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outofsstyles · 3 years

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a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?”

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time.

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.”

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her.

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address.

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd.

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.”

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head.

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone.

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions.

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen.

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after).

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way.

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.”

The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

“Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too.

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones.

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.��

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own.

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out.

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand.

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located.

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse. “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further.

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again.

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.”

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight.

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused. “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!”

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months.

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk.

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh. “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch.

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine

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whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language, stalking ish themes

Words: 1490

Summary: Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He doesn’t remember why he took the shield or what it means for him anymore. Then he met you.

A/N: First and foremost I am SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SHIT AT SUMMARIES. I just don’t want to give anything away. Second, this is my first series! So like, comment, reblog, let me know you want to see more of this. This story is going to start in Steve’s perspective and switch to the readers. I’ll let you guys know when the POV is shifting so no worries. So, this first chapter is told through Steve. Third, if I missed any warnings please let me know. Last but most CERTAINTLY not least, a very VERY special thanks to @river-soul for reading through this and assuring me it was a good first chapter. I am so grateful for you. Let me know what you think! (Gif by @navybrat817 )

“Steve, she's getting married tomorrow,” Bucky solemnly states as he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re going to do something you better do it soon.”

“I know Buck, but what could I say to her? I haven’t been able to tell her how I feel about her for years.” Steve looked out over the lake, his eyes pricking with tears. “She made her decision.”

“You’re an idiot. You’ve been in love with her since you first saw her. If you don’t tell her, she’s going to make the biggest mistake of her life. We both know that,” Bucky sighed, raking a hand over his face. “I know she loves you. You need to talk to her. She can’t marry him Steve, you know the second she does she’ll be gone forever. The person you knew reduced to, whatever this shell of a person is.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down where the water was gently lapping against the shore. After a few moments, he heard Bucky make his way back to the lodge. As the small waves ebbed and flowed against the shallow shore Steve thought about you and how he was an absolute coward back when you were a big part of his life.

One and a half years ago

Steve was sketching at Marine Park in Brooklyn during golden hour when everything seemed to glow. He needed a break from his Captain America responsibilities and every time he put his charcoal to the paper everything seemed to melt away. The world was vastly different since he came out of the ice and he felt his heart swell thinking about all the fights he had to endure in order to restore some semblance of peace in the universe. He was happy that he had his best friend back, cleared of the mind control Hydra put in him and he made so many new friends and a family in The Avengers. Yet, as he drew out the skyline on the thick white paper, he couldn’t help but feel like he was still missing something. He knew he needed a break from his duties to figure it out constantly being pulled into a fight was a great distraction, but he knew he needed to figure out what brought meaning to his life. The decision to take time off gnawed at Steve like a dog to a bone, who was he if he wasn’t Captain America?

Steve heard you before he saw you, picking up the fierce tone you were using made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your reprimand. Steve looked up to see you wedged in between a woman and her dog and a man probably twice your size towering over you, trying to be intimidating. The fact you stepped forward refusing to back down made Steve smile, oddly fond of your bravery. The commotion you were making drew a small crowd and Steve felt a strange pull to join the group to be close to you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Following this poor woman around like a stalker,” You yelled, poking your finger in his chest. “Did you think she was being coy when she told you to stop following her? Was that some deranged invitation to keep on top of her the rest of the world is unaware of?”

Steve could tell that you were not about to back down as you protected the other woman. The fire in your eyes was something Steve was familiar with in himself before he went into the ice. He noticed the man ball his hands into fists and before you could react he had pulled back to hit you. Steve jumped in and caught the punch, inches from your face.

“You’re gonna want to walk away pal before you make things worse for yourself.”

Steve’s voice was low in warning. When he glanced over at you, you looked up at him almost offended that he had stepped in. Before Steve could say anything you returned your gaze to the other man and swiftly kneed him in the balls.

“Stop following women you fucking asshole,” you admonished as the man crumpled to the ground in pain. “I know you probably have a hard time listening to women when they say no because there is just a bunch of empty space where your brain is supposed to be, but maybe take this as a warning.”

Steve watched you slack jawed as you flagged down a police officer to give a statement to. He observed you as you spoke with the other woman, who was visibly shaken by the incident, with such genuine concern and kindness. He couldn’t stop looking at you as you soothed her with gentle touches and quiet whispers. Steve waited for his turn to speak with the officers regarding the incident, after which the man was taken into custody. When Steve turned around you were walking towards him.

“Umm thanks for catching the punch,” you said with a shrug. “I could have taken him though.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I stood around and let a civilian get clocked for defending someone.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Yeah but you’re not in the suit, which means you’re off duty. Either way I’m grateful, I have a job interview tomorrow and can’t really show up with a black eye. It wouldn’t really say ‘hire me I’m even tempered and have a keen ability to moderate conflict in a calm respectful manner.’ ”

Steve smiled, letting out a sigh as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart I’m always on duty, comes with the territory.”

He looked up to see you watching him with kindness and understanding.

“I’m sure that must be a very heavy burden to carry,” You sighed. “I hope you can take a vacation or something soon. It looks like you might need one.”

To say Steve was enamored by you would be the understatement of the century. In the brief time he had spent with you, he had noticed that you were fierce, kind, honest, compassionate, and absolutely stunning. He found himself physically having to shake his head to keep from staring at you.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out. “I feel like you already know that though. It was really nice of you to say that. Sometimes I only see myself as Captain America, no vacation days in sight.”

Steve chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Y/N, and I mean it. You shouldn’t feel like you’re always on duty.”

You pointed your finger at his chest.

“Besides, I’m a tough girl, I can handle myself. You should trust people a bit more Rogers.”

You gave Steve a cheeky grin and started walking away.

Steve scrambled to follow you, not ready to have your conversation end.

“So, job interview? What do you do?”

Steve easily kept your stride. When you chuckled Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.

“Would you believe I’m a victim advocate? I have an interview with the state prosecutor. I make sure anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort is represented and protected during court cases and criminal trials,” you stated proudly.

“After what I just witnessed, I would have been more surprised if you told me you were an accountant.” Steve joked. “Would it be okay if I walked you wherever you’re going? I know you can handle yourself but I’d like to make sure you don’t leave a trail of broken men in your wake.”

You snorted out laughter.

“Yeah wouldn’t want to get put away for attacking more skeezy men. That sounds great Captain, thank you.”

Steve smiled and kept asking you questions on your walk. He had this need to know everything he could about you since you blew into his life like a sunshower. When Steve got you back to your apartment the sun was just setting.

“Well Rogers, it’s been an interesting day,” you say, nonchalantly fiddling with your keys.

“I’ll say, I didn’t think my day would consist of watching someone stand up for another woman who almost got punched, then kneeing the guy in the balls.”

Steve smiled.

“I am pleasantly surprised with the way my day turned out,” he told you.

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from if you stick with me Cap.”

You smirked at Steve grabbing his sketchbook.

“Here’s my number, if you ever need a little extra adventure in your life, call me,” you said.

With that you turned the key in the lock and pushed yourself inside the apartment. Steve was left to stand staring at your closed door. He didn’t know what force drove you into his life but knowing you for those few hours made him feel more alive than he had in years.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel fic #marvel #captain america x reader

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 1

on the inevitability of dating a frat bro

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: light angst, fluff, cheating, alcohol, swearing, minor injury

AN: So!! I am REALLY excited about this fic, but it’s the first AOT piece I’ve ever written and the first piece I’ve posted at all in a WHILE. As of now, it can stand on its own as a mainly platonic/unrequited Levi x reader, but I have big ideas for potential expansion in the future! Please don’t hesitate to reblog/comment/send in an ask with any suggestions, questions, or feedback!! ~valkyrie

Palms slap flat against the door of your apartment as you stumble the last few steps, barely catching yourself before your right ankle twists out from under you. Sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you know it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker in the morning.

