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thegeminisage · 2 years

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okay i have another zelda ask for you. save for whenever you want a meaty ask. in my recent zelda youtubery people have been revisiting/laughing at that wacky animated series or whatever, like 'lol this was SO bad we will never get a zelda movie now'. which.. i'm not even sure if i want in the first place. but i did think, "well liz could write a good one". so if nintendo kidnapped you and forced you to write the zelda movie. what's your vision for the vibe/big plot points/character arcs? or like. what would it need to be good. just for fun! i hope you never get sick of me sending you random zelda asks. xoxoxo.

I WILL LITERALLY NEVER GET SICK OF THIS. i am literally SO flattered you think i could do it justice. you are gonna regret asking me though because the more time i had to think this over the more elaborate it got. so. (also, i have seen the animated series in its entirety. a long time ago now but i did. it sure was an experience; some of it i liked and some of it i really hated.) also sorry this took me so long to do i took a week’s break in the middle to read 1.3 million words of fanfiction. I BET YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT well i didnt. i have devoted so much brainpower to this. too much brainpower even

anyway. the first obvious and easy answer is that i would simply have them shoot ocarina of time. with only the most nuanced of performances, the most tasteful CGI, the best on-site locations for shooting, a score by koji kondo himself which is then of course performed LIVE exclusively by tokyo philharmonic. this is the movie of my dreams. or, hell, i’d have them shoot, in particular, the movie version of the fanfic i wrote when i was 14, adapting ocarina of time. this was my first ever fic so as you can imagine it was a complete bastardization full of OCs and character death and i will forever be sad it was lost to the sands of time.

HOWEVER. that’s the short boring answer, and having adapted it myself i know that oot is a challenging game to put into a story that doesn’t involve audience interaction, because a great bulk of the game is spent inside dungeons where, strictly plotwise, Nothing Happens. also i don’t think that’s the movie nintendo would want to make, or allow me to make. i think nintendo would want a new story with a new link, just like they would for a new game, to make it accessible for people who have never touched a zelda game before. (i think, mistakenly, they would want to make the movie primarily for that audience, but more on that later.) i also think that with the major game movies lately there’s been a push for things to be Funny - detective pikachu and the sonic movies are all packed with jokes, and from the looks of it the mario movie, while hopefully less successful (chris pratt...die), will attempt to be too. i also know that nintendo has a habit of trying out really risky ideas that sound bad but then work out well in the execution (smash brothers, to name one humble example - the mario movie will be an exception to this). i ALSO know that the most popular zelda games by and far are oot and botw, so while this project would require a new story i (and hopefully this hypothetical nintendo) would want to draw from and reference those games the most.

so. here is the movie i think nintendo would make, or allow me to make, if they trusted me a lot and were willing to take a few risks with me. THIS IS SOOO LOOOONG LOL (i am not kidding this post is ~7500 words) unfortunately this has to behind a cut. nobody is obligated to read it, it’s fucking insane. it would never fit into a 2-hour movie experience without feeling rushed, but we can just pretend i’m a deft enough writer to make it happen and execute it perfectly. i am going to reiterate that NOBODY needs to read this, oh my god, but anyway, here goes nothing:

ZELDA THE MOVIE (LIZ EDITION)

does link talk?

FIRST THINGS FIRST. this is undoubtedly the biggest question in any zelda movie, right? link talking is weird and not who he is, but how can you have a movie where the main character does not speak? in old games it didn’t really matter that he didn’t talk, but i think botw did a great job in showing us he does talk a little, sometimes, when he has to, without us ever actually hearing him, and that he has Believable Reasons for usually choosing not to do so. so i’m gonna go with something like that - link CAN talk, but usually doesn’t, probably due to some backstory reasons. i think he could speak in the film, but maybe only once - 3 times max, and each time it’s only one sentence or phrase. VERY limited. words are a precious resource.

animated or live action?

i think the previous question’s answer actually takes care of this one. now i LOVE animation, 2D or cgi, so this is a really difficult one, but i think a true human performance will almost always be able to capture more nuance, and if you are going to have a protagonist that is mostly nonverbal, you NEED an actual actor to be making good informative faces. i could POSSIBLY accept an actor informing the animation of a virtual character, like they do for tlou and quantic dream games, but it’d have to be like, pre-rendered, and not generated “in-engine,” if that makes sense, just for quality purposes. i don’t want this movie to look like a video game, even a really nice looking video game - i want it to look like a movie. i think it makes it fresher for old fans and more accessible for new ones!

the score

for sure we need old zelda tunes for this; my biggest disappointment re: the sonic movies was that there wasn’t enough of that jammin’ sonic music in them. so for zelda i think it’d be fun to have someone from nintendo collab with someone from hollywood to make a mix of something that’s faithful to the games and evocative of decades of nostalgia but also FEELS like a movie score. like, koji kondo + hans zimmer or something. that soundtrack, assuming those stingy bastards ever sold it, would FLY off the metaphorical shelves. it’d be really fun too to maybe some really well-known, very skilled fan musicians put in a few of the covers! a video game movie is FOR the fans, so it makes perfect sense. like letting that one guy sing in the sega 30th anniversary concert. i’m not saying let seth evermann and toby fox and david erick ramos and brock hewitt and theophany have tracks in the movie, but like, let them have tracks in the movie?!?!

i also think mashups between modern and classic games would be fun. if you’ve never heard this one that combines the botw labyrinth/lost woods theme with zelda ii’s temple theme, you are missing out! please feel free to listen to it while you read this, because i would definitely use it or something very similar to it as a theme for a dungeon scene. for the opening titles we OF COURSE need oot's iconic title theme i will accept nothing less

slightly related, i think if we need to pick a particular direction for the soundtrack (the way botw’s was breathy and quiet and full of piano, or the way link’s awakening’s was quirky and cute), i’d pick a slight techno/edm direction, owing to the setting i have in mind (more on that in a minute), but something that could veer into the traditionally orchestrated as well. tbh the tron legacy soundtrack was sort of edm and orchestrated at the same time so maybe something like that??? now i’m just showing my bias LMAO

the cast + the audience

animated or live action, i actually have no idea who i’d cast - oot link was actually based off of leo dicaprio in titanic, but he’s way too old now and also that’d be weird. like i’m not the person to do fancasts bc i don’t follow any actors and the like (idris elba could make a great ganondorf though). but i think the smart thing to do for link and zelda would be to get someone extremely talented but largely unknown. so we look at them and see their characters, not their very famous actors who are bound to have the wrong connotation for SOMEBODY. that is very hard! but this is a fantasy, this is never going to happen, so we’ll assume nintendo, who still has me at gunpoint, will take my advice to spend their vast millions finding the perfect link and zelda. i know they are out there somewhere

“but what about attracting new audiences” WELL i touched on this earlier but maybe we need to chill with attempting to grub for new consumers! of course nintendo’s instinct is to get new butts in those seats and make them want to buy zelda games bc they have dollar signs in their eyes (yen signs?) and diehard fans will ALREADY keep buying every zelda ever made no matter what. i have paid for ocarina of time like 5 fucking times now and if they port the 3D version to switch i’ll fucking pay for it again and thank them while i do it! but that’s my point exactly. like, look at the sonic movies: they get mixed reviews from critics unfamiliar with the series but sonic FANS will go to war for them. the people who are gonna show up to midnight release and pay to see Theee Zelda Movie in theaters like 6 times before it releases to video/streaming are the people already fucking obsessed with zelda. i think for this project it would be crucial to strike a perfect, PERFECT balance. if the movie fucking sucks bc they were just trying to use it to sell games there won’t be a sequel. there won’t be rewatches. it’ll just go down as another lame cash cow. but if the movie doesn’t attract ANY new consumers there also...still won’t be a sequel, and it still won’t be regarded as a success. so.

i think we should make up the Fame Factor of the protagonists being nobodies by having the side characters voiced by some big names. if/when people like malon, impa, groose, the sages/champions/etc appear they could be played by famous people. i think it’d also be fun to get some cameos in there - have shigeru miyamoto, eiji aonuma, and charles martinet show up like stan lee in a marvel movie. zelda williams too if she’s comfortable with that! the more the merrier! get that star power in! make that $$$ so our corporate overlords allow us to make a sequel and also don’t fucking shoot me! and the biggest star of all should be...

the partner

if link is nonverbal, SOMEBODY in this joint needs to be delivering the dialogue. i know the lack of a partner was a big hit in botw, and it worked really well there, but while books and games can survive without dialogue it’s much harder for movies - that’s the main method of communicating information to your audience. a good nonverbal performance certainly helps with communicating information, as do clever camera shots and other techniques for dialogue-less storytelling, but in the end, for a mainstream movie, link would need SOMEONE to be his voice, that’s part of why he HAD partners for so many games. it’s an age-old technique in games with a voiceless protagonist to have other characters guess at or describe what they want to say to pass the idea along to us, so i think it could work very well in film too.

now i think nintendo would want to make a totally new partner, since there’s a new one for each of the games, and they would want to cast the Most famous person possible to get non zelda fans in those seats, but again, if i was in charge of this thing i would advise heavily against it. casting the most famous person they can afford is fine if it’s not chris pratt, but we need a character fans already know, and my gut instinct tells me it should either be navi or fi.

now, hear me out, because i know BOTH are characters that kind of annoyed players initially due to frustrating gameplay mechanics, but the fanbase’s impression of their CHARACTERS in-universe has softened a good deal over time. i think how annoying they are could also be played for a little bit of comic relief/nostalgia, which is good since zelda is often quite serious in its plot, and this character would be onscreen nearly constantly, likely having the biggest speaking role, so you could drop that comic relief in whenever you liked.

reasons it could be fi: connected to the master sword, has been with every iteration of link from the very beginning and can explain the reincarnation/cycle thing, good way to induce a call to action or whatever

reasons it could be navi: plays on the nostalgia of ocarina of time, the undisputed KING of “best zelda ever” until botw, she could be with link from BEFORE the movie starts and know him a little better, and even express desire to resist the call

being a 90s kid i am favorable to navi, but i think the plot could work with either of them. just not a new character!!!

the setting

i’m actually gonna take a little bit of risk with my setting here and suggest all those flirtations nintendo has had with adding urban elements and tech (and space invaders?!) to the legend of zelda become real. the sheikah tech in botw came VERY close, so it doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch to have link wandering around a tlou-like hyrule, one that used to resemble our own modern urban life, or maybe even something even more futuristic.

and i say tlou-like because oh yeah i think this also needs to be post-apocalypse. this one is not at ALL a stretch - even before botw, we also had versions of hyrule that were destroyed and/or taken over by hostile forces in the original legend of zelda, a link to the past (dark world) & a link between worlds (lorule), oot (bad timeline), wind waker (got mcfucking flooded), minish cap (hostile takeover leaving statues behind), twilight princess (coup + twilight realm), not to mention majora’s mask being ABOUT an oncoming apocalypse, and of course we can’t forget koholint either. give settings like this or this or this or this some of that quirky hylian flare that only nintendo can do, add some monsters (more on this in a sec), and i think you’ve got a world that is both easily understandable by audiences unfamiliar with the series AND one that is both nostalgic and fresh for old fans - in the same way that botw’s hyrule was.

but i don’t think this is the ONLY hyrule we should see. this leads into (at last)...

the premise

i’m just gonna say it: time travel.

obviously not a stretch by any imagination, since THEEE zelda game of all time involved time travel and helped produce the finalized branching timeline as a result, but we don’t actually time travel too often outside of that...like i said, i want to draw a lot from oot!

i also want to explore the cycle of reincarnation* introduced in skyward sword. skyward sword and botw are very exciting to me as a longtime fan because these are the first attempts we’ve seen at pulling the games all together and making an entire universe/connected story out of them instead of letting them just float around in the ether as a collection of stand-alones that sometimes have barely-connected sequels if they’re lucky. botw in a way felt like the first proper sequel we’ve ever REALLY had.

*yes, it’s actually more complicated than simple reincarnation, since the zeldas are all technically separate people and ganondorf never dies, but i think it’s good shorthand and tbh i wouldn’t mind if we switched to “link and zelda are always reincarnated but ganondorf never dies” or “everybody is reincarnated” for the movie just to make it more digestible to the Masses - i feel like a relatively small portion of the main fanbase would complain, especially if the rest of the movie was good. using the same actress for zelda in every timeline is easy visual shorthand, similar to using the same actor for link, whether it’s animated or live-action. it’s just easier!! sorry, this may a bit unpopular to our hypothetical hardcore fans.

i’d also like to explore what it means to accept the call of destiny/call to action and to refuse it. i had an anon once (posts here, here, and here) who talked about playing botw as someone who’d never touched zelda before and they had a totally different experience than me and how they wanted to refuse to save the world, and there’s also this comic! and i think that's the craziest brainiest shit ever so of course i’d want it in my movie.

and finally, i know it’s partially because botw2 will never give us this, but i am chomping at the BIT for some good guy ganondorf content, especially since skyward sword basically told us he didn’t ask for it to be like this anymore than link and zelda did. a lot of fanon around botw2 rehydrated ganondorf has him having been really close friends with a link and zelda at some point before being overwhelmed by his curse, and i like that a lot. because then not only is he a formidable villain, but he’s also a villain with STAKES - we like him and we want him to be saved from himself, and the monster he becomes.

anyway, what with multiple timelines/hyrules (termina and koholint etc are also fine, they’re still from link’s adventures), it would be cool if the “older” hyrules had more traditional music, and the tracks for modern hyrule were a little more slamming. that’s a little risky, though; might be better to just straight edm or orchestrate all of it without a split.

the plot

so, i’m not getting into the specifics of each scene or how it should go because at that point i’m outlining a fanfic i’ll never write, and i have at least three ideas for how any given major beat could play out anyway, so think of this as more of a general overview.

i thinking something like: link roams the urban apocalypse landscape on his lonesome (or with navi if that’s the partner character) hunting treasure in the ruins to sell and living off the land the way he does in botw. (maybe he has steampunk goggles lol.) he’s a friendly guy who tries to go out of his way to help people but he does not have a Purpose. i’m thinking an early scene where he tries to save some passerby from monsters** and lacks a proper weapon (his is rusted or gets broken), or maybe a bit where he gets caught by monsters while looking for treasure, and again his weapon breaks, and that can throw us into the action. then later he sells his treasure to a merchant, and the people around him can give exposition on why the world is like this (something to do with ganondorf, of course - i’m thinking similarly to botw, he fucked shit up bigtime before he got sealed away by zelda) and how hopeless everyone is that anything will ever get better. again, navi can be link’s voice during this part, if she is his partner - explaining he doesn’t talk much, answering questions on his behalf.

