care!”

 Before the point could be argued any further, a messy-haired boy crashed into the seat beside of you, out of breath, his backpack falling from his shoulder and onto the ground from the impact. You stared at him for a moment before realizing that it was Beomgyu.

 “Sorry—I’m late,” he said in between deep breaths. “On my way here—saw one of the campus cats—got distracted.”

 You stared at him again, almost laughing at how ridiculous of an excuse that was. However, considering what little you knew of Beomgyu, the thought of him being fifteen minutes late to a meeting because he got distracted by a cat didn’t seem all that unlikely. With a sigh, you slid a blank piece of notebook paper towards him and set a pen on top of it. “It’s all good. Mind taking notes?”

 He nodded—a bit too enthusiastically, if you were to say so yourself. “Sure. Can I grab a coffee real quick?”

 You were about to suggest that he should wait until after the meeting, since the three of you had been there for such a long time already, but Taehyun chimed in before you could say anything with, “Of course. We’ve got nowhere else to be.”

 It took everything within you to not roll your eyes. You were usually on the same page as Taehyun, but of course, this situation had to be an exception, because Choi Beomgyu was there.

 The slacker was rummaging around his backpack, searching for something. He pouted, looking up from his bag. “I forgot my wallet.”

 “No worries! Y/N doesn’t eat breakfast, so she always has an extra swipe on her meal card,” Yeonjun said from across the table. Your mouth fell open, eyes wide as saucers. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind letting you use it. Right, Y/N?”

 You weren’t quite sure that you did want Beomgyu to use your meal card, but what kind of jerk would you be if you said no? With gritted teeth and a glare at your best friend, you fished your meal card out of your wallet and placed it into Beomgyu’s open palm.

 The pout left his lips instantly, a big grin taking its place. “Thanks. I’ll return the favor sometime soon.”

 Doubt it, you thought, watching him rush towards the counter to order. You’ll probably forget you said that by the time you get your drink.

 Soon he was back at the table, caramel latte in hand, your meal card back in your possession. You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “If everyone’s ready, we can go ahead and get started. I met with my professor yesterday—she’s also the head of the classical music department. She’s technically our ‘overseer,’ but all the responsibility of planning the performance is on us. We’ll only have about forty minutes total to showcase the drama and music departments, so we need to choose our sets wisely.”

 “Yeonjun and I were talking a bit about this earlier,” Taehyun said. “We’ve been preparing for our winter show since the beginning of the summer, so we figured we could just perform a scene from the play.”

 You nodded, liking the idea. “That sounds perfect. What’s the play?”

 “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

 “Right, I knew that. Could you guys work on finding a scene around ten or fifteen minutes long to perform for the open house, then?”

 Yeonjun and Taehyun both nodded. You smiled, glad that you were finally starting to get some things together for the event.

 When you glanced at Beomgyu to make sure he had written that down, the smile left as quickly as it had come when you saw that he was doodling tiny flowers and hearts all over the page rather than taking notes.

 He must have felt your eyes on him, because he glanced up and caught your gaze. Seemingly unbothered, he simply smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I was just about to write it down.”

 Your fingers itched to reach over and take the pen and paper from him so you could just do it yourself, but you kept your composure. “Beomgyu. Any ideas for what the music department could do?”

 He finished writing down Drama Department—Scene from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” before looking at you again. He shrugged, another nonchalant smile spreading across his face. “Not really. I’m down for whatever it is you decide to do.”

 “Wow, helpful. Truly.” Your eyes went wide when you realized you had said those words out loud after Yeonjun and Taehyun began to snicker beside you. Your face flushed with embarrassment, but Beomgyu seemed unphased, that careless lopsided grin of his still on full display.

 You sighed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Well, I was thinking about having the orchestra do a piece, and then having one of the student bands do a piece. That way we have something classical and something more contemporary. Thoughts?”

 “I think that’s a good idea,” Taehyun said. “If we do our scene first, the orchestra could kind of act as a bridge between Shakespeare and more modern art.”

 “I agree,” Yeonjun said. “And since Y/N is in the orchestra, she can get in touch with the director and have them prepare something. Oh, and Beomgyu!” The curly-haired boy looked up from his doodling when his name was called. “You know a few different bands, right? Think you could piece together a group of performers?”

 “Definitely,” Beomgyu said. When he noticed your eyes on him, he quickly scribbled down Orchestra—Y/N. Band—Beomgyu Me.

 “Well, since we all have our first tasks, I guess that’s all for today.” You were happy that the meeting was over; you were ready to get back to your dorm so you could get to work and actually get things done.

 “Wait!” Beomgyu said as you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

 Now you have something to say. You raised a brow at him expectantly.

 “We should exchange phone numbers, right?” He smiled, standing up and holding his phone out towards you. “I have the others’ numbers, but I figure I should be able to contact my partner from the music department.”

 You hesitated, but knew there was no logical reason why you shouldn’t give him your number. You were going to be working together for the next several weeks, after all.

 After putting your number in, he took his phone back and grinned at you again, eyes scrunching up into crescent moons. “Perfect! I’ll try not to bother you too much, but I make no promises.” He reached forward and ruffled your hair, and you were too caught off guard by the sudden touch to back away, or to even react at all. He then waved at all three of you, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “See you guys tomorrow then.” He turned towards you again, throwing you a casual wink that still managed to have you flustered. “I’ll be in touch, partner.”

 You turned to watch him leave, face warm as you brushed through your hair with your fingers, trying to undo the damage your “partner” had done.

 Something told you that he wouldn’t be keeping his promise about trying not to bother you anytime soon.

 -

 OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, BEOMGYU PROVED HIMSELF TO BE ONE OF THE MOST BOTHERSOME PEOPLE YOU HAD COME ACROSS IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

 The worst part was the fact that he didn’t do anything blatantly wrong. He did everything he was asked to do when it came to preparing for the showcase. The first week of work consisted of the two of you gathering all the students who would be participating in the performances, along with Yeonjun and Taehyun preparing those from the drama department. Beomgyu performed all of his tasks just as he was asked to do, so it wasn’t as if he was bothering you by being unhelpful.

 It was just something about the way he held himself that seemed to get under your skin for no apparent reason.

 For the past week, your “partner” had basically been a tagalong—he would stand beside of you and do what he was asked without contributing much to the creative process of planning. You found it hard to criticize him up front, as he just did as he was told.

 However, that was all he did. When the four of you would all sit down together to discuss plans or ideas, Beomgyu’s role never changed: he would sit beside all of you, jot down anything you told him to in his nearly-full composition notebook, and crack an occasional joke that would always send Yeonjun and Taehyun into fits of laughter, but only earned a stiff, forced smile from you.

 You were starting to wonder why your professor had assigned him to your team. After all, putting on this open house was your last shot at making a lasting impression on the higher ups in your department. Everything needed to be perfect; mediocracy was not an option.

 In other words, Choi Beomgyu needed to step up his game, and he needed to do it quickly.

 You thought about this on the day of your first rehearsal, where all of the students who would be participating in the performances had gathered in the main auditorium of the music building.

 Drama students were scattered in all directions, occupying the space around them with dramatic line readings and critiques for their classmates as they practiced their roles. Yeonjun and Taehyun were busy taking charge of the drama students, making sure everything was running smoothly amongst them. You watched as Kai, one of the freshman students Yeonjun had taken under his wing, followed your friends around like a baby penguin waddling after its parents, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

 Music students were spread across the stage, the orchestra setting up instruments and covering stands with sheets filled by notes and lyrics while the band tuned their guitars and plugged up their mics. Soobin, a tall, blue-haired student from the same year as you, waved at you from stage with his mic in hand. You waved back, happy that you had been able to snag him as the main vocalist for the band’s performance—his voice was angelic, able to captivate any listener.

 “Hey.” You turned at the sound of the voice you had begun to grow quite accustomed to, whether that was for better or for worse. Beomgyu was standing beside of you, brushing a hand through the curly black bangs that hung just above his eyes. The tip of his nose was flushed pink, a sign that he had likely just been out in the biting cold that had begun to creep up as fall quickly approached. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his guitar case held in one hand.

 “Running a little late, aren’t we?” You asked, glancing at the time on your phone with no attempt at hiding your frown. “Is this going to be a trend with you, Choi Beomgyu?”

 He laughed, nudging his shoulder against yours. You wanted to be more irritated with him than you were, but he had the kind of laugh that put everyone around him at ease; the kind of laugh that filled one’s chest with warmth, as if you had been directly touched by a ray of sunlight reaching down from the sky.

 So you settled with being only slightly irritated, pursing your lips to keep your expression in check as he responded with, “What fun would it be if everyone was on time?”

 “It’s not about fun, it’s about making sure this whole thing runs smoothly,” you said as you turned to face him. “Speaking of which, since you didn’t have any suggestions, I went ahead and helped the band choose a setlist. They’ll only have time for two songs, but the ones I picked are really diverse and should be—”

 “Ah!” He cut you off, snapping his fingers in front of your face, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “I knew there was something I forgot to tell you.”

 “What?”

 He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning as he shifted a bit closer to you. You could smell his cologne—a misty citrus scent that was so light you could barely tell it was there. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but the professor actually wanted the band to perform one of the songs I wrote. If that’s okay with you, of course—you’re the boss, after all.”

 “You—you write songs?” You asked, trying not to get irritated at the sudden disruption of what you had planned. He had been complacent this entire time, so of course, the time he actually had something to contribute, he would be messing up what you had already set in place.

 “Well, if it’s a suggestion from the professor, I can’t just deny you permission, can I?” You said with a forced laugh. “Do you have the—”

 “Sheet music?” He finished your sentence, shaking a stack of papers in front of you. “Right here, partner. Want me to go tell the band?”

 You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure. Just tell them to switch the second song I had picked out with this one.”

 He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair with the same hand he held the papers in. “You’re a saint. I’ll talk to you in a bit then?”

 You had no time to respond before he was setting off towards the stage to talk to the band, papers and guitar in hand. You huffed through pursed lips, mumbling under your breath as you tried to put your hair back in place.

 “What was that all about?” You dropped your hands to your sides when Yeonjun approached you, eyebrow quirked. Half of his cotton-candy colored hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had on a pair of big round glasses with what you knew to be fake lenses—a fashion statement rather than a necessity.

 “I don’t think Beomgyu knows much about personal boundaries or personal responsibility,” you mumbled, allowing Yeonjun to come up and finish fixing your hair with his fingers. “He decided to just now tell me that our professor wanted the band to use one of his songs in the performance.”

 “What’s wrong with that?”

 “Nothing’s wrong with it, I just—” You hesitated, unsure of how to respond without sounding like a jerk. “I just wish he would have told me about it sooner. That’s all.”

 “Y/N, you need to cut the guy some slack,” Yeonjun said, stepping back once he was finished fixing up your hair. “You act as though you have a personal vendetta against him or something.”

 “I do not,” You argued, feeling you defenses flare up at his words. “Why would you say that?”

 “I don’t know, maybe because every time he walks in the room you start to grimace, and every time he talks to you I can literally feel the amount of energy it takes for you to not roll your eyes.”

 “You’re exaggerating.”

 “If you say so.” He put his hand on your shoulder, giving you a stern look that did, in fact, make you roll your eyes. “Give him a chance, Y/N. You may end up liking him more than you’d expect.”

 You scoffed as your best friend walked away from you, returning to work on his previous tasks with Taehyun. A vendetta? Was it really that obvious to the people around you that Beomgyu got under your skin?

 Perhaps Yeonjun was right—you did have a tendency to be extra sensitive when it came to your academic responsibilities. Maybe you were being too hard on Beomgyu; his goal was the same as yours, even if his methods differed drastically from yours.

 You looked up to the stage to see Beomgyu laughing as he said something to Soobin, the rest of the band analyzing the sheets of music in their hands—Beomgyu’s song, if you had to guess. His skin glowed like honey beneath the stage lights, and you noticed that when he laughed, he laughed with his entire body; his eyes disappeared into crescents, his shoulders shook, he clapped his hands together and even stomped his feet a bit. You smiled slightly at the sight, before a pang of guilt hit you.

 He did seem like a nice guy. It was time you gave him a chance to be seen as such in your eyes.

 -

 ANY PATIENCE YOU HAD DESPERATELY TRIED TO HOLD WITH BEOMGYU WAS WEARING THIN, AND IT HAD ONLY BEEN AN HOUR SINCE YOU DECIDED TO GIVE HIM A CHANCE.

 You had both stayed behind with Yeonjun and Taehyun to clean up the auditorium after the practice. “I think that we’re done, don’t you?” You asked everyone after picking up a few discarded sheets of paper left behind by the drama students.

 “Almost,” Beomgyu said from the stage. You looked up at him to see him pointing at two large music stands left behind by the orchestra. “Someone left these behind.”

 “Can’t we just leave them there?” Yeonjun asked.

 Taehyun shook his head. “No, we were given specific instructions to not leave anything behind.” He glanced at his phone. “They’re about to close the building for the night, so we should hurry and put them up.”

 “I know which room they came from, so I can take them back,” Beomgyu offered.

 “They’re pretty heavy, Beomgyu. Are you sure you can carry them on your own?” Taehyun asked.

 “Yeah, it’s fine—”

 “No, no, someone should definitely help you. You have to carry your guitar too,” Yeonjun interjected, a mischievous glint in your eyes that sent sirens blaring in your head. The feelings of disdain only grew when Yeonjun made eye contact with you directly, seeming to give you a sweet smile, but you knew the expression was laced with ulterior motives. “Y/N, why don’t you carry one while Beomgyu carries the other?”

 You wanted to smack him, but that wouldn’t have been a good look for you, considering that everyone already thought you hated Beomgyu anyways. You glanced up at him on the stage to see that he had already picked one of the stands up, his guitar in the other hand.  He gave you a big grin, eyes sparkling like freshly fallen snow. “What do you say, partner? Care to give me a hand?”

 You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, knowing that there was no way you were getting out of this one. “Sure,” You said through your teeth, glaring daggers at Yeonjun before making your way up the steps to the stage. The music stand wasn’t too heavy, so you almost dared to ask Beomgyu to try carrying them both in one hand, but decided against it.

 “We’ll go ahead and leave then,” Yeonjun said, throwing a taunting wink your way. “You two have fun.”

 You hate to bite your tongue to keep from cursing at him as Yeonjun and Taehyun left the auditorium, leaving you alone with Beomgyu for the first time. You glanced his way, noticing that he already had his eyes on you. Instead of averting his gaze when yours met his, he just smiled wider, gesturing towards the door with his head. “Shall we?”

 You forced another smile. “Lead the way, partner.”

 You followed him out the doors and up the stairs to the first floor, where the orchestra’s practice room was located. You were very familiar with the area, being a violinist yourself. When the two of you reached the room, you rushed forward to open the door, as Beomgyu’s hands were full. He thanked you and stepped inside first, and you followed suit, letting the heavy door swing shut behind you.

 “Where should we set them?” He asked.

 You nodded to the far corner of the room. “Over there.”

 The two of you set the stands down, and you instantly turned back towards the door, ready to get back to your dorm for some alone time after such a taxing day.

 “In a rush?” Beomgyu asked from behind you.

 You turned to look over your shoulder at him as your hand grasped the doorknob. “Nah, just tired. Aren’t you?”

 He shrugged, shifting his guitar case from one hand to the other. “Not really.”

 “Lucky you,” You mumbled, turning back towards the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow—”

 You stopped mid-sentence, heart dropping to your toes. When you tried to turn the knob, it wouldn’t move. After a moment of shock, you tried again, and then again, violently shaking the knob, trying to get the door to open.

 “No, no, no,” You said, shaking the handle desperately. “Come on, this can’t be happening!”

 “What is it?” Beomgyu asked, setting his guitar on the floor before rushing to your side.

 “The door won’t open.” You shook the knob more frantically than ever, the entire door shaking from the force.

 “Woah, easy there, partner,” Beomgyu said, gently placing his hand on your arm. “Why don’t you let me try to—”

 “What exactly do you think you’re going to be able to do differently?” You snapped, snatching your arm away from him. His mouth hung open, eyes wide with what you assumed to be shock. “We’re stuck in here, Beomgyu. We’re stuck, and we’re not going to get out for god knows how long, and with you as my ‘partner,’ I’m one hundred percent certain we’re not going to be able to find a way out of here on our own.”

 You could tell that your words struck a nerve with him by the way his shoulders tensed and how his eyes went narrow. Looking back, you wished you could reel the words back in, but they had already done their damage.

 “Why do you hate me so much?” He asked, his voice low and thick with irritation.

 It was your turn to be shocked. “What?”

 “I said, why do you hate me so much?”

 You blinked rapidly, feeling exposed and vulnerable now that he was confronting you. “I don’t—I don’t hate you, Beomgyu.”

 He scoffed, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth. “Come on, I’m not that much of an idiot. This entire time, from the moment we first met, you’ve been cold and snippy with me. You can barely hide how much you dislike me with your facial expressions. I thought maybe we just got off on the wrong foot, so I’ve been brushing it off and treating you kindly. But you still treat me like I’m some annoying fly that you can’t quite get rid of, and I want to know why.”

 “That’s not—I don’t hate you,” You repeated, jumbling your words together as you struggled to figure out what to say.

 “Well, what’s the issue then?”

 “You don’t take anything seriously!” Your voice wasn’t quite a shout, but it was almost there. Beomgyu took a step back, arms dropping to his sides.

 “You’re treating this entire thing like it’s an elementary school play,” You continued, your voice getting louder and your words coming out more and more rushed the more you spoke. “You don’t contribute in the meetings, you show up late, and you barely do the things I ask you to do. I understand it may not be anything special to you, but this is my last chance to do something memorable here. I’m graduating in the spring, and up until this point, I’ve been nothing but another violinist tossed in the orchestra. I don’t stand out to my professors, or to scouts, to anyone.”