“Shitshitfuck ow,” you slur as you slide to the ground, back to the wall, short skirt bunching dangerously high on your thigh. Fumbling fingers go to the ankle strap of your right stiletto and pull fruitlessly on the ties. With a whine, you curse the forethought you had to double knot the thin cord when you were getting ready to go out earlier in the evening. Your tongue sits heavy and dry in your mouth as you lean your head back against the wall and press palms against your eyes until stars swim into your vision.

How the fuck did I end up here? you think with a soft hiccup, and all of a sudden you’re crying again.

As you sit in your apartment hallway, drunk and distraught and slowly freezing from the outside in, you recall the events of the night. Getting ready with Hange for girls’ night, meeting up with Sasha and Hitch at the new bar across town. Downing shots and cocktails until the worries of the week melted away, dancing until your feet ached and your eyes stung. Seeing your boyfriend across the dance floor making out with another woman. Correction, seeing your boyfriend making out with your best friend. Correction, seeing your ex-boyfriend practically fucking your former best friend in the middle of the goddamned club-

With that image freshly burned into your mind, you let out a gut-wrenching sob followed by a tremendous sniffle just as the apartment door opens.

A soft thump echoing through the apartment jerks Levi out of his light sleep. It takes him a second to remember you went out to your girls’ night, glancing over at his alarm clock. 2:17 am, sounds about right.

He rolls over and readjusts his sheets around him, determined to go back to sleep. It’s not uncommon for you to spend your weekend out with friends all night, and he learned a while ago that you’re perfectly capable of getting yourself showered and into bed after a night out. That’s one of the things Levi likes about living with you: you generally know how to stay out of his hair, and he doesn’t find himself caught up in yours.

When Hange had introduced you to him at the end of last semester as a potential roommate, he had been hesitant. In his book, anyone Hange approved of was bound to be at least slightly off their rocker, but he had been hoping to sign a lease for the next school year before leaving town, and after meeting you he felt willing to take a chance. He told himself it was because of your stellar recommendations from former roommates and respectable credit score, but the smallest part of his mind admitted it was also because of your pretty hands and intelligent eyes.

That day at his favorite tea shop when you had met up to sign the lease, he had asked you about your major and you had practically lit up with the way you spoke about the architecture degree you were pursuing. The pair of you had chatted all afternoon, discussing books and comparing experiences with professors in the art department. When you learned he was in the painting program at your university, you had grabbed one of his hands off the table in both of yours and examined it closely.

“You have painter’s hands,” you had proclaimed after a moment, turning his hand in yours and tracing the cracks in his palm lightly. “Just like my mom’s.”

Levi had simply sat there, stunned at how such a small gesture made his heart race and neck grow warm.

With a groan, Levi rolls back over in an effort to shake himself out of his turbulent thoughts. 2:19 glows green at him from his bedside table, and suddenly he’s struck with the realization that he hasn’t heard you actually come into the apartment, let alone close your bedroom door with your habitual sharp snap.

“Damn it to hell,” he mutters as he flicks on a beside lamp and stuffs feet into slippers. Careful to avoid knocking over the painting set to dry on the easel by his desk, he opens his bedroom door and hears the muffled sound of sobbing from the front door.

Levi stands in the doorframe in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, poking his head out into the hall. For a moment, he can only stare. He’s never seen you like this before, utterly dejected, scatter-brained, small, so unlike the confident woman in the tea shop.

“You look like shit,” he says plainly, the barest hint of concern in his voice.

You keep your eyes downcast and weakly flip him off, continuing to sob gently. At the lack of your usual backtalk, his expression slips from his usual impassivity to a sharp frown.

A delicate hand encircles your upheld wrist and you let it go limp in Levi’s grip as he crouches down next to you.

“Hey, hey, what happened? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?” His calm tone helps you focus your mind, and you manage to hiccup a response.

“G-god I’m an idiot,” you sniffle, and raise your eyes to barely meet his. His head is ducked to your level, and he’s crouching on the balls of his feet, one hand gripping your limp wrist and the other hesitantly reaching for your shoulder. “Just leave me out here to w-wallow, or better yet take me out with the t-trash, that’s obviously all I-I am,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

“Did someone tell you that? That you’re trash?” Levi asks sharply, dipping his head with yours in an effort to maintain eye contact.

Your bottom lip trembles and you sniffle again. Just under the delicate white noise of life, Levi can hear his heart break cleanly in two.

“It was more implied,” you supply weakly.

Levi sighs, then drops his hands and straightens up.

“Alright, up you get.” He extends his hand, and you stare at it for a second before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and gripping his warm hand with your freezing one. A solid pull later, you find yourself balancing in your heels, Levi’s hand gripping your elbow and the other around your waist. You mumble a thanks, and attempt a step on your right foot towards the door. The traitorous ankle buckles again and you cry out as you stumble once more. But this time Levi’s there to catch you against his chest, now fully supporting you at the waist.

“Ah, I forgot,” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Tch,” he clicks, gently chastising, and in a second he’s scooped an arm under your knees to carry you into the apartment. Vaguely, you wonder at how coordinated he is as he kicks the door shut and nudges the light switch with his elbow. Pretty buff for an art major, you muse, with your head laying against his chest and arms looped around his neck. How pathetic is this, can’t even walk into my own home.

He nudges his way into your room and casts his gaze around in the ambient glow of your desk lamp. You can tell he’s holding himself back from commenting on the clothes strewn across the extra chair by your closet and the lipstick-stained coffee cup sat atop a pile of textbooks on your desk, and you look down in embarrassment. There’s a reason you keep your door closed most of the time. Despite the mess, he successfully navigates across to your bed and gently puts you down, arranging your pillows behind you to support your back before disappearing into the living room again.

You take a moment to wipe at your eyes, sigh self-pityingly, and slouch down into your soft bed, not caring that you’re still fully dressed. Not only did you catch your boyfriend cheating, but you managed to wake up your (usually grumpy) roommate, reveal to him how messy you actually were, and injure yourself in the space of half an hour. Just about a record.

The shrill ringing of your phone breaks into the silence. As you’re digging through your purse to pull it out, you remember with a sinking feeling that you didn’t even tell the girls you were leaving the club, let alone what happened. You slide a shaky finger across the screen to accept the call and put it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hello? Where the fuck are you?” Hange’s loud voice makes you wince and hold the phone slightly away from your face.

“Oh god, I’m sorry Hange, I went home. S-something happened and I, well I just called an Uber and didn’t even think,” you finish lamely.

“What happened? Did you get home safe? Did someone hurt you? I swear to god-”

“Hange, I-”

“-rat bastard bartender was eyeing you all night I could’ve guessed he’d try something-”

“Hange!” She stops short and allows you to speak. “I got home safe. Levi’s here. I’m not hurt, the bartender didn’t try anything, I… I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?” You inject your tone with some bright optimism in an effort to assuage her panic. “Tell Sasha and Hitch not to worry, okay?”

Over her momentary silence on the other end of the line, you can hear traffic sounds and faint club music, as though she had stepped outside to call you. A strained sigh, then: “Okay. I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m still mad at you for not checking in before you left. Had me worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’d be mad too. Can you swing by tomorrow? And I’ll explain everything?” Your hand rubs down your face and you close your eyes in a guilty grimace.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” The call ends and you drop your phone down onto your bed where it bounces gently away from you.

When you open your eyes again, Levi is standing in the door holding a cup of tea, his other hand cupped around something, studying you with uncertainty. You sit up hesitantly against your headboard, surprised. You’d figured he went back to bed and left you to put yourself to bed as you usually did.

He crosses the room with his smooth gait, and in a moment, you feel two ibuprofen pressed into your palm and the mug of tea nudged into your other hand, your roommate gently prompting you to drink. He watches as you pop the pills and take a slow sip of the tea, smiling faintly when you recognize that it’s chamomile.