**i am very firm on this: we need either newly designed monsters for the movie (likely what nintendo would do) or a mix of the monsters from various games. i don’t want to ONLY use monsters from botw for example, because this isn’t the botw movie, it’s the zelda movie. (i’m already drawing SO much from botw i’d be reluctant to use any monsters from it at all that weren’t exclusive to that particular game.) so maybe the botw guardians, the oot redeads, the wind waker moblins, etc. i think a guardian would actually be a great first encounter because they’re fucking terrifying and the piano chime coming in would have an entire theater ready to jump right out of their seats!! anyway

i think link should maybe get a glimpse of the master sword during that adventure, or see it in a dream or whatever, and if fi is gonna be our partner she can lead him to it as she did before in the night, or he can go back looking for it, but either way the next thing he does is find the sword and pull it out of the stone. LEFT-HANDED. idgaf which hand the actor is dominant with. it’s a movie! act! i hate righty link >:( both the sword from the stone and the lefty link are CRUCIAL imagery.

ANYWAY, this is why i like navi being the partner character. i think fi could and would come out of the sword, and explain why the world is like this, and tell link what he must do to save it, and beckon link towards the call of adventure. but i also think that is a little bit boring and lacks narrative tension. i think it would be more fun to actually give navi a plotline where she wants to REFUSE the call, because it would conflict with link’s stubborn insistence on always doing the right thing.

let’s say this navi is THEEEEE same navi from ocarina of time, right? that she remembers all of that, and she remembers how ocarina of time is actually the saddest zelda game, and she had a good reason for leaving at the end. (the actual reason is that apparently she had romantic feelings towards link, but that’s weird and bad and i don’t like it, so i am ignoring it, since nintendo also won’t fess up to it on record.) and so now she just wants to hang out with link and keep him safe and happy or whatever. adventures are hard! they’re sad! link has to sacrifice and suffer every time he’s called to save the world! ganondorf is fine where he is, so why bother! (link would not know or remember any of this - obviously, he wouldn’t remember his past lives, but it’s very possible he doesn’t remember his own life before navi came to him either; maybe he was in whatever wrecked hyrule and slept for a hundred years like in botw, or maybe it was like this when he was born, but this is, crucially, all navi’s big secret to carry.)

fi could still come out of the sword as a minor character in this instance to argue with her, but eventually link would successfully be talked out of taking the sword and put it back in the pedestal - which makes the spirit of the sword, whether she is seen onscreen or not, rebel and send him back through time. i am undecided on whether it’s an illusion and he just goes back to relive his old memories or whether he actually for real time travels - there are pros and cons to both approaches! either way navi would go with him (unless fi is the partner character and then i suppose she could) because link does still need a voice!

this will now be a call to adventure more convincing than any possible sword spirit: a glimpse of what link’s missing. the hyrule he winds up in could be HIS hyrule with all the future-y stuff but before the apocalypse fucked it up. the sky is blue, the sun is out, there’s no monsters! i think it could have kind of a solarpunk vibe, honestly. familar landmarks we passed before are restored, people like the ones he maybe couldn’t save are walking around. but in order to get back home link has to find the master sword in this era and put it back in the pedestal of time (or something like that...details aren’t important), so he spends a little time here, and, most crucially, meets zelda.

zelda and ganondorf

i think this will probably be the most important 5 or 10 minutes of the movie. you know how at the beginning of “up” you’re like ready to start bawling from 10 minutes of content bc it was that good and meaningful? we gotta do it like that. i’m not sure what happens, if it should be like an actiony adventure scene or just them hanging out, but even if they span days or weeks or months in-universe we would have 10 minutes, i think, to make the audience absolutely fall head over heels in love with this girl. possibly this is the first time we hear link actually speak - the fact that he says three entire words in front of her is a sign she’s something really special. but our movie-goers need more than anything to really believe link would want to save her, that she’s not just some chick he’s saving because that’s what you do. i think the entire conflict of the movie would rest on this premise: navi representing the part of link that wants to refuse the call, and zelda representing the part of him that wants to answer it.

it might be a good idea to have link meet ganondorf here, too, but not see too much of him, because i also think it’s a good idea for him to witness the beginning of hyrule’s destruction. we’d be due for an action scene, and also it makes the instinct to jump in and fight stronger. but when link finds and touches the master sword again (or whatever) - bam. different time.

i am picturing a non-linear jump through multiple hyrules, in which link meets many familiar faces (this is where our cast can be star-studded if budget allows) and tours many familiar locations, all the while trying to solve the mystery of the disaster in his own time and how he can make it right. it’s even possible that he could flip back to his own hyrule here and there - it would depend on the logistics of the actual time traveling mechanic. what he finds out as he goes back and forth through these various hyrules is twofold: that he has prevented and healed great suffering, but also suffered deeply himself, which again adds to the long list of pros and cons of saving the world or letting it fend for itself.

in this section link also finds out about demise’s curse, and the cycle he and zelda and ganondorf are all trapped in. if the ten minute opener to Old Hyrule was meant to make our audience fall in love with zelda, i think this section should make them sympathize with ganondorf. i would like to show him doing good things and bad things - i want to see the half-feral freak from twilight princess and the remorseful noble antagonist from wind waker. i think it’d be really neat to have link thrown into a final battle at one point, since if ganondorf is a “good guy” it’s not likely it’ll happen any other way and i’d hate not to have one. and of course we’d also have to see demise - it’s important to show that ganondorf’s agency over his own actions was somewhat limited. it’s a gray area because he chose to do some of it but how much choice did he really have in any of it? a scene where he’s sort of fighting with himself would be really good, because in struggling to decide whether or not to enter back into the cycle and suffer to save the world AGAIN, link is struggling with himself too. or maybe something where he’s looking at the aftermath of what he’s done and is horrified and wants link to put him down? idk!! there’s so many ways it could go - even before demise’s curse was canon, wind waker ganondorf sort of painted a picture of a man who was backed into a corner by the unfairness of life, which is again something link and zelda are very familiar with.

and we definitely wouldn’t leave zelda out of these sections! the goddamn series is named after her. like i said, every zelda would be probably played by the same actress, and while it’s always nice to see her, it’s not the same as knowing the zelda we met first is safe and happy. we can get to know her and her own struggle with living up to her role of protecting the kingdom, we can see her interact with ganondorf, and she she can help link figure out how to get to the next hyrule and dodge enemies, but in the end, he always has to leave her behind, and he has yet to find out what happened to the first zelda he met, the one from “his” hyrule, before the apocalypse.

i think it is in this section that someone, zelda or ganondorf, expresses the hope that there’s a way to break demise’s curse so they can all rest. there should be some back and forth on this - it could be possible, it could be impossible - but i think there should be a glimmer of real hope beyond “surely there’s a way!” but no guarantee. i think the triforce would be a good way to accomplish this - its power is theoretically unlimited, but you’d have to unite it first, and the only one who usually does that is ganondorf, and because he’s cursed, it responds to his evil wishes with evil. so it’s theoretically possible but practically impossible, you know?

and okay, like, you’d think ganondorf would think it was pointless while zelda would hold out hope that it could still happen, but i think it’d be fun to actually subvert those expectations! i think for ganondorf, who arguably suffers the bleakest fate***, to have the most optimism, would endear him greatly to our hypothetical audience, and make them want to save him too.

***bro, at least link and zelda get to be heroes and people are glad to see them. ganondorf is hated and feared by all and he doesn’t even get to DIE. he always loses and even when he wins his reward is unchecked destruction. yikes.

the bad guy (not ganondorf!!)

i think in addition to needing to solve the puzzle of his and zelda’s and ganondorf’s incredibly complex histories, and the history of hyrule itself, link should also be running from something, to give the film urgency and action scenes. if ganondorf is the good guy, we need an antagonist and a threat. you know how in zelda ii, all the monsters want link’s blood because it could revive ganon? i think that would be a RAD callback, and also give a bad guy a reason to chase link through time - with his blood, they can unseal ganondorf.

i have two candidates in mind for this. technically three, because the first candidate is twinrova/koume & kotake. they have the potential to be wickedly funny and pants-shittingly terrifying (they were both in ocarina of time, because they bicker but they also do scary mind control), they are ganondorf’s surrogate mothers, AND they have canonically tried to resurrect ganon(dorf) before. the other person it could be is dark link. dark link wouldn’t be as funny or as talkative as the witches, but he would be lots scarier and it would give link’s actor a chance to do a little vocal performance. (just because link doesn’t talk doesn’t mean his evil shadow can’t taunt him mercilessly.) these are both REALLY appealing to me, but if i had to choose, i’d go with dark link, because struggle with the self is a defining factor in this arc i am building. it’s also a good callback to zelda ii, where he first appeared, and where the “blood of link” plotline comes from. if we already have navi, i don’t think it’s fair to have another oot-specific character no matter how funny she/they would be.

so twinrova or dark link is heading up a monster posse chasing link through time, trying to draw his blood so they can go back to the present and unseal ganondorf. meanwhile link is hopping from era to era with navi trying to figure out what it is he’s supposed to see or know so he can get back home and maybe save everyone. i imagine he’s generally only one step ahead of the monsters, and i think it’d be fun if there was at least one early fight scene with dark link in which link gets his butt kicked and barely gets away, because it would be fun to have another one later where the results are reversed.

navi/the reveal

during the course of this adventure, i think it would be kind of fun if navi, like i said, KNEW what she needed to know, but kept trying to keep link from finding out, sabotaging his efforts to answer the call because she wants them to refuse it so badly. but it was never gonna work, because link can’t go home until he figures out how to go home. you know?

so the very last hyrule link would go to is the much-beloved ocarina of time, where, unbeknownst to him, he and navi first met. we’ll say that maybe she left to figure out if there was a way to break the cycle, even though we never saw her find out about it in oot because it didn’t exist yet, and though she looked for thousands and thousands of years, she never found one, so eventually she decided to return to link. she was there the day the apocalypse started in “his” hyrule, and she saw that ganondorf went mad trying to resist what demise’s curse wanted him to do, and eventually snapped and idk torched everything. and that means she saw what happened after, and how he was sealed - zelda herself sealed him, just like she did in botw, and she’s stuck with him inside the remnants of hyrule castle. (is it still a castle if it’s all futuristic? maybe something like this or this or this except, you know, hylian.) she’s not conscious and suffering trying to hold him back the way she was in botw, i think they’re both just frozen in time or something, but nonetheless - the only way to free zelda is to also free ganondorf.

and that would start the cycle anew, which is why navi tried so hard to let them just stay where they were.

link learns other things about his life in oot’s hyrule, i think. this is veering into headcanon territory, but i always read oot’s link as an outcast; he’s stuck between two worlds, and in kokiri forest he was a bullied kid, and all but tossed out on his ass even after he saved them, and not recognized or welcomed upon his return because of how different he looked as an adult. and he also lacks a proper place in the world outside the forest; as a little kid, no one takes him seriously, and he has no family or adults to take care of him so that he might lead a normal life. people are usually glad to see link in oot after he becomes an adult because he’s rescuing them, but as a kid i feel like most of the time he’s told to buzz off and go play.

anyway, since navi was a firsthand witness to this particular journey to save hyrule, i feel like you could definitely swing her reading of those events as “the world rejected link and only wanted him when they needed him.” i don’t think it’s true, and i don’t think link thinks it’s true, it’s obviously way more complex than that, but it’s a good way to show that in addition to link, zelda, & ganondorf suffering because of demise’s curse, the people who love them (navi, who in this case is standing in for us, the audience, who hopefully by now loves them very dearly) suffer along with them, and want to help ease their pain and regrets. “why would you want to save a world that doesn’t want you?” is a very good question, and it gets right to the heart of who link is as a person, in EVERY iteration: someone who cares deeply about others and wants to do the right thing.

and i think this might be the first break between link and navi’s partnership - he’d want to save zelda and hyrule, and she wouldn’t. and if she had told him about it honestly from the beginning it would have made a compelling argument, and part of him maybe wants to give it up just because he wants to spare her that pain, but the other part of him knows he can’t, and is hurt about being lied to and sabotaged, because he thought she was on his side. i think maybe they fight about it? inasmuch as you can fight with someone who doesn’t speak. (and see, if the partner character were fi, link would just have to be transported back to the apocalypse and watch zelda seal ganondorf herself. lame.)

the climax

BUT THEN. before they can finish fighting, before link can finish deciding what to do, dark link (or twinrova ig) & the monsters show up. i prefer dark link for this because he represents link’s struggle. link can’t save zelda and hyrule without going back into the cycle (and he’d have to fight ganondorf, who we like!). dark link also wants to restart the cycle but for the wrong reasons (he wants to bring back ganondorf with link’s blood). since he’s a bad guy, he makes navi’s suggestion of just leaving things as they are, which initially seems cold and selfish, look more reasonable by comparison.

so link and dark link would have to fight in oot’s hyrule (classic!), maybe in hyrule field with lots of rain, or the water temple, or perhaps an ever-shifting background like in final destination in smash bros yes i really said that. i think this is the “final boss battle” of this movie - this is an all-out fight with special effects and action and high stakes. it’s possible that link speaks in this battle because it’s a very important moment, possibly ironically to tell dark link to shut up. dark link could even put navi in a bottle or something, i don’t know. this is the reason i wanted an earlier fight with dark link (or again, possibly twinrova) where link got his ass beat, because it would establish him (them) as SCARY, and establish how badly things could go if link loses.

i think for this fight, link would falter in the first half, not yet settled in what he wants to do, but eventually, navi would do something to help him out - warn him about a blow or take a blow or heal an injury - to show that she has finally accepted the call herself, she IS on his side no matter what that means, and that she’ll support whatever his decision is. when they fight together, they win handily, illustrating the newfound strength in their bond.

the ending

finally, link goes back to his own hyrule, master sword in hand, free at last of dark link and his monsters (or who knows, maybe they are still chasing him and he only just got away again). navi could be with him, but if we wanted an awful cliffhanger, we could have her sacrifice herself to get link to where he needs to be, and now the enemy has her, and we don’t know if she’s okay. i think the ending scene might be more dramatic if link was alone, but it could go either way.

at this point i think fi could lead link back through the underground tunnels or wherever he is towards the ruins of the castle, similarly to how she may have led him to the sword - if fi isn’t in this at all, he could just have a feeling, a curiosity. but we see him walk through a cave much like the one in the botw2 trailer, and maybe some soundbytes from earlier in the movie play - lines about how there MUST be a way to stop the cycle break the curse, and lines about what a bad idea it would be to try. this is why i think navi might need to be absent here; link alone should make the choice, not influenced by anyone else, and soundbytes are a good way to show that he’s still struggling with this decision.

and he goes on and on, and the tunnels get darker and darker, more and more destroyed, and he has to shine a flashlight, and he looks just like he did at the start of the film when he was hunting treasure or whatever, but this time he’s alone.