 Hot tears began to well in the corners of your eyes as thoughts of your mother surfaced. Every word she had ever said about your pursuit of music being a waste of time, of how little a chance you had of making it, how your only hope was to stand out in the department, which, of course, she highly doubted you would be capable of doing.

 “I have to do this, and I have to do it right.” Your voice wavered as you swiped at your cheeks, where a few tears had fallen. “If I don’t, then I’ll—I’ll—”

 “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Beomgyu’s voice was gentle, in stark contrast to the razor-sharp tone he had held just seconds before. You looked at him through your teary eyes to see that his own eyes were wide, this time with concern rather than anger. “You don’t have to explain, I understand, okay? I’m sorry, Y/N.”

 You sniffed, more tears gliding down your cheeks as you did so. “What?”

 “I’m sorry,” He repeated, looking as though he were about to start crying himself. “I had no idea that’s how I was coming across. I’m really, really sorry.”

 You stared at him, dumbfounded. How were you supposed to respond to that? The last thing you expected to hear from him was an apology, especially since, now that you had yelled at him, you realized how unfair you were being towards him. You shook your head, wiping furiously at your eyes. “No, you don’t have to apologize Beomgyu. I should be apologizing—I’m the one being irrational, not to mention I’m also the one that locked us in here—”

 “How about we just call it even then, hm?” He cut you off, looking around before he spotted a box of tissues on the front desk. He grabbed one and made his way back over to you, gently wiping the tears from your face, being careful to not touch you directly. “We’ve both apologized for something that the other person doesn’t think requires an apology. The grounds are neutral now.”

 You laughed, gently taking the tissue from his hand so you could wipe your eyes on your own. He stepped back when you did so, smiling nervously at your sudden laughter.

 “Thank you, Beomgyu,” You said quietly, wadding the tissue up in your hand.

 He rubbed the back of his neck, rocking back and forth on his feet. “No need to thank me, Y/N.” He paused, seeming to be in deep thought. It was quiet for a moment before he stuck his hand out towards you, expression cautiously hopeful. “Now that we both understand each other a little better, do you think we could start over?”

 You smiled, wrapping your hand around his to give it a firm shake. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

 -

 THE WORLD ALWAYS SEEMED COLDER WHEN YOU WERE ALONE.

 Of course, it could have felt cold because you were alone in a hotel parking lot, sitting on the cool pavement in the late hours of the night. You hadn’t brought a jacket with you, and your dress was sleeveless and made of thin fabric that didn’t do much to protect you from the wind that sent strands of hair flying across your face.

 However, you were certain that if your mother or father had been sitting beside of you that early winter’s night, you would barely even notice the bite of the wind or the goosebumps that prickled up all over your bare arms. Even the stars had denied you their company; the sky was pitch black, void of any trace of light.

 Lower lip trembling, you sighed as you kept your gaze on the sky above, thinking that maybe, if you kept looking, you’d find a single star shining amidst the darkness. Tears filled your eyes, but you wiped them away before they could fall.

 “You’re a strong girl, Y/N,” Your mother would say if she were to catch you crying. “Strong girls don’t cry, do they?”

 “No,” You whispered, even though she wasn’t there to hear you. “Strong girls don’t cry.”

 “What do you mean?”

 You jumped at the sudden voice, placing your hand over your heart before you turned your head to see a boy sitting on the pavement beside you. He had curly black hair that stuck out from beneath a beanie, covering the top of his eyes, and a big jacket on over his clothes. He seemed to be the same age as you, but of course, you couldn’t be sure.

 “W-what?” You spoke through shaking lips, pulling your arms around yourself in an attempt to stay warm.

 “You said that strong girls don’t cry,” He said, eyeing you with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

 “Oh,” you whispered, looking down at your shoes—a pair of black flats with scuff marks all over the toes. “It’s nothing— just something my mom says.”

 He hummed, leaning back on the palms of his hands. “Well, I think she’s wrong. Everyone cries, even the strongest people alive. If someone tells you they don’t cry, then they’re lying.” He turned towards you, a big grin on his face. “You don’t seem like a liar to me.”

 You sniffled, wiping your hand across your cheeks to catch the few tears that had managed to slip down. “Thanks, I think.”

 “It was definitely meant as a compliment.” He sat up straight then, narrowing his eyes at you. You shrunk back a bit, shoulders shaking as the wind only seemed to get stronger by the second.

 A moment later, he was sitting right beside of you, so close that his arm brushed against yours as he slipped his coat off, revealing an oversized hoodie beneath it. He wrapped the coat around your shoulders, and zipped it up, trapping your arms inside. He smiled again and sat back, but he was still close to you, so close that your shoulders were pressed together and his pinky was resting on top of yours.

 Eyes wide, you slowly shook your head and slipped your arms through the sleeves so you could reach the zipper. “No, I’m okay—”

 “Hey, keep it on, please,” He interrupted, placing his hand on top of yours to stop you from unzipping the coat. “It’s freezing out here, and you don’t even have any sleeves.”

 You hesitated, not wanting to be a bother to this unexpectedly kind stranger, but you would have been lying if you had said that the cold wasn’t starting to bother you. Not wanting your lips to turn blue, you nodded, pulling your arms back into the coat to keep them extra warm.

 “Thank you,” you said quietly. “What are you doing out here, by the way?”

 “Me? Oh, I was just sneaking out to the indoor pool.” He pointed over his shoulder at the building with a large dome roof made of glass. “My parents are already asleep and didn’t notice me leave. You?”

 “Ah, well, my family is staying here for the night. My parents and I are going out for dinner to celebrate my birthday.”

 “It’s your birthday?” He asked, eyes growing wide. You nodded sheepishly and his smile grew bigger before he reached over to ruffle your hair with his hand. “Happy birthday!”

 You giggled, smoothing your hair back down when he pulled his hand away. Your eyes met his, which seemed to sparkle with the light of billions of galaxies, paired perfectly with his beaming smile, and you realized that maybe you didn’t need the stars that night after all, because he alone shined brightly enough.

 He looked around then, eyebrows furrowed. “But, where are your parents? Shouldn’t you guys get going before all the restaurants close?”

 Your smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. You swallowed, your eyes drifting towards a car that sat a few yards away from the two of you. The car was running and the lights inside were on, casting a yellow glow onto the two occupants seated in the front: your parents. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew that they were yelling by the way they pointed their fingers at each other, and by the expressions on their faces, and the intensity with which their lips were moving.

 The boy followed your gaze, his mouth parting slightly in surprise when he caught sight of your parents in the heat of their dispute. He glanced sideways at you before moving to sit in front of you, blocking your view of your parents.

 “Why don’t you sneak to the pool with me?” He asked.

 You shook your head immediately, a slight smile returning to your face. It was clear that he was trying to distract you, and you were grateful. That didn’t mean you were willing to sneak away from your parents, especially when the tension among your family was already sky high.

 “Why not?” He whined, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

 “Because I’m not supposed to move from this spot,” You said.

 “And I wasn’t supposed to leave my hotel room, yet here I am.” He shrugged nonchalantly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes only for them to fall right back into place. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 There were a lot of really terrible things that could happen as a result of you sneaking away to go night swimming with a boy you didn’t know while your parents fought in the middle of a hotel parking lot. You could probably list ten off the top of your head. However, when you looked into the starry eyes of the boy in front of you, his lips spread in an encouraging grin that made you feel warm inside despite the cold, you hesitated.

 What was the worst thing that could happen? The list seemed to be erased from your head as quickly as it appeared.

 He tilted his head to the side, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. He stood up and stretched his hand out to you, his fingers trembling from the cold.

 “Should we run away?”

 Your fingers twitched, urging to reach out touch his own. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to find the balance between being rational and following where your heart was leading. These two things did not seem to be lining up.

 Before you could do anything, however, you heard a car door slamming shut. You jumped to your feet just in time to see your mother stepping away from the vehicle before your father drove off, leaving her alone in the parking lot. Eyes wide with worry, you watched as your mother brushed her hand across her cheeks before taking a deep breath and making her way towards you.

 “Y/N,” she said when she reached you, not even glancing at the boy beside of you as she took your face in her hands. “Your dad is going to come pick us up in the morning. How about we just have a girl’s night to celebrate your birthday instead?”

 With your heart dropping to your toes, you felt the tears welling in your eyes once again, but you refused to let them fall. You smiled and nodded, wrapping your hand around your mother’s. “Yeah. That sounds fine.”

 You turned towards the boy to see that his face was full of concern. Forcing the best smile you could, you unzipped his coat and slipped it off your shoulders before placing it back in his outstretched hands.

 “Thank you,” you said quietly. Before he could say anything back, you had turned away and began walking back towards the entrance, arm-in-arm with your mother.

 “I was thinking we could order a pizza and rent your favorite movies,” she said, straining to keep the emotion out of your voice. “I’ll order the food once we get back to the room, okay?”

 You nodded slowly, halting your footsteps just before the automatic doors that led inside.

 But when you turned your head to catch one last look at the boy who shined brighter than the stars, he was already gone.

 -

 IN THE HAZY PLACE BETWEEN SLEEPING AND WAKING, YOU COULD HAVE SWORN YOU HEARD HIM SINGING.

 With your eyes still closed, the sound rang through your head, clear as day. It was comforting, as if you had heard it before. Yet it wasn’t a sound that only echoed around you. This voice, so gentle and sweet that it seemed to drip with sugar and honey, filled all of your senses to the brim. You weren’t just hearing it, you were feeling it.

 “In moments like those, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight. Should we run away?”

 You sighed, swept away by the sound and the words that the voice sang. You felt as though you had heard it before, but you couldn’t quite think of where. Snuggling closer to whatever it was that you were leaning against, you allowed the faintest of smiles to trace its way across your lips.

 The singing stopped. “Y/N?”

 “Hmm?” You pressed your face closer against the warmth you were leaning into, frowning at the sudden absence of the soothing voice.

 “Are you awake?”

 “Yeah,” you mumbled, slowly forcing your eyes open.

 You weren’t quite sure where exactly you expected to be when you opened your eyes, but it definitely was not on the floor of the orchestra practice room with your head in Choi Beomgyu’s lap. Beomgyu was smiling down at you, black curls hanging over his eyes, freckles illuminated by the faint moonlight that spilled through the windows.

 You sat up quickly, trying to fix your messy hair as you felt your face grow warm. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were incredibly embarrassed that you had.

 “How—how long was I asleep?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

 “Just an hour or so. I think you got so stressed out after trying to call so many people that you just passed out,” Beomgyu said. He reached his hands toward you and helped you straighten up your hair, which only served to make your face even warmer than before.

 “Sorry,” you said, gesturing to his lap. “For . . . that.”

 He waved his hand at you before folding his hands behind his head. “Don’t apologize. Seems like you needed the sleep—you were dreaming pretty intensely.”

 “I was? Did I say anything weird in my sleep? What did I say? Was it embarrassing?” You grabbed his sleeve, eyes wide as you bombarded him with questions.

 He laughed, shaking his head in reassurance. “Don’t worry, it was nothing embarrassing. But you were talking.”

 “What did I say?”

 “Hmm, something about it being your birthday?” He placed a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure exactly what else. It was all kinda random.”

 You squeezed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek as you let go of his sleeve. You remembered every bit of the dream you had—well, it wasn’t really a dream as much as it was a memory. It was embarrassing to think that Beomgyu had heard any part of the memory, but you tried not to think about it too much.

 “Beomgyu,” You said, opening your eyes once more to look at him. “Were you singing just now? Before I woke up?”

 He didn’t say anything at first, his expression blank. Then, he smiled, nudging your shoulder with his. “Of course not—you know I don’t sing. Why?”

 “Actually, for the record, I did not know that,” You corrected. “And I don’t know, I just .  . . thought I heard someone.”

 “Maybe it was your soulmate,” Beomgyu said, moving his eyebrows up and down.

 You sighed, looking down at your feet. “I wish it was. I haven’t heard from him in two years.”

 The smile fell from Beomgyu’s face right away. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t know.”

 “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

 “Do you . . . know what happened to him?”

 You shook your head, staring at the moon through the window. “No. I don’t even know who he was.”

 “Hey, why are you speaking in the past tense?” He turned towards you and grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “Think positively, Y/N. He could still be out there. When did you first hear him?”

 “When I was thirteen,” You answered. “But he stopped singing two years ago.”

 “And you haven’t heard anything since then?”

 You hesitated, thinking back over the past two years and all the sleepless nights you had spent waiting and hoping to hear any trace of a note ringing in your ears, the faintest hint of a voice. Sometimes, when you were just about to close your eyes, you would’ve sworn that you could hear his voice for the briefest of moments before you drifted off, but you would always blame it on being sleep deprived.

 “No,” you said quietly. “I haven’t heard anything. He used to sing all the time, too. I would wake up to the sound of his voice, and it would carry me throughout each and every day. I know it sounds weird to say this about someone I don’t remember meeting, but I felt . . . connected to him, if that makes sense?”

 Beomgyu didn’t say anything, so you continued. “He’s actually the reason why I picked up the violin. I got so used to his voice, I would go around humming all day. I guess my mom got tired of hearing me, because soon after I started hearing him, my mom signed me up for violin lessons. And, well, now I’m here.”

 You looked over to see Beomgyu smiling softly, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. “Do you have any idea of who it might be?”

 You were quiet for a moment. The image of the boy from the hotel parking lot with his star-struck eyes and diamond smile came to your mind, as always.

 “No. But I have someone I hope it is.”

 You looked over at him again, and this time, his eyes met yours. The silvery light of the moon highlighted the right side of his face and the bridge of his nose, casting a stark shadow across the other side. He was neither smiling nor frowning as his eyes searched yours. What exactly he was looking for you couldn’t be sure of, however, you liked the eye contact well enough to let it go on for a moment longer before you cleared your throat, looking back towards the window.

 “Did you try calling Yeonjun again?”

 “Yep. No answer.”

 “Taehyun?”

 “Nothing.”

 “The professor?”

 “Didn’t pick up—I left a message though.”

 You sighed, allowing the back of your head to hit the wall behind you. “We’ll be stuck here all night at this rate.”

 “Well, now that you’ve had a little nap, we may as well use this time to be productive,” Beomgyu said, standing to his feet and stretching his arms above his head as he did so.

 You crossed your arms, raising a brow as you watched him pull his guitar out of the case. “What’s this? Choi Beomgyu taking initiative?”

 “Hey, we said we were starting over.”

 You laughed as he sat on the edge of the desk in front of where you were sitting on the floor. He pulled the strap over his shoulder and began tuning his guitar by ear, something you always struggled to do with your violin.

 “What are you doing?” You asked.

 He strummed through all the strings, nodding when he was satisfied with the sounds. Glancing down at you, he smiled. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to show you the song I wrote.”

 Interest piqued, you sat up straighter and smiled back at him. “I was hoping that’s what you’d say.”

 He laughed, adjusting his position on the desk before his fingers found their place on the neck of the guitar. You listened attentively as he began to pick the first notes, watching the way his fingers moved deliberately across the frets, yet, his movements never lost their grace. At first, he kept his eyes focused on his hands. But as the song went on, his eyes slowly closed, and he played without seeing, relying solely on the sound of the notes he was creating and the feeling of the strings that pressed into his calloused fingertips.

 Awestruck would have been an understatement for the way you felt as you watched him play. The way he became one with the sounds he created, the way his wrist twisted to strum and how his fingertips slid across the length of the instrument as if it was the very thing they had been created to do. You were hypnotized, allowing the music to seep into your heart and make it thump against your chest like a caged bird begging to be set free.

 If you had to put a word to how he looked in that moment, “beautiful” was the closest you would be able to get.

 He opened his eyes as he strummed the last note, a gentle grin on his lips. You noticed how his eyes sparkled in the darkness, despite his back being towards the moonlight rather than his face.

 “What do you think?” He asked, his voice sounding sharp as it pierced through the thick silence that had settled over the room.

 “It was—”

 “It was real pretty, kid.”

 You yelped in surprise at the sudden voice, jumping up to your feet as Beomgyu practically fell off the desk, nearly dropping his guitar in the process. You helped steady him, and together, you looked towards the door to see that it was wide open, fluorescent light from the hallway spilling into the room as the janitor stood in the entry way, arms crossed over his chest as he blew a bubble with the gum in his mouth.

 “If you’re done serenading your girlfriend, would you mind leaving so I can clean up and go home? This building closed an hour ago, but if you both leave now I’ll keep quiet.”

 Your cheeks went hot, and you struggled to form words as Beomgyu scrambled to put his guitar back in its case. “Girl—girlfriend? No, we’re not—I mean, I’m not his—we just got stuck and—”

 “Thank you, sir. We’re really sorry.” Beomgyu cut you off as he picked up his guitar case with one hand and wrapped his free arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You gasped, but were too stunned to do anything but follow Beomgyu’s lead as he pulled you out of the room.

 “What was that about?” You asked once the two of you had safely made it out of the building. “You were not serenading me.”

 Beomgyu shrugged, letting his arm fall from your shoulders. Your mouth fell open at his lack of a denial. “Choi Beomgyu! Stop messing around.”

 “Who said I was messing around?” He teased, winking at you as he began to walk towards his dorm building, which was on the other side of campus from yours.

 You scoffed but said nothing as you watched his back while he walked away from you, trying to piece together what had just happened.

 “See you tomorrow, Y/N!” He shouted, turning around as he walked so he could wave goodbye.

 You gave him a weak-hearted wave in return, pressing your hands against your flushed cheeks as you slowly began to tread back to your own dorm room.