“Good.” He takes the mug and sets it aside on your bedside table. Pulling your desk chair up to the side of your bed, he sits, and leans over towards your feet.

His light fingers start to work on the knots in the ties of your shoes, and you can feel his voice rumble lightly as he says, “What happened, kid?”

You huff a laugh at the pet name, then consider where to begin. You decide straightforward is the best approach with someone like Levi.

“I saw Reiner and Annie at the club, sucking face in the middle of the dance floor. I thought he was at some quote unquote frat thing and she insisted she couldn’t come out to girls’ night because of some stupid group project. They didn’t even see me, I just turned around and left before I knew what I was doing. And poor Bertholdt, he probably has no clue what Annie’s been up to.” You take a shuddering breath and let out a choked sob, trying to stop the waterworks and unable to keep them at bay. “God, I’m such a spineless coward.”

“Hey.” Levi’s sharp tone startles your teary gaze to meet his eyes, which look practically murderous. He leans over to grasp your shoulders, warm hands scorching cool skin. “You are not a spineless coward. He is the goddamned spineless foolish bastard, and if I ever see his ugly mug I will wreck it so bad his own mother won’t be able to identify the body. As a matter of fact, that goes for Annie, too. Are we clear?”

You blink in shock before fully registering his words and nodding slowly. “Crystal.” Levi looks the most angry you’ve ever seen him, brow furrowed and mouth set determinedly.

“Good.” He returns his attention to your ankle. While you were talking, he had successfully untied and slipped your shoes off your swollen feet. “Now, let’s see what’s going on with your weak-ass foot.”

He spends a good minute poking and prodding and turning your ankle every which way in his grasp. “Does this hurt?” and “What about this way?” are answered with soft “no”s or a wince and a “yes”. His hands are practiced and intentional, and you briefly wonder how much experience he has with treating injuries. After a last gentle prod, he sets your foot back down on the bed.

“Well, it’s definitely not broken. It is swelling, though, and probably sprained. I’ll go see if we have an ace bandage or something.” He stands and moves to leave, but before he can get too far you gently grasp his forearm.

“Thank you, Levi.” Your voice is soft and sincere as you look up at him through curled and mascaraed eyelashes. “Thanks for picking me up off the floor and listening and taking care of me.”

Levi studies your tired face for a moment. The trails of mascara down your cheeks, a stray piece of glitter sitting on your cheekbone, lipgloss smudged on the left side. It seems as though his hand moves on its own, reaching out to stroke your cheek lightly, thumb gently brushing away the escaped glitter. He doesn’t miss the way your lashes flutter as you subconsciously lean into his touch. Finally, he tousles your hair with a hint of tenderness in his eyes.

“Tch. Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“I’m barely younger than you!”

“Whatever, brat.”

Levi is sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and hunched over his laptop when you step out of your room late the next morning. Freshly showered, your hair curls delicately over your shoulders and the scent of peppermint body wash reaches his nose. He studies you for a moment. You’re wearing a loose sleep shirt, cotton shorts, and an oversized cardigan, and he can see where the ace bandage he found last night pokes out from under your fuzzy socks. Clearly, you’re planning to stay in today.

“G’morning,” you murmur, passing behind him to get to the kitchen. Your roommate grunts a greeting in response and takes a sip of tea in his odd overhanded way. You start your coffee routine, reaching for the French press and coffee grounds from a shelf and setting the kettle to boil on the stove. It’s grounding to go through the motions of a daily ritual after the emotional turmoil of last night. Or rather, the emotional turmoil of this morning. It had been hard to drag yourself out of bed before noon, and harder still not to crawl back into your warm sheets after a scalding shower. You steel yourself for the inevitable conversation as you measure out grounds, then finally turn and hop up to sit on the counter facing Levi when the only thing left to do is to wait for the coffee to brew.

“Sooooo,” you start in a long, drawn out syllable, leaning back on your hands.

His hands still on the keyboard and a quiet tension fills Levi’s shoulders before he turns his body fully towards you, resting a hand on the back of his chair. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are softer than they usually are when you interrupt his studying.

You take a deep breath.

“So, uh, last night I was kind of a wreck and you were really sweet, and I just wanted to say thank you again and I’m sorry you had to witness that.” It’s said in a rush, and by some miracle you manage to maintain eye contact.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for.”

“I know, I know, I just-- it felt really nice to have someone, y’know, there after what, uhm, after what happened and I really was a mess I mean I must’ve looked so gross and I woke you up at like what? Two am? And you were just so steady and kind and I mean you even tucked me into bed for God’s sake--” you ramble on, the words falling over each other in your awkwardness. God, you idiot don’t you know when to shut the fuck up?? “--and I know how much you like it to be quiet at night and I really do try to--”

Levi cuts you off when he stands fluidly from his seat and crosses the kitchen in two strides, entering your space and placing his hand over your mouth in the same motion. You look at him with wide eyes, suddenly breathing very oddly. The clean smell of paint thinner and black tea simultaneously clouds and calms your mind.

A beat, then: “Brat. Stop rambling, you’re welcome.” You study each others’ faces. Levi’s eyes are stern and steady as he looks up at you through elegantly disheveled bangs. To Levi, you look like a deer caught in headlights, all surprised eyes and warm cheeks. After a charged moment, he lets his hand drop and takes the smallest step backwards.

It takes your brain a second to reboot, then you’re fumbling over your words again. “Okay. Well, uhmm. Okay.”

“How’s your foot?” He glances down at the foot in question as if to check it’s still there, then back at you.

“It’s okay. Still hurts to walk on but I can handle it,” you manage to breathe out with the air left in your lungs.

“Good.” He nods once, then turns and sits back down at his laptop. He hears you huff half an incredulous laugh and slide down from the counter to pour your coffee. A shake of the head and a sip of tea later, his mind slips back into essay mode and away from the woman drilling holes in the back of his head with curious eyes.

“Hey baby!” You hear Reiner’s voice from the door as he pushes through it with his usual boisterousness. From your position at the kitchen table in front of your laptop, your back is to him and you allow yourself a moment to press your nails into the palm of your hand and steel your nerves before plastering a smile on your face. You stand up and turn to greet him, limping to meet him halfway from the door.

“Hey babe, come on in!”

He winds an arm around your waist and pulls you in to peck you on the lips as usual, but you manage to subtly turn your head so it lands on your cheek instead. With the flash of an innocent smile as a coverup, you step out of his arms and make your way into the kitchen to set the kettle for coffee. “So, uh, how was your frat thing?”

He follows close behind you, completely oblivious, and cages you in with your back against the counter after you’re done at the stove. “Eh, it was alright. Got some new pledges, you know how it is.” He grins in the cocky way you fell for and leans farther into your space. You give a giggle and rest gentle hands on his chest, keeping him at a distance while feigning affection.

“Oh, sure. Busy night of fun, I’m sure.” Your tone is sickly sweet and you mentally grimace at yourself to take it down a notch.

Fiddling absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt, you take a moment to mourn your relationship. While it’s about to end swiftly and brutally, you know that you will miss the security and warmth you had with Reiner in the beginning. You finally lean in to lay your head on his chest one last time, and your heart aches at the way he tenderly rests his chin on top of your head. The moment is broken by the kettle beginning to whistle and you gently push him away to go turn it off.

“How’re Hange and the girls?” He leans himself against the counter and watches as you bustle around the kitchen, preparing coffee as you usually do when he comes over. It’s one of the things the pair of you had initially bonded over, trying new beans and methods of brewing nearly every week. Recently, you had been using Guatemalan beans with notes of peach and candied almonds, a birthday gift from the cheating boyfriend himself.

As you measure out grounds into the French press, you maintain a cheerful disposition. This is it, you think. Don’t back down now.

“They’re doing great, we had so much fun! We went to that new bar on Oakland Street, I think it’s called like Stevie’s?” Of course it’s called Stevie’s, it had been all anyone could talk about since the new bar opened earlier in the semester.