his flashlight beam maybe like falls across ganondorf’s snarling face, suspended in time, for a little jumpscare. a wider sweep reveals he’s found zelda too at last. the triforces on their hands are glowing, they’re locked in battle, it’s sad and scary. there is something like desperation in zelda’s eyes, but in ganondorf’s too. all three of them are all trapped in a moment in time, reliving it over and over, and they can’t get out. and link looks at them, and his little soundbytes play, and then he has to decide if one tiny impossible hope for breaking demise’s curse is worth accepting the risk of so much pain and suffering for all three of them, and more people besides.

close in on link’s bloody hand white-knuckling the sword. the triforce of courage is flickering to life on his own hand, because he is considering making the most courageous choice of all, to face down his fear of the oncoming suffering to fight for who he loves, for what is right. but he opens his hand, drops his weapon, and it flickers out. and you think, yeah, okay, he’s giving up navi asked him to, right?

then link lifts his hand, still bleeding, so close he could touch ganondorf and undo the seal at last, and the triforce blazes to life--

and we roll those motherfucking credits.

the midcredits scene/sequel hooks

zelda is such a complex series that it seems nearly impossible to sum up the entire thing in one movie. i’m sure in real life even the most skilled of editing couldn’t cut this concept down to an acceptable movie time without something feeling rushed. but we definitely don’t have time to set up the problem AND give it a satisfying resolution, hence the cliffhanger.

after the initial animated cool credits, i think we’d need an epilogue scene. i am thinking something like, maybe we had a fakeout and thought navi and dark link were both dead and/or beyond link’s reach, but then we pan back to the battlefield and see that oh my god, navi’s okay! but whoops, so is dark link. he puts her back in a bottle or something and does a cool villain laugh and navi is like WHATS SO FUNNY and he’s like HAHAHAHAHA MY MASTER LIVES to confirm that link did indeed wake the slumbering beast

things the sequel would need to address: getting navi back (link looking for navi is a great callback to majora’s mask), fighting dark link again maybe, what happens when ganondorf, who has already gone evil this time, wakes up, how to save zelda from ganondorf, how to save hyrule, and of course, how to break the curse (whether or not it’s possible with the power of the triforce, and how it will go now that link got his piece). a sequel movie probably wouldn’t feature the same wide array of characters and settings as the first, but with the benefit of developed characters and plot that’s already been set up, it could tell a more satisfying story without having to rely on nostalgia and fight scenes for as much of its fun. it would also be a great chance to explore the futuristic hyrule which we wouldn’t have gotten to see as much of in movie #1

with all that potential, if i somehow managed to pull off that first movie, nintendo would SURELY greenlight a sequel in which link finally faces his greatest foe of all: not ganon, but destiny itself. not even the games have done that so it would be perhaps fucking AWESOME. but it's also quite likely that nintendo now regrets kidnapping me lmao

in conclusion/tl;dr

a perfect zelda movie needs classic zelda music, a nonverbal link + a funny partner, and lots of cameos. it has to strike a good balance with old and new fans and save the star-studded cast for the side-characters, not the main ones. it also needs to leave room for a sequel!! the most important plot point would be breaking link, zelda, and ganondorf out of their curse, because i am OBSESSED with that. obviously the games can never do it bc then there’s no more games, and nobody wants that, but if you’re going to change mediums, you can use that medium to what it is uniquely suited for - a showdown that is ultimate and final. there only need to be two zelda movies (MAYBE three if people just want a trilogy, but idk how you could possibly stretch it), which means they get to have something the games never could: an ending.

THANK YOU!!!! for coming to my motherfucking ted talk.

#liz answers asks #paty-ofarrell #liz makes stuff #liz's loz stuff #i guess #is this meta or fanfiction????? i'll use both #liz writes #liz's meta #loz posts #loz blogging #zelda movie tag #anyway seriously thank you so fucking much for the ask #it occupied my thoughts during every shower i had for like 2 weeks #if you couldn't tell lol. again: it's so long. nobody has to read it all #it's so funny because i was like haha i don't have opinions on this though! and then 6 hours later it was like being struck by lightning #and now i am sitting here like wow :( it's too bad nintendo will never make my highly specific and impossible dream movie :(#anyway i hope you like whichever parts you do read feel free to send more anytime. wow #sorry it took me three weeks LOL as you can see it's a massive answer!!!#i'm scheduling it to go up when actual people are awake. it took this long to answer whats the harm of a few more hours

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allisonlol · 3 years

Note

Wah! I cant remember if I congratulated you already but congrats on 400!! <33

May I request milk tea with Chuuya? 💞

a/n: thx again ariel !! combining all my chuuya reqs here since, unsurprisingly, i got a lot

milk tea; what are their kisses like?

you’ll typically get two different main types of kisses from this boy!!

chuuya is usually aggressive in his advances

likes to catch you off guard

^will grab your wrist before quickly pulling you into him, wrapping his other arm around you, and pressing his lips to yours

turns into a makeout session every time lmao

daddy? sorry. daddy?? sorry...daddy...?

seeing your flushed face after doing this just really gets him going-

chuuya’s other way of kissing is much more...calm?

^gently raises your face to meet his before kissing you very sweetly

10/10 extremely loving & soft

also loves to kiss the back of your hand

^started off as a joke at first, but then turned into one of his official forms of showing affection after seeing how flustered it made you

and they say chivalry is dead...

green tea; how do they comfort their s/o?

well, obviously by killing whoever it was that made you upset ☺️

i’m kidding. kind of

chuuya is very sensitive & in-tune to your feelings so, the moment he sees you upset, it breaks his heart a little

you’ll never see him softer than when he’s comforting you <3

^pulls you into his lap so he can hold you and gently wipe the tears from your eyes

will listen quietly as you explain or vent about why you’re upset

stays calm on the outside while he reassures you, but on the inside he’s livid at whatever it was that made you upset

chuuya will bring you something to drink before offering if you’d want to take a bath with him to help you become more relaxed

you’d be a fool to say no-

if he has to go to work after, he’ll call you whenever he has free time to check in on how you’re feeling

even if you insist that you’re fine now, chuuya will continue to dote on you for the rest of the night

brings home your favorite snacks and some drinks to share

will tell you about the crazy events that happened to him at work in an attempt to make you smile/laugh

chuuya is a sympathetic person in general, so he’ll do anything it takes to make you feel better

definitely will look into it more on his own time later to determine if he wants to kill the person who made you upset or not tho 🤫

lemon tea; what are mornings like with them?

sleepy chuuya is literally the cutest

just a warning that you'll have to drag him out of bed every morning so he's not late for work

chuuya is NOT a morning person at all (felt)

deadass starts whining at you to turn off your phone alarm so he can immediately fall back asleep

you’re usually the one who wakes up first (which means u get to see your boyfriend’s cute sleeping face)

once you’re out of bed and dressed for work, you’re tasked with trying to convince chuuya to do the same

shaking him awake, he’ll try to shove you away before pulling his pillow over his head

“baby you’re gonna make us late for work!!” you beg before yanking the blanket off of him

this mf will go half feral to wrestle that blanket back out of your hands

it’s always a 20 minute ordeal before he’ll become conscious about what he’s doing

if you bribe him he’ll be more inclined to listen

“hey chuuya...didn’t you wanna go wine tasting after work today~?”

you know you’ve caught his attention once he peeks his eyes open to suspiciously look at you

by this point you’re cutting it real close to being late so this is only used as a last resort

chuuya will sit up with a long sigh before accepting defeat and actually getting out of bed (FINALLY)

english breakfast tea; would they want a family?

ok so we all know chuuya is really good with kids

which still surprises me

so honestly i don’t think he would mind maybe having one or two around?

it would obviously ultimately be your choice tho

however

realistically, with the professions you both have and the risks that come with it, it’s unlikely you’d actually be able to start a family

^you’d be constantly worried about the kids safety, plus with the busy schedules that you both have, you wouldn’t be able to spend much time with them to begin with

chuuya is always still open to the idea for sometime in the future, if that would ever be possible

black tea; what do they look for in a person?

definitely would be drawn towards someone who can hold themselves in a fight and take care of business on their own

^wants this so he won’t feel the need to worry about your safety so much, especially if you have the same profession that he does

leans towards more mature and calm people - this is a bit of a contrast to his own personality as you’d be better suited to handling him when he’s irritated lol

bonus points if you love to drink as much as he does too 😋

and even more bonus points if you have top tier fashion as well

i feel like chuuya honestly isn’t too picky about the kind of person he would date

either he likes them or he doesn’t 🤷🏻‍♀️

however i do think he would be more drawn to shy/laid back people

^would greatly appreciate it if you were easy to fluster so he can smooth talk you 😏

#bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x you #chuuya imagines #chuuya headcanons #chuuya fluff #chuuya hcs #chuuya x y/n #bsd chuuya

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aslitheryprinx · 3 years

Note

ok writing prompt: tiny!Slimecicle and giant!Quackity soft/safe mouthplay (though he’s slime so you can do all kinds of things without hurting him). Half-asleep Quackity in the casino's kitchen, popping what his sleepy mind thinks is a small piece of jello in his mouth, only moments later to absentmindedly go ‘no wait that’s Slimecicle’ (I wanna say he taste like green apple jelly 😋)

Yesss this is a really soft prompt. This was really fun to write, and a little out of my comfort zone in a good way since I don't really write either of these characters. That being said, I did stick with a Quackity pov on this one bc I don't even know where to begin with a dsmp!slime pov lol.

Also, I'm pretty sure this I made it clear enough in the writing, but just in case I didn't, this isn't a ship piece, this is purely some platonic fluff!

NSFW do NOT interact

CW: brief implied/mentions of torture from the prison, soft/safe mouthplay, soft/safe vore

_____

Damp and Dark

_____

It was late when Quackity got back to Las Nevadas. It was normal for people to be out and about far into the night in this city. The main attractions were the casino and club, after all. But 4am was late, even for here.

Quackity didn't normally get back this late. He preferred to make his… excursions a bit earlier in the day; Sam preferred it too. But what he was doing… what he had to do up at the prison… Quackity refused to let it become a routine.

Dream deserved every goddamn thing that happened. Quackity believed that with every fiber of his being, and the memory of Tommy's body that he'd seen a glimpse of- though it had presumably vanished when he was brought back- was enough to keep him from ever doubting what he was doing. But actually doing it… if he ever let that become just a routine, if he ever forgot how dark the path he walked for the greater good was, he would become just as much of a monster as Dream.

So his prison visits had no set schedule, which meant he would occasionally get home at odd times. Like 4am, when the lights of the buildings were off and nobody roamed the streets. Few people roamed them anyways, but the city felt like even more of a ghost town at this hour.

Quackity stumbled into a building- he wasn't entirely sure which one, but it had a kitchen at least. Exhaustion tugged at him, and he longed to pass out somewhere even vaguely bed shaped. The gnawing emptiness in his stomach took priority though, and he searched the kitchen blearily for any food. He'd gone longer without food, but the hunger would keep him awake no matter how tired he was.

There was nothing in the fridge, and he huffed in frustration. He was about to try another building, when his eyes caught on a tiny bowl on the counter. It was full of what looked like gelatin. It was probably leftover from the jello shots they'd stocked the club with.

Quackity had eaten far stranger things than jello left out on the counter for an unknown amount of time. It was barely a mouthful, but it should fill him up enough to let him sleep. Not bothering to grab a spoon, he scooped up the jello with one hand and popped it into his mouth.

It was thicker than he expected, but the crisp fruity flavor reminded him of apples. He hummed appreciatively as he rolled it around in his mouth. The texture was really strange. No matter how much he chewed, the jello didn't dissolve, or seem to change at all. Still, he enjoyed the taste, and as it started curling around his tongue-

Wait.

Quackity spat into his hands, heart racing. The jello- or rather, slime- began to move, curling around his fingers in a familiar way.

"Slime?!" He said incredulously. Sure enough, possibly the slime in his hands shifted slightly, forming into the face of what was possibly the strangest resident of Las Nevadas.

"Hello, Quackity of Las Nevadas!" Slime said, completely unbothered by the fact that Quackity had nearly eaten him.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?" He asked the currently tiny slime. "I nearly ate you!"

"Yes!" Slime agreed, and his lack of self-preservation was going to make Quackity pull his hair out one of these days.

"Do you even know what that means?" He snapped, glaring at the slime in his hands. Slime was just as unaffected by the look as always, and Quackity fully expected he'd be giving another lecture that dying=bad today.

"Yes!" Slime said. "It means you swallow me, and then I go to the dark and the damp! Just like a hole!"

The statement threw Quackity for a loop. He stared at the sentient slime in his hands for a moment before he processed what he'd just said.

"Wait, wait, you want me to eat you?" He asked incredulously. Slime nodded- a little awkwardly as he'd only recently been taught how to do the gesture- and Quackity took a moment to adjust to yet another strange thing about Slime.

"Normally if someone's eaten, they die, you know," he told the slime.

"Don't worry, Quackity of Las Nevadas! You can't hurt me!" His friend(?) said cheerfully. Despite himself, Quackity felt an uncomfortable chill go down his spine. He never liked being reminded that the strange creature he'd essentially adopted- though he'd deny that to his grave- was very likely immortal. He was terrified what might happen if he got on the slimes bad side- if Slime even had a bad side.

"You're sure?" He asked, pushing away his discomfort.

"Of course!" Slime replied. "Are you going to eat me, Quackity of Las Nevadas?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The exhaustion was creeping back now that he'd gotten over the shock of his snack being alive. It was incredibly weird to think about eating his friend, but Slime had obviously done this before. And Quackity really didn't want to go searching for something to eat.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he grumbled, lifting the slime to his mouth.

Slime crawled in with no warning, and Quackity nearly choked. For a moment, he just stood awkwardly, holding the slime in his mouth. Slime curled against his tongue again, and he licked instinctively. The same fruity flavor burst in his mouth, and he frowned, baffled. Why exactly did Slime taste good? It was like he was eating actual jello.

He couldn't ask while his mouth was full, so he pushed the question aside for later. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, until he remembered earlier, before he'd realized that it was Slime. He'd been chewing and biting down, but the slime had seemed perfectly fine. It felt strange to not chew when he had something in his mouth, so he very gently bit down.

Slime didn't react at all, so he started to chew normally. He was worried about hurting his friend, but it seemed the slime was right. Quackity couldn't actually hurt him.

Having Slime in his mouth was a little like chewing on an entire mouthful of gum. It wasn't unpleasant, but after a while, his jaw started to get tired. Hesitantly, Quackity started pushing the glob of his friend to the back of his mouth. He really wasn't sure about this part. If it felt weird to be chewing his friend like a piece of food, it felt flat out wrong to actually swallow him.

But, as naive as the slime could be sometimes, Quackity trusted his judgement- when it came to how he worked at least. If it was safe, and something that would make the slime happy, then Quackity would do this. Besides, if things went wrong, he had some nasty failed potions that would make it very easy to get Slime out again.