 How strange it was that just that morning, you would have given almost anything to avoid seeing Beomgyu.

 But now, you found yourself counting down the minutes left until the next day so you could see him again.

 -

 WHEN YOU GOT BACK TO YOUR DORM FROM REHEARSAL THE NEXT EVENING, YOU HAD A TEXT.

 Beomgyu: I know we said we were starting over, but I can’t forget that I still owe you a coffee. Meet me at the library in 15?

 You felt like an idiot, but you couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face. Slipping your shoes back on, you typed out a quick reply before slipping out the door.

 You: Make it 5. I’ll be waiting.

 When you arrived at the library, you were surprised to see that Beomgyu was already there. The line for coffee was very short, as most students had settled into their dorms for the night. Only a few stray overachievers and those that were desperately trying to cram for exams were there, and Beomgyu had claimed a place in line amongst them. He held his guitar in one hand, as per usual, and you wondered if there would ever come a time in which you would see him without it.

 “How is it that you demanded to meet me ten minutes earlier than I planned, and I still got here before you?” He asked once you had reached him.

 “First of all, I did not demand anything from you,” You said, pushing your fist against his shoulder. “Secondly, that is so unfair, because you know that your dorm is way closer to the library than mine is.”

 “Sounds like an excuse to me, but okay. Ah, it’s our turn.” He placed his hand on the small of your back and pulled you closer to the counter. Your stomach flipped, but for some reason, you didn’t mind.

 After the two of had gotten your coffees, Beomgyu told you to follow him up the stairs. You expected to stop at the second floor, but to your surprise, he kept leading you. He took you through a door in the back that you didn’t even know existed, where there was another flight of stairs. At the end of these stairs was another door. You stepped outside and found yourself on the rooftop, with a great view of the campus below.

 “Are you sure we’re allowed to be up here?” You asked.

 “Well, no. But I’ve come up here a lot and never gotten in trouble, so what’s the harm?”

 “That does not make me feel any better.”

 “Come on, Y/N.” He took your hand in his and brought you over to the wide ledge, big enough for the two of you to sit on without the fear of falling off. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 You paused, eyes growing wide. He stared back at you as he hoisted himself up on the ledge. He took a sip of his coffee before asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

 You shook your head, setting your coffee beside of him before bringing yourself up to sit on the ledge yourself.

 “Nothing,” You said. “You just reminded me of someone.”

 “Ah.” He stared at you for a moment longer before he slipped his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders. You opened your mouth to protest, but he placed his finger against your parted lips, which was more than enough to shut you up.

 “Just accept an act of kindness, would you?” He said, zipping his jacket up over you. You watched him as he did so, noticing the way his chocolate eyes sparkled in the midst of the cloudy night.

 You swallowed, averting your gaze. “Thank you.”

 “You’re very welcome. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 It was quiet then, but not in an uncomfortable way. You enjoyed sitting beside of him in the silence, watching the lights of campus below you, feeling the warmth from his jacket spread over your chilled skin.

 “Actually, Y/N, there’s something that’s been bothering me,” Beomgyu said, breaking the silence.

 You turned to face him, curious. “What is it?”

 For the first time since you had met him, Beomgyu looked nervous. He picked at the skin around his nails, doing everything he could to keep his eyes from meeting yours.

 “Remember how you asked me if I sang? When we were locked in the orchestra room?” His voice was a bit quieter than it had been before.

 “Yeah, you said you didn’t.”

 “Right. Well, that—that was a lie,” He blurted, seeming to regret his words the second they had left his mouth. “Well, not a blatant lie, because I don’t sing anymore. But I used to.”

 You were a bit confused, but seeing how nervous he was, you decided not to ask him why he would lie about such a seemingly trivial topic.

 “What made you stop?” You asked carefully, not wanting to upset him.

 He hesitated, wringing his hands together. After taking a deep breath, he spoke again.

 “My father and I used to sing together,” He began. “I taught myself how to play the guitar, but he was the one who taught me how to sing. He loved to sing, more than anything else, and he always told me that I had a brilliant voice. He said it would be a shame to keep such a voice to myself.”

 He smiled fondly as he spoke of his father, and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The joy slowly faded from his expression, however, as he began to speak again.

 “I lost him two years ago,” He said quietly, voice thick with emotions that caused your heart to clench. “He was in a bad car accident. I was doing really well here, in vocals and guitar. But when I lost him, I just . . . I couldn’t sing anymore. I tried, I really did. I just couldn’t do it.”

 “Oh, Beomgyu,” You whispered, gently placing your hand over his trembling one.

 “It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Singing was the one thing he wanted me to do, and now that he’s gone, I’m failing at it.”

 “No, Beomgyu,” You said, your voice firm as you squeezed his hand. “It’s not pathetic at all. You’re doing the best you can, and you’re still here. And most importantly, you tried. That’s what matters.”

 He brought his eyes back to yours then, glistening with moisture in the moonless, starless night. He smiled at you then, and you smiled back.

 “Y/N.”

 “Hm?”

 “Have I told you yet that you’re really, really beautiful?”

 Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You were frozen for a moment before you scoffed, pulling your hand away from his and tucking it into your lap.

 “I thought you were going to start being more serious,” You mumbled, refusing to look at him. “Stop messing around.”

 Then, he moved closer to you, placing one arm behind you while he brought the other to rest against your cheek, gently turning your face towards his. He leaned in, so close that his breath brushed against your skin. He smelled of citrus and vanilla, and you found yourself leaning closer to him.

 He glanced at your lips, then met your eyes once again.

 “What makes you think I’m not being serious?”

 His lips were soft when they pressed against yours, and it felt as though your heart would burst right out of your chest. You allowed your eyes to fall shut as he gently moved his mouth against yours, slowly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he did so, before allowing his fingers to gently trace their way along your cheek, then your jaw, until he rested his hand against your neck, pulling you a tiny bit closer to him.

 He broke the kiss for a fleeting moment, just to open his eyes so he could look into yours. You liked the flecks of light that beamed in his irises, as though his eyes were made of starlight. He smiled, allowing his nose to brush against yours as his eyes moved back down to your lips. Once again, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips with his for the second time. He tasted like coffee and cheap cherry chap-stick—and odd combination, but you didn’t mind as you brought your arms around his neck and shifted closer to him, twisting your head to the side as you moved your lips in time with his.

 The moment was unexpected, to say the least. But perhaps that was what made it feel that much more magical.

 At least, it was magical until you felt scalding hot liquid splash all over the side of your leg, seeping through the fabric of your jeans to burn your skin.

 You gasped against Beomgyu’s lips before pulling away, staring wide eyed at your jeans that were now stained with coffee. Your cup, which had been sitting between the two of you, was now knocked on its side, the contents drained.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Beomgyu said frantically. His lips were shining from the aftermath of your kiss, his freckled cheeks and nose red as a cherry. He gently pressed his hands against your leg, pulling them back when you winced from the impact. “Oh god—I’m sorry, I forgot that it was there and I was leaning in and I knocked it over and—”

 You laughed at how flustered he had become, amused by this side of him that you hadn’t seen before. You grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his in a swift kiss, effectively shutting him up.

 “It’s okay, Beomgyu,” You said once you pulled away, letting your hands fall from his face. “I guess you just owe me another coffee.”

 The goofy lopsided grin you had grown accustomed to took place of the frightened expression he had worn just moments before. He hopped off the ledge, extending his hand towards you to help you down.

 “Come on, partner. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 -

 IT WAS THE DAY OF THE OPEN HOUSE, AND YOU WERE SLIGHTLY UNNERVED BY HOW WELL THINGS WERE GOING.

 You had hoped that everything would go smoothly. The past few weeks, you had spent all your time and energy making sure that the event would be as close to perfect as possible.

 Well, you had also spent a bit of time with Beomgyu, but only when you had the time to spare, of course.

 The performers were all setting up; the drama department was working on setting up the stage props, as they would be going first, and they were busy rehearsing with the orchestra for how they could effectively move the props to make room for the instruments in a timely fashion. Yeonjun was rushing about, directing them with the grace and efficiency only he could pull off.

 Everything was going perfectly. You should have just been happy about that, but for some reason, it felt as though you were just waiting for something to go terribly wrong.

 “Y/N.” You turned at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, smiling as he walked towards you. He was dressed in a white button up shirt that he tucked into a pair of black jeans. His sleeves were pushed up a bit, exposing his forearms.

 “Everything okay?” You asked once he had reached you. You glanced at the members of the band, who were talking in hushed voices right behind Beomgyu. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed that something was amiss. “Where’s Soobin? Is he on his way?”

 Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “That’s what I was coming to talk to you about. He’s sick—he won’t be able to make it. I just got a text from him.”

 You blinked slowly, trying to process what you had just been told. Soobin was the main vocalist for the band. Without him, or someone to fill his position, there would be no performance.

 You quickly walked over to the band, desperately trying to think of something to fix the situation, and Beomgyu was following right behind you.

 “Can any of you do lead vocals in Soobin’s place?” You asked.

 “No,” the main guitarist said, looking just as stressed out as you were. “We’d have to change the entire key for it to fit my range, and even if we had time to do that—which we don’t—we wouldn’t have any backup vocals.”

 You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “There’s got to be something we can do to replace him. We can’t just take the band performance out.”

 “How about Beomgyu?”

 Your eyes flew open at the sound of Yeonjun’s voice, and you whirled around to see him standing behind you.

“When did you get there?” You asked.

 “A minute or so ago,” He said, striding forward so that he stood on the other side of you. “But seriously, everyone knows Beomgyu can sing. He used to do it all the time. Why not have him take Soobin’s place?”

 “It would make sense,” the guitarist said, his face lighting up with a glint of hope. “He’s been here for all the practices—I mean, he even wrote the song!”

 You turned your eyes towards Beomgyu, worry overtaking you in an instant when you saw his expression. All the color had drained from his face, his lips pulled between his teeth. His hands were trembling, and he refused to meet your gaze.

 “Beomgyu,” You said quietly, taking his shaky hand in your steady one. “You don’t have to. We can figure something else out—”

 “I’ll think about it,” He said, eyes finally finding yours. He did his best to force a smile, but it was so strained, your worry only grew at the sight. “Just . . . can you give me a little while?”

 You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Of course.”

 He slipped away from you then, disappearing behind the stage. Your eyes followed him until you couldn’t see him any longer, worry creasing your brows.

 “What was that about?” Yeonjun asked, stepping a bit closer to you. “I understand not wanting to force anyone to do something last minute, but we don’t really have many options.”

 “There’s more to it than that,” You said quietly. “Just trust me, okay? And if he says he can’t do it, he can’t. We are not going to force him to do this.”

 Yeonjun still looked confused, but he simply shrugged. “Whatever you say, captain. But just so you know, if he can’t do it, you’re gonna be the one singing in Soobin’s place. And trust me, no one wants to hear that.”

 You fought the urge to flip him off as he walked away, wondering why on earth you still kept him around as your best friend.

 The rest of the preparations went on, and soon, the audience had begun to fill the auditorium. You hadn’t seen Beomgyu since that moment during rehearsals, and you were beginning to grow worried.

 You stood in the right wing of the stage as the show began with the drama department. You tried to focus on the performance—it was amazing, of course, especially since Yeonjun played a lead role in the scene they had chosen. Everyone knew he was an amazing actor. However, rather than being able to enjoy the show, you could only think about where Beomgyu was and wonder if he was doing alright, your stomach twisting itself into knots as the seconds ticked by.

 By the time the drama students were finished, the audience standing to clap for their flawless performance, you had bitten your nails down to nubs as you grew increasingly worried. Yeonjun rushed over to you when he left the stage, smiling widely as he stretched his arms out to his sides. “How’d we do?”

 “Hm?” You snapped out of your daze, shaking your head as you gave him two thumbs up. “Oh—wonderful. You guys were great. Hey, will you make sure everything goes well with the orchestra? I have to go find Beomgyu.”

 “Well why don’t you stay here and I’ll go find him—”

 “Nope, I’ve got it! Thanks best friend, you’re the greatest!” You gave him a quick hug before he could say anything else, quickly rushing out of the auditorium. You made your way down a few hallways, taking a couple of turns until you had reached one of the dressing rooms. You knew this was where Beomgyu had been getting ready because his guitar case was propped against the wall outside of it, so you hoped he was still inside.

 You knocked on the door. “Beomgyu? Are you in there?”

 It was silent, but you heard someone sniffle from behind the door. You sighed, leaning against the wood. “You don’t have to say anything, okay? But just hear me out.”

 There was no response, but you could have sworn you felt someone leaning against the door from the other side.

 “I know you may feel like you have to pressure yourself to do this, but you don’t,” You said gently. “Nobody is going to be disappointed if you can’t get up there to sing. Not me, not Yeonjun, not the band.”

 You paused, biting your lip before you continued. “Your father wouldn’t be upset either, Beomgyu. The fact that you’re willing to even think about doing something this hard just to help out shows just how great of a person you are. He would be so, so proud of you. I’m proud of you, too. Whether or not you get up there and sing tonight, I’m proud of you. Okay?”

 You stayed there, waiting in silence for a moment longer before you pushed away from the door, walking back towards the auditorium.

 The orchestra was almost finished with their set by the time you returned to the wing. Yeonjun and the band were waiting with anticipation when you returned, eyes wide and searching behind you, probably hoping that Beomgyu was close behind.

 “Is he coming?” Yeonjun asked.

 You sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t think so. We’ll just have to call off the band’s performance, but it’ll be okay—”

 “That won’t be necessary.”

 You turned at the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, unable to help the big smile that overtook your face. You hurried towards him, grabbing both his hands in your own.

 “Are you sure?” You asked. “You know you don’t have to—”

 “I know I don’t,” he said with a smile. “But I want to.”

 He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against your forehead. “Thank you. For everything.”

 He went up to talk to the band after that, leaving you a blushing mess. The orchestra had just finished their set and were busy making way for the band. Yeonjun walked to your side as Beomgyu and the rest of the band took their places on the stage.

 “Did he just kiss you?” Your best friend asked. For some reason, he didn’t sound surprised.

 Dumbfounded, you brought your hand to your forehead and nodded, unable to speak. Yeonjun laughed at you, causing you to snap out of your daze so you could punch him lightly in the shoulder.

 Once the band had finished getting ready, Beomgyu cleared his throat, tapping the mic before leaning forward to speak into it.

 “Hello everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. My name is Choi Beomgyu, and these lovely people surrounding me are some of the many talented musicians in our music department.” He paused when the audience clapped, waiting until the applause died down before he spoke again. “To wrap up this showcase, we’ll be performing a song I wrote myself. I wrote this about someone I met a long, long time ago.”

 He turned his head to the side then, making eye contact with you from the stage. He smiled, not taking his gaze away from yours. He looked heavenly in the light cast from the spotlight, strands of his black hair seeming to turn silver beneath the glow, his golden skin shining brighter than ever. You were sure that if you were close enough, you would see the star-like sparkles in his eyes that you had grown to adore.

 “I hope she remembers me, even after all this time.”

 “Is he talking about you?” Yeonjun whispered into your ear, noticing the direction of Beomgyu’s stare. “You guys just met like, a month ago.”

 You were just as confused as your best friend, so in response, you simply shrugged, unsure of what was going on. He was definitely talking to you, but you had no idea what he was referring to.

 “I hope she remembers me, even after all this time.”

 You racked your brain, trying desperately to think of what he could mean. Had you met him before? Did he remember you from somewhere, from a memory that had somehow slipped your mind?

 The music began to play, and you took a step closer to the stage, eyes narrowed, ready to focus on the lyrics, wanting more than anything to remember what Beomgyu was talking about.

 “In moments like those, when tears fill your eyes, hold my hand tight. Should we run away?”

 Your eyes went wide. You stumbled back, reaching up to hold your head in your hands.

 “Y/N?” Yeonjun’s voice was distant, overpowered by the sound of the honey sweet voice that filled the air. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

 You gasped, hands tangling in your hair as the singing continued.

 “Be my forever, call my name. Run away, run away, run away with me.”

 Your head was ringing. Not only were these words the same ones you had heard in your head the night you were locked in the classroom with Beomgyu, but the voice—Beomgyu’s voice—was the same one you had heard day and night while growing up.

 It was your soulmates voice.

 You knew it was, not just because of the lyrics or the familiarity of the voice. You knew it was your soulmate because you didn’t just hear the words and the notes of the song, you felt them. Every inch of your being felt as though it had been struck by lightning. The voice filled up all of your senses, overpowering you in the most beautiful way imaginable.

 But it was too much. His voice coming through the loudspeakers paired with it ringing inside your head built up so much pressure that it caused your vision to blur. You quickly stumbled out of the auditorium, fumbling your way through the front doors that led outside.

 You sat down on the pavement, taking deep breaths as your mind began to calm down. No longer overwhelmed by all that was going on around you, you closed your eyes, listening to Beomgyu’s voice as it filled your mind.

 “Don’t wanna stay, now we can go. Take me now to the magic named ‘us.’”

 With those words, the voice died down, and you were surrounded by silence.

 You simply sat there for several moments, your eyes remaining closed as you tried to understand everything that had just happened to you.

 Beomgyu was your soulmate.

 Beomgyu was your soulmate, and he was alive.

 Bit by bit, you started to piece things together. The night of your thirteenth birthday, the day before you heard his voice for the first time. You had met the boy with sparkling eyes and a lopsided grin in the hotel parking lot. He had offered you his coat, and then his hand.

 “I hope she remembers me,” Beomgyu had said.

 You smiled to yourself, placing your hand over your heart as it beat fiercely against your chest.

 “Yes, Beomgyu. I do remember you.”

 “Y/N!”

 Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door being thrown open behind you. You turned to see Beomgyu barreling towards you, practically collapsing to the ground in front of you. He took your face in his hands, eyes frantically searching yours.

 “Are you okay?” He asked, his fingers gently running along the length of your cheeks.

 You nodded, smiling even though tears began to pool in your eyes. “Beomgyu,” You said quietly, lifting your hands to hold his wrists. “You knew, didn’t you?”

 “Knew what?”

 “That you’re my soulmate.”

 He paused, the worry in his face slowly being replaced by a wide, sparkling smile.

 “So you finally figured it out, huh?” He said, brushing a strand of your hair back behind your ear. “If you didn’t figure it out after tonight, I wasn’t sure how else I was supposed to show you.”

 You laughed, a tear slipping down your cheek as you tightened your grip on his wrists. His expression changed once again, brows knit with concern. “Are—are you crying? What’s wrong?”

 “No, nothing, it’s fine,” You assured him, resting your forehead against his. “I’m just happy. I’m so, so happy, Beomgyu.”

 He sighed with relief, wrapping his arms around you in a hug, pulling you snugly into his chest. His chin rested on top of your head as you slipped your arms around his middle, pulling him even closer than he already was.

 “I was a little worried that you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me,” He said with a light laugh.

 You shook your head against his chest, snuggling even closer to him. “Of course not. You’re exactly who I hoped it would be, Choi Beomgyu.”

 The two of you stayed like that for a bit longer before Beomgyu pulled away and stood up in front of you.

 The boy with stars for eyes and a smile that outshone the moon stretched his hand out towards you, fingers shaking from the cold, cheeks flushed from your embrace.

 “Should we run away?” He asked.

 This time, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet.

#txt fluff #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #beomgyu au #beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fic #txt fics #txt fic #yeonjun oneshot #yeonjun au #yeonjun drabbles #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu #soobin au #soobin oneshot #soobin scenarios #txt taehyun #taehyun drabble #taehyun au #hyuka #hueningkai au #hueningkai fluff #fanfic #soulmates au

[bopbopstyles]

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

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | Y/N’S LINGERIE | TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE BITS OF BANTER | BLURB MASTERLIST | DRABBLE TAG

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.”

or

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.

“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.”

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!!!!

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #college au #college harry styles #harry styles #fratboy harry #frat boy au #fratboy!harry #frat boy fan fiction #fratboy!harry fan fiction #bartender!y/n

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Something else I haven't seen before. What would the MC's parent from each background think of the ROs? Who would they approve of and who wouldn't they? I guess in the case of orphan MC, what would E's parents think? Since they kinda maybe vaguely adopted orphan MC?

Hmm, interesting! Since I did the opposite, I should have seen this one coming haha

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

Storm's comments:

E: "Rose has had that expectation for some time. This is preferable to the alternative. I know you will be in good hands. Rose raised them well."

R: Your father doesn't mince his words, a clear disdain evident, "Valleford. See that you don't take after your father, or there will be less than pleasantries next time we meet."

L: "Scio. I assume your father...?" Storm's lips pull in a small frown as L gives a small nod of confirmation, "I understand if you cannot forgive me. Your father is a significant asset to the Hospian war effort. If I find him, I will kill him."

V: "You've seen enough at your age," Storm says quietly, looking into the hollow glint in V's eyes, "I'm sorry. Those were battles that should have ended with my generation, not yours."

P: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, "I assume your father is well? He does not speak of his second child often, but you seem more spirited than the other. That will make the greater difference when it matters."

M: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, though there's little sentimentality in his voice, "I assume your father is well? He expresses confidence in your upbringing, but I can't say I share the sentiment. You lack something fundamental. Something to drive you to achieve more than what's expected of you."

Ra: Storm's eyes lock onto Raven with a harsh intensity, "Your eyes are filled with blood and you conceal weapons. Tell me your intentions or I will kill you right now."

S: "I admit I am unfamiliar with Orden. The conflict never reached that country, but I understand there are many hardships there already," Storm says, looking the brightly grinning student up and down before his lips pull back in small contentment, "You come out better than most. You have impressive strength."

F: Storm holds a frown as he takes in the vivid green hair, "Many allowed Frenza to claim their distance due to their significant contribution to Triaina's independence, but it doesn't absolve you of everything," he says in warning, "Don't step over the boundaries you've been afforded, or the military will have no choice but to respond."

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

Scurra's dialogue:

E: Scurra makes a grimace as he recognizes E, "Damnit, you've gone and done it now," he grumbles as he pulls out his wallet and hands a fold of bills to E, "Give that to your mom, will you? She's worse than a debt collector with bets..."

R: "Valleford! There's a name I haven't heard in a while. I knew they had a black sheep in the family, but I guess they couldn't take away the infamous good looks," Scurra chuckles, his eyes lightening reminiscently, "They've put me in a good bit of trouble on more than one occasion. I guess I should consider it a family curse now that MC is involved with you."

L: "Oh, I know those eyes," Scurra says wistfully, "Coming to find the world is a bigger place than you imagined, aren't you? It's even more expansive than that, too. I had that same look when I traveled overseas. I hope MC is being a good guide for you," he looks to you, and gives a knowing wink.

V: Scurra gives a meandering hum as he looks at V, "I've been all around, but I've only seen natural hair color like that a handful of times. They all had your same stare, too." He closes his eyes thoughtfully, "None as young as you though. I hope you're the last I have to see with those eyes. They're a bad omen."

P: "A fiery one, aren't you! Has no one ever told you not to say bad words in public?" Scurra laughs, "You should stop while you can. You're so transparent with your feelings that I almost mistook you for a window, so there's no point to pulling a tough act."

M: A small, genuine smile rises on Scurra's lips as he inspects M, "How interesting. You're so similar to your twin, but you're definitely the better actor. As I think about it, you remind me of MC's mother in many ways..."

Ra: "What are you doing here?" Scurra frowns, staring harshly at Raven. A silence passes and eventually he looks away, messaging his jaw, "Oops, guess I was mistaken. You looked a little like someone I know."

S: "You've got Orden written all over you, don't you?" Scurra says cheerily, "It's been a while since I've visited, but I have to say it gave me the most enjoyment. You all certainly know how to keep it lively."

F: "Your family has always been so hauty!" Scurra covers his mouth to suppress a chuckle, "But I think it would be a mistake to talk down to everyone you meet. I happen to be on great terms with your mother. If I took the opportunity, you two would have been siblings!"

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

Xero's insight:

E: He smiles warmly to E, "It's good to see you again. I'm afraid there was little I could do for you: your mother has already found out about your relationship. I expect she'll make it as embarrassing for you as possible, if I know her well. I hope you're mentally prepared."

R: Xero studies R with a faint curiosity, "I'm afraid your father and I are on less than speaking terms due to some...past difficulties, but I understand you are more than simply your father's child. You may be villianized for your differing viewpoint, but aren't we all? I don't find it is so bad," Xero gives R a knowing small."

L: Xero's eyes widen upon seeing L, then falls into a soft smile, "To think history would repeat so aptly. To see you two now reminds me of my own school days," Xero closes his eyes and releases a light sigh, the smile still present, "I pray you'll also find the same happiness I did, and that it lasts longer."

V: Xero's grip tightens on an file in his hands as he sees V, his voice meticulous, "You are...Wolfe, correct? I'll admit the what I've heard and read of you is...less than appealing, but," he casts his gaze between you and the ex-Jagd member, a faint smile growing on his lips as V steps cautiously between you. "You seem to have a strong sense of duty. I hope you will be a good pillar for MC."

P: He looks disaprovingly, "In my field, words are paired with intention. To speak is to lay bare your thoughts. Why would you neglect your intent by forcing a negative connotation where it doesn't belong?"

M: He seems slightly more on edge than with P, "I don't believe I should offer my approval to someone unwilling to determine a focus. It's a testament to your negligence."

Ra: Xero crosses their arms, his face skeptical,"Marriage? Your lack of detailed forethought and hyperfixation gives me the impression of an unhealthy mind. As it stands now, I will refuse to give you my blessing."

S: "I'm afraid I'm ignorant to everything Orden related," Xero says sheepishly, "I am happy to learn all that I can, though. Perhaps you would like to bring your family at some point? I would be happy to host them here." Xero smiles warmly, clearly unknowing of the chaotic rabblerousing he's invited into his home.

F: "Ah, the royal line," Xero says in recognition of F, "Your own mother was a classmate of mine as well. To think one of her children would grow so closely with mine. Please give her my regards, would you? She has always kept herself closer than others, so I was happy when she took an interest in my friend. He's a lucky man."

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

Mr. Razor's thoughts (if he was alive)

E: He bows his head gratefully, "Thank you for taking care of MC all this time. Your selflessness has saved me a lot of worry, and I doubt I'll have any more leaving them in your hands."

R: Razor's eyes bore a hole through R, "To defy your father was a considerable risk. And not knowing what the academy had planned for you, you still allowed yourself to be incarcerated for an indeterminate amount of time," Razor taps his fingers to his chin, a smile spreading over his lips, "I enjoy those that stick to their principles, but what say we work on your jailbreaking?"

L: "Your father's quite an important man. He's lucky I was never contracted to kill him," Razor says matter-of-factly. A chilling air of silence deafens the room until Razor holds up his palms, "Just kidding. I've never killed anyone. They all died mysteriously."

V: "How's Jagd doing?" Razor narrows his eyes keenly on V, "I'm surprised they were able to bounce back after what I did to them. I guess they filled the empty spaces with whoever was able...or moldable."

P: Razor smiles sadly, "It must be difficult to be given another person's expectations and do well with them. You're like a fish trying to climb a tree. But I enjoy how far up you've climbed despite that. Would you like a reward? I know, how about...your father's weakness?"

M: Razor seems disinterested, "You're not worth the words, Crater. You're nothing more than what your father made you to be: a simple shadow to live vicariously through."

Ra: Razor's eyes have an approving glint, "The one that slipped through the cracks. How very odd. MC's mother was quite odd too. It's an endearing quality, isn't it? Yes, I think you'll make a perfect companion for MC. You've already been looking over them all this time, haven't you?"

S: "Earnestness is one of the first qualities people tend to throw away when faced with hardship. It is impressive to see how you've progressed through your poverty and discrimination so aptly. Perhaps you have a hope that things will get better?" Razor's mouth spreads in a wicked smile, "I do enjoy seeing how people struggle for such a small glimmer of light. I think I'll offer my aid."

F: "Ah, it's always cute to see people play at royalty," Razor smiles at F's exasperated face, "Why do you seem so angry? Do you actually believe your position has meaning? I'll assure you it doesn't," Razor casts a darkening stare towards the royal, "To me, you're no harder to kill than a beggar on the street. The power you attempt to flaunt means nothing, because in the end it does nothing to elevate you beyond a simple street urchin."

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

End

Thank ya for the ask!

#romance options #triaina academy #parents #mc background

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [2] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, josei, mild angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) Notes: tbh idk how marriage works in japan, all i know is that once you have both your signatures in the marriage registration certificate with one witness then you guys r married skdjssks anyways onto the story- also might i add this is happy story?? i promise yall, all youll see is cute stuff in this story bcos fuck angst (ok maybe lil angst since you know plot development) but i stand by that nanami kento deserves that trip to malaysia under the sun with his lover! before i forget to add, the age dynamics is that y/n is around 25 and nanami is 38. no power play and all that, just two healthy consenting adults! sorry for the early delete had some minor corrections :( 

Izakaya-informal japanese bar

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next]  [updates; every friday yay!]

*13 hours earlier; a night before at some random Izakaya in Tokyo*

You sat in front of your phone and three bottles of saki, despite your friends advising you countless of times to lay off drinking too much, all sense and warnings are thrown off the window tonight.

You’re clearly far from sobriety as you recall the video chat with your otosan not looking too good and bright, “Why don’t you move back home? It’s not like the teaching job at tokyo is all that great! You’re alone there and your obachan and I don’t like that a lot…” your father’s words haunt you again and again.

Just what was wrong with living alone? And excuse your otosan but you definitely had a very good job at Tokyo High (It was a prestigious academy that paid well, best job out there that you still didn’t know how you landed). You mumbled a few curses underneath your breath, Oh, how much you love that oaf of a father and worrywart of a grandmother but could they lay off the idea of settling down? You were a responsible and good child who never had stepped a toe out of line. Wasn’t that enough already? You immediately downed the drink and let the saki burn your throat down.

“Oh ho, slow down there.” You hear someone say, “You’re all alone and it seems like you have no one to help you back home.”

It seemed like the men on the opposite side of the bar had noticed you.

“I can take myself home, thank you very much.” You mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. Unlike older men who liked to prey on you for your innocent stature. The men who sat across you in the Izakaya didn’t really exude that sort of energy (what can you say, you had a knack of experiencing that, unfortunately).

“Are you sure? We can ask the owner to call a cab for you. She’s a woman and she’s a friend of ours.” the other one in robes pipes in, wait, was that a Buddhist monk?

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You paused before letting out a long sigh, “A bad time so I need to stick around for a bit.”

The white-haired stranger tilts his head just a bit, “Seems like you and a friend of mine are both going through some rough patches.” he replied, pointing towards his blonde company who you didn’t notice until now.

You wordlessly shifted your gaze towards the office worker next to the Buddhist monk, you hadn’t noticed the blonde man until now. It seemed like he was going through a rough time too since the pair was loud and boisterous enough to conceal his silent presence.

You notice how out of place he looks with his crisp and clean suit, hard gaze, and silence. It made you wonder what sort of man hangs out with two contrasting personalities, “You’re wondering if he’s our friend or our boss, aren’t ya?” the white-haired man asks.

You immediately turn red in embarrassment, were you that easy to read? You try to stutter out an apology but the monk waves it off, “It’s alright, we get it all the time. Contrary to popular belief, Kento is two years younger than us and is our junior from high school.” He smiles.

“Ah,” you nodded mutely, “Sorry. It definitely wouldn’t make sense to see a boss and his subordinates at an Izakaya.”

“Oh, Kento-chan doesn’t usually go out drinking but he couldn’t resist. After all, he’s a father with two very emotional teenage boys.” The white-haired man teased in a sing-song voice. It seemed like the three were close, with the way they were carelessly lounging around the stoic and kind-of scary man.

“I’m starting to wonder if he gets that teasing attitude from you.” The blonde man, seemingly out of his trance, called out his friend. Contrasting to his aloof features, he didn’t mask the annoyance in his tone.

“Oh, uh, do you need help?” you quietly asked, tilting your head to the side in wonder. The blonde man’s head snapped to your direction and quirked a brow.

“And you are?” he seemed to be calculating and observing you from head to toe. It suddenly made you a bit self-conscious because this older gentleman had no business being this good looking and scary at the same time.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way. I’m actually a high school teacher.” You introduced yourself sheepishly, “I’m always surrounded by angsty teenagers.”

His gaze narrowed just a bit, it seemed like he’ll be giving you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was a bit desperate since he was getting advice from a drunk stranger in an Izakaya out of all places, “So what seems to be the problem, Ojisan?”

He’s still quite hesitant so it’s his white haired friend who speaks out for him, “You see, Kento-chan here just moved last week because of a promotion from Kyoto.” he grins, telling the story for his friend, “His kids aren’t very keen with the moving, well one of them is outright showing it and the other one is well keeping it in since he’s just the sweeter one.”

The white-haired stranger keeps babbling on about how his friend had regretted taking the work promotion because it feels like he shouldn’t have done that. You peerlessly observe the older man’s reaction while his friend talks about his problems to you. He remains stoic.

It didn’t look like it but it seemed like this man had such a soft spot for his kids.

How nice, his wife must be proud of him.

“... and before I forget to add, Kento-chan is very much single.”

You almost choke on your saliva, this friend of his sure knew how to run his mouth. It suddenly dawns upon you why this man had been very worried, he was a single parent who only wanted what was best for his boys but he didn’t even know how he should proceed now.

“Um, ojisan?” You quietly call out, “I think you’re doing great.”

Silence lingered in the air for a bit, you cringed at your rather awkward and forward approach, “Excuse me?” the older blonde man asked, clearly dismayed by your response.

“It’s just…” you ears turn red, not from the alcohol but from embarrassment, “You wouldn’t have moved in the first place if the pay wasn’t better than your old job, right? Plus you’re alone and raising two kids. It definitely isn’t easy to provide for everything alone but I can see that you did some careful reevaluation on the whole thing. Obviously you can’t avoid the fact that they feel bad but you can sit them down and talk to them about how the whole thing was beneficial not just for you but for them too.”

You spoke way too quickly that you wondered if the man could understand you.

The blonde man holds his breath for a moment, “I know…” he mumbles, “I just don’t really know how to talk to them.”

“Well, maybe you could take them out?” You advised, “Spend a whole day with them for a while and just move around with them. Help them get acquainted around their new school or something!”

You watch him silently look at his glass and think it over. Man, if this guy wasn’t older, your obaasan would outright agree and tell you to go out with him since she was never fond of how men weren’t as calm or laid back as he was.

“That sounds plausible. Thank you, Y/N-san.” his voice turned a bit softer and you feel your stomach turn just a little queasy by his tone. God, was the alcohol this bad?

“Well, would ya look at that.” the white-haired man grins, placing his drink up as if he was signaling everyone to cheers with him, “I told you drinking at an Izakaya would solve all your problems. For that, we should drink here again next week!”

The man glared at him yet again, “No. I should be heading home now. I can’t be anymore away from S-”

“Ah, ah. You promised that you’d stay until 2 am.” The white-haired man hushed, “Or I’ll be pestering you for a whole month.”