“Oh, yeah, uhm I’ve heard good things, good things….” His voice has a nervous edge to it, and a glance in his direction confirms that he’s awkwardly rubbing his neck as he usually does when he has something to hide.

You push on: “Yeah! I think you would totally love it! Very much your vibe. Anyway, we got absolutely plastered, to be honest I’m not even sure I remember how much I had to drink.” A pause for dramatic effect accompanied by a ditzy laugh. “But y’know, I do remember seeing one thing.” You carefully bloom the grounds before pouring the rest of the water in, focusing your gaze away from Reiner in order to keep your cool.

“Oh?”

You casually set the chicken shaped kitchen timer on the fridge to four minutes and adopt a thoughtful tone. “Yeah, I saw Annie there. Which was odd, because she told me that she had this huge group project to be working on. Guess she finished early. Oh, and you know what else I saw?”

“W-what?” A sharp turn away from the fridge reveals his increasingly nervous face to you

“I saw you there, too! Maybe you got so drunk at the “frat thing” you just don’t remember going, how funny is that?” You keep your voice light but find yourself unable to maintain a smile, your expression slipping into somewhere in between hurt and determined.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet and looks anywhere but your face, hand still rubbing the back of his neck. “Ahaha, really? Are you sure it was me, becau--”

“Oh, it was you. And do you know what you were doing?” This time, your voice is icier than the sidewalk in February after a week of sleet, causing his body to still and face to fall.

“N-no…” It’s almost pitiful how quiet he is now that his usually confident demeanor is shaken.

“You were kissing Annie. Which is funny, considering you both are in relationships.” The statement hangs in the air and you stare steadily into his eyes. You make it a point to regulate your breathing and blink back the first tears beginning to pool.

After another charged split second, your idiot ex-boyfriend decides on the worst path: badly gaslighting you into thinking it wasn’t him.

“I uhm, I was uh, are you sure? It couldn’t have been A-Annie-- I mean uhm, me, uh, ahaha, if it was, that’s so funny…” He stumbles over his words, only trailing off in defeat when you hold up a hand to silence him.

“Save it, Reiner. I already had a breakdown last night, I’m not particularly in the mood to deal with yours.” You limp over to the table and pull out a chair to reveal the cardboard box of his things you had packed up that morning. “Here’s your stuff, now get the hell out and stay the fuck away from me. Maybe go grovel to Bertholdt and see if you can salvage that relationship.” Your hand trembles as you point at the box and then the door and your lip quivers with the effort of not crying.

Reiner evidently sees the vulnerability in your eyes and decides to grasp at a few last straws, adopting a pleading mien, complete with sad smile and innocent eyes. He moves towards you slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, and reaches out to lay a hand on your shoulder. “Aww, come on, baby, it wasn’t like that, it was just a heat of the moment thing, I didn’t mean--”

“Didn’t mean what?” Facade finally breaking, all you can muster up is a furious, cracked whisper and angry tears. “Didn’t mean to stick your tongue down my best friend’s throat? Didn’t mean to practically fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in public?”

“No, I mean, yes, but I, aw, c’mon sweetheart,” he admonishes, cautiously reaching out to wipe away your tears. You cringe away, but before he can touch you his arm is ripped away and he’s stumbling back with a shocked expression.

“I believe the lady told you to get the fuck out.” Levi’s standing in front of you out of nowhere, hands eerily still at his side. Evidently, he had come back from the store smack in the middle of The Dumpening, and a glance towards the entryway confirms there are grocery bags discarded haphazardly on the floor. Turning your attention back to the men in your kitchen, you see Reiner’s face has rapidly shifted from surprised to angry. He’s caught himself against the counter, breathing hard, eyes flicking from your teary eyes to Levi.

“Hey, this isn’t any of your fuckin’ business, buddy,” Reiner drawls, confident as he straightens up to his full height. He practically towers over Levi, the shortest of the three of you, and you can tell he’s already estimating your roommate to be an easy fight should it come down to that. Sharp panic enters your chest at the thought of a fight breaking out, and your hand flinches out to grasp Levi’s jacket sleeve desperately. You’ve seen Reiner in a couple bar fights, and even drunk he’s a force to be reckoned with.

He doesn’t acknowledge your touch, instead injecting a quiet venom into his usually dispassionate tone. “You made it my fuckin’ business when you touched my roommate without her permission in my home.”

The taller man opens his mouth to retort, but you beat him to the punch: “Reiner, just go. I want you to leave.” Some mettle has returned to your voice and you force obstinate lungs to take a deep breath. “Please take your stuff and go.”

Eye contact with Reiner usually makes you feel warm and safe and in love, both of you prone to wearing your heart on your sleeve. This time the experience is sullied by conflicting anger and hurt and guilt written across his face, filling your already aching heart with an unshakeable leaden weight.

He inhales sharply, then speaks in a much more uncertain voice. “Is this really what you want?”

Your mouth quirks to the side in an effort to quell more tears. “Yes, this is really what I want.”

The fight slumps out of his body, shoulders rounding imperceptibly, and he holds up his hands in defeat. He crosses to the cardboard box of his things sitting on the kitchen chair. You don’t miss the way Levi casually keeps his body between you and Reiner, staring him down as he moves towards the pair of you. Your grip hasn’t slackened on Levi’s jacket, and at this point you can’t distinguish if it’s to stop him from doing something stupid or simply to have something to hold onto.

Reiner hoists the box into his arms and turns his head towards you once more.

“Goodbye,” his voice cracks on your name and you tear your eyes away in favor of staring at the linoleum kitchen floor.

The front door clicks shut.

You finally drop your hand from Levi’s sleeve, sink slowly into the chair behind you, and bury your face in your hands. The dull aching of your heart seems to seep through the rest of your body until your limbs are heavy, ankle throbbing from standing on it for too long.

You hear Levi’s retreating footsteps towards the door, the shunk of the lock slipping into place, and the crinkle of plastic grocery bags as he picks them up off the floor. He works in silence putting the food away, giving you space to collect your scattered self. When his task is complete, he joins you at the table, sitting in the chair which had previously been occupied by Reiner’s box.

When the chicken timer rings, he calmly shuts it off and returns to sit by you.

When his cell phone dings with a text notification, he deftly sets it to “Do Not Disturb” and returns to keeping you company.

When you finally meet his eyes, it looks like you’ve aged a year.

“You all right?”

“Been better.”

“At least this time you’re sober.”

“Pfft,” you scoff. “Wish I wasn’t.”

“On that note, I got wine and cheese at the store. The “perfect break up cure”, in your own words.” His tone is dry, but his mouth is slightly quirked at the side. “And I saw that Pride and Prejudice is streaming on Netflix.”

His thoughtfulness chips into your melancholy, and you hazard a watery smile. “Aw Levi, you didn’t have to do that.” With that, you lean over and pull him into a warm hug, arms around his neck and chin hooked over his shoulder. He hesitantly puts his own arms around you and pats your back awkwardly.

“Really, it’s no--”

“Oh, shut up and let me be grateful for you.”

(read Part 1.5 here)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #reiner braun #annie leonhart #hange zoe #sasha braus #hitch dreyse #bertholdt hoover #swearing #alcohol #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis and/or Harry use drugs during the course of the fic. If you support our rec lists and want them to continue being made, please reblog this post and spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Lips Are Like The Galaxy’s Edge | Mature | 2365 words

Harry licks over Louis’ hole slowly, deliberately, and his tongue is like velvet and Louis’ skin is burning at every junction where Harry touches him and it’s all so good he thinks he might cry. He licks a few more times, moaning softly like he’s relishing the taste of Louis and that’s just, well, fuck.

2) Can You Feel The Fever | Explicit | 5113 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Tour has Harry exhausted. Luckily exactly what he needs is waiting for him in his Sacramento dressing room.