Quackity tilted his head back, and took a deep breath through his nose. Slime seemed to melt slightly, almost like he was relaxing. The slime's calmness about being swallowed made Quackity feel better too. Before he could keep overthinking it, he pushed his tongue back and swallowed.

Slime started to slide down his throat, the sensation smooth and cool. His friend was wiggling slightly as he went down, and it almost tickled. It took several thick swallows before Quackity could breathe again, and he rested a hand on his throat, marveling at the strange sensation of Slime traveling down.

He actually felt it when Slime reached his stomach. There was the feeling of something dropping into his stomach, and then a gentle pressure, almost like the slime was pressing against the walls of his stomach. Absently, he pressed back.

The weight of his friend settled below his heart was making something like warmth burn in his chest. It felt almost like… he was hugging Slime, protecting him. He was struck with the sudden realization that he cared about Slime, he cared about his friend even though he'd tried to distance himself. He wasn't sure when that happened, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with that.

Before he could think too deeply, he was hit with a wave of exhaustion, and he remembered why he'd needed a snack in the first place. Slime was curled up comfortably in his stomach, he felt comfortably full, and he was ready to pass out.

It was all Quackity could do to stumble out of the kitchen and collapse onto the closest couch. As his eyes shut and his body fell limp, he curled unconsciously around his middle, a hand resting protectively over where Slime rested.

#mcyt g/t #vore tw #platonic vore #tiny!slime #giant!quackity #aslitheryanswers #oneshots

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imjeralee · 3 years

Note

Not the same anon but I really liked your adhd hcs! Could you the same but with Diluc, Kaeya and Xiao please? (could you also add the fact s/o absolutely can't focus for shit on anything more than 5s before zoning out and they tend to be overstimulated very easily by their environment lol)

hi anon!! thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it :) Not a problem, I guess this can be a part 2 ehe. I hope you like this one too. Please see below -

Diluc

You’re actually one of the best workers he has in Dawn Winery, because you’re efficient and smart and bustling around like ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

But you do tend to zone out a lot and sometimes you end up working so late into night and you don’t realise it but you had forgotten to eat dinner so you go to the kitchen and it’s like 3am and Diluc is there because he works late too and he’s also just finally getting the chance to eat so you are always having food together whilst everyone else is asleep :3

At work though, if you had forgotten to do something such as paying the bills, no worries, Diluc has a backup plan - the maids usually help with this

You usually ramble away to Diluc about anything you think of, even when he’s working at his desk. He’ll just be sitting silently and occasionally throwing you glances every now and then as you pace the study up and down and gesture with your hands. You know he’s listening.

You may be messy, but the maids help clean up after you

If you can’t focus, Diluc will help organise your day because he is organised himself and has lots of deadlines and also he has trustworthy employees like Adelinde and Connor who can help come up with a schedule for you on a daily basis but Diluc keeps you close by his side which also means you most likely do a lot of things together and you work/stay very closely with him

In order to help you stay focused and on task, he wants you to accomplish one thing at a time and often Diluc will do this with you personally

If he was in the middle of doing something else, he will pause to head over to assist you. If he’s not able to, he’ll get Connor or Adelinde to help

When you’re overstimulated because there’s too many people visiting the Winery or feeling really uncomfortable in general and your thoughts are darting all over the place, Diluc will take your hand and lead you away and to your special, quiet place where you can just focus on him and look at his face which helps you gradually relax and calm down

You might zone out a bit when he starts talking but then you notice the intricate details on the buttons of his shirt and the buckle on his belt and you’re like ‘cool’…. And start pressing your fingers over them and he’s like “…….”

He still loff you a lot though

Kaeya

Somehow everything you lose always end up in his possession??? Like you might go up to him and go ‘Kaeya! I lost my sword! I don’t know what happened to it! Its just disappeared!!” And he will just whip it out from behind his back and be like “You mean.... this sword?” And you’ll be like “YESSSS gimme.”

“Nuh-uh, not yet.”

“Whaaaat?”

“You have to give me a kiss first.”

“Okay.”

It’s actually pretty cool and reassuring because you have no idea how he does it

And this is the kind of relationship you have with him so you’re never bored around him because of how unpredictable he is

You tend to zone out a lot so he likes making up little puzzles and brain teasers for you whenever you’re with him and keeping you guessing all the time

If you ask a question he’ll answer your question with a question. Can be either infuriating or very stimulating. Hmm.

Also enjoys telling you ghost stories

I suspect you and Kaeya may actually be a pretty messy duo because you’re both busy with knightly duties and shit and your house will be utter chaos. Kaeya has arranged for a knight to come around twice a week to clean up tho

He loves to act as your own personal assistant and remind you of things so you don’t forget, usually by coming up behind you and leaning down to whisper in your ear

If you zone out again, he’ll feed you some candy or hold your hand so you can play with his long fingers and the studs on his gloves or he’ll make little ice crystals with unique patterns and make them float around in the air for you

He’ll also allow you to play with his ponytail

He’s quiet on his own so he’ll be a good listener

When you are experiencing sensory overload, Kaeya will usually sort it out for you one way or another. You’re in good hands. Then you will go and take a nap together.

Xiao

Xiao is your mentor. He speaks so fluently and to the point and also expects you to be clear and concise when dealing with him and so unceremoniously end up helping you organise your own thoughts

Otherwise, you might zone out often and very easily because there’s too many things going on in Wangshu Inn and it’s too much to handle but then the smell of almond tofu being cooked in the kitchen helps kick you back to reality and you’ll realise Xiao was standing there by your side the entire time

Ok ok so we know from Ganyu that Xiao is punctual and hates tardiness so he’s good at reminding you about appointments/deadline if needed.

I mean he will drill this into your brain with an iron fist. Defy him if you dare

It also means he will inevitably come up with some practises and teach you how to be mindful, how to increase your awareness and also various breathing exercises

Aside from that, he will notice you lose things a lot esp when he finds random stuff littering the Wangshu Inn ranging from cheese and vials of whopperflower nectar so he will keep an eye on you from now on.

Or if he’s not around, he will ask Verr Goldet to take note of what you lost so she can easily and quickly replace it thanks to Wangshu Inn’s connections

Xiao observes what you do on a regular basis from the shadows and then returns to the inn and also ask Verr Goldet to check up on you every now and then and remind you when it’s time to eat because he noticed you often forget to eat

One day you might return to your room and discover that he’s actually left some food for you and there this note on it with the word “EAT” scribbled on it

Your impulsiveness and the hectic and chaos that surrounds you works well with him because it’s not like he has a schedule either, I mean he often turns up in your room at 4am after fighting so many demons after 3 days straight and he’s in agony from all that bad karma but there’s you and you’re awake because obv you forgot to do something and went back to it hours later but now that he’s here and in your presence and you want to talk to him about your day and he’ll be listening to everything

And listening to your voice and the way you speak is actually really soothing/comforting to him and even makes his pain goes away

Then you’ll remember what you were doing and rush off and he’ll be back up and running and go off to destroy more demons so the world can sleep better at night

or if he’s free, you drag him outside to go on an adventure and explore the area around the inn and beat up some hilichurls

If you have some trivial task to do and need his help, he’ll just offer his assistance at no cost, quite simple as that

During his free time, he’ll try to find out more about stim toys to help you.

Xiao will learn what triggers your overstimulation and purposefully help you avoid it or get rid of the problem before it actually happens.

#xiao #diluc #kaeya #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #Xiao x reader #Xiao x you #Kaeya x you #Kaeya x reader #Diluc x reader #Diluc x you #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #xiao headcanons #diluc headcanons #kaeya headcanons

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outofsstyles · 4 years

Text

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

❁ ❁ ❁

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it.

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange.

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright.

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room. She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

“It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

“Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street.

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave.

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar. Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations.

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

❁ ❁ ❁

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often.

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time.

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space.

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night.

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it.

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless.

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset. “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands.

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it.

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill.

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light.

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up, “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

“What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,”

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?”

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you.

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

“You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

“Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

❁ ❁ ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice.

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over.

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love.

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration.

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was.

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip. “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

“I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

“You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it’s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass. “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?”

“Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.��

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction.

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows. “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it, “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time.

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind.

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin.

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet.

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system”

“You mean getting a degree?”

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s”

“Who’s Cosmo?”

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.”

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her.

“Yes.”

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—”

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room.

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair.

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest.

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.”

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open.

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’. He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth.

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it.

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again.

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.”

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song.

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

“Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper, “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught.

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.”

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts.

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself. His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking.

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder.

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.” He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.”

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with.

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day.

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart.

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands.

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?”

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

❁ ❁ ❁

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around.

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?”

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard.

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.”

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.”

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile. “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

❁ ❁ ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk.

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state. “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.” You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.”

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach.

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area.

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank.

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

“I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

“Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?”

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them.

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots.

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you.

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more.

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper.

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him.

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name.

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this.

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow.

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk.

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest. “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano.

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?”

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #80s!harry #harry styles writing

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Note

can you do a fic that’s like the ep’s “hit” and “run,” but it’s Y/N and Spencer’s child they have to save, and not JJ’s?

pairings: spencer reid x reader, platonic!bau x reader

warnings: mentions of getting shot, bank robbery, blood, kidnapping, worry, cm stuff.

about: requested! s7 e23-24 but spencer and y/n’s child is at risk (jemily is canon btw, will knows)

thank you so much for requesting! sorry it took me so long and it's going to have to be in two parts, since apparently it was too long lol, it'll be up as soon as i'm done editing it! (i also promise it gets better in the next part-) part two

the ticking clock on your wrist seemed to pulse with each move the arms made, each one notifying you that you were running a little later than before. when spencer rounded the corner to your mother’s house, you sighed in short relief, unbuckling your seat belt when he parked and getting out of the car to open the door to the back, smiling at your son in his booster seat. “hey, bug,” you whispered, undoing his seatbelt and pressing your lips to his head in a weak attempt to wake him up. spencer was taking things out of the trunk hurriedly, setting them down and walking to the door of the house, where your mother was already waiting.

you pulled your little boy into your arms, seeing as he wasn’t fully awake yet and would probably stumble over his feet if you set him down. you only hummed when his fingers twisted in your shirt, holding you close.

“hey, mom,” you greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek. spencer’s hand rested on your lower back, the other adjusting emiliano’s hair.

“i’m sorry we’re so late, it was supposed to be a day off so yesterday we stayed up late, and emi wouldn’t wake up,” you said, your mom nodding as a response, "oh it's no problem, honey," she assured, stretching her arms out.

you kissed emiliano on the head again as a goodbye, smiling when he made a little noise and handed him to spencer, who pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before giving him to your mom. you waved goodbye to your son, heart stinging a bit from the disappointment that you weren’t going to spend the day with him like planned. “bye, mom! we’ll be back later, i love you!”

your mom sent you a goodbye you barely heard as you and spencer sped walked back to your car, driving to work late.

the ten minutes you were running late didn’t seem like such a big deal when you realized practically everyone else was behind schedule as well, although you couldn’t blame anyone, it was supposed to be your free day. spencer had even planned to go to a comic con with penelope, but he had only been able to start to get dressed before everyone got called in.

you and spencer were still in the car, examining the scene before getting out. outside, spencer planted a quick kiss on your lips, and you smiled, giving his hand a squeeze, then joining your team.

you stood between spencer and jj, greeting the others with a small nod and a smile before hotch began to list facts about the case. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed jj and emily’s hands tangling together, and a small smile sneaked onto your lips. your eyes flicked up to will’s face, realizing he had seen it too.

you looked back to hotch, who was still talking.

“... killed one person in each robbery.”

rossi voiced the question you had before you could, “m.o.?”

“single gunshot wound. each of the victims has bled out,” hotch explained and you all began walking towards the large vehicle housing penelope, sometimes cutting in with thoughts.

“serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period and we’re only just hearing about this now?” emily asked.

“headquarters identified them as robbers first and killers second,” hotch said, and you raised an eyebrow, “no one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies- especially in the span of seven months.”

“i agree; i disagreed with the original assessment, but i was overruled.”

you nodded, continuing to listen to what hotch was saying as you walked into the fbi rv.

“why haven’t we been able to id them off of surveillance footage?” derek asked.

“they hack the security feed and turn off the cameras. both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we’re allowed to watch.”

you squeezed penelope’s shoulder as a greeting, and she only smiled, blowing you a kiss as she continued to type.

you looked up at the screen showcasing the surveillance, running your eyes through the hostages. “they’re using the hostages as human shields,” you observed out loud.

“this is the first time they’ve been interrupted. what went wrong?” jj asked; the rest of the team voiced their thoughts until hotch gave everyone orders on what to do and where to go.

“jj, reid, and prentiss, look over past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology. pull another analyst if you need to. dave, handle negotiations, and morgan and l/n, strategize tactical options with mpd.”

you all nodded, and you squeezed spencer’s hand once more as a goodbye, walking out with derek.

you only had a few minutes to introduce yourself to mpd when a gunshot rang, making you flinch slightly and realize you would have even less time you thought.

“l/n?” a staticky voice you recognized as penelope interrupted your talk with the officer who was going to go in to help the injured bank robber, and you apologized as you pulled the intercom from your pocket.

“yeah, pen?”

“we got names. chris and oliver stratton. they’re brothers. oliver is the injured one”

“chris and oliver stratton," you repeated, "thank you, penny.”

“always, sweetie.”

you relayed the information to the officer with you and derek, who was currently loading up his weapon before reaching to put it in his pants. derek stopped him before he could, “no, no, no, no, i want you to put that in your bag.”

the officer paused, as if asking why, and you responded, “the woman’s probably going to want to search you,” you pushed the medical bag closer, watching as he put the weapon inside, “but chris is going to be too worried about his brother to delay long enough for her to check the bag, too.”

“alright.”

derek and you shared a look, “you’re going in to provide medical assistance, no unnecessary risks, hear me?” derek said, and the officer nodded.

“once you stabilize oliver, check on the hostage they just shot, he might still be alive,” you added. “understood,” officer green replied.

“do not draw your weapon unless you can subdue the unsubs without endangering the hostages,” derek told him, and green nodded again, zipping up the bag. “yes, sir.”

he began to walk over to the bank entrance, and you went over with rossi and hotch with derek; you stared at the screen with the surveillance, spotting the officer you’d just talked to walk in,

“shit,” you muttered, realizing the brother was probably going to die. “this isn’t good, hotch,” you said, and hotch didn’t reply.