You could definitely tell that a vein popped on his forehead and his blood pressure was shooting up. Man, you were really starting to doubt that white-haired man was older than everyone in this room. He sure had the mental age of an elementary student.

“You also said I could leave after five drinks.”

“That’s only your second.”

“Satoru…” the Buddhist monk dangerously hovers over his white-haired friend. Wow, middle-age men sure were amusing, “You don’t even drink that well and he has to drive home…”

“Tit for tat, I’ll hire one of my personnel to drive you home after five drinks and I’ll leave you alone for a wee-”

“Please just leave me alone for my whole life.” the blonde man deadpanned.

Unlike you, he wasn't such a bad drinker. Four bottles for him and one more drink for you later, you're both kind of woozy and you had gotten on even friendlier terms with the three men who you now know as Geto-ojisan, Gojo-ojisan, and finally, Nanami-ojisan. Nanami was well into his late thirties while Geto and Gojo were in their forties.

If you were sober, you wouldn’t be making friends with older men. With stories of how easily young people are taken advantage of in the big city, you’d swerve away from them. Luckily, it seemed like they were a good trio and not once did they invite you to sit on their table so you had some good distance between you four and so far, they hadn’t tried anything funny or uncomfortable.

Geto is currently a lawyer, Gojo’s apparently some swanky businessman of god knows what        you heard jewelry or something      and Nanami was an accountant. A job that he described was ‘dead-end’ and ‘fucking boring’.

“...What happened to your wife, Nanami-ojisan?” you ask, the alcohol slowly shedding your shyness away.

“I told ya, Y/N-chan. He never was married. The way he got the kids was just complicated!” Gojo Satoru frowns, splaying his long limbs in the air, for a man so enthusiastic with drinking, he sure got drunk pretty quickly.

“Really? Didn’t you have a hard time? Wow…” you whistled, “I have such high…” you raised your hand as high as you could, “...respects for like, single parents!”

“See? See? But he can’t get a partner because of that Y/N-chan.” Gojo pouts, “...We’ve been setting him up on dates and such but he keeps bailing on them!”

“I have kids.” Nanami deadpans, narrowing his eyes.

“What my friends are trying to say, Kento has a number of opportunities to bring a partner into his life but he likes to use the boys and his work as an excuse.” Geto surmised, it seemed like the lawyer was also starting to feel the effects of the alcohol since he had become more talkative.

“He’s good-looking, right Y/N-chan? If he probably didn’t act like some fossil from the Triassic period, he wouldn’t have a problem sometimes about the boys having a mother figure!” Gojo rants, making Nanami flick his forehead.

“Idiot, must you tell this stranger all my problems?” Nanami harshly interjected.

“Well, you do know that to actually get a partner, you must get out there, right ojisan?” you try to calm him down, you didn’t want a bar fight to erupt.

“I know.” he rolls his eyes, “But the kids-”

“I know.” You try to smile, “You aren’t very interested in bringing just anyone in your life, right? The boys need a permanent figure and you think dating around is going to help.”

“Holy shit, Y/N-chan.” Gojo exclaims, “I thought you were a teacher? How come you know all this shit?”

“It’s basic, Gojo-san.” you smile, ready to take another swig of your saki, “You should take into consideration that Nanami-san isn’t just anyone who’d settle for less. He needs stability since he’s technically a parent.”

“That makes you a perfect pair, don’t you think?” Geto nonchalantly replies, “I mean, you need a stable man in your life who has all of it figured out and wouldn’t hold you back at all while Kento here needs a person who could not only be a good parent but also be as understanding.”

“That’s…” you chuckle, he technically was right, “That’s definitely odd how all our problems will be solved if we both just went out together.”

“... looks young enough to be my child.” Nanami rejoined, “why would Y/N-san like-”

“I mean, you’re good looking.” you shrug, rather shamelessly, “I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if I married you.”

Gojo spits out the saki he was drinking all over the table and that makes you cringe in disgust, “As long as he doesn’t get invited to the wedding. I’d marry you. If you’d like we could even get married right here, right now.” you proudly proclaim.

The blonde man is thrown off by your statement yet he’s too drunk to even sip in the seriousness of your words, “Well as much as I agree on not inviting Gojo to my wedding, I don’t know-” he tries to explain.

“You know what, isn’t Geto-san a lawyer? He could have it notarized and all that right now then we could get married. I’ll be a great mom and help you out then you could help me get my family off my back. You scratch my back, I scratch yours!”

Geto is definitely in shock, how odd was it that he even had a marriage registration certificate in his briefcase back in the car too?

You both could just sign it and Satoru could sign it as your witness and he could have it officially notarized since he had his seal back there too.

Solved.

“So, Nanami-san, what do you say? Wanna marry me?”

Oh god, were you shameless.

Who in the right mind would marry a stranger, one who was thirteen years older and a father?

One thing was for sure, your friends were right. You definitely needed to stay away from alcohol.

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil  ; @shephard17895  @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant​ ; @bleepop​ ; ​

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ; @katshuya  ; ​

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you

[aropride]

not a question, but rather a command.

Hand over the goddamn c!Ranboo and c!Beeduo headcanons.

OHHHH IM SO GOOD AT THIS ONE

ok . ok. ok. *cracks my knuckles* *stretching like im abt to play a Sport Game*

c!ranboo . he/they or no pronouns depending on the Vibes. doesnt label his sexuality. not a fan of using words to describe himself at all actually and uses pronouns just bc he knows it makes things easier for other ppl

c!tubbo he/they exact opposite LOVES labels. demiromantic + gay. (fuck u *arospecs ur characters*)

both of them r neurodivergent bc i say so (im writing (/thinking really hard about writing) a fic rn abt them being nd and learning 2 accept themselves n each other Btw im so excited) here r my ideas for their nd traits

ranboo is autistic. tubbo is also autistic. i think we should have more autistic rep in media

ranboo ocd. u will know about this head canon if u followed me last week bc my url was ocdranboo, which is a banger.

tubbo adhd. tubbo SO adhd. someone help him

tubbo also dyslexic. cc!tubbo is so it would feel wrong for c!tubbo not to be fhsjhdf

c!ranboo repeats words a lot to try to say them "right," can get stuck saying certain words / sentences again and again until it's perfect. he hates eye contact.

hes very texture sensitive n only likes certain foods for that reason, altho he cant always remember which foods he likes n which ones he doesnt. hes also very sensitive to bright light, both due to sensory issues + from being from the end which is darker than the overworld.

he also sees person to person interaction sort of like a video game and relies on trial and error to figure out how to do conversations "right" (right by nt standards).

in terms of ocd he has more intrusive thoughts n repetition n checking compulsions than anything else, no cleanliness ocd im tired of that being the only symptom thats talked abt. he always goes back n checks things n u can often find him doing things in 3s or 7s.

hes very prone to overworking himself and trying too hard to do things the way he sees as correct which exhausts him and he often works far too long at things like mining because he wants to do them right and he wants to get as many resources as possible (to prove himself to be a worthy partner :') )

c!tubbo is about the exact opposite in terms of getting things done in that he Doesnt. he gets overwhelmed very easily n it's only gotten worse as he's gotten older. he frequently has complete shutdowns bc of executive functioning issues n will just Do Nothing and hate himself about it.

however hes also very hyperactive and hyper focuses easily. any topic that is even slightly enjoyable he will spend hours researching, leading to headaches from sitting in the library trying to read and inhaling dust all day.

he masks a lot due to anxiety n tries to appear as "normal" as possible which is often a train right straight to dissociation.

he scripts out conversations with everyone but close friends and will go blank when someone goes off script- like if he goes to buy two lemonades and they say theyre out of lemonade it takes him quite a few seconds to process it, and longer to try to create a new script with the new decision, which leads to very stressful situations when talking to new ppl

he doesnt understand sarcasm at all, but ranboo, who uses sarcasm a lot as a way to blend in more with neurotypicals, is almost always able to explain what's meant when tubbo misses sarcasm

he also hates bright lights. he and ranboo have dim torches in their mansion with the only exception being the library, where there's much more light to make reading easier

he hates asking for help. hates it, he thinks it makes him weak, but it doesn't, and thats something he's still trying to internalize. he sometimes watches tommy for an example of a friend he looks up to ( :') anon u did not say "sprinkle in c!clingyduo" but I Am Anyway) who is trying to get help for his mental health to prove to himself its ok to do so as well

thinking about ranboo crying and tubbo trying to wipe his tears away so they dont burn him. also thinking about tubbo crying and ranboo wiping his tears and not flinching even though it stings.

ranboo listens to lemon demon constantly because he's cool. tubbo grows to love it even tho normally hearing the same few songs on repeat for ages would drive him mad

tubbo n ranboo keep michael inside to keep him safe but sometimes on snowy nights when theres nobody in sight and hasn't been in days theyll go outside and make snow angels and ranboo always makes sure to wear extra layers so he doesn't get hurt by the snow so he can spend as much time as possible with his son and husband

ranboos special interest was boats for YEARS and then it was mining and the probability of getting different types of materials while mining. tubbos special interest is nukes.

michael autistic + nonverbal. not technically a c!beeduo head canon but he is their son so close enough

ranboo favourite food apple pie. this is very important

ok ive been at it for like half an hour i could keep going but i Wont because this is already quite a bit fjhfks

#/rp #c!ranboo #c!tubbo #c!beeduo #headcanons #dsmp headcanons #ask #dream smp #maybe spare a reblog peepoShy #bbhsmp #text #21txt

[minteyeddevil]

“Needed a Break”

Lucifer x MC Liah (Fem!MC)

Smut/NSFT

(phone sex, masturbation; self-indulgent piece cause I am trash for my ship)

With a heavy sigh leaving her, she closed her text book and picked up her D.D.D., checking the time. The white numbers read ‘1:00am’ and she gave a deep groan this time, letting herself fall back onto her pillow. Time had gone by way too fast since she started working on homework that she lost complete track of it and wasted the entire evening. She had sworn she would finish this project in time, especially after not doing so well with her last one; but she didn’t think it would take this long to get it all over and done with. Maybe one more hour and she would be completely done, she thought.

She was interrupted from her thoughts when her D.D.D. began ringing suddenly. The ringtone that played was the one assigned to the eldest of the brothers, the only one who actually had one assigned to them. She picked it up, looking at his image displayed on the screen. What could he be calling about this late at night? Please don't let it be some kind of lecture; was there something she forgot to do? After running through several possibilities in her head, she simply shrugged too herself and answered the phone, letting herself relax against the headboard of her bed.

“Hello? Lucifer? Whatever it is, Mammon did it.”

“Hello, Liah." He chuckled a bit at her quick quip. "I am not calling due to any recent occurrences, I simply assumed you would still be awake at this hour. Burning the midnight oil, hm?”

She gave a dry laugh, looking down at the mess of papers and books on her bed. “Guess you could say that. I did say I would finish my project on time, didn’t I? Being sleep deprived is a small price to pay to get my grades in order." She instantly regretted mentioning sleep deprivation; but he only seemed to hum in response.

“Hm, but you still need your rest so that you can actually pay attention in class." Ah, there it is. "Sleeping through lecture would not suit our proper exchange student, now would it?”

She rolled her eyes, but it wasn't lost on her that there was a tease to his tone of voice this time, instead of the usual stern and matter-of-factually way he would speak. “I know I need to sleep, and I plan on doing so once I am done here, which will hopefully be soon. But, sir,” she teased, treading lightly, "don't you think it's rather against your standards to keep me busy on the phone?"

There was silence on his end of the line for a moment, and she feared she may have over-stepped; but his deep chuckle made her suck in a deep breath. “I suppose you are correct. To be quite honest with you," he added on a sigh, "I decided to call because I...simply desired to hear your voice.”

She was taken aback by this, completely caught off guard. She flushed slightly as well, shifting the phone from one ear to the other as she curled up against her headboard further. “R-really? That...doesn’t really sound like something you would do, Lucifer. Normally you are buried in your work, so I wouldn't expect you to...want to listen to me talk.”

On the other end of the phone, Lucifer sat back in his chair and ran a hand down his face, looking over the stack of papers that were currently set in front of him. “Mm, truthfully I found myself actually seeking distraction, believe it or not. I still have an immense amount of paperwork that needs tending to, and Mammon certainly added to this issue with his stack of bills he decided to neglect, and found their way onto my desk. In seeking said distraction, you were actually the first thing that came to mind, hence me calling you.” He was silent for a moment suddenly. “Does that bother you that I called for something so selfish and ridiculous?”

She sat up quickly, hugging the phone to her cheek as if she was trying to hug him through the device. “No, not at all! It’s just...unexpected is all. I don’t mind being on the phone with you. Especially if I am helping you take a break from your work for a bit," she added on a small giggle.

“That reply makes me quite happy,” he admitted on a soft chuckle. He leaned forward on his desk, picking up a stray paper and looking it over before just placing it right back down, not bothering to read it. “Thank you for humoring me. Are you going to continue working on your project while we talk?”

She looked down at the mess of books and papers, frowning deeply. “Actually I’d rather pay attention to talking to you for now, if you don’t mind. It’s nice taking a break from work, don’t you think?”

He sighed, crimson eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose. Though I have so much I need to get done for Diavolo…”

“Your loyalty to him knows no bounds,” she interrupted him, not wanting him to dwell and regret taking this much needed break, however long it would be. “But you still deserve time to let yourself rest, Lucifer. Running yourself ragged all the time isn’t good for your health, demon or not.”

He hummed his agreement, nodding. He let himself recline once more in his chair, smiling softly. “Yes, you’re right, little lamb.”

She froze for a moment before a shudder ran up and down her spine. Little lamb? Did he just use a pet-name when referring to her? That was the first time she had ever heard him say something like that to her, and she was so thrown at the fact that she honestly liked it. She especially didn't know how to reply to it, and stayed silent on her end of the line; so silent that Lucifer thought she had hung up.

“Liah? Are you still there?”

She snapped out of her daze, shaking her head and feeling the heat in her cheeks against the coolness of the phone screen. “Yes, yes I’m here! Sorry I just...um," she worried her lower lip with her teeth, "you've never called me anything other than 'Liah' before, so it took me a bit by surprise. Not that it bothered me or anything!" she scrambled, the flush only heightening and spreading to the tips of her ears.

He cleared his throat. "Forgive me if I did over-step-"

“No! Actually, um, I...quite like it," she admitted, subconsciously scratching at her lower lip with the nail of her index finger.

He allowed himself a smile for a moment, and switched the phone to his other ear. “Then I will continue to call you as such, my little lamb.” He heard a small squeak from her end of the line and a mumbled agreement, making his smile only widen. How cute she was when she was flustered by him, he thought. He found it rather endearing how her face would turn almost as red as a tomato when he would catch her off guard with his quips and retorts; this situation being the most recent. He gave a small laugh. “It’s rather entertaining getting you flustered, I have to admit," he teased, "I wonder...could I possibly fluster you further by telling you some things I have been thinking about you as of late?”

He felt rather bold at this point, considering it didn't seem she would be turning him down. She was always so receptive to his gestures and slight flirtation; would he be stepping too far over the line with the current thoughts he wished to share? He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to see where it could take things; but he honestly did not foresee the phone call getting to this point to begin with.

The way his tone of voice seemed to deepen, almost become suggestive, made her knees weak. She had always harbored a flame for the Avatar of Pride, but for things to escalate this quickly? Was she dreaming?

Her sudden silence however gave him pause, and he began to back-pedal, worried that he did indeed over-step this time. He cleared his throat once more, and she could hear the shuffling of papers in the background. "I didn't mean to tease so harshly, Liah. Forgive me, I will let you go back to your school work-"

"Wait, wait Lucifer, no, please don't hang up!" She sounded frantic and he paused, listening. She was sitting upright in her bed, clutching tightly onto the phone as she licked her lips before choosing her next words.

“What have you been thinking about me, Lucifer?”

He swallowed. "Are you truly sure you wish to know?"

"Yes. Please."

"Swear to me you will not regret this."

She felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears. "I swear, Lucifer."

She heard a slight hitch in his breathing, and his voice seemed to deepen as he spoke to her. “I’ve been thinking about how you would look sitting snugly on my lap as I worked, my cock buried deep inside you while you weren’t allowed to move. I’ve imagined you underneath my desk, mouth wrapped around me as you whimper and moan for me…”

Her own breathing hitched, and she sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. She let herself fall onto her bed, rolling onto her side as she held the phone tightly to her ear. "Have you really been thinking that way about me?"

"To be quite honest, it's practically an every day occurrence at this point," he admitted on a small laugh. She squealed, burying her face in her pillow, feeling her heart leap in her chest. "Is it bad that that makes me...actually quite happy to know?" she asked shyly, rubbing her thighs together as the thoughts he just shared filled her head.

“I suppose not. But, I truly wish to know...what do you think about me, my little lamb?”

She could feel the heat in her face spread to her chest, and a secondary heat grown hotter between her thighs. She swallowed and admitted to him, “I think about you coming into my room at night and having your way with me. About you punishing me for not doing my school work by s-spanking me and fucking me into oblivion..." She gasped and hid her face her pillow. "Oh this is so embarrassing to share with you, Lucifer!”

He laughed, and the sound only made the warmth in her belly grow. “Don't be embarrassed, please. I truly enjoy knowing you think about me in the ways I think about you. It makes me genuinely happy, and, I must admit, incredibly turned on." His last few words seemed to come out on a growl, and she whimpered beside herself.

"Liah,” his voice seemed to boom in her ear suddenly, stern and demanding. “I want you to touch yourself while on the phone with me.”

She whimpered once more, and he had to bite back a groan at hearing her. He continued, “I want to hear the little noises you make when you touch yourself and hear the sound of you coming undone. Please.”

She swallowed her nerves. “Okay. I will...as long as I get to hear you in return.”