3) Read You Like A Book | Explicit | 8089 words

Louis realises Harry can read his mind. He’ll do anything to make Harry admit it. Set during the North American leg of the WWA tour.

4) Put You On Repeat, Play You Everywhere I Go | Explicit | 8290 words

Harry is a college radio show host and Louis is a contemporary dancer attending said college. After a drunk hook-up, naturally a whole bunch of pining, dedicated love songs and make-out sessions on dance studio floors ensue.

5) Keep It Sweet In Your Memory | Explicit | 17039 words

'How'd it go?' Harry pushes them into Niall's room and shuts the door behind him, so Georgia doesn't overhear.

'It was good. We just caught up, mostly... I may have done something a little stupid, though.'

And Niall's eyebrows are in his hairline at that.

'I mean. Okay, so I invited Louis out on Saturday.'

'Saturday? Your--'

'Yes, my bachelor party...' and then Harry has to explain himself, 'I just felt guilty. I think. He was like. Telling me he wanted to hook up.'

'He WHAT!?'

'No. I mean, not with me. Like. He wants to go out and meet people.'

'He'll hate that. He's too much of a romantic.'

'Yeah, well. Whatever his name was messed him up a little, it would seem.'

6) Never Understood What Love Was Really Like (But I Felt It For The First Time Looking In Your Eyes) | Not Rated | 18431 words

The one where Louis meets Harry at 14 and things don’t quite go as planned.

7) Ain’t My Fault | Explicit | 18690 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

AU. Liam posts an ad on the wrong section of Craigslist, Louis is pretty sure they’re gonna get murdered as a result, and Harry’s missing an avocado.

8) Kiwi | Not Rated | 24110 words

AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley.

It’s a thing.

9) Honey, Make This Easy | Explicit | 25483 words

AU; Harry’s sister recently passed away, leaving him with temporary custody of her daughter. Needing help, he hires Louis as a nanny and the boy turns out to be help in more ways than he expected.

10) Can’t Fool Me | Explicit | 30162 words

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

11) Captain Jack | Explicit | 31752 words

Note: Please take note of the tags and warnings on this fic before reading

Louis has been searching for something and Harry is there to give it to him. Drugs, sex, disappointment, and the tangled web they’ve woven that keeps them trapped in the same cycle.

12) Can I Make It Any More Obvious? | Explicit | 35560 words

AU where Louis does ballet and Harry is the epitome of everything Louis’ friends want him to stay away from.

13) Bluebird | Explicit | 39024 words

The 2,789 miles between New York and Los Angeles is a long way to go alone.

14) Another Hazy May | Mature | 41042 words

Louis is a terrible poet and Harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. bookshop meets military meets summer romance AU ft. Marlboros, the backstreet boys, and underrated literary devices.

15) Looking Through You | Explicit | 41905 words

Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them.

16) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 45152 words

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

17) Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You) | Mature | 54609 words | Sequel

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.

Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

He also starts to fall in love with Harry.

Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

18) Into The Midnight Sun | Explicit | 63525 words

It’s 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn’t easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

19) Like Real People Do | Explicit | 64175 words

Louis didn’t ask for a lot of things. He didn’t ask for his entire family to die in a car crash that may or may not have been his fault. He didn’t ask to get powers out of that accident, either, powers that eventually led him into a two-year relationship with a man who was far more than met the eye. But one night, he chose to ask for a replacement to a broken camera from someone he hadn’t spoken to in a year and a half. He did ask for that. And that kind of led to everything else.

20) Liberté | Mature | 64603 words

AU. 1647. “Pretending you don’t have a heart is not the best way to not get it broken. It’s just the easiest.”

21) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83615 words | Sequel

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

22) Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes | Explicit | 120875 words

They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

23) Saving Symphony Hall | Mature | 124766 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic. This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that’s the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

24) I Only Ever Want You | Explicit | 180079 words

Note: This fic is the sequel to this fic.

Louis & Harry and Liam & Zayn begin to have sex in front of each other and a lot of kink-discovery results from that.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #drug use #drug tw #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs

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aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter One

dystopian!au / futuristic!au

AUTHOR NOTE: here it is! Chapter one of Natural Borns. If you haven’t already, please read the prologue, or else this wont make the most sense. The prologue gives some backstory about the universe that you need to fully enjoy the story. Thank you for all the love on the prologue, it pushed me to want to put this out early. If you enjoy this series, please follow and reblog so it can reach more eyes. Feel free to send me an ask! I would love to answer any questions, because I’m sure I’m inevitably going to leave some things unanswered (this is my first time writing a series, after all). Enjoy! xx Des

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual) Warnings: this series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any. Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it? Word count: 3.6k

It was early. Too early for you to be awake. As you rolled over in your bed, taking your poofy duvet cover with you, you noticed that it was barely dawn. Your curtains were drawn, how you always left them - liking to wake up with the sun, and you couldn’t even see said sun on the horizon yet. You could make out a pink line that melted perfectly with the purple and blues of the night sky. After admiring the beauty of it for a moment, you rolled back over with a huff.

You’re already awake, might as well get out of bed.

You lived on a peach farm, or orchard, that your family owned and had chores and duties to fulfill around the house and land. The orchard was on about ten acres, small for a farm, but big enough to get the job done. Your father sells the peaches you harvest to local grocers and restaurants and sells the rest at your mother’s stall at the farmer’s market in town. Your mom grows flowers in her garden on the property and makes beautiful arrangements for locals. She just recently made the arrangements for the wedding of one of your old classmates. You helped out where you could with harvests, taking care of the animals your family cared for, and working the market on weekends. It wasn’t a luxurious life by any means, but you were happy. You definitely couldn’t complain, not when most natural borns had way less than you. You were fortunate, really, and content living this small town life.

You swung your legs over the edge of your bed and stretched your arms up high, letting out a big yawn. Your pajamas were all bunched up and uncomfortable on your legs as you scooted closer to the edge of your bed, expecting your toes to meet the cool wood of the floor. Instead, you were met with something warm and fuzzy and a loud meow that sounded through your room, making you jump.

“Ai- sorry Mochi,” you grumbled, watching the cat scurry across the floor. You smiled and shook your head at the cat, who was now giving you a death glare from next to your bedroom door. You slowly stood up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and opened the door to let the devil cat out. He quickly took advantage of the open door and ran down the stairs as fast as he could. You watched him for a moment before making your way to your bathroom down the hall.

Closing and locking the door behind you, you started your morning routine of brushing your teeth and hair and washing your face. Once you turned the faucet off, you rubbed a clean white towel over your face, pulling it down slowly as you peeked over it at the mirror. You looked tired, small bags beginning to form under your eyes, skin darkening slightly from being out in the sun, maybe even a little sunburnt from working at the market yesterday. Still starting at your reflection, you hang your towel up on the rack with a sigh, turning to get dressed for the day.

Your normal work day attire consists of jeans and a t-shirt. It was June, just starting to get unbearably hot in Korea, so you opted for some looser linen pants and a light shirt. You didn’t have a whole lot to do today other than feed animals, clean the chicken coop, and help mom out with some arrangements. You wouldn’t be harvesting the peach trees until late July or early August at the rate they were growing currently, though you did still need to monitor them and make sure they remained healthy before harvest season.

By the time you were ready for the day, the sun was just barely coming up and the smell of coffee beans entered your nose. Mom must be up, you thought to yourself. You smiled and made your way down the stairs, grabbing onto the bottom of the banister and swinging yourself around it, an old habit of yours from all the way back in elementary school. You were still a kid at heart, even at the age of 23.

“Good morning Pearl!” your mother called from the kitchen. Pearl was the nickname your parents have called you since you could walk. Natural pearls are extremely rare, almost never occurring in nature. You were also a rare breed, a true natural born, hard to find like a pearl, hence the nickname.