“morgan, tell green to make a move before chris does.”

morgan touched his mic, pushing it closer to his lips, “green, you gotta go. green, go.”

you saw as he reached into his bag, pulling out his weapon in silence. chewing at your thumb, you froze when you saw chris reach for his own weapon, shooting green in the chest. you didn’t even have time to think over what just happened when chris shot him again in the head.

you could only blink and stare at green’s body lying lifeless on the floor, jaw clenched and hands shaking in frustration, trying to remain composed.

the next few minutes were a blur, swat was called and hotch and strauss argued about something you didn’t really pay attention to, “you okay, l/n?” derek asked and you nodded, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine, are you?”

derek only nodded, his attention taken away by rossi, who was waving him over.

“they called,” you realized, walking over to rossi.

“...i want an... armored truck and a plane with a cleared flight path to switzerland.”

a female voice cut in, “no, no, no. chad. we want to go to chad.”

“yeah,” chris said, “no agents with guns this time. we’ll fly ourselves.”

there was a click that indicated the conversation was over, and you swallowed hard, “i don’t think he’ll be happy she injected herself in like that.”

“these guys were too good to get caught. so, why did they?” rossi asked, and will, from next to you, answered, “911 received a call alerting them to a robbery in progress.”

penelope cut in from the screen in front of you, “actually, it was a text. dc added 911 messaging after the virginia tech students’ texts went unanswered during the massacre.”

“can you trace it, garcia?” hotch asked.

“yeah. that message was sent from a cell phone that is currently inside the bank that is registered to a… larry phillipis jr.”

will paused, “why does that name sound familiar?”

rossi was silent for a second, thinking, “that’s the name of one of the gunmen from the ‘97 north hollywood bank shootout in california.”

“so, is this an homage?” derek questioned, but no one was able to answer.

“guys, that message was sent thirty seconds before they blacked out the security feeds for entry.”

another voice offscreen that you recognized as strauss asked how that was possible, and derek answered, “it didn’t come from a hostage, it came from one of the robbers.”

you swallowed, “she wanted us here.”

jj and emily were back, and walking over to you and derek. “there’s no clear line of sight to the vault,” will noted, observing the map.

“no, but if we come in, that’s where they’ll go. we need to be ready for it,” derek stated, gazing up at the building.

“garcia caught us up. why instigate a hostage situation?” emily asked from next to you, and you shrugged, “what’s a narcissist without attention?” you answered, “she thrives on it.”

jj was looking around, “she must have something bigger in mind.”

you agreed silently, “well, we need to separate chris and the female to find out what that is.”

“it’s not going to be hard, they’re already on edge,” emily supposed.

rossi walked from the rv to the phone, taking your attention with him. you stared at him before noticing emily stepping over to him and leaving you to stay behind with derek, jj, and will. you all talked between each other, talking strategy and theories.

the next thing you knew, chris was asking for will, and jj was staring at will like he was crazy to even consider it. you were sat next to will, only listening to their conversation.

will was shaking his head, looking between jj and hotch before he turned to you. “i know you’d do it if you were me,” he told you, and you saw jj roll her eyes. “will, i get what you’re feeling, but you’re too close to this case to make this call.”

“you’re damn right i’m close,” will mumbled, “four people are dead because i shot his brother. and no one else needs to die because of what i did.”

you shook your head, “this isn’t about you.”

“risking your life won’t bring them back,” jj pointed out.

from in front of you, hotch sighed, “i’m sorry, will.”

you all stayed in silence for a while until emily walked in, a look on her face that made you sure the news she had wasn’t good. “he’s threatening to shoot more hostages until he has will.”

you sighed and will shook his head, standing up, “screw this, i’m going in.”

there was a panicked look across jj's features, mouth open to argue, but she didn't get to say anything. “no you’re not, we are,” hotch interjected.

in under three minutes, everyone was ready to go, vested up and anxiously waiting for the signal. you stood next to jj, biting your lip and staring at the map in your fingers, trying to strategize. you had barely looked up when you recognized will, walking towards the doors of the bank, seemingly unarmed with his hands raised. your eyes widened, lips mouthing an unheard no and you immediately turned to jj, who had barely seen him.

her mouth opened in a scream of protest, feet beginning to take off to try to stop him in any way she could, but derek had wrapped his arms around her chest, holding her back and off the ground, even as she fought against his arms. emily touched her arm in a useless attempt to calm her. you were frozen, only able to stand and stare and wait for the best that was probably not going to happen.

it was only three seconds that jj’s feet were on the ground, body trembling and eyes already rimmed red.

ten seconds passed by and three gunshots rang, loud and piercing and you pulled a hand to your lips, eyes following jj’s as she tried to run again, but you and derek pulled her back, letting her go when she planted her feet on the ground unsteadily, hand on her mouth.

you were all surrounding jj, apprehensive and waiting for her to blow up or scream.

“did you see where he was shot?” she asked finally, waiting for anyone to reply.

no one did, and after a moment of loud silence, she sniffed, her red brimmed eyes staring at penelope, “is he alive or dead, garcia?”

penelope stuttered, “i- i don’t know.”

“he was wearing a vest,” emily reassured, “he might be okay.”

jj scoffed, staring at her girlfriend, “might be,” she repeated bitterly.

one of the two missing from the group walked inside in a hurry, bad news no one needed from rossi’s mouth, “they’re not answering.”

jj stood up, shaking her head, “alright, we need to get inside.”

derek grabbed her arm gently, “it’s too risky, jj, we don’t have eyes inside anymore.”

jj’s eyes were wet as she looked up at hotch, pleading. “aaron...” she begged, and after a second, hotch nodded. “let’s go in.”

you all stood, walking outside.

not two minutes later, they called, just before you were about to go in.

“want to save the life of mister william lamontagne jr.? one medic that won’t pull the same shit the last one did, or else i’m killing them both.”

“we’re going in anyways,” derek pointed out, and emily nodded, “yeah, but the way we’re going in, it’s more likely the hostages and will won’t make it. if we send someone in, there’s a higher chance we can get them out.”

hotch was thinking, his forehead creasing as he stared at the paramedics. “we need an agent in there.”

“send me,” you said promptly, all eyes going on you. “i have medical training. i was an intern at the hospital before i decided i wanted to be a profiler. i can help him and i can take them down, hotch.”

“absolutely not- that would just be sending another agent in there for them to kill,” derek argued, but you ignored him, staring at hotch, “hotch.”

“l/n…”

“we don’t know how he’s doing, but chris just said we could send a medic in, i’m going to guess that isn’t a great sign. i can do it, i’m an agent, i’m capable, they haven’t seen me or heard my voice, i can fight well without a weapon, you know that.”

jj was staring at you, her fingers tangled with emily’s.

hotch was silent for a second, contemplating what you’d just said, “get your vest on,” he said finally, and you nodded, squeezing jj’s hand before putting said object on.

before going in, you grabbed morgan’s arm, pulling him aside. “i don’t know where spence is, and i’m really not sure what’s going on in there so, if anything happens-”

“y/n-”

“please.” you begged, and derek only nodded.

“if anything happens, my will is in my second drawer, tell him i love him and please don’t let him think it over too much.”

a voice that belonged to hotch interrupted you, “l/n!”

“i’m gonna be okay, tell him that. tell everyone that, okay?” you asked, and derek nodded,

you took a deep breath before walking over to hotch and grabbing your medical bag, double checking you had everything.

hotch had stood in the tent, behind you, only watching you from afar while you pulled on your vest straps, tightening it around your chest. you put on another shirt over it, leaving it invisible to anyone who wasn't looking close enough. you had smiled at hotch before beginning to leave, one of his hands wrapping around your arm and pulling you still.

“hey,” he said softly, “be careful.” you nodded, “yeah. of course.”

his hand loosened, and you sighed, walking away and towards the dreaded bank, arms up and medical bag hanging off your fingers.

the moment your fingers touched the door handle, you could just feel something was wrong, but you couldn’t risk anything- especially will and the hostage’s lives just because of a feeling.

so you pulled the door open, and stepped into the bank, eyes searching for will, who confirmed your bad feeling because he was sitting up, someone putting pressure on his wounds.

“what-”

“get inside! right now unless you want both him and you to die!”

you should’ve known it was a trap, you should’ve just listened to hotch and derek and stayed put, but you didn’t and now it was probable you were going to die.

will was fine, for the most part, he had a bullet wound to his shoulder, but he was up, talking to one of the hostages. you set your medical bag down, observing chris.

the woman had gone somewhere else, and you took the time she wasn’t there to try to communicate with her partner.

“chris,” you started, walking over to him. his gun was quickly raised at you, and you slowed to a stop, raising your hands. “i’m unarmed, as you requested, i’m just a medic.”

his hold on the gun wavered but it didn’t lower, “what?” he demanded, and you swallowed.

“you can’t trust her- the woman. she’s taking orders from someone else.”

chris shook his head, “she’s taking orders from me.”

you shrugged, “chris, take a look around you. when this place is stormed- and it will be stormed, they are going to take all the bad guys, but right, now, i only see one.”

chris looked away from you, and you heard will walk up behind you, “she’s setting you up to take the fall for this, boy.”

chris peered at him, “that’s not true.” he stated, “and how would you know?” he snapped, eyes staring back at yours, “aren’t you just a medic?”

you nodded, “they told me. the feds- they told me they found evidence of that. you can’t trust her.”

the answer seemed to please chris, and he shook his head again, “that’s not true,” he repeated, and you shrugged, trying to act natural, “then where is she?” you asked. chris pointed to his right, “she’s back there.”

you heard will hum from beside you, “huh.”

chris got up all of the sudden, pointing the gun at you and will. “alright, you both, come here. i’ll show you.”

you and will exchanged a look, and he gazed behind you at something you couldn’t see.

“go on,” chris urged, and you began to walk with will, almost falling when chris pushed your shoulder harshly.

you and will were ushered into one of the rooms of the bank, where a few black duffel bags were discarded on the floor. you dismissed them, too busy with the sensation of a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. the woman stepped out of a door, eyebrow raised as she studied at you.

“what the hell are you doing down here?” chris asked, pushing you and will aside to point his gun at the woman.

“calm down,” the woman responded calmly, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

chris didn't like her answer, shaking the gun, “tell me.” he demanded, and a sour look passed by the woman’s face.

what happened next was a blur. the woman muttered something to chris and he picked up the duffel bags, ushering you and will outside. you dropped the bracelet emiliano had made for you outside of the door- in the hope that someone of your team would find it- before you were pushed into the backseat of a car.

on the road, you looked around, trying to figure out where you were and making sure will was okay, while the woman- who you heard chris call izzy- played the recording of the bank on a loop in front of you. you pried your eyes away from the screen, instead trying to form a plan in your head.

“what the hell is that? you recorded it?” chris asked, but izzy didn’t look up, too preoccupied with the images on her tablet.

“i’m talking to you, izzy!” chris said, “you planned this whole thing,” he thought out loud, looking back at the road, “you didn’t tell us any of it, you set us up.”

izzy wasn’t paying any attention to him, but chris continued to talk, “you killed my brother.”

at this, izzy responded, but she still didn’t look at him, the gun in her other hand still pointed at you, “no, that would be him.” she stated, bored.

chris eyed at you and will from the rearview mirror. “how do i know they aren’t your partners?”

izzy watched you, “why would i work with them?” she questioned, and chris was getting increasingly frustrated, “why would you do any of this?”

izzy took her eyes off yours to turn to chris, who glanced at her. “fbi said you got somebody else.”

izzy smiled, “you sound jealous.”

chris raised a gun to her, “who is it?”

izzy rolled her eyes in response, “put that away. this isn’t about revenge, it’s about survival.”

a confused look passed over chris’ face, and izzy continued, “if you haven’t figured it out yet, i’m your only way out of this mess.”

chris moved the gun from her to will, “alright, let me kill them so we can get on with it.”

izzy shook her head, eyes drifting back to the tablet, “we need them.”

“why?”

izzy’s was now distracted by the video, replying distractedly. “leverage. we need to fix him up.”

“and how do you propose you do that?”

izzy shrugged, pointing at you, “she can do it.”

you shook your head, “i can’t, i don’t have my medical bag. and even if i did, i don’t have what i need to do anything.”

izzy was attentive at this, and she gave instructions to chris, driving to an unknown destination.

shit, you thought, staring at the outside of your window when the car pulled up to a fire department. you flinched when chris opened the door to your side and pulled you out, a gun held against your back. izzy did the same to will, standing behind the ambulance door and demanding the medic to fix will.

you were shoved to the wall, a gun against the side of your chest and a promise you would die if you moved whispered in your ear while will was getting fixed up. you only heard a gunshot when you were back in the car with will and chris, and you shared a look with will, fingers curling around the cushion of the car in frustration.

izzy was taking a call, the voice from the other line muffled, and you couldn’t make out who it was or what they were saying.

she gave a location when she hung up, but chris locked his jaw and rounded the corner harshly, parking the car.

“i’m not going anywhere until you tell me the plan,” chris declared, and within a second, izzy had moved the gun from you to chris, shooting him twice.

you flinched at the loud noise, looking from chris to izzy. “what are you doing?” will asked, and izzy shrugged, “he talks too much.”

“go ahead officer, get him out,” she ordered. “and do what, just leave him there?” will asked.

“yes please.”

she turned to you before will got out. “if you move an inch, i will kill him.”

you only nodded, staring at her as she motioned will to leave the car.

when chris was out, writhing on the floor, she glared at you. “you’re driving. get out.”

i can leave, but i can’t leave will here and she’ll shoot me for sure if i run. will can’t fight her right now. without a safe option, you agreed, eyeing will as he entered the backseat again, and you climbed where chris resided, only able to stare as izzy hastily cleaned the blood off the seat.

when you were inside, hands on the wheel, she pointed a gun at will, “go ahead. drive.”

so you did.

you stopped where she told you, watching in the rearview mirror as the hostage will had been talking to climbed in, patting will on the back. “hey will. you see that?”

“i want to do it again,” izzy smiled, watching the man- matthew as izzy referred to him. “we will,” he assured.

izzy turned back to you, “drive. you know the way.”

you glared at her, unmoving. she frowned, shoving the gun into your ribs, “drive,” she hissed. when you still didn’t react, she squeezed will’s gunshot wound, pushing the barrel on the side of his head. “or he dies.”

“drive,” matthew stated simply, and at the sight of izzy’s finger dancing around the trigger, you did.

you could only tighten the grip you had on the steering wheel when you parked in front of your mother’s house, already spotting her playing with emiliano on the lawn.

izzy was staring at you, admiring the frustration on your features, “come on, medic,” she urged, pointing the weapon at you again before putting it in her bag.

you opened the door of the car and walked out, forcing a smile on your face when izzy leaned up to your ear, “you better play nice, or i’ll kill them all.”

you picked up your son when he saw you and squealed, his little arms wrapping around you. you kissed his forehead, “hey bug, i gotta talk to grandma, how about you go back to playing?”

“okay, momma,” emiliano nodded, and you put him down, watching as he ran over to one of the play houses you brought for him.