Another deep chuckle. "Of course you will." She could hear the rustling of clothing and the sound of metal hitting the floor; she pictured him scooting forward in his chair, unbuckling his pants with one hand and pulling his belt free of the loops in one go. On his end of the phone, he was palming himself through his slacks, before undoing the zipper to let his cock free of its confines.

Her hand slipped into her shorts and underneath her underwear, finding her folds already wet. She keened softly when her fingertip touched her clit, drawing tight circles around the sensitive nub. “I’m...I’m touching myself now, Lucifer…”

“I love how my name sounds in your lust-ridden voice, my little lamb,” he groaned, wrapping his hand around his cock and giving himself a few shallow strokes, “I want you to imagine me between your thighs, imagine that I am the one who is touching you and bringing you pleasure.”

She moaned, closing her eyes to picture him above her, doing to her what her hand was. “L-Lucifer...I wish you were here with me though,” she whined, speeding up the tight circles on her clit before dipping her fingers into her entrance.

“I will be soon, but for now let me enjoy listening to you. Keep thinking of me, pinning you down on your bed and fucking you hard like you wish for me to.” He tightened his grip a bit, pumping himself a bit faster, in time with how he was imagining her fingers to be moving.

Hearing him curse was such a rarity it sent a jolt down her spine and straight to her cunt. She gave a wanton moan, loud and high in his ear. He continued. “Once I get my hands on you, no other demon will be allowed to touch you. I will mark you all over and claim you as my own.”

She could hear his breathing come in small pants and she imagined him leaning back in his chair, free hand pumping his cock hard and fast, in time with her own stroking fingers. “Lucifer...please, may I cum?” she cried, feeling her toes begin to curl and that tingling, numbing sensation begin to take over her limbs.

He smirked to himself. “Yes, you may, little lamb. Cum for me.”

His words pushed her over the edge, her fingers sliding into her entrance as she came around them, rocking her hips against her own hand. She heard him grunting and panting on his end, imagining him cumming all over his desk, his hand gripping his cock tightly. There was a moment of silence, that was shortly followed by a defeated sigh.

“I...may have gotten carried away there.”

She giggled. “Did you make a mess on some important papers?”

“I blame you for this,” he practically snarled; yes, he certainly did. She simply smiled against the phone. “Are you going to come punish me for it, then?”

“You better be prepared for it,” he growled, and soon hung up the phone.

She smiled and sat up on her bed, looking excitedly at the door as it was soon swung up by a very hungry looking demon.

“Now, where were we?”

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me nsft #lucifer #mc liah #oc liah #fem!mc #fanfiction

[wanderinginksplot]

Wrecker x Homesick Reader (Part Two!)

A continuation of this ex-one-shot, but you can probably pick up everything you need to know from context.

Wrecker x f!reader: hint of romance toward the end

Word Count: 2,300 ish

Warnings: none

---

You stood outside of the infamous Havoc Marauder, staring up at the ship with nerves tingling in your stomach.

Okay, coming here had seemed like a fine idea when Wrecker suggested it. Last night, it had even seemed like it might be fun. Added to Wrecker's promise that Tech would amp up the power and reach of your comlink? You had agreed to be here without a second thought.

Now, this finally seemed like a bad idea. The Marauder was looking rough after Clone Force 99's latest crash-landing, you had no idea if Wrecker had spoken to Tech on your behalf, and you hadn't even seen Wrecker that day. Plus, stupid as it sounded even in your own thoughts, you had never actually walked up to a ship without being expected. Were you supposed to knock? Shout? Should you just wait and hope they saw you?

As you stood, undecided, you thought seriously about going back to your quarters. If you were having second thoughts about this, Wrecker probably was, too. It would probably be best for everyone if you just left…

But then hydraulics hissed and the doors opened and the stairs attached to the ship dropped down. Tech appeared in the doorway, peering at you.

"You are the one Wrecker invited here, correct?"

"Uh. Correct?" you answered doubtfully. "He told me you might be able to help me with my comlink."

"Of course I can help you," Tech replied, his casual confidence making you quirk an eyebrow. He lifted his head to glance at the sky for a moment. "You'll have to come onboard the ship, however. The light conditions out here are too intense for such detailed work."

"Yeah, sure," you agreed, following him inside.

The Havoc Marauder was a smaller ship than the ones you had gotten used to at your time at Spearpoint Outpost. Of course, that may have been because a sheet hanging from the ceiling separated the entrance and cockpit from the rest of the living area, but you understood and respected the need for privacy. Four men living in such close quarters probably tried to keep things as separated as possible.

With that in mind, you resisted the urge to peek behind the truly giant sheet to see the Bad Batch's bunk space. Instead, you followed Tech up to the front of the Marauder. To your surprise, Sergeant Hunter was also in the small area. Remembering his keen senses and reluctance to be too close to other people, you stopped immediately.

"Do you want me to wait outside?" you offered. "I don't mind."

"Nah, come on in," Hunter invited. "I'm just doing some maintenance checks. Go ahead and sit down, though. I don't want to risk us clashing heads if either of us moves the wrong way."

You watched the sergeant for a moment to see if he was joking. The two of you weren’t even close to the same height, so several things would need to go wrong before you worried about bumping heads. You thought you saw an amused glitter in his dark eyes, but you had already begun turning toward the co-pilot's seat.

Tech sat down in the other seat. "Don't panic," he said bracingly, and he had ripped the cover off of your comlink before you had time to ask what he meant. Despite the warning, you still flinched at the noise of your comlink being broken.

You watched him in silence for a few long minutes, engrossed in the minute details of his work.

"Wrecker mentioned that you need this range increase to speak with your friends," Tech said, his quiet voice making you jump in the silence of the ship.

"My family, actually," you corrected.

You realized that the quiet sounds of Hunter working in the cabin behind you had stopped. You glanced back in his direction and he began fiddling with some exposed wires again.

"Where are you from?" Tech asked. "I'm certain Wrecker mentioned it before, but I cannot remember a place."

Wrecker talked about you? Feeling unreasonably warmed by that, you answered, "Bespin. Cloud City."

"Supposed to be beautiful there," Hunter said behind you.

"It is," you agreed readily. "Especially the sunrises. Or the sunsets, really. There are always clouds, so on a good day, the sun reflects off the water until the air is filled with more rainbows than there are stars in the sky."

"Impossible," Tech started, but Hunter cut him off.

"You must miss it. Sounds like you left a lot behind to be here."

You shrugged. "Not as much as some. Still, this was the right thing to do. I don't regret my choices."

Tech worked in silence for a while after that, doing something complex to the electrical components of the comlink.

Eventually, he said, "I've heard Bespin has odd customs. Parents often let their children form romantic relationships at early ages and people are encouraged to remain with those partners."

You didn't answer that and Tech glanced up at you questioningly. His fingers didn't stop manipulating the micro-spanner. The comlink sparked loudly and you grimaced. You hadn't even known a comlink could do that.

"Don't you need to… you know, concentrate?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice polite. You couldn't really afford a new comlink right now, and even when you could, a new communicator would take forever to arrive somewhere as remote as Spearpoint.

Rather than look back at the comlink, Tech's eyes slid over to where Hunter stood behind you, silent once more. Before you could turn as well, Tech’s gaze was back on the small device.

Sudden realization flashed through your mind. Tech's questions, Hunter's halting work on the Marauder… They were testing you. This was an interview to see if you were good enough for Wrecker.

You had always been excellent at interviews.

You sat straighter in the chair, dropping the tension from your shoulders as you fixed Tech with a sincere smile.

"You're thinking of Bespin as it was a thousand years ago," you told Tech, satisfied when he looked up at you with surprise half-hidden behind his goggles. "Those traditions were from before we had stable hover-lifts to keep cities at even elevation levels. It would be too difficult to re-identify a city that had dropped, risen, or otherwise changed locations. Young adults were encouraged to find someone they considered a potential romantic partner and share a dwelling before they lost each other forever."

"I…" Tech blinked. "I was unaware."

"We have a lot of legends about it," you said kindly. "Some of them are very widespread, so it isn't surprising you would have found one. I can recommend a good holotext about how we got to a more uniform elevation level and the shift to a more standard form of courtship. If you're interested, of course."

"I am extremely interested," Tech assured. "Have courtship rituals on Bespin changed, then?"

You shrugged. "Probably as much as those of any society that has been inhabited as long as Bespin. I wouldn't know a lot, personally. My first relationship wasn't until I had gone to college on Alderaan, and it certainly wasn’t with anyone from Bespin.”

Tech hummed quietly at that, refocusing his attention on your comlink. You waited to see what his next question would be, but the only noise in the cockpit was the sound of approaching footsteps.

You turned to find Crosshair stepping through the doorway. You managed a smile - not that it was appreciated or returned by the scowling trooper - but started to get anxious again. Where is Wrecker? Surely he hadn’t decided that you were more trouble than you were worth. If he had, why would his brothers be interrogating you?

Tech cleared his throat. “Did you stay on Alderaan long-?”

“You’re the one who spends so much time with Wrecker,” Crosshair said, staring at you. You nodded rather than risk displaying your nervousness in your voice. Crosshair grimaced. “Why?”

“Why… what?” you asked, utterly confused by his question.

“Well, most people find him irritating,” Crosshair pointed out, folding his arms across his lean chest. “Don’t you?”

“Never,” you replied instantly, your voice a bit too passionate for such a small space. “Wrecker is sweet and funny and cares more about others than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s amazing. If some people think he’s irritating, that’s their loss.”

Crosshair inclined his head at you before turning back toward the large sheet separating the living quarters from the cockpit. “There you go; an honest opinion.”

You blushed scarlet as the sheet dropped to reveal Wrecker. Apparently, the biggest Bad Batcher had been holding it in place pressed against the ceiling. You were marveling at that for a few precious seconds, but Wrecker had already moved on.

Beaming at you, Crosshair, and anyone else who bothered to look in your direction, Wrecker cheered, “Great!”

“Subtle, Crosshair,” Hunter said lowly.

Crosshair shrugged. “He wanted to know, and you and Tech were taking too long.”

“So,” Wrecker started, rubbing at the back of his neck as he moved to stand in front of you. Well, he was standing behind the copilot seat, really. The cockpit was crowded with you and every member of Clone Force 99 sharing the space. “I was thinking, maybe-”

“I am finished,” Tech announced, pushing past Wrecker to claim your full attention. He presented you with your comlink and, ignoring Wrecker’s huff of annoyance, proceeded to explain exactly what he had done to the device and how it should work.

You did your best to pay attention, but it was tricky with the other members of the Bad Batch standing in the background. Wrecker, understandably, looked frustrated. Crosshair was far too amused as someone watching one of his brothers accidentally torment another one. Hunter was the one really keeping an eye on the situation. When Tech had finally started to repeat an earlier point, Hunter interrupted.

“Tech, I need your help with one of the sensors in the rear deflector shield,” Hunter said, drawing Tech away slightly. “I’ve fixed the problem and reset the sensor, but it’s still registering as a bug in the system-”

As Hunter and Tech moved further away, Crosshair gave a sardonic salute and slouched off as well. You and Wrecker were alone for the first time, and he moved to sit down in the other pilot’s chair.

Sitting down, Wrecker seemed much less physically imposing. He was an undeniably large man, but at least you were almost the same height sitting down. Well, sort of the same height. Okay, not really the same height at all, but closer than when you were both standing.

Wrecker sat extremely upright in his chair as he started to speak. “Okay, now that they’re finally gone, I wanted to ask: would you maybe think about having dinner with me tonight? Here? I’ll get rid of the guys and we can have anything you want and I already cleaned just in case you said yes, but if you say yes, I’ll clean again just to make sure it’s really clean-”

“Wrecker!” you said laughingly, holding up your hands as if to stifle the stream of words. “I would be glad to have dinner with you. Thank you for asking me. It already looks clean in here, so please don’t feel like you need to go to any trouble.”

“That’s great!” Wrecker enthused after he had sat staring at you for a solid 20 seconds. He opened his arms. “Hug?”

“I’d love one, thanks,” you accepted gratefully, sliding forward until you left your chair.

Wrecker didn’t even give you a chance to stand all the way before he had wrapped you in another warm, squeezing embrace. You returned it as well as you could, but he pulled back sooner than he had the night before. You raised a curious eyebrow at him, but Wrecker gently disentangled himself from you and settled you back on your own seat.

“Actually, I have something else I need to say, and you need to be over there so you can be comfortable.” You raised both eyebrows at that, as well as at the sincere expression on Wrecker’s scarred face.

He avoided your eyes, but said it anyway: “I want to be more than friends. I… like you, but more than that. You know? Maybe you don’t. But I just wanted to make sure you knew that I would be happy to be your friend. If all you want is to be my friend, I think that’s great and I’m excited to be part of your new family here. Ugh, I’m messing this all up…”

You moved closer again, grabbing Wrecker’s hand as you did. “Wrecker, I’m glad you like me as more than a friend. It’s- That’s how I feel about you, too.”

“Really?” Wrecker breathed, definitely the quietest tone you had ever heard him use.

His eyes were lit up with hope and you smiled as you confirmed, “Really. But I haven’t dated a lot of people and I get the feeling it might be the same for you? So maybe we should take things slow.”

“That sounds amazing,” Wrecker agreed. “So should we reschedule dinner for another time?”

You smiled softly, hoping it didn’t come off condescending. “We don’t need to move that slowly, not if you’re comfortable with us having dinner together. I would like for us to be friends, too.”

“So it’s okay if I do this?” Wrecker asked, pulling your linked hands up to brush a kiss on the back of your hand.

It was such a simple, innocent gesture, but you had to fight a blush as you nodded. “It’s definitely okay if you do that.”

The pair of you grinned at each other like fools for an embarrassingly long time before you remembered a line you should draw. “Just please don’t leave me alone with your brothers again. They’re terrifying when they’re trying to look out for you.”

“I promise,” Wrecker said sincerely. “Though they like you, if that helps.”

“Thank goodness for that,” you murmured, glancing through the Marauder’s viewport to find Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair watching the two of you with knowing smirks.

---

A/N - All of the stuff about Bespin was invented by me. I know it's not correct, but it was fun to write and I have no regrets! Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out other works on my masterlist or make a request!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #star wars fanfiction #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #tech #bad batch wrecker #bad batch hunter #bad batch crosshair #bad batch tech #star wars fic #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//fatherhood headcannons//

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou / Bokuto Koutarou / Daishou Suguru

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 1.7K (~550 a piece)

Notes: don’t come for me and my self-indulgence. Also >:C if you’re of age and living in the United States, go fucking vote.  i am not asking. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

He goes into this whole fatherhood thing with complete and utter confidence.  Kuroo Tetsurou is convinced that he doesn’t need to have a single parenting book.  How hard can it be?

It’s all just making sure his kid doesn’t die, right? R I G H T?

He tries really hard to understand all of your discomforts during the pregnancy, but wowowow he’s bad at it.  You were complaining that your feet were sore and he just looked at you weird.  You had just gotten out of bed?  How did your feet already hurt?  Your back hurts? How? You’re laying down?

He recognizes that you’re in discomfort and he, of course, doesn’t look past that.  He’s going to do whatever he needs to do to ensure your comfort, but he just struggles to comprehend it.

I promise that Kuroo was so calm and cool and collected throughout the entire pregnancy and honestly, even during delivery, he was there to tell you how great you were doing, holding your hand, letting you crush his fingers in your tight grip.  He would pat your head and occasionally give you little kisses on your temple.

But when the nurse asks if he wants to hold his new little girl and places her in his arms, oh he’s crying.  He doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until he feels the tears stream down his cheeks.

It was in the following weeks that he realized just how hard this whole parenting thing would be.  Sleep?  Kuroo didn’t know her.  The baby religiously started crying every night at 2:27 a.m. and it would take nearly an hour to get her to fall back asleep.  By the time that hour passed, he was already back to being wide awake and would just lay in bed, unable to fall back asleep for hours.  

The first time he ever had to change a diaper, he had to pull up a YouTube video to figure it out, but he’s not about to tell you that.  

He has no idea how to dad, but Kuroo ends up being a really incredible father.  While he may be lacking in the basic skills like knowing the correct formula temperature or how to properly hold his daughter, he makes up for it with his constant companionship.  

You’ve walked in on him in the nursery so many times.  He’s really not even doing anything.  He’s just leaning against the crib, running his fingers across his little girl’s skin, still not believing that this is real and that that little baby is his, something that he helped create.  Oh, it just makes him so soft to think about.   He talks real quietly to her, telling her about his day, like she has any idea what he’s saying, but he still smiles so wide when she looks at him.

His little girl is his entire world and I just know that he’s an incredibly protective father.  He knows that the world is a scary place and he wants his daughter to be able to grow up having the best life possible, even if it is difficult.

Bokuto Koutarou

It was an accident.  It was 100% an accident.  But, the absolute joy that lit up his features when you told him your happy news, well, you don’t think you had ever seen him smile so wide.  He had picked you up to spin you around and covered your face in kisses.  Bokuto had set you down and immediately squatted down to place a kiss on your non-existent baby bump, telling his little baby how excited he was to be their papa.

Bokuto does prepare, well, at least a little. He owns one book, but he has read it cover to cover.  When he was reading through it, he would stop at something that he found particularly interesting and show it to you.

He didn’t really know how best to take care of you, but he tried his best!  He would rub your shoulders or feet when you asked.  He would make dinner after practice.  He is absolutely running to the store in the middle of the night because you had a sudden craving for Cheetos and vanilla ice cream.  Bokuto thought it was best not to ask what the hell you were doing when you proceeded to dip the Cheetos in the ice cream.