“Morning mama,” you said, walking up to her and giving her a side hug, “watcha makin’?” You asked with a teasing lilt to your voice. Your mom was a tad shorter than you and you liked to take advantage of that, leaning your elbow on her shoulder as you watched her stir the pan in front of her.

“Steamed eggs and rice, now go get your father, would you? We have to start on these arrangements soon, Mrs. Lee needs 25 of them by tomorrow afternoon.”

You gave your mom a nod and made your way back up the stairs, hopping over Mochi who was now taking up residence on the second step. “You’re gonna get stepped on your curious cat,” you said under your breath. Mochi just watched on as you took two stairs at a time.

Before you could reach the top of the stairs, you nearly stumbled straight into your father who had just come around the corner. “Who-whoa,” he laughed out as you grabbed onto the railing to stop yourself from smacking into him.

“Mom needs you!” You yelped out, passing your dad on the stairs and running into your room to grab your phone from your nightstand. You could hear your dad chuckling as he walked down the stairs. As you picked up your phone, you noticed you had a new message in your group chat you had with your two best friends, well, your only friends, you supposed.

From Mina [11:13 pm]: pearl!!!

From Mina [11:13 pm]: pearl are u awake?

From Woo [11:15 pm]: why are you awake min?

From Mina [11:17 pm]: cant sleep, pearl, u up!?

From Woo [11:23 pm]: I’m gonna guess not

From Mina [11:25 pm]: ugh dfghjk

You giggled at your screen for a moment before typing back a response.

You [6:37 am]: sorry guys, i went to bed early last night what’s up min?

You pocketed your phone, definitely not expecting a response at this ungodly hour, and headed back downstairs. On your short walk, you thought to your two friends, Mina and Wooyoung, who you befriended in middle school. Well, actually Mina befriended you and Wooyoung in seventh grade because you were both outcasts that didn’t talk to anyone. Ever the martyr, she brought your little group together and you’ve been thick as thieves ever since. You don’t see them as much as you’d like nowadays, as they both attended the small community college in your town. You never really liked school, never excelled at anything, and were always a homebody. College just didn’t sound fun to you, especially if people there were anything like at your highschool. Highschool hadn’t been kind to you. You were labeled ‘half-breed’ and ‘mutant’ by a group of girls who wanted nothing more than to see you suffer because of your looks. Boys would flirt with you, leave you love notes, and even try to harass you in the halls, but never because they actually took an interest in you. The one time you went to a party with Mina, you had been cornered in some guy's barn by one of the popular boys who was trying to get in your pants. This just made the popular girls even more angry with you and would jump through hoops to make your life hell while at school. All of those experiences taught you one thing: most people can’t be trusted. Some might say you have trust issues (Mina) while others will try to get you to come out of your shell a bit more (Woo and your mom), but in the end, you’re comfortable with your two best friends and your parents. You never asked for more because you simply didn’t need it.

Most, if not all, families these days only had one child, so you nor your friends ever knew what it was like to have siblings. Even your parents were only children, so no aunts, uncles, or cousins to call an extended family. This was normal, though, because a law was put in place in 2505 banning families from having more than one child to help with population control. If a family broke this law, they were fined excessive amounts of money. The law was easy to enforce with parents of lab born children, since their child had to be entered into a national database, meaning no company would work with them again to avoid hefty fines, or possibly being put out of business. It was a little harder to enforce with natural born families. The law was definitely one sided, aimed to force more and more natural borns into poverty.

You were snapped out of your daydream as you entered your kitchen, taking in the sight of your dad sitting at the dining table reading something on his tablet and your mom making a grocery list. You smiled softly, rounding the table and taking your usual seat next to your mother. “Thanks for breakfast, mom,” you said kindly, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Of course, Pearl. Now eat up, we need to get going soon if-” your mother was cut off by the sudden shriek of the doorbell, which caused you to jump what had to be 5 feet in the air. Who was ringing your doorbell at - you took your phone out - 6:44 in the morning?

Your father had the same perplexed look that you must’ve worn, getting up out of his chair and heading towards the front room of the house. You shared a puzzled look with your mom who just shrugged her shoulders and went back to her list, blowing on a piece of hot egg in her spoon.

As you started to fiddle with your own spoon, you tried to strain to hear the conversation happening in the other room. You could hear hushed murmurs that sounded rushed, almost angry. You squint your eyes in confusion. It sounded like your dad was mad. He never gets mad. Who could be at the front door? Slowly, you rise from your seat to go investigate, your mother paying you no mind.

As you round the corner of the kitchen, your father comes into view holding the front door at a 90 degree angle from the wall, effectively blocking your vision of the man on the other side. Your dad’s profile told you what you needed to know, though. He was visibly angry, apples of his cheeks reddening. He was still speaking in a hushed tone, though you could tell it was tense.

Slowly, you walked over to your father, peeking around the front door. If your dad noticed your presence, he didn’t mention it. Standing on your front porch was a man, shorter than your father, with dark hair and round glasses perched on his nose. He was obviously a natural born, as he didn’t have any of the perfect or striking features you were used to seeing on business men such as himself. He didn’t look intimidating in the least, but you could almost see the steam rolling out of your dad’s ears. As soon as the man caught sight of you, a bright grin took over his face.

“Ah, you must be YN,” he starts, taking a step forward and reaching out his hand, “it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You were confused by his words, taking a step back to match his. You didn’t know this man and you definitely didn’t want to shake his hand. Did he say finally meet you? What is that supposed to mean?

“You need to leave,” your father started, causing the shorter man’s attention to fall back on him, “now.” Your dad left no room for discussion, effectively ending the conversation.

The mysterious man nodded once, looking back at you. “We’ll be in touch,” were his final words before turning on his heel and walking back towards a sleek, black car at the end of your drive. Before you could take in any more details of the car, your father was closing the front door. He breathed out a heavy sigh and placed a hand on your bicep, gently leading you back to the kitchen.

Your mom looked up from her, now nearly finished, breakfast. “Who was it, sweetie?”

Your dad sat back in his chair, leaving you standing, confused, in the middle of your kitchen. “Yeah, dad. Who was that?” You asked, genuinely concerned about the stranger.

Your dad let out another sigh before turning to look up at you, “Just another company. You know how they are, Pearl. Persistent, but they’ll back off eventually once they realize we aren’t interested.”

You slowly nodded in understanding. These designer baby companies have been coming to ‘scout’ you since you were in elementary school. They would come to your home, or even your school, and try to talk to you about selling your DNA and how it would be beneficial to your family, maybe even bring them out of poverty, make them rich. When you were a child, the offer was enticing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious even now. But you knew where you stood on the subject. You didn’t want to sell your DNA. You didn’t want anything to do with these big companies that were making natural borns poor while getting rich in the process. But you remembered something, “Dad, what did he mean by finally meeting me?”

Your dad has his back turned to you again, starting to eat his breakfast. You could see him visibly stiffen at your question before quickly relaxing again. Your mother seemed to notice this too, sending a worried glance at him, to which you couldn’t see his response. Without turning to look at you, he mumbled, “That was Hyunwoo, a former classmate of mine.”

So you were right in your assumption about Hyunwoo being a natural born. You know your dad hadn’t gone to college, and his family lived in this very house while he was growing up. That means Hyunwoo must be from the same town as you. Most people living here were living in poverty, so why did he look like a million bucks? No one from this town could afford a car like that either. Before you could get too lost in your thoughts, your father was speaking again, “He works for a pretty well known company in Seoul. He’s been interested in you since you were a little kid.” The thought alone was enough to make you feel nauseous. You didn’t even know this man, yet he’s known about you practically all your life. Apparently he’s been seeking you out for a while too, if your assumptions are correct.

“Why was he here?” You voiced your thoughts aloud.

Your father set his spoon down on his dish before turning his entire body in his chair to face you. “It’s nothing Pearl,” he started, firm but gentle, “You know these companies never leave us alone. His is no different. They’ll get the message sooner or later.” There was a finality in his tone, making it known there was no room for discussion on the matter. With a nod of his head he stood up from his seat, gathering his dishes, and deposited them into the sink. “I’ll be out in the orchards if you need me.”