“hey honey, what are you doing here? i thought you and spencer were supposed to come later?” your mom questioned, her eyes scanning over izzy.

“have you been watching the news?” you queried, and she shook her head, “i heard what happened on the radio, is spencer still working?”

you nodded, “yeah, i wanted you to go with molly because of everything that was going on.”

“are you sure? i can stay,” your mom assured, and you shook your head. “no, no, it’s dangerous right now, and i trust molly.”

your mom looked back at izzy, asking a question with her eyes. “this is izzy, one of the detectives, she’s going to watch over emi.”

“okay, are you sure?” she asked again, and you nodded, relieved you had set up a safe word with her and that she had remembered. she only glanced back at you and emi before she got into her car, “call me for anything.”

you didn’t respond, calling your son, “c’mon, emi, let’s go inside.”

emiliano skipped ahead, running into the house, past you and izzy, who had been surprisingly quiet.

you turned back to her quickly, “if you touch him, i will kill you,” you promised, and izzy didn’t flinch. “if you touch me, he kills will, then a certain spencer reid, then you. you wanna leave your kid an orphan? be my guest.”

you clenched your jaw, glaring at izzy until emiliano ran up to you, tugging on your arm.

“momma, can we watch a movie?”

you took a deep breath and crouched down to him, offering your son a smile as you shook your head, “i can’t, not right now, bug, i have to work, so you’re going to stay with izzy and play with her for now, okay?”

emiliano nodded, and you kissed his head, assuring yourself you would not lose him, and he wouldn’t lose you. “i love you, bug, daddy and i will see you soon.”

emiliano smiled at you and planted a kiss on your cheek, giving you one more squeeze before you straightened up, staring at izzy for a second.

you walked out, hands trembling as you climbed back into the car, wanting more than anything to run back inside and take your son to his father, where you knew he'd be safe. but it wasn't an option right now. because right now, you had to leave your baby with a serial killer and you had to go sit in the car with another one.

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foxittown · 2 years

Text

Logince fanfic reincarnated

So before i start I take ages to write one fanfic as i can not put my thoughts on paper so i started this ages ago but i have only just finished i apologize for any inconvenience :) also im writing a really old one so it might be cringe lol on to the story

Logan: hmm if i add the calculations together ill get the answers but then ill have to-

Roman:*at the door* are you done yet! Its 5 in the morning you've been working all day and all night yesterday

Logan:ill be done soon ive Got a meeting in 20 minutes to explain my work then i will be

Roman: that's going to be ages- just skip the meeting you need rest

Logan: just go Roman I cant,it wont be satisfactory Enough

Roman: hurry then

*Logan then proceeds to work all night keeping roman awake*

In that night

Roman: *covering his ears with his pillow* ugh really still

At 11 am

Logan: morning roman!

Roman: finally done?

Logan:yes? It wasn't that long it was exactly 6 Hours 56 minutes and 24 seconds

Roman: thats also 6 Hours and 56 minutes and 24 seconds less of my normal 12 hours beauty sleep!

Logan: its not really that bad you do need sleep but when work is invol-

Roman: its not just my sleep im worried about its yours!

Logan: Thomas needs me to do all the logical stuff im logic!

Roman:and im creativity and i need to sleep to work on and you staying up all night effects Thomas sleep schedule as well as yours

Logan: don't worry Thomas has a side each night to help sleep

Roman: do you actually understand?

Logan:im logic of course i d-

Roman: even my brother would understand and he is dumb!

Logan: alright tell me?

Roman: you need beauty rest to help that little nerdy brain work better, everyone needs a break even the smartest of people

Logan: fine how do you take this so called 'break'

Roman: really-

Logan:yes

Roman: just relax sit down do something fun

Logan: working is fun-

Roman:no something what you don't do everyday what you like!

Logan:uh going on a walk?

Roman: good! Lets do that g*rabs him and walks off*

Logan: okay-

\*Roman and Logan going on a walk\*

Roman: isn't this nice?

Logan: i guess i haven't done this since before lockdown i think

Roman: oh look a bench- i brought your favourite book just sit their and read ill go talk to the majestic bird's as im a prince ya know *hands book and runs off*

Logan: okay then and hes already gone

3.hours later

Logan: I've finished the book but where's Roman I'll go find him

Roman: SCREW YOU BIRDS IF YOU DON'T WANTED TO TALK TO ME FINE! Hmph

Logan: there he is-

Roman: logan! They won't talk to me :((~

Logan: cause they can't?

Roman: they can just they don't want to

Logan: *laughs* lets go back

At home!

Roman: thanks for taking a break\*kisses him on the cheek

Logan exe has stopped working

THE END

Once again im sorry for not being active and i will try to get my thoughts on paper i.hope you enjoyed this mess byee!

#logince #sander sides #fanfic

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admiringlove · 3 years

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scent, coffee and turtlenecks.

+synopsis: hq boys and their scent, their coffee order and the turtlenecks they wear.

+genre: fluff lol; headcanons.

+characters: akaashi keiji, miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurō, sugawara kōshi.

+warnings: literally just fluff man, unless you cry because of cute stuff.

+author’s notes: inspired by @neonghxst on tumblr!! go check them out, they have a great blog and i love their writing <3

— AKAASHI KEIJI.

he smells like the first rain of the monsoon. the petrichor, the atmosphere, the sole comfort it brings you by being in his arms. it reminds you of being in the rain for the first time. his arms are firm when he embraces you, yet somehow he holds you as if you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. his scent is addicting; sometimes you never want to let go of him, and you fall asleep in his arms as he’s typing up an essay for literature. he’d smile down at you, pressing a loving peck to your forehead and carry you to bed. you’d sleepily mumble against him, “keiji you smell nice. cuddle me please” of course he doesn’t resist against it, because how can he? you look adorable. being in his arms are like being an elysian—pure heaven for your mortal heart.

definitely addicted to caffeine. but he’s one of those people that calculates up a schedule so he’s making sure the caffeine is working hundred-per-cent. he orders something strong in the mornings—like a hot vienna coffee in medium size and that’s it. no sugar, because this man likes his coffee bitter. and if he’s pulling all-nighters, then cold brew all the way. everyone at the café likes him a lot; his aesthetic and his orders match up perfectly(too bad he’s yours though).

man has a lot of turtlenecks. he’s the type of person that collects them in different colors. but not something too flashy, because he is simple and elegant. he has a range of grey’s and a few beiges, some pumpkin and whites and blacks. he even has blue(his closet is basically a color wheel of turtlenecks). to be honest, you don’t know how he fits so many clothes into his wardrobe. he basically is a autumn/fall wear model in making. it’s the season he gets the most compliments from strangers(because this man wears turtlenecks even in summer).

— MIYA ATSUMU.

smells like pine and sandalwood. his scent feels like home. whenever he finishes a game and wins, he’ll run to you(who’s in the stands) and he’ll engulf you first. the scent will overcome you, the crowd behind fading away as you feel like you’ve arrived home after a long trip and simply want to rest for a bit in the comfort of your own bed. the blond will throw you the dashiest smile in front of the public, but the softest one in private. nights with atsumu are filled with his homey scent on the couch, as you read to him and he falls asleep in your arms or your lap. you’d peck him, and he’d say, “yer sniffin’ me again, aren’t ya?” only to get poked in the eye by you after. “i don’t sniff you!” you’d yell at him as he falls onto the floor after you harshly get up and go to the bedroom, but he’d follow you and lay in bed with you and embrace you, the aroma coming over you again as he says “i know ya like my cologne, dummy. i like your scent too. c’mere so i can hug ya.”

his orders are neither too bitter nor too sweet. he probably is one of those people that tries everything on the menu first before deciding what he likes. he’ll later decide on a mocha latte with the slightest chocolate drizzle on top. he likes the small bitterness and the twist the chocolate brings to the drink. it’s steamy, and it makes his throat clear up. his heart rate slows down a smidge and he just sits there and sips on the drink till he’s calm, cool and collected. it’s a drink that makes his day better for sure. and for cold drinks, atsumu would go for an iced caramel macchiato. it just clicks with him for some reason.

he has a good collection. by this, i mean that he’s a king of knowing what looks good on him and what doesn’t. he knows what exactly to pick —whether it be a sleeveless olive green turtleneck, or a beige one with an overcoat. he’s cocky, and he knows he looks good. man is definitely a king of accessories and wears the proper amount of necklaces, rings, or whatever he thinks will go with his outfit. definitely winks at you when he catches you stare at him for too long and tells you to take a picture.

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

he smells like mahogany teakwood. it’s captivating and comforting at the same time. he wakes up before you in the mornings, so when you wake up, you’re immediately engulfed by this strong yet soothing scent. he’s holding you in his arms and stroking your hair ever-so-softly, and you let out a small whine which let him know that you’re about to wake up. and when you open your eyes, he throws you a softened smile that screams, “good morning” or “i love you” and a thousand diiferent affirmations at the same time. you run your fingers through his hair, looking up with one eye closed as he mumbles, “we have to get up for class”, and your nose scrunches at those words as you pull him closer and letting out a muffled, “i’d rather stay in bed with you for eternity”.

his order isn’t too bitter, but it’s enough to keep him awake. if he’s going for something cold, it’s going to be a dark roast cold brew with sweet-salted caramel cream. it’s a little bitter—but it manages to make him stay awake through the night to finish up an assignment or two. and if it’s a hot drink he prefers, then he definitely goes for an espresso macchiato. it makes him feel at home when you’re not there by his side.

he’s definitely the type of person that tries everything for fun. you’re laughing in the background as he pulls on a neon yellow turtleneck, the only problem is that he’s actually rocking it. he looks amazing even in the most craziest choice of clothing. although you always buy him many different shades of red(he has a lot of red in his closet—maroons, scarlets, pumpkins, you name it), he looks good in almost anything. he always makes you laugh by buying abnormal things then putting them on in front of you to check if it looks good or not—and most of the times, it does.

— SUGAWARA KŌSHI.

he smells like a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. it reminds you of winter mornings, when the two of you used to go to high-school hand-in-hand with small to-go coffees that you’d have. suga is definitely the type to snuggle into you every chance he gets after getting to know that you like his scent. it’s cute to him, and he makes you feel comfortable. every time the two of you are alone, he will inch closer and closer to you, finding solace in the fact that just his presence makes your mood lighten up. he’ll hold his hand out in front of your mouth so you can press a kiss to his knuckles, he’ll kiss your forehead and get dangerously close to you(so close that you’re practically a tomato), and he’ll mutter, “hey, come here. i wanna hug you” as you stand there with a really big blush. you’ll mumble, “you smell nice, ko” and his confidence level just rises up by fifty percent.

he’s bougie. he gets a hazelnut bianco latte, just something about it reminds him of the same winter mornings he shared with you. the way you prayed at the temple for his well-being when he was sick, or the way he stayed in his bed for days and you were sitting next to him for most of that time. it’s an over the top and extra drink, but it makes him comfortable and gives him a sense of nostalgia. for a colder preference, he gets a pistachio frappuccino. it’s soft and delicate, and the taste is really elegant.

he prefers sweaters, but his go-to color is grey. suga would look good in almost anything, but he likes sweaters and woolen vests more than turtlenecks. although, if he has to choose a color to wear, then he’d choose grey(you name it, whether it be steel grey or a nice shade of pewter). he looks amazing in an abundance of shades of greys and even black—pair it with a scarf and dickies, and he looks like an angel on earth. you always compliment him, and he always ends up looking away while blushing like a high-school kid in love(well, you can’t blame him. he was one at some point).

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 3 years

Text

Mine

*Daveed Diggs x Reader

*Request: Anonymous asked: “heyyy i really enjoyed reading your writing of Daveed diggs! Can i request one where Daveed diggs and y/n(maybe like a stagehand or a stage manager) meets in hamiliton, and they are friends with benefits, but they also have feelings for each other, and then daveed gets jealous seeing you flirt with other guys and confesses? (iknow its kinda cheesy but... Thanks!”

*Warnings: Language, jealousy, smut (like this fic starts out immediately with a smut scene), light dom/sub, choking, spanking, use of ‘baby girl’, fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, dirty talk, grinding, hair pulling, marking, unprotected sex (wrap it up). Let me know if I missed anything!

*A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all! I’m beginning to notice my smut fics are a lot longer (this one’s about 7.5k). Anyways this got filthy and I think that says a lot about me lol. ALSO BIG WARNING THE FIRST SCENE IN THIS IS A SMUT SCENE SO YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

Tip Jar

**********

You knew you had to get ready for work, but at the moment, you didn’t care. His hand rested heavy on your hip, grip tight enough to bruise, while his other held your body up against his. He pounded into you, low groans and pants right next to your ear letting you know just how close he was.

“You take me so good, baby girl. So fucking wet for me,” he rasped before biting down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, muffling his noises. You whined, wanting to hear him just as much as he wanted to hear you. He seemed to get the message, kissing the fresh mark before he started talking again. “You’re gonna be late, but you just had to get fucked, didn’t you? Last night wasn’t enough, you just needed me again. I can feel you getting tighter, are you close, baby?”

“Fuck, Daveed, I’m so close. Please,” you whined as he somehow managed to speed up his thrusts.

“Please what, baby? I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“Please let me cum!” Daveed practically growled as the words left you, bringing his hand from your waist to rub your clit. He always rewarded your obedience.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he demanded. The second he gave permission, you could feel the jolts of pleasure through your body as you coated his length in your release. He didn’t last much longer, his thrusts staggered as he chased his own pleasure. He pushed as deep into you as he could before he came with a loud groan, holding you close to him. “Fuck, you always do so good for me.”

You could already feel the fatigue settling in as Daveed moved you to lay with him, his arms around you. If you weren’t already running behind schedule, you would’ve loved to stay there with him, ignoring the mess between your legs until the last possible second. Maybe you’d both drift back into sleep, then go for a lazier round when you woke up again. Maybe he’d join you in the shower, complaining about how hot you always ran the water. But nope, you were already risking being late.

“Alright, let me up. I gotta go shower,” you said, trying to get out of his hold.

“No, lay with me a bit longer,” he whined. You tried not to laugh; he was always so clingy after sex, even when you were on a tight schedule like this.

“I don’t wanna be late. You can stay in bed, but I swear if you’re late, I’m gonna kick your ass,” you warned, finally slipping out of the bed. Daveed mumbled something into the pillow, but you ignored him as you left for your bathroom. As you waited for the water to heat up, you assessed the damage he’d done. Hickies adorned your bra line, finger-shaped bruises decorated your hips, and even though it wasn’t too aggressive at the moment, you could tell the bite mark he’d just left on you would bruise nicely. You ran your finger over the mark on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so tempted to just go back to Daveed’s warmth in your bed. Before you could convince yourself to join him, you jumped in the shower.