Bokuto forces you on walks.  He read in that one pregnancy book that walks can help induce labor, so in the time leading up to the due date, Bokuto was taking you on strolls around the block multiple times a day.  

But, he gets really busy with MSBY ;-; like. . . a lot.  He wants to be there every step of the way, but he just can’t.  Even after the baby was born, it seemed like there was rarely a day off for him to just spend with you and the baby.

Nothing hurt more than seeing the video of his little boy taking his first steps, knowing that he wasn’t even there to see it for himself because he was stuck on a bus in another city for a game.

This boy B R A G S about his kid all the time.  Sakusa might just beat his ass if he has to hear Bokuto coo about his son one more time.  

Games that happen at home are Bokuto’s favorites because he knows that whenever he looks up into the stands, you’ll be there, the baby in your arms, a tiny black knit hat with gold detailing pulled over his head.  It always made his heart so warm and he seemed to always be on top of his game just so he could secure a win quicker.  He just wanted to rush to you and cradle his little one in his arms.

He likes to toss his little bean up into the air, but he has absolutely bonked his son’s head on the ceiling and then proceeded to fail to catch him because he was so in shock that he just hit his son’s head on the ceiling.  Insert one (1) bokuto koutarou suddenly regretting every life decision that he has ever made.  

Surprisingly, he’s a really good parent?  He understands the balance between being caring and supportive, but also having a firm hand on discipline.  He isn’t much for punishments, because he’s going to feel bad, but he won’t hesitate to sit his son down and have a talk if he needs to.  

God Bokuto is such a good dad please i’m so soft i just know that he would sob his eyes out the minute the baby is on its way

Daishou Suguru

please i don’t even want children, but i would make an exception for daishou suguru

Suguru is so?? stupidly?? prepared?? 

Like the two of you decided that you wanted to have a baby and this man went to the bookstore and asked one of the workers which pregnancy books were the best.  The poor high school student had no idea

He took notes and was just constantly studying up on things.  You’d think he was back in university again with how much he poured himself over these books.  

While Daishou may have all of the technical stuff down like knowing the exact female reproductive anatomy and how it all works to produce the baby and he can definitely change a diaper with his eyes closed by now, but-

When the time came to put together a nursery- oh the boy was lost.  He had no idea what to do.  He’d never built a crib before.  He wasn’t really sure why he was expecting it to just unfold or magically form together when he took it out of the box, but now he was just sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of a baby crib, pouring over the instructions, only to get more confused.

Please go sit with him in his time of need.  He’ll rest his head on your shoulder and rub tiny circles over your bump.  

Suguru probably jumped a foot in the air when he felt that itty bitty kick against his hand.  It took him by complete surprise and his eyes were as wide as saucers, but this really slow smile took over his face and you don’t think you had ever seen him so happy, a complete smiling and laughing mess.

He takes the best care of you b y e 

Morning sickness?  He’s right there to pull your hair away from your face and get you a glass of water.  

Too bad he spent all this time looking up information on the actual pregnancy and had no idea what to expect for actual childbirth.  Overnight bag?  He said, “How long does this take?”  He had no idea what to do during delivery.  His dumbass just stood there until you demanded that he give you his hand and definitely screamed when you nearly crushed his bones in an absolute death grip, nails digging painfully into the back of his hand, but who was he to object.  He wasn’t the one pushing a child out of his body.

Oh, did I say child?  Try children.  Suguru nearly fainted when the nurse said that there was “one more.”  He didn’t remember seeing a second little peanut on the ultrasound, but maybe he just forgot in the overwhelming panic of the moment?

He was so good all throughout the pregnancy, but the minute the kids are born?  It’s like he completely forgot everything that he read over the past nine months, but the softness in his eyes and the gentle smile on his lips the very first time he got to hold his kid?  It made it all worth it.  He didn’t know that it was possible to love someone so quickly, but he looked at the faces of his newborn children and he couldn’t have been happier.

Daishou has fallen asleep in the nursery chair more than once when he was up with the babies.  You’d get up to see what was taking so long, only to find him leaned back, his head lolled to the side, two tiny bundles held securely to his chest.

In conclusion.  I love daishou suguru and he would be a really good dad once he figured it all out

{Taglist: @moncymonce​ @nicka-nell​ @celosiiaa​ @kuronekomama​ @lovinnoya​ and @nekxrizawa​ @boosyboo9206​ bc you both got me thinking about them as d a d s and now i can’t get it out of my head onyx please take this as a bribe to receive the daishou suguru hip dermal edit you made i need it}

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #kuroo #bokuto #daishou #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #daishou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto koutarou #daishou suguru #tetsurou #koutarou #suguru #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq!! #imagines #x reader #headcannons #haikyuu as dads just hits different and i don't know if i can physically cope with the cuteness

[hencethebravery]

v i c e  v e r s a

This is the extremely brief story of how a rebellious, narcissistic little whelp fell in love with a smarmy, mustachioed bureaucrat (and vice versa).

+ Agent Mobius sits in an unremarkable cubicle in an unremarkable corner of an unremarkable building in a famously remarkable city. He wakes up and pages through his old travel magazines and not infrequently spills some of his coffee all over them. His subscription expired a year or so ago, and for whatever reason he has not been able to find the time to renew it. He finishes his breakfast and walks a couple blocks (if the weather’s nice) before hopping on the train another 30 minutes to the office, where he always greets security and they sometimes greet him back.

Agent Mobius has been working for the CI division of the Internal Revenue Service for the last 15 years, and he has been maddeningly close to catching Odin, the CEO of Asgard, Inc., for about 10 of those.

He’s worked other cases of course—made an impact in a plethora of other ways (his superiors take comfort in the consistent quality of his work), but they so rarely consumed him with the same degree of ferocity as this one. And it’s not because he’s been trapped within a “will they, won’t they” cluster-cuss with Odin’s impossible son (his youngest) for about 3-4 of the 10 years mentioned.

And no, it’s not a conflict of interest; if anything, he’s undercover.

B. (”Bee”) is his favorite co-worker. He knows almost nothing about her but is completely committed to making sure that he is her favorite co-worker. He’s winning her over. Absolutely.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mobius.”

He scoffs and adjusts his belt. He has almost certainly said things dumber than that.

Mobius treats himself to salads from Sissy’s Café 2-3 times a week. They’re on the pricier side because they’re so large, which is really the only way to eat a salad, otherwise you’re still hungry and it was nothing but a waste of money and wilted lettuce. On a seasonally comfortable day he’ll grab it to-go and grab a table at a small park nearby, which is generally speaking one of the nicer parts of his day, unless of course—

“You are terribly predictable, I hope you know.”

Mobius huffs and stabs his fork into a particularly thick bit of spinach and avocado. “You say that as if you’re not, which I find hilarious.”

“Well you would, I am famously quite funny.”

He tries to ignore the fact that the code-word “Young Prince,” has finally gotten the haircut he’s so desperately needed (even more so does he try to ignore the fact that he’d been the one to suggest it). Loki is in black today (surprise, surprise) despite the bright, warm sunshine, and his t-shirt fits snug across his shoulders.

“Nice haircut,” Mobius notes between sips of his ever-warming seltzer.

Loki gives the barest hint of a smile, which is unfortunately one of Mobius’ favorite things, if only because it is one of the few real things about the man.

“Not that you asked, but I stopped by because I have some information for you.”

Mobius sighs. Loki loves claiming to have information, which Mobius more-or-less loves to follow-up on despite the fact that it is unreliable about 85% of the time. Happily enough for Mobius, Loki isn’t a huge fan of his father either, although he is a fan of his father’s money, which doesn’t really work in the IRS’ favor.

“Oh?” Mobius replies, disinterested. “And I’m sure it’s just as helpful as your last little ‘tip’ was.”

“More, actually, and frankly I’m offended by the accusation.”

“I’m sure you are.”

The few seconds that follow would be familiar to anyone who had for whatever reason been observing this strange almost-mating ritual that had been occurring over the years. A comfortably quiet exchange of mutual gazing where Loki secretly admired the bent in Mobius’ nose, and Mobius secretly admired the crinkling around Loki’s eyes when he did that almost-smile he reserved for a lucky few.

Loki clears his throat and reaches across the table for the seltzer, taking a sip whilst decidedly ignoring the look of disbelief on Mobius’ face.

“Excuse me—”

“Yes, excuse you, if you’ll recall I was about to share some very valuable information. The most valuable, you might say.”

The last time Loki interrupted Mobius’ lunch with “valuable information,” he’d wasted an ungodly amount of time and money pursuing a lead (and raiding the office of a rather well-respected Senator) that went nowhere, all because this Senator had made a pointed and correct comment at some rich-person function and Loki has never been able to not take something personally for even one moment in his absurd little life.

“And why should I believe you this time?”

It’s the fidgeting that gives it away—how starts tapping his fingertips against the empty can, his eyes looking anywhere other than at Mobius. That maybe he’s telling the truth this time.

“I’m... tired, I guess.”

“You’re ‘tired.’”

He looks up, briefly, before he returns to this out-of-character bit of looking anywhere else.

“My brother’s off... saving the world,” he starts with a sneer, “Sylvie’s about to have a family—”

“She’s still your family,” Mobius interrupts, “don’t be stupid.”

“But that’s classic me, isn’t it?”

Mobius silently disagrees, but he’s so afraid to burst this bubble of self-awareness—to ruin what has started to feel like a critical, life-changing moment, that he cannot possibly bring himself to speak.

Loki opens his mouth as if he has more to say, but he closes it and places a small black hard drive in the middle of the table instead. When Mobius looks closer, he notices that it’s engraved with a small bolt of lightening. His heart starts to tap in a series quickening, uncomfortable beats. 

“Loki—”

“I’ve had it for a while,” he admits, “if you knew how long you’d probably want nothing more to do with me.”

Mobius has made the moral arguments before; probably to the detriment of the argument itself. That no single man should be able to accumulate so much wealth—that his notoriously stuffy, humorless job is “really important, actually,” and stopping his father could help a lot of people, least of all his own son, and “good god, Loki, what the hell are you even trying to prove?”

“It’s for admittedly selfish reasons,” he continues before Mobius can correct him, “regardless of the final outcome.”

“Why’s that?” Mobius croaks, wishing his tie was just a little bit looser today (so goddamn tight, every single day—)

“Well,” he grins, looking back up at him, finally, “if you’re not undercover, there’s no... what’s the term? ‘Conflict of interest?’”

“Yeah,” Mobius laughs, “yeah, that’s the term.”

Loki pushes the drive across the table. “Take it,” he says, “it’s time you had it.”

"Feels like it should be heavier.”

Loki smirks.

“Shut up.”

Mobius glances at his watch and notices, with surprise, that he’s gone about 5 minutes over his lunch hour.

“Time to go?” Loki asks, the words painted with a nervousness that seems foreign to him.

Agent Mobius has never once returned late from his lunch hour. He respects the agency’s time too much, and what real good has ever come from his lingering? But when he looks back at Loki, who has so recently cut his hair—who suddenly fidgets and appears genuinely nervous, he considers the importance of making exceptions to certain rules. To “loosening his tie,” so to speak. And besides, Bee will cover for him (he’s pretty sure).

“Nah,” Mobius answers, sliding the drive into his coat pocket, “I can be late.”

#loki series #loki #mobius #lokius #loki fic #lokius fic #loki fanfic #lokius fanfic #@hencethewriter #a prince and a bureaucrat flirt in a park #it's a modern au #because i will never fuck with mcu canon for free #also there's a wes anderson reference in here #because of course there is

[connieslover]

headcanon : my heart was pounding and fluttering

✧˖*°࿐  headcanons of midoriya, todoroki, bakugou and kaminari realising that they’re in love with you (bruh i have a cr*sh on kaminari)

 ˖◛⁺⑅♡izuku midoriya

ෆ one night, you were in todoroki’s room along with the rest of dekusquad, studying for your finals

ෆ you offered to make drinks as everyone looked pretty tired and unmotivated to study 

ෆ “i-i’ll help you!”

ෆ being the gentleman midoriya was, he quickly jumped from the ground and offered to help you

ෆ “oh thanks midoriya!” 

ෆ you exited todoroki’s room along with midoriya, the two of you walking in silence as you took in the ambience of the night

ෆ once the two of you arrived at the kitchen, you headed to the cupboard to retrieve the mugs 

ෆ “midoriya, could you make the green tea latte for ohcaco and iida? there should be tea bags somewhere there,”

ෆ without hesitance, the male nodded before taking two of the mugs you laid on the counter and walking to the drawer that was filled with many varieties of tea bags 

ෆ thank you yaoyorozu for being 1-A’s tea provider

ෆ midoriya stood in front of the drawer, baffled

ෆ there were at least four boxes with the label ‘green tea’ 

ෆ how could he possibly know which one was ‘green tea latte’?

ෆ seeking for help, he turned his head to ask you 

ෆ “y-n….?”

ෆ his voice turned into a quiet whisper

ෆ you were currently heating up hot milk for you and todoroki, humming softly to a song 

ෆ the light from the moon was shining on your silhouette which was slowly swaying from side to side 

ෆ he was enchanted by your beauty which was even more pronounced during the night 

ෆ he quickly shook of his thoughts before returning his attention to the tea bags in front of him

ෆ but only then did he realize that he was alone

ෆ with you 

ෆ his thoughts didn’t allow him to go further as he felt a presence behind him

ෆ “midoriya, you do know which one is the green tea latte, right?” 

ෆ he literally froze

ෆ your head was peeking from behind his shoulder curiously

ෆ this was the first time he had ever been so close to you

ෆ the close proximity made his cheeks turn into a dark shade of red and the hairs on his arm to stand up

ෆ “s-so close!”

ෆ “midoriya?”

ෆ “oh- uh...actually i’m not sure which is the right one,”

ෆ the air from your chuckle breezed against his neck and midoriya felt his breath hitch

ෆ “it’s this one,” 

ෆ you took a step beside him and pointed at the correct boxes of green tea

ෆ midoriya sheepishly took two packets from the box, ripped it open and poured the contents into the cup

ෆ “the water’s boiling so i guess we’ll have to wait for a while,” 

ෆ the two of you stood side by side, listening to the sounds of the rapids of water, elbows touching

ෆ midoriya took this moment to regain his composure 

ෆ he’s interacted with people before

ෆ (obviously)

ෆ and he had been in situations where he was left alone with females

ෆ and had them fall on top of him 

ෆ but he had never felt his heart seconds away from combusting, his palms sweating, his mind pounding and the shyness to look at them in the eye like he did now 

ෆ it was different 

ෆ although you weren’t doing anything in particular, the male was nervous like crAZYY

ෆ “oh! it’s done,” 

ෆ midoriya took the kettle and poured the water into the mugs

ෆ with shaking hands, it was surprising that he had actually poured into them

ෆ “here’s your hot chocolate,”

ෆ you slid the green colored mug towards midoriya with a smile on your face

ෆ “th-thank you,”

ෆ the two of you were walking back to todoroki’s room with a tray each

ෆ it somehow surprised midoriya that you knew his favorite late night drink was hot chocolate

ෆ but he wasn’t completely flustered about it

ෆ one of the things he liked most about you was that you were observant and that you took in the smallest bits of details

ෆ “wait a minute-did i just-LIKE?”

 ˖◛⁺⑅♡shoto todoroki

ෆ you and todoroki were paired up together for the first time for your hero lesson with All Might

ෆ you weren’t exactly his best mate nor was he yours, but you two were able to classify each other as ‘good friends’

ෆ for today’s lesson, it was to simply rescue the citizens

ෆ “let’s go into that sketchy building,” you chirped, skipping off towards the building while todoroki followed you from behind

ෆ as the two of you walked side by side in the dark hallways, checking every room for any citizens, you heard footsteps 

ෆ “did you hear that?” 

ෆ “yeah, i think the sounds are coming from that room,”

ෆ you followed todoroki into an empty room where you carefully observed the area

ෆ suddenly, the wall had been broken through by an oddly strong robot

ෆ the bricks flew towards you and todoroki and you let out a squeal before cowering behind todoroki who had created an ice wall

ෆ “woah~” 

ෆ “i thought we were just rescuing civilians….” mumbled todoroki

ෆ “i should’ve known something like this was going to happen. let’s go kick their asses todoroki!”

ෆ and so, you and todoroki fought the robots which were coming your way together

ෆ from todoroki’s peripheral view, he could see you spitting out curse words at the robots and hitting them with your quirk 

ෆ unknowingly, he felt his lips itching to smile 

ෆ the two of you gave out loud pants, sweat dripping from your necks as you had destroyed the last robot

ෆ “god that was tiring,” you huffed, wiping the sweat from your forehead

ෆ "let’s continue to find civilians,” spoke todoroki

ෆ you nodded in reply and started walking and by chance, your shoe laces had untangled during the fight, causing you to step onto it

ෆ you were prepared to face plant into the ground embarrassingly until you felt a sudden coldness around your ankle, preventing you from falling

ෆ "sorry,”

ෆ you smiled sheepishly as he walked over to you, melting the ice away with his fire quirk

ෆ “thanks todoroki, you saved me from sharing my first kiss with the floor,”

ෆ after rescuing civilians, encountering a few classmates and beating up more robots there was a loud announcement from All Might saying that their time was up 

ෆ whilst you and todoroki were walking back to the changing rooms, reflecting on your lessons, you had suddenly gone quiet 

ෆ confounded by the sudden halt of your conversation, todoroki glanced at you from the corner of his vision

ෆ you had a small smile on your face 

ෆ it was sort of a proud smile

ෆ “you should use your fire quirk more often by the way,” you spoke in a soft yet genuine tone before switching to your more bright and loud tone, “with just your ice quirk you’re already pretty strong but imagine if you used both of them.... you’ll be unstoppable!”