You nodded before sitting down at the table and picking at your food.

“Don’t worry, dear,” your mother said as she, too, stood up with her dishes, “this type of thing happens all the time.”

Even though you trusted your parents, and they were right - it did happen fairly often, something about Hyunwoo seemed different. The way he looked at you and spoke the words ‘finally meet you’, made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Even your mom and dad seemed nervous when his name was spoken at the kitchen table. But you trusted your parents. Right?

In the early afternoon, you had just finished your chores of feeding the chickens and cats, and you were wandering around the orchard. Your dad had retired to the shed on the far north corner of the property. He liked to spend a lot of time in there, tinkering with old appliances. You and your mother had finished the arrangements for Mrs. Lee earlier and now she was at the market fulfilling the list she made earlier.

You didn’t really have anything that needed to get done right away. You know you should probably go check on the flowers in your mom’s garden, make sure they don’t need to be watered again, but it’s been a while since you’ve walked through the orchard without the responsibility of the trees looming over you. Your father cleaned up the trees earlier, made sure drip lines were intact and checked over the farm, so you decided to indulge in your favorite pass time.

You walked away from the chicken coop towards the edge of the orchard. It was truly one of your favorite places in the whole world - not that you’ve seen much of it, but still - and you could spend hours getting lost among the beautifully colored canopy of peach blossoms.

When you reached the edge of the orchard, you leaned your hand against the cool oak colored bark of one of the trees, and toed off your shoes, leaving them in the dirt. The trees were just starting to blossom with pretty pink and white flowers among the green and almost yellowish leaves. Only about another month before harvest, you thought idly to yourself.

As you walked through the trees, you relished in the feeling of the cool dirt beneath your feet, squishing between your toes with each step. The air outside was hot and humid, but the earth was cool under the shade of the trees. With each trunk you passed, you let your hand ghost over the rough bark, memorizing the feeling of it. You looked up at the leaves, slowly moving in the slight breeze today. Your family's farm was small, only about 10 acres, so the trees weren’t so dense you couldn’t see the sky above or would be completely hidden from view while walking through them. If your dad were to come out of his shed, you probably would’ve been able to see him from here, though it was a good distance away.

As you got closer to the center of the trees you found a nice trunk to sit down against and pulled your phone from your pocket, checking your group chat with your friends.

From Mina [2:05 pm]: pearl pearl pearl

From Mina [2:06 pm]: where are u

You rolled your eyes at your best friend's antics before typing out your reply.

From you [2:36 pm]: walking through the trees, what’s up?

Almost immediately you were looking at a response.

From Mina [2:37 pm]: there was some guy here on campus today

From Mina [2:38 pm]: a girl from my econ class said he was looking for you

From Mina [2:39 pm]: said he looked like he didn’t belong here, i’m assuming it’s some company but i wanted to let u know

Your heart dropped into your stomach at this new knowledge. It wasn’t incredibly strange for someone to be looking for you at the college. Most residents of the town attended the college at some point or another, what with it being free to attend because of a bill passed decades ago by natural born activists fighting for education for those living in poverty. But something about this felt wrong.

Before you could respond to Mina to ease the worries you were sure she felt, you heard what sounded like a twig snapping somewhere behind you. Already on edge from the text messages, you quickly stood up, turning almost completely around in your spot. Your eyes focused on the spot where you thought you heard the noise come from, only to be met with nothing. Despite knowing you heard something, part of you wondered if it was all in your head, the events of the day messing with you.

In the distance, you could see that your family’s truck was still missing from the drive, meaning your mom was still out shopping. Quickly, you glanced at your father’s shed - the doors were still shut tightly. Momentarily you wondered if he would be able to hear you if you screamed. Shaking the thought from your mind, you turned back around to face the tree. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement from behind a trunk a few yards in front of where you stood.

“Who’s there?!” you half yelled, fear starting to creep up your spine. You definitely weren’t one to fight, much more comfortable running from your problems and confrontation. You wished Mina was here, she would be brave enough to move forward, to protect herself from danger. You slowly started walking backwards, not taking your eyes off the trunk where you believed someone to be hiding. You wanted to turn and run, but didn’t want to risk whoever it was behind that tree attacking you from the back. As you continued to take cautious steps, your back collided with something firm, yet not hard enough to be a tree trunk. This was softer, warmer. Human.

To be continued....

AUTHOR NOTE: Sooooo, who do you think YN ran into?! Who do you think will make an appearance next chapter? ;)

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highpope · 4 years

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Silver Keys - Ch. One

JJ Maybank x oc / Soulmate AU / Topper x oc

warnings: none, if there are any let me know!

Word Count: 2k ish

Notes: Hi guys, sorry this is so long overdue. I was fighting with this one. But i really wanted to update this story. It’s not my fave but that’s okay. ** As always, reblogs and feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Masterlist - READ PROLOGUE FIRST :))

June sat at the piano she got for her 16th birthday. She had been saving up for years and finally had enough money for a keyboard. It wasn’t the same as the beautiful grand piano at her instructors, but it did the job. June nervously watched the clock tick down to midnight and tried to focus on the song she was trying to learn. If she came into lessons next week without having learned at least half of it she wouldn’t be on track to play at the recital in a few weeks. It was a big deal to her parents, and June too. The recital was on the mainland with tons of different kids from the surrounding areas. June had never gotten an opportunity to play and she wasn’t about to let worrying about her potential soulmate stop her.

She took a deep breath and began to play. As the minutes turned to seconds, June was gracefully gliding her fingers up and down the keyboard, trying to make sense of the melodies, allowing the notes to soak into the room.

On the morning of her birthday, June walked down the stairs into the kitchen to see a note and a box of donuts. It was Saturday, meaning both her parents were working and Olivia, her sister, was going to be sleeping the day away. June grabbed a powder sugar donut from the box and read the note:

Happy Birthday, Love! We can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight.

Have fun today, Mom and Dad

She smiles and folds the note up. June was just about to grab another donut when the doorbell rang. She looked at the time, 9:30. There’s no way any family member would be stopping by and Olivia’s friends wouldn’t show up unannounced. June opens the door to reveal JJ dressed in shorts and a light long sleeve t-shirt.

“Happy birthday Ju Ju!” JJ exclaims.

June rolled her eyes, “God, please don’t call me that.” She opened the door wide to let him in. The nickname originated from June’s younger sister. They were five years apart and she couldn’t properly say June’s name for quite a while. So from ages 5 to 8, she was Ju Ju.

“Nah, I think 18 is the year we bring it back,” JJ said, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

“Absolutely not,” June says, tapping his cheek lightly, “Thanks though.” He smiles as she jumps up onto one of the stools in the kitchen, “what’s up?”

“You, miss birthday girl, have very important places to be. Go get dressed.”

“Where exactly do I have to be?”

“Well, first, Kie’s and then,” JJ motions like he is zipping his lips and throwing the key away. June narrows her eyes causing him to throw up his hands in defense.

“Okay, fine, but don’t eat my donuts!” June runs up the stairs and begins to get ready. She decides on a blue tube top, shorts, and a white cropped jacket. She runs a brush through her hair and packs her swimsuit and a few other things in a drawstring before going down the hallway to leave a note for her sister. She tells her where she’s going to be and to call when she gets up.

JJ and her drive to Kiara’a in his truck, the windows down and the radio stuck on the same channel it’s been on since he got it. They’ve learned to tolerate it. JJ was so proud of the truck when he first showed the pogues. He had gotten a busted down pickup from some guy on the island and fixed it up pretty much by himself. The rest of them promised to never make fun of it.