You left Daveed in your apartment with another threat to get to the theatre on time and a reminder to lock the door after himself. The two of you never got to the theatre at the same time, trying your best to hide the little friends with benefits situation you had going on. Sure, people could tell you had a little flirty thing between you, but that was just how the two of you being friends worked. It was always nerve wracking when people (see, Lin) tried setting the two of you up, but you managed somehow. You had the feeling it wouldn’t work if the two of you tried anything more than your current arrangement, not matter how much you sincerely hoped it wasn’t true. You weren’t willing to risk it though, content with just being able to sleep with him.

You enjoyed the walk to the theatre every morning, the brisk air waking you up to deal with everything that was bound to happen during the day. Today wasn’t a show day, so that meant you didn’t have to worry about things going wrong ten minutes before curtain. Rehearsal days were actually pretty calm for the most part. Well, as calm as they could be considering at least half the cast were really just overgrown children.

As usual, you were one of the first ones in the theatre. You took the chance to do your initial once-over, making sure things were where they needed to be for the day. Though you technically were supposed to have one of the stagehands do this, you enjoyed the time to yourself before the day started. Quiet moments were rare in the theatre, and the music playing softly in your headphones allowed you to get lost in your work. The next time you’d get the chance to do this would be after rehearsals were done, and by then you would be too tired to enjoy it.

Once your check was done, all you could do was wait for the others to show up. It would be at least another half hour until people started trickling in - Leslie normally being the first to join you. You waited by the Keurig for your coffee to finish pouring, lost in your thoughts for the things you’d need to do for the day. A new stagehand was going to be joining you, and most of your day would be training them. Even though - once again - this was something one of the stagehands could do, you enjoyed doing it. Before you could get lost further in your thoughts, you jumped at the feeling of a hand placed on your waist.

“What the f-” You turned, tugging one of your earbuds out. You were kind of surprised to see Daveed standing there, smiling wide at your reaction. “What the fuck, Diggs?”

“What? You told me not to be late,” he said, still amused at how he managed to scare you. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t have both earbuds in when you’re here alone, you never know who might come in.”

“Yeah, it might be one of the asshole actors,” you bit back, finally managing to get your heart to stop racing. You turned back to grab your coffee, taking enough of a drink to burn your tongue a bit.

“I mean, you weren’t calling me an asshole this morning,” he teased, leaning in until he was just a breath away from kissing you. Despite your body yelling at you to accept his kiss, you put your hand to his chest to push him back a bit.

“Hey, what did we say about work?” You tried to remind him. Almost getting caught at work a couple times really made it so you had to set at least a couple boundaries.

“Aw, am I really not allowed to touch you, baby girl? You know no one’s gonna be here for a while, we have some time,” he tried convincing you, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. Even the seemingly innocent action had your heart racing yet again.

“Diggs, chill it,” you said, trying to ignore the slight whine in your tone. He was getting to you and he knew it, but he respected your words enough to step back, going to make his own coffee. “So, why are you here so early? I thought you were going back to sleep.”

“I couldn’t after that little wake up call you gave me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes even as you smiled into your cup. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“You guys are gonna run through Act 2, I think. I’m not gonna be too invested in that, though.”

“Aw, why not?”

“We’re getting a new stagehand and I’m gonna train them,” you explained. “I wanna make sure they’re ready to work by the show on Saturday.”

“I’m gonna miss seeing your pretty face trying to act like you’re not staring at me.”

“Bold of you to assume I stare at you when Oak is right there.”

“It’s not assuming since I know you scream my name and not Oak’s.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t scream his too,” you quickly took another drink to hide your satisfied smile. Daveed looked completely offended, exactly what you were going for with your little jab. If you hadn’t been at work, you knew he would do something about it, but he was just going to have to go about rehearsal dealing with it. You didn’t know if there would be repercussions later, but that was all part of the fun.

“You little…”

“Wow, Daveed actually woke up early today?” Leslie interrupted the two of you, already sounding like he’d been awake and ready to go for ages. You didn’t know how true that was, considering it was barely nine in the morning, but he was always ready to go.

“Dude, I’m capable of waking up early.”

“Really? You were dead before that one interview we had-”

“That was at six in the morning!”

“Get on my level, Diggs. I have to wake up that early every day except for show days,” you teased. “Normally Leslie and I get the chance to hang out before everyone else shows up, you’re kinda killing our routine.”

“You hurt me, (y/n). Here I was thinking I’d surprise you by showing up early, but apparently I’m just unwanted,” Daveed whined, finally taking his coffee so Leslie could make one if he wanted to. Leslie was quick to jump in, making himself a mug of tea for the morning.

“I’m glad you understand,” Leslie quipped. “(Y/n) and I have to stick to our routine.”

“I see how it is. I’m gonna go take a nap in my dressing room, come get me when people who aren’t mean get here.” Daveed was practically pouting as he left the two of you, cradling his coffee mug in his hands. As soon as he was out of sight - and earshot - you and Leslie couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore.

“He’s so easy to mess with,” Leslie said once he finally caught his breath. “So, the new stagehand starts today, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t know when they’re supposed to get here, but I’ll probably be training them for the rest of the week.”

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to set when the stagehands get here?”

“Well, yeah, but if people get here early or like a few minutes late then I’m not gonna hold it against them. Public transportation isn’t exactly reliable and traffic is a bitch,” you said, shrugging. “Kinda bummed Angel resigned, though. They were really reliable.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to whip this one into shape pretty fast, though. Don’t worry about rehearsal, I’ll handle it,” Leslie reassured you. If someone could keep an eye on everyone, then rehearsal was bound to go smoothly.

“You’re literally the best, you have no idea how much I appreciate you.” Leslie smiled brightly at your praise.

“You do a lot for us, I just wanna make things easier for you. So, are you and Diggs, you know?”

As amazing as Leslie was, he could also be a bit of a gossip. Not that he would ever share anything, he just liked knowing things. “Nah, you know we’re not like that,” you brushed him off.

“I mean, you could be. I share a dressing room with the guy. I know he likes you,” Leslie said. You had to admit, you were a bit intrigued by this. While you knew the both of you definitely had sexual chemistry - as if the frequent nights spent together weren’t enough to confirm as much - you figured that was where the line was drawn. I mean, you could definitely be physically attracted to someone without being romantically interested in them, and you were sure Daveed only really saw you as a friend. If he didn’t, he would’ve told you by now, right?

“What’re you talking about, Leslie? We’re just friends,” you insisted.

“Sure. So you don’t wanna know what he says about you?”

“And here I was thinking you weren’t a gossip.”

“I’m not usually, I’m just tired of you two dancing around each other.”

“Now you know Diggs can’t dance.”

“Oh haha very funny,” Leslie said deadpan, staring at you. You were trying to use humor to cover up your own curiosity. There was the chance Leslie was just thinking too much into things, being the romantic at heart that he is, and if you got your hopes up just to find out Diggs didn’t actually like you like that? Nope, it wasn’t worth it.

“Thank you, I try,” you said with a smile. “Now, tell me how Nicolette’s doing. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“You know, sometimes I think you like my wife more than you like me.”

“Of course I like your wife more than I like you.” Leslie held his hand to his chest in mock hurt. You smiled. Mornings with Leslie were always fun.

**********

Everyone else started trickling in within the next half hour or so. Diggs finally came out of his dressing room once Anthony and Oak got to the theatre, having some form of protection from your and Leslie’s “bullying”, as he put it. Once most of the cast got to the theatre, you began looking around for the new stagehand. Just as you were prepared to send them a text, you heard someone coming up behind you. You looked up, prepared to help whoever was coming up to you, when you realized you didn’t recognize this person.

“Uh, hi. Are you (y/n)?” He asked fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. Oh Lord, he’s kinda cute. That’s a problem.

“That would be me! Are you Michael?” He nodded, still looking around as though he was scanning the room. Of course he’d be nervous, it was his first day on a pretty major show. He was honestly adorable, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to protect him or pursue him.

“Yeah, uh, sorry I’m a little late.”

“No worries, I know how traffic is. Just try not to be more than fifteen minutes late or I’ll actually have to note it down. Right, I’ll show you where your locker is and then I’ll give you a tour of the place before I start your training. You’ve worked as a stagehand before, right?”

“Yeah, but mainly for community theatre. This is like… really different for me,” he admitted, getting a little flustered. Instead of fiddling with his messenger bag, he went to adjust his glasses, making you melt just a little bit.

“It’s not so bad. C’mon, let’s go,” you nodded towards the locker area, smiling at him.

Daveed watched you from across the room, wondering who you were talking to. He’d never seen the guy around before, and now you were walking off with him. He turned his attention back to the group he was sitting with. “Hey, Leslie. Who’s that guy (y/n)’s talking to?”

“Oh, I guess her new stagehand showed up,” Leslie commented, following Daveed’s gaze. “They’re gonna be working pretty close while she trains him.”

“Shit, really? Why can’t someone else train him?”

“Hey, Diggs, why do you care so much?” Anthony decided to jump in, seeing a prime opportunity for teasing. “I thought you said y’all were just friends.”

“We are! I just don’t like the idea of her being alone with that guy.”

“You sure you don’t like her? Kinda sounds like you’re jealous,” Oak commented.

“Man, shut up. When are we starting?” Diggs asked, trying to change the subject. He looked around, trying to see if he could spot you from where he was, but you were gone. Shit.

**********

Training the new guy ended up taking a lot more of your time than you expected. He was quick to pick up on the little tech stuff from his previous jobs, but you still had to prime him for working with your crew and the cast. Michael stuck close to your side, asking you about little things to make sure he’d be ready for Saturday’s show. Even when he didn’t have to be there - during breaks and lunch - he still hung out with you, just chatting about anything. You had to admit, you really liked his company. He was a good kid.

Being so busy meant you didn’t really get to hang out with Daveed as much, the only real time you got with him was when he insisted on walking you back to your apartment. There were a couple times when you were walking that Daveed took your hand in his, making your heart race. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to do, but with Leslie’s teasing at the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but read more into it. Then again, this was Daveed: your best friend that you happened to sleep with multiple times a week.

When the two of you got to your building, Daveed would kiss you on the front steps, that little fire and hunger burning in the movements of his lips against yours. Your body and mind buzzed, overwhelmed with the sensation of him, but your exhaustion would nag at the back of your mind, making you break the kiss far too soon for either of your liking.

“Can I come in?” Daveed would ask, desire evident in the way he looked down at you.

“I’m sorry, I’m just too tired tonight,” you’d apologize even as you wanted to lead him up to your apartment, to your bed. Even though you could tell he was a little disappointed, he nodded, respecting your decision. With a promise to text you when he got back to his place - and the unspoken promise to call until you both fell asleep - Daveed would call a Lyft to take him away for the night.

As you laid in bed, listening to Daveed’s voice over your phone speaker tell you random stories and whatever just popped into his head, you couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be if you could actually do this. If you could actually fall asleep to him next to you, his arms wrapped around you, maybe pressing a kiss to your head when he thought you were asleep. Sure, when the two of you fucked, he would stay the night and hold you in his arms, talking to you as you drifted off to sleep, but you knew it wasn’t the same. Even though the two of you were friends, you couldn’t imagine you having a right to that if you didn’t provide benefits for the night. So you would settle for the phone calls and the calls of your domestic fantasies.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you were kind of excited. You’d get to sleep in since you didn’t need to be at the theatre until noon, Michael was going to have his first run without you hovering over him like an overprotective mom, and you were finally going to have the chance to spend some time with Daveed after the show. You had to admit, you were looking forward to that last one the most. Not sleeping with him for almost a full week and having that post-show adrenaline? It was going to be fun.

Once you got to the theatre, you were energized. You’d gotten more sleep than you usually did, you decided to splurge a bit on a drink from the overpriced coffee shop down the street, you actually had breakfast for once, things were looking like they were going to be good. As soon as you walked in, Daveed quickly attached himself to your side before Michael had the chance to. This, of course, led to teasing from the others.

“Dude’s acting like he was going through withdrawals,” Anthony joked when he was sure you and Daveed could hear him. He was talking his shit and he wanted you to know it.

“Don’t act like you’re not like this with Jazzy,” you quipped back. As sweet as Anthony (normally) was, he was whipped for Jazzy and everyone knew it.

“Yeah, but she’s my girlfriend. You tryna say something about you and Diggs?” Anthony shot back. Fuck, he had you there.

“Sorry you don’t have any friends so you can’t relate,” Daveed saved you. Anthony glared at him.

“Then what’re all you guys?”

“Coworkers,” you said, completely deadpan. Anthony’s glare turned into a look of hurt. You almost felt bad for him.

“You know what? I don’t like getting bullied like this.”

“Then don’t start shit you can’t finish, Ramos,” you told him. As much of a sweetheart he could be, he was definitely a little shit too. You were beginning to notice that was a bit of a common theme with the people you worked with.

When you and Diggs were in his dressing room later before the show - you putting his mic on for the show - he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. You weren’t used to him being touchy like this, so your immediate response was to gently shove his face with your hand and tell him to stop it while you laughed. He smiled at you, letting you do your job.

“So, you gonna come over tonight after the show?” Daveed asked.

“I dunno, am I?”

“C’mon, it’s been a while. I know I’m not the only one that’s a mess, baby girl.” Heat rushed through you at the pet name, one normally reserved for just the bedroom or when he was trying to rile you up. And he was really succeeding at that second thing. Before you could answer, though, there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

“Hey, uh, (y/n)?” Michael asked, peeking his head in the room. He brightened up when he saw you were in there, though you had no doubt he’d been asking around to find you. “Can I ask you a quick question before show starts?”

“Yeah, sure thing! Just let me finish up with Diggs’ mic and I’ll be out,” you said. Michael smiled brightly before excusing himself, closing the door again. You looked down at Daveed to find him glaring at the door.

“Yeah, you’re definitely coming to mine tonight.” You just tilted your head in confusion, but Daveed only waved you off. You shrugged, finishing your job. You’d have time to ask him after the show.

**********

The show went by a lot faster than you expected it to. Then again, when you were running around backstage, making sure everyone was ready and in places and didn’t have any costume or tech mishaps, you didn’t have a real concept of time. In the brief break you had during intermission, Michael found himself at your side, gushing about how cool the entire thing was. You watched him with a fond smile, glad things were going well during his first official show. You could feel someone looking at you, though, and looked up to find Daveed watching you, obviously not paying attention to whatever Leslie was telling him.

You kept it at the back of your mind as Act 2 started, getting back to your job. There would be time to question him about everything later. Act 2 flew past just as quickly as Act 1, and you watched in the wings as everyone took their bows. Daveed spotted you, giving you a bright smile. As soon as curtains closed, Daveed rushed up to you.

“Just let me get changed and then we’ll head out,” he told you. You could see him almost lean in, but he stopped himself at the last second, opting to ruffle your hair instead before booking it to his dressing room.