ෆ todoroki felt a jolt of bashfulness, pleased and comfort mixed together

ෆ before he knew it, you had bidded him goodbye as you went towards your changing area with a smile on your face, leaving him wondering as to why his heart was pounding faster than before

ෆ after changing back into his uniform, todoroki was walking along the corridors when suddenly the image of you smiling proudly appeared  

ෆ he felt his heart race once more

ෆ bewildered by his sudden heart rate increasing, he ran towards recovery girls' room

ෆ he was worried if he had caught some kind of sickness or was experiencing a form of heart strain

ෆ when recovery girl had checked up on his vitals and did a physical examination on him, she had said that todoroki was perfectly healthy

ෆ “but...my heart beat keeps racing at odd times...and whenever i see this person i feel at ease and i have this urge to hold them. are you sure i’m fine?”

ෆ “todoroki... i think you have a crush. and all these sensations you’re feeling, are symptoms of love. ”

 ˖◛⁺⑅♡katsuki bakugou

ෆ bakugou thought that midoriya was the only person capable of making him feel like murdering someone 

ෆ well that was until he met you

ෆ don’t worry he doesn’t want to kill you

ෆ bakugou was sulking on his seat as per any other day, accompanied by his close friend, kirishima

ෆ “you dumbass don’t abuse your quirk like that”

ෆ kirishima let out a chuckle at his friend’s response to one of his stories he had probably told three times already

ෆ their conversation was cut short when kirishima’s name had been called out by you

ෆ “kirishima come here,”

ෆ kirishima immediately jumped up from his seat and jogged towards you

ෆ “r-red riot? you know me so well y/n!”

ෆ bakugou glanced at the bright smile on his best friends face before tearing his gaze to the squirrel in the tree 

ෆ however, his eye’s couldn’t help but wonder to you conversing happily with kirishima

ෆ being the social butterflies you and kirishima were, you two immediately clicked and became good friends so it wasn’t a surprise to bakugou that you two bonded so easily

ෆ but what did surprise him was the faintest shade of pink on your cheeks as you laughed

ෆ the way you threw your head back and your eyes crinkled as you laughed was enough to make anyone else in the room smile

ෆ bakugou was even more surprised at the fact that when you were laughing with kirishima, he felt angry

ෆ he felt the urge to punch his own best friend for making you laugh

ෆ “wait what? why the hell am i feeling this way?”

ෆ as he continued to gaze at you and kirishima, the feeling of envy bubbled inside of him

ෆ but being the oblivious person he was, he just thought that he was angry at you for stealing his best friend from him

ෆ “yeah, that must be it. i’m feeling angry because that damn extra stole my friend,”

ෆ “oi bakugou, why do you look so pissed? i mean you always look pissed, but you look even more pissed off today,”

ෆ “tch i just thought about something that made me angry,”

ෆ “could that something be y/n? you’ve been staring at her for quite some ti-”

ෆ “shut up kaminari,”

ෆ for the remainder of the day, whenever he saw you, he would scoff and turn his head away from you

ෆ bewildered at his attitude, you decided to talk to him when you found him sitting by on the couch by himself in the living room 

ෆ "moron,”

ෆ from the tingling sensation he felt from your whisper behind him, bakugou immediately whipped his head around 

ෆ your brows were slightly furrowed and you had a slight pout on your lips as you crossed your arms 

ෆ “did i do something wrong?

ෆ bakugou turned his head away from you, “no,”

ෆ “then why did you keep ignoring me the whole day? you keep scoffing at me! geez did i really not do something wrong? could you just tell me? it’s been annoying me the whole day you know! or maybe....do you...do you hate me?”

ෆ “i don’t hate you!” you were slightly taken aback at the loudness of his voice 

ෆ it was the fastest bakugou had ever responded to you

ෆ bakugou sank back into the couch before mumbling, “you didn’t do anything wrong,”

ෆ relieved at his answer, you gleefully skipped away 

ෆ “why the hell does she make me feel nervous?”

ෆ distressed about the thought of you, he decided to talk to ashido and kaminari about it

ෆ “bro...you’re totally in love with her!”

ෆ “yup!”

ෆ “according to wikihow, you’re showing all the symptoms of a man whose fallen in love,”

ෆ “wikihow is complete bullshit there is no way in hell i am in love,”

ෆ and yet, when you complimented him during his battle with todoroki, he couldn’t suppress boasting himself around kirishima

 ˖◛⁺⑅♡denki kaminari

ෆ you and kaminari were known as class 1-A’s crackheads

ෆ and that’s what made the two of you best friends

ෆ thanks to your playful and carefree personality, you were able to befriend kaminari easily

ෆ you two were like two edamames in a pod 

ෆ does that make sense idk lol

ෆ when the two of you were put into the same group for a mission

ෆ god aizawa-sensei literally regrets his decision in becoming a teacher

ෆ you two were literally UNSTOPPABLE together

ෆ like you’d literally be shouting encouraging words at each other and kicking ass side by side 

ෆ your friendship with kaminari definitely raised a few brows amongst your classmates 

ෆ one night, kaminari was laid down on the floor of kirishima’s room, talking about god knows what 

ෆ suddenly, kirishima asked a question regarding you 

ෆ “soooo kaminari, are you and y/n a thing now or?”

ෆ “what? no! what makes you think that?”

ෆ kirishima tapped on his chin with a sly grin on his lips,

ෆ “i just thought that you had feelings for her or something,”

ෆ kaminari’s mind literally blanked

ෆ “f-feelings? as in....romantic feelings?”

ෆ “yes you idiot,”

ෆ kaminari blinked as he stared at kirishima with a baffled face

ෆ he stood up in a robotic manner,

ෆ “i’m going to bed now. goodnight,”

ෆ kaminari laid on his soft mattress as he stared at the ceiling of his room, his thoughts running rapidly

ෆ “romantic feelings....”

ෆ kaminari always saw you as a person he could trust, enjoy his time with and confide in

ෆ surely he only saw you as his bestfriend and nothing more

ෆ right?

ෆ his loud thoughts were broken off when he heard a knock on his door

ෆ “kaminari, it’s me!”

ෆ “did i just manifest y/n?”

ෆ after hearing your voice, he immediately rolled of his bed and twisted his door knob, allowing you to enter

ෆ although a majority of your face was hidden due to the oversized hoodie you were wearing, the gleam in your eyes was evident

ෆ you twirled into his room, clutching your nintendo switch in your hands 

ෆ “kaminari, you can’t believe what just happened!”

ෆ you shoved your nintendo switch into kaminari’s hand and started blabbering about your island and your new villagers

ෆ the words from your mouth sounded like gibberish to kaminari as he was focused on the way your eyes twinkled as you spoke about your treasures, your feet which were jumping up and down in excitement and your hands which were moving around as you spoke

ෆ  “i just thought that you had feelings for her or something,”

ෆ “hello? earth to kaminari?” you waved your hands in front of the dazed male 

ෆ he immediately snapped back into reality, cheeks slightly flushing as he realized he was caught dazing about you

ෆ “we’re just best friends. there’s nothing more to that,”

ෆ “oh! could you help me go fishing? kirishima says that you’re good at it!”

ෆ before he knew it your hands were on his wrist, dragging him to his bed where the two of you sat down, side by side

ෆ kaminari decided to push his thoughts away and instead focus on the game in front of him

ෆ “ah shoot i nearly had it!”

ෆ kaminari’s fingers fumbled clumsily on the controller as he tried reeling in the fish, resulting him to fail his third attempt 

ෆ as his brows furrowed in concentration, he couldn’t help but notice your presence getting closer to him

ෆ from his peripheral vision, he could see you looking at the screen with intense concentration which he oddly found cute

ෆ ‘ba-bump’

ෆ “wait what? no way! my heart totally skipped a beat just now..”

ෆ pushing his thoughts away from you my ass smh

ෆ kaminari became even more aware of your presence, causing him to lose the fish once again

ෆ “what did kirishima say about you being good again? i bet my toes could play better than you!” 

ෆ you took your nintendo switch from kaminari with puffed cheeks as you were slightly disappointed at his gameplay

ෆ but the moment your fingers grazed kaminari’s,

ෆ he knew that the jolt of electricity he felt wasn’t from his quirk

ෆ “look! i got one on my first try!”

ෆ for the next five minutes of you catching fishes with intense concentration, kaminnari spent this moment to fawn over you 

ෆ he was entranced by the way your eyes lit up when you had caught something and the way your lips unconsciously pouted when you didn’t

ෆ maybe he did have feelings for you after all

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #Midoriya #midoriya x reader #todoroki #todoroki x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #kaminari #kaminari x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #Headcanon #anime #imagine

[curlybookwriter0294]

Behind the Dark Sunglasses

Summary: All Wally wants to do is to enjoy his time with his handsome boyfriend Nightwing. However, he can't stand his dark sunglasses and truly wants to know who he truly is because he is dying to know what color his eyes were. Will he finally tell him?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the DC or the YJ universe!!! Just the plot lol.

AN: I am back with another Birdlfash fic!! Gosh, I just fucking love these two togetherrrrrrr and I hope that you guys will enjoy this little beauty. Sadly it is not smutyyyyy but there is somewhat sexual content in here lol. 

Wally West has no idea if heaven is even real but hey, he lives in a world with superheroes and he’s one of them, so anything is possible at this point these days. Right now, at this moment, this feels like he’s in heaven. “Fuck,” he muttered through grounded teeth, throwing his head back and closed his green eyes and used a hand to grab a fist full of dark hair that was between his legs. “Babe. Shit.”

He heard a low chuckle that he knows all too well and had opened one eye to see his raven-haired boyfriend stroking his member with a hand as he smirked up at the older speedster above him. “Enjoying this?” he asked him, using another hand to push up his dark sunglasses that he would always wear whenever he’s not in his Nightwing uniform.

Wally bit his lower lip so he could focus the warm touch that was on him, frowning when he had looked down at the younger hero’s face or what he could see because of his stupid sunglasses. He sighed. “I would be enjoying it a lot more if I could see your eyes, Nightwing,” he said with a sigh.

 He watched Nightwing move away from his legs and knew that the moment between them had ended because of what he had said. The two heroes were silent as he had put himself back into his boxers and jeans that he was wearing, watching Nightwing walking over to sit in his desk chair with a deep frown on his face. “Wing…” he started, running a hand through his short red hair.

 “You know why I can’t tell you.”

 Wally rolled his forest orbs with a snort and leaned back on his bed until his back touched the headboard. “Yea. I know. It’s because of Batman and his stupid rules. I just thought… that since…never mind. Forget it.”

 Neither of them said anything after a while and Wally watched the younger hero fiddling over his computer that was attached to his watch and Wally sighed. “I’m sorry for ruining things.”

 Nightwing turned Wally’s desk chair around to stare at his older boyfriend as he folded his arms over his chest. “You didn’t. You have no idea how much I want to tell you about me,” he said with a quiet sigh, threading his fingers through his short black hair.

 “Can’t you just simply ask him if it is okay? I mean, I told you since the first day The Team was formed,” Wally reminded him in a matter-of-fact tone, shaking his head as he leaned off the headboard and crawled over to the edge of the bed. “I just…” he blushed before continuing. “I just want to see what’s behind those dark sunglasses, especially if things were to get heated again.”

 The younger man that was across from the speedster cleared his throat and shifted in his seat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know Wally. It’s just…” Nightwing paused as he tried to think of a way to explain the situation. “It’s complicated with him. Even if I do try and talk to him it’s still going to be a no.”

 Wally studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he truly believes in what he was saying to him. Wally truly understands that the Dark Knight has strict rules when it’s about revealing their secret identity. Heck, he remembers asking his uncle if he knew who Batman truly was and even he didn’t know. He could understand the hesitation of revealing it to him. It makes him slightly wonder if there’s more to it than just the rule that Batman had created.

 “There isn’t something else is there? Perhaps another reason as to why I haven’t seen your eyes yet?” The speedster asked slowly, watching his boyfriend’s shoulders tensed up at the question. “There is… isn’t there?”

 “If people find out who we are… our enemies can use that against the people that we tell.” Nightwing told him, knowing that it was half the truth in his words. He truly wishes that Wally would drop it and they could go back to what they were doing before. However, he knows how persistent his boyfriend can be at times and he also know that he won’t drop it unless he gets a real answer.

 Wally leaned forward on the bed and stared at the younger hero, wishing that he could see what kind of facial expression he was making. He honestly wonders if his eyes were blue, or green or heck hazel. “I understand that babe,” he told him. “But I believe that there’s more to it than that. Am I right?” he asked, hiking a brow at him.

 Nightwing didn’t answer him right away and Wally knew that he was right after all. Wally nibbled at his lower lip, trying to think of a way to break the awkward silence that had followed between them. “At least tell me that you’re not a serial killer,” he says in a joking manner and his upper lip curled up when his boyfriend scoffed at him. “That’s not really an answer. I gotta know what I’m dealing with here.”

 “No, Wally. I am definitely not a serial killer,” Nightwing told him with a shake of his head. “It’s just…” There was a pause. “I don’t want you to think differently about me if you were to discover my identity,” he said to him honestly as he took a deep breath.

 Wally stared at him with wide eyes and got up from his bed to kneel in front of Nightwing. He used his thumb to lift his chin and even though he was wearing sunglasses, he knew that he was staring directly into his green eyes. “Even if you are a serial killer. It wouldn’t change the way that I feel about you, Nightwing. You can trust me. I know that I am an annoying speedster who likes to eat a lot and don’t know when to shut my mouth at times, but I do know on how to shut the fuck up when I need to. Just tell Batman that okay? Maybe then he can finally let you tell me because I am so dying to know what color your eyes are,” he leaned in to give Nightwing a chaste kiss on his lips. “I love you. So damn much.”

 Wally knows that it was rare for Nightwing to cry and when he saw a train of tears flowing from his sunglasses, he gently wipes them off with his fingers. “I love you too, Wally and…” Wally froze when he watched Nightwing reached up with shaky fingers to slowly take off his sunglasses. “And I want—”

 Wally reached up with his hands to stop Nightwing from removing them. “Babe, I don’t want you to get into trouble. If he finds out…”

 “Didn’t you just tell me a moment ago that you know when to shut the fuck up when you need to?”

 Wally pressed his lips together in a thin line and rolled his eyes at him. “Yes. But we both know how Batman is. He’s gonna know that you—”

 A pair of lips made Wally stop talking and he had moaned when Nightwing’s teeth had bit his lower lip to open it so his tongue to slip inside his mouth. Wally placed a hand onto his chest to gently push him away and licked his lips. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go against Batman’s orders?” he asked breathlessly, gulping when he saw Nightwing’s hands reached up to touch the handles of his sunglasses. “Wing.”

 Neither of them said anything to each other as Nightwing slowly took off his dark sunglasses and Wally squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out why his eyes were close and why the heck he had looked so familiar even though he has not seen his eyes yet. “You can back out anytime. I won’t be mad,” he promised him in a reassuringly way.

 “No. I want to do this. Just…don’t freak out, okay?”

 Wally cocked his head to the side in confusion by his comment and was about ask him what he had meant by that, but his question was caught in throat when Nightwing had finally open his eyes and Wally’s whole body froze when he did.

 Blue. His eyes were blue.

 It was so blue, Wally thought he was staring into an ocean and the more he stared into them deeply he was finding himself lost in them and honestly, he wouldn’t mind being lost in them and the more he had studied his boyfriend’s face the more he realized as to why he had looked so familiar to him. He had to blink several times in order to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and even rubbed them just in case.

 “R-Richard Grayson? You’re—You’re—"

 “Actually… I prefer to be called Dick Grayson,” Dick corrected, clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He sat still in the desk chair when Wally continued to stare at him in shock. “Wally—” he started, trying to come up a way to make this whole Secret Identity Reveal less awkward.

 “It makes sense,” Wally interrupted him, eyeing him up and down. “As to why the Dark Knight was so harsh on the whole ID thing…which means,” his mouth fell open as the pieces fell into place the more he had thought he had thought about it. “No way…”

 Dick Grayson knew what his older boyfriend was smart and that he had figured out the reason by himself but waited until he had said the words before saying anything else. He sucked in a deep breath when wide green eyes met his blue ones and knew what was coming next when he had opened his mouth again.

 “Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

 Wally watched Dick nod at him slightly and Wally’s mouth made a O shape in shock and Dick sucked in another deep breath as he waits for him to speak again. “You really have pretty eyes, Dick.”

 Dick blinked several times as he processed as to what the redheaded speedster just said. He was confused about his statement. Shouldn’t he be more concerned about more important matter at hand? “Is that the only thing that matters right now?” he asked, hiking up a brow at him.

 Wally scratched the top of his head as he shrugged his shoulders. “I mean did you want me to freak out over the fact that the billionaire is freaking Batman and that you’re Nightwing?” he asked him, cocking his head to the side when Dick’s shoulders stiffen. The speedster shook his head. “Because I don’t care about that kind of stuff. You know me better than that.” Wally walked closer to where Dick was at his desk and leaned in closer to him when he had brought his face closer to his. “You could be a stripper and I would still love you.”

 Dick rolled his sapphire eyes at him. “You’re such a—"

 “Sap?” Wally suggested, wiggling his eyebrows when the raven-haired hero snorted at him. He cleared his throat and leaned in to brush his nose against his boyfriend. “I’m being for real though. I would still love you. No matter what, babe.”

 “I know,” Dick said with a huge blush on his face. “And I also love you too. Thank you for accepting me.”

 “I will always accept you. Don’t forget that. Ever.”

#birdflash #wally x dick #dick x wally #dick grayson #Wally West #young justice fanfiction #somewhat smut #birdflash fluff #kid flash #nightwing