“Asshole!” you called out after him even as you laughed. You went to grab your backpack from your locker, not really having a way to kill time after the show. You could always talk to some of your coworkers, but you were sure they just wanted to head home as soon as possible too. You leaned against the wall, just messing around on your phone, when you heard someone walk up to you.

“Hey, (y/n)! I think the show went great!” Michael said as soon as you looked up.

“Yeah, it really did! I heard good things about you today, but how’d your first day go?” You asked, pushing yourself up from the wall. Michael immediately jumped into telling you about everything, really giving off puppy energy. You didn’t know how long you were talking to him, but you could tell he was dancing around something.

“You know, I really appreciate you taking the time to train me yourself. I’m sure I wouldn’t’ve done half as good if you didn’t. Uh, do you think I could like take you out for drinks or something as thanks if you’re not doing anything right now?” Michael finally said.

“Sorry, she has plans,” Daveed said, seemingly coming out of nowhere to put his arm around your shoulders. You jumped slightly at the sudden contact.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, she’s gonna get fucked until she can’t walk tomorrow.” This immediately drew a gasp of his name from you, but he ignored it and continued. “She’s mine, so you might wanna think again about asking her out.”

Before Michael could even think of saying anything else, Daveed practically dragged you out of the theatre. You struggled to keep up with him, cursing his long legs as you tried to figure out what the hell was going on. A Lyft was already waiting for the two of you outside, and he opened the door for you to get in. The ride was quiet, tension heavy in the air between the two of you, and you could tell the driver was a little uncomfortable even though they had no idea what was going on. As soon as you were in Daveed’s apartment, you turned to him.

“What the hell was that?! You really just said that to the new guy?! What the fuck is your problem?” You demanded as he closed the door behind him.

“He obviously has a crush on you, I needed to make sure he knew where he stood,” Daveed said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even if he does have a crush on me - which I’m pretty sure he doesn’t - you don’t have the right to do that shit! We’re literally just fucking, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.” You inhaled sharply as Daveed took a step into your space.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Daveed asked, looking down at you. You tried to straighten up to your full height, but the height difference was still enough to make you feel small.

“Get what?” You tried to keep the venom in your tone even as your heart raced.

“It’s not just fucking. It’s hanging out with you even when we don’t do anything. It’s doing anything to make you smile, even if it’s because you’re bullying me. It’s being nervous to hold your hand but never wanting to let go. It’s wanting to just hold you when we’re in bed, not wanting to let you get up in the morning. I’m so fucking in love with you, and I have been for months now,” Daveed said, cupping your face. “I don’t want you with anyone else. You’re mine.”

“Wait, what?” You didn’t know how to process everything he just told you. You needed a second for it to register, and just as Daveed was about to speak again, you cut him off, pulling him down for a kiss. You didn’t know how to explain it, but this one was different from all the other times you’d kissed him, even from the first one. When you pulled back, you smiled at him. “You’re so sappy.”

“What, did you need time to load?” Daveed teased.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t exactly expect to get a confession from the guy I’ve been silently pining over for way too long now,” you admitted, pulling him back down for another kiss. You almost got upset with the little smile you could feel against your lips, but there were more pressing matters at hand. You broke the kiss again, pleased at the way he seemed to chase your lips. “Now, uh, what was it you told Michael? I was gonna get fucked until I can’t walk tomorrow?”

You could immediately see the change in him, a wicked smile growing on his lips. “You wanna play that game, baby girl?”

You nodded, biting your lip as the air around you seemed to change. The tension from before was back, but instead of the unbearable silence that plagued you on the ride back to his place, it was laced with anticipation. Daveed pulled you back in, one hand on the nape of your neck to hold you to him. His other hand started roaming, tracing lightly along your side before settling on your hip. When he was sure you wouldn’t break the kiss, he brought his other hand down. He bent down slightly, hands moving to your thighs. He pulled back for a breath before giving you a simple demand. “Jump.”

You did as he said, jumping just enough for him to wrap your legs around his waist. He started walking to his bedroom, distracting you with kisses and nips to your neck. The first night you guys spent together, you’d set up some ground rules to not get caught, the first one being absolutely no marks that couldn’t be hidden. That rule seemed to go out the window now that there was nothing to hide. A small whimper escaped you at the mark he was sucking high on your neck, not used to the sensation there.

His distraction worked; before you knew it, he was placing you on the edge of his bed. As soon as his hands were free from carrying you, they went to the front of your shirt, unbuttoning it with practiced ease. His lips followed his hands, kissing down your front. He ended up kneeled between your legs, letting your shirt fall open and frame your figure. “Talk to me, baby girl. What’s the safe word?”

“Red, and yellow if I need a second,” you recited. Just the fact that Daveed made sure to do the check in meant you were in for it, and you couldn’t be more excited.

“Good girl.” You barely had a second to process his words before he pressed up to kiss you, pushing your shirt off of your shoulders. Your bra was quick to follow, and once your top was exposed, Daveed pushed you to lay on your back. He planted his arm beside your head, caging you in as he lowered his body to yours. The kiss would break for a second just to let you get more air before he reclaimed your lips, and as much as you loved kissing Daveed, you needed more. You knew this was all part of his teasing, and as much as you were normally a brat, you needed him.

“Please,” you whimpered out, rolling your hips against his. You could feel his arousal so close to where you needed him, separated only by a few layers of clothes.

“Please what, baby?” You couldn’t see his smirk, but you knew it was there.

“Touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, isn’t this enough? If you’re gonna be greedy, you gotta tell me what you want.” Against his words, he started trailing his free hand down the side of your face, down your neck, down, down, down, stopping right at your waistband. He pressed his lips to your neck, letting you feel his smile. “What do you want, baby girl?”

“Daveed, fuck, please. I want you to fuck me,” you said, trying to grind into him again. His hand at your waistband held down your hips, not letting you have any room for movement. He sat back on his knees, looking down at you.

“There you go, baby. All you had to do was ask.” He undid your pants, the sound of the zipper seeming to echo in the room as he slowly pulled it down. You wanted to complain about him still teasing, but you knew you wouldn’t get what you wanted if you did. He pulled your pants down and off, you lifting your hips to help ease the way. You reached down to remove your panties, just wanting the job to be done already, but Daveed gently smacked your hands away. “No. I wanna take a bit to look at you, all gorgeous and needy.”

“Stop teasing,” you whined.

“Normally you’re such a brat. What happened?” Daveed asked, still teasing. His hand toyed at the hem of your panties, the slight touch enough to make you shiver.

“I thought you like when I listen to you,” you shot back, finally moving to sit up. You liked his little games, but you were starting to get tired of it. You needed him to touch you, actually touch you, and if he kept going like this, it was going to take forever. Before he could say whatever smart ass remark he was going to, you pulled him by his shirt into a deep kiss. You broke the kiss for a second, starting to tug off his shirt. It didn’t take more than a second for him to realize what you wanted, quickly taking it off. You went back to work, not wanting to give up the slight bit of control you had gained.

You moved your kisses down his neck, wanting to leave some marks of your own. As your hand trailed down to palm his erection through his sweats, he grabbed the back of your hair, forcing you to look at him. His pupils were lust blown, he was panting slightly, and he looked like he was seconds away from losing it. You had the feeling you didn’t look much better. “Nuh uh, baby. Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“It’s gonna be me if you don’t hurry up,” you challenged. You inhaled sharply when the hand in your hair tightened its hold, but you kept your eyes locked with his.

“There’s the brat I love,” he said with a small huff of amusement, trying not to smile. He moved you back to lay down, finally touching you where you needed him, even if it was still over your panties. “You know how I know you like these little games? You always get so fucking wet for me.”

Daveed pressed one more kiss to your lips before settling between your thighs, pulling your panties off and tossing them somewhere to the side. You leaned back on your elbows, wanting to watch his next moves. He kissed your inner thigh, making your breath hitch as the simple touch lit up your nerves. You could tell he was leaving more marks as he kissed and nipped on the soft skin, not even really registering his hand moving between your legs until you jolted at the slight pressure on your clit.

Daveed moved his attention to your other thigh, repeating the motions as his thumb lazily rubbed over your clit. Your thighs tried to close on their own, only to be met by a sharp bite. Breathy whines and moans escaped your lips, your head rolling back as Daveed took his time. As much as you were expecting him to take you rough and make you beg until you were crying, this slow build up was an entirely different kind of torture. When his fingers finally teased between your folds, guiding the way for his tongue, you couldn’t help your high whine of please.

He took mercy on you, his tongue teasing your entrance before settling on tracing patterns over your clit. While his mouth worked on your clit, he eased two fingers into you, your arousal making it easy for him. Your hips bucked at the slight burn, but the way he dragged his fingertips along your walls quickly replaced the feeling. Daveed knew exactly how to take you apart, watching your reactions for the slightest changes. Just as your thighs started to quiver, the pool of arousal in you getting to just this side of too much, Daveed pulled away.

“You fucking-”

“Watch what you’re gonna say to me, baby girl. You’re already on thin fucking ice,” he warned, getting up to take off his sweats. Even though you knew he wouldn’t be gone for long, you missed his touch on you. Not that you were gonna let him know that.

“You asshole, I was almost there.” You bit your lip, barely hiding the gasp that threatened to escape you at the smack he gave to your thigh. The skin stung, but the prickling of pleasure was always enough to overwhelm it.

“I know, sweetheart.” He gave you a wicked smile as he took his place between your thighs again, resting his length against where you needed him. You didn’t even realize you whimpered at the feeling until his thumb started rubbing circles into your thigh. “Aw, someone’s needy. I only want you cumming around me when I say you can, understand?”

You nodded, but Daveed just shook his head, the little pout on his lips mocking you. “Nuh uh, baby girl. Use your words and then I can fuck you the way you want, okay?”

“Yes, I understand,” you finally said, voice smaller than you would’ve liked. You rolled your hips up, trying to feel more of him. Daveed’s hand tightened on your thigh, hard enough that you were sure you were going to have finger-shaped bruises there in the morning. “Now can you please just hurry up and-”

You cut yourself off with a whine as Daveed ran the tip through your folds, collecting your wetness before teasing the head over your entrance. His little self-satisfied smile as he slowly pushed into you was annoying, but you had better things to focus on. He pulled you closer to him, thumb rubbing circles on your thigh yet again as he rolled his hips a few times. As much as he talked about ruining you, you could always tell there was a slight hesitation before he really got into it. You loved his concern, but he did have a promise to keep. His thrusts were still slow and controlled, so you decided to give him some motivation.

“I know you can go harder than that. You know, I bet Michael would-” This time you were cut off by Daveed’s hand on your throat. You looked up, a small smile gracing your lips at finally getting what you wanted, only to falter a bit at the hard look Daveed was giving you.

“Michael wouldn’t do shit,” Daveed said, finally thrusting into you harder. You knew you shouldn’t be as smug about it as you were, but you were thriving. This was what you’d been waiting for. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands fisted in the blanket. Just as you were starting to get comfortable, enjoying the ride, Daveed forced your leg over his shoulder, driving his length deeper into you. “He wouldn’t know how to fuck you like I do. Even if you went to him, you’d be thinking of me. You and this pussy belong. To. Me.”

Daveed punctuated each word with a rough thrust of his hips, making you see stars. You were babbling at this point, whines and moans mixing with your pleas for more. Daveed’s hand rested on your throat, not quite choking you but acting as a reminder to watch yourself. He was treating you with the roughness you craved, and you could feel yourself getting closer as he went on. You didn’t know if you were the one that moved or it was him, but he hit that spot. That spot that had your vision edging with white, that had you yelling out as you came hard, not even bothering to ask permission. Instead of letting you ride it through like he normally did, Daveed pulled out of you, dropping your leg from his shoulder.

“Wha- why’d you stop?!” You cried out even as Daveed flipped you over to your stomach. He pulled your hips up, arching your back for him before laying a hard smack on your ass.

“Did you ask?” Daveed demanded, smacking the same spot.

“What?”

“What, you get fucked a little and forget your manners?” It finally clicked for you, a little embarrassed that Daveed had to point it out like that. Normally, you’d be apologetic, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care at the moment. You just wanted Daveed to keep fucking you, you could deal with the consequences later. You tried rolling your hips back to his, but his hands kept a tight hold on your hips.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, still not meaning it. “Please.”

Daveed huffed out a little laugh, but when you tried turning your head to look at him, his hand fisted in your hair, pushing your head down into the pillows. You would have complained, but the feeling of him sliding back into you cleared your mind of anything other than him. He was quick to go back to his fast pace, holding your head down to keep you in place. “Don’t know why I fucking asked for an apology, I know you don’t mean it. You just want me to fucking ruin you.”

You couldn’t do anything but whimper at his harsh tone, trying to fuck yourself back on him. But no, he controlled the pace, he controlled your pleasure. You were his. All you could do was take it, trying not to repeat your mistake from earlier. Time seemed to fade away as the sound is his hips against yours, your muffled moans and whines, his small grunts and praise filled the room. It wasn’t until Daveed finally let go of your hair to rub at your clit instead that you could tell he was getting close. His thrusts started getting sloppy and you could feel the build up inside of you yet again.

“Please, baby,” you whined, the two words already being a struggle. You’d hoped it would be enough, but of course it wasn’t.

“You gotta say it, baby girl,” he said, voice slightly strained from how close he was.

“Please let me cum, I wanna cum so bad, please baby please,” you kept going, only able to repeat please, baby until he finally took mercy on you. You were trying your hardest to be good, needing to be good for him, but you didn’t know how long you could keep this going.

“Fuck, such a good girl. Cum for me baby, I wanna feel you.” His permission was all you needed, your orgasm hitting you as soon as you had it. Your legs shook, nerves sensitive as Daveed chased his own release, making you cry out into the room. Daveed followed soon after, pushing deep in you as he called your name in a delicious groan.

The quiet that followed was new, your heavy breathing the only noise breaking the silence. Daveed stayed for a few seconds before slowly pulling out, making you whimper at the sensitivity. You let your hips fall, content to just stay there laying on your stomach, but Daveed had other ideas, rolling you onto your side so he could pull you into his arms.

“Hey,” he said in a near whisper, a little smile on his face as he looked down at you.

“Hey,” you said with a smile of your own. The moment was a bit cheesy, but it made you feel warm inside.

“So, how was that?”

“I mean, it was different.”

“Different good or?”

“Yeah, but just different. Like, knowing that you’re in love with me or whatever.”

“Don’t ‘or whatever’ that! Every time we’ve fucked before I’ve been in love with you,” Daveed seemed to add that last part as an afterthought. Thinking the conversation was done, you started to get up only to be pulled back to the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To go shower?” You looked at Daveed, tilting your head slightly. You were met by a hungry look, immediately sending a shiver through you.

“We’re not done yet, baby girl.”

**********

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