“Happy Birthday!” The pogues yell when June opens the door. She can’t contain her laughter. Everyone is wearing pink sparkly party hats. Kie instantly comes over to her, throwing her arms around her neck, “baby is eighteen!” June squeezes back and accepts a hat identical to the rest and hands one to JJ who shuts the door behind them.

“Looking good, boys.” June laughs at Pope and John B posing in their hats.

“It’s the required attire didn’t you hear?” John B asks, kissing the top of June's head and Pope slinging an arm around her shoulders. They lead her through the kitchen and the sliding door to the outdoor patio. The lounge chairs are set up along with string lights and a birthday banner. It was perfect. The whole thing, being with her favorite people, the perfect weather.

“You guys didn’t have to do all of this.”

“But you deserve it. You’re always the first to do anything for the rest of us,” Pope says.

“He’s right, Juney,” Kie says, smiling.

“You’re a bunch of saps,” JJ says plopping into a chair.

After spending the morning and early afternoon hanging out in Kie’s backyard, the five piled into the van and headed down to the beach. The boys were in the water before June could even set her stuff down. It was arguably not warm enough to swim, but that didn’t stop them. Kie and June decided to layout, occasionally sneaking a few drinks from the water bottle filled with alcohol.

“So how are you feeling about the whole soulmate thing?” Kie asks, bumping her shoulder against June’s.

To be honest, June had forgotten all about it. She could barely sleep last night she was so nervous, but now that it could happen whenever, she felt much better.

“Honestly okay.” She admitted.

“Do you think you already know who it is?”

“I mean that happens more often than not, right? Just look at our parents.” Kie’s parents had known each other in high school, having grown up on the island, but didn’t know they were soulmates until later down the line. That happens all the time. Whether or not it’s just coincidence or really is fate, June hadn’t decided yet.

“I guess you’re right.” She paused before speaking again, “I don’t think I want to already know them. I don’t want to marry someone we went to high school with and be stuck here only for our kids to end up the same way.” Seeing Kiara open up like this made June wonder about her own future.

“Don’t worry Kie, you’re gonna go somewhere cool like Australia and stop the wildfires and clean the oceans and fall in love with some really hot girl and leave us all behind forever.”

She moved her sunglasses off her face to hold back her hair, “I could never leave you, but you really think so?”

“Of course. You’re going places. John B, JJ, and I are gonna be stuck here smelling like fish bait until we’re 80.” June gags.

Kiara laughs, making a disgusted face, “what about Pope?”

“Nah, he’s too good for this place.” They both laugh so hard they don’t even notice the boys had made their way back to where they were laying.

“What’s so funny?” John B asks, shaking out his hair.

“Nothing,” Kie says with a smile on her lips. The boys share a knowing look before dropping it altogether. That’s when June’s phone chimes with a message from her sister.

Mom said to make sure you were home soon for tonight. We’re almost all set up here.

I guess Aunt Morrane is coming:/

“No,” June groans at the last of Olivia’s message.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks, sitting down next to her.

“My Aunt is coming to dinner tonight.”

“The horror!” John B mocks.

“Stop! I’m serious. She’s a nutcase.” June replies, throwing a towel at his face. He catches it in one swift motion.

“Ju it’s gonna be fine.” JJ said reassuringly, “I’ll drop you back off.”

The pogues only stayed a little while longer before packing up their stuff into the van and parting ways once back at Kiara’s.

“I won’t have any fun without you,” Kie begged before June got into the truck.

“You’re gonna be fine.” The rest of the group was going to the first official kegger of the summer. June always missed it. She was sure she would hear all about it tomorrow when she would stop by the chateau with a bunch of water and ibuprofen in the morning to make sure they were all breathing.

“Hey, thanks, J,” June says when JJ had pulled up in front of her house.

“No problem,” he starts. June reaches for the door handle, “actually, I got you something.”

Surprised, June says “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

He waves her off and reaches into the glove compartment, pulling out a bracelet, “uh. It’s not wrapped or anything.”

June examines the bracelet, it was a brown braided string with a single pearl threaded in the middle.

“I love it.”

“Really?” JJ asks, scrunching up his nose, “because it’s okay if you don’t I just thought-”

“No, no I do. Thank you,” June says and reaches up to kiss his cheek. Just then there is a loud pounding coming from the passenger side window, causing June to startle and drop the bracelet. Both June and JJ lean in to grab it off the floor of the car and smack heads. “Shit, sorry”

“Ow!”

JJ finally grabs the bracelet and hands it back to her before they are both faced with Aunt Morrane opening the door and practically dragging her out of the truck.

“You know,” her aunt starts, “darling, everyone is waiting inside.”

“I’ll just be one second, I promise.” She says flashing a smile to her aunt and pleading eyes to JJ. He tries to hide his laughter.

Aunt Morrane locks arms with June and begins walking up to their sidewalk, quite literally dragging her by her feet, and begins talking about this show she was watching.

“Happy Birthday, Ju Ju!” JJ yells from the truck. June tries to flip him off as discreetly as possible with her aunt still gripping on to her.

At the door, her mother engulfs her into a hug, “Happy 18th, love.”

“Thank you, mama.”

“Was that JJ? You know he could've come in. We have enough food.”

“It’s okay, Mama, he had plans.” That satisfied her enough as she went to close the door and straight back into the kitchen. June took off her shoes and that’s when she heard it. It only lasted a minute and she couldn’t recite it if she was asked, but it was there. Faint, but clear. Just how Pope had described it. Just how everyone had described it. Her soulmate.

taglist: @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc (hi im sorry I forgot to tag yall)

** if you want to be added to the taglist let me know!!

#highpope #highpopefics #silverkeys #silverkeys masterlist #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx #obx fic #outer banks #outer banks fluff #soulmate #soulmate au #outerbanks #fluff #slowburn

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ranty-ramblestein · 3 years

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(captions~) Mar 30th (Night): No Night NPCs, but Tucker got another holiday-appropriate greeting, where he’s thinking about eggs and slips up when saying good morning to Croissant, haha!

Mar 31st: The final day of March, before my Actual Birthday tomorrow! Hmm, maybe I should change the outfit to Birthday tomorrow...

+ the Bunny Day topiaries came in, perfect for the Seasonal “Tree” spot. So I get the trees last... Oh, and Elvis talked about an Egg Fight version of Bunny Day, which sounded like a AC (GC) thing, but one google search showed that Zipper started up the holiday in City Folk, not since the beginning...

Later in the day I started downloading some codes that I had images of, but still haven’t downloaded, because I found this gorgeous jeweled path design, omg!

The first one that’s been waiting: Apricot’s uniform from Apricot Cookies!

And here’s the third saved code! (because the second one turned out to be a dud, rip.) They had a bunch of pompurin designs, so maybe they’re gonna do collections for all six Sanrio characters in AC:NH??

I knew from the beginning I wanted that sailor shirt, because the stars at the end of the collar's tails gives me Cardcaptor Sakura vibes, and as that was the first Magical Girl Anime I ever interacted with (only ever saw one episode back then, though), it has heavy nostalgia associated with it! But it’s so hard to try and push myself through watching the original anime...

Last time I tried, I fizzled out of motivation around The Light episode where she... was that an older relative or an elder neighbor that lived close to their vacation place? It’s been years since then... And yet I manage to watch and finish Angelic Layer on the third try (It’s fun complaining about the mechanics, though! TCGs don’t allow old cards in tournaments, so why would this game allow dolls from the Beta Era of the game to participate!?!?)

Oh, and this was made by the same creator. I love varsity jackets, especially if they’re hoodies!

These two robes are from the creator of that robe collection I reblogged two days ago. I liked these two more, haha!

#Animal Crossing #Animal Crossing: New Horizons #Island Man Croissant #Solaceon Island #Card Captor Sakura #childhood #anime #childhood fandom #childhood memories #Angelic Layer #acnh qr #long post

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years

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Hi! I know I have other unfinished fic, but I’ve actually been writing a bit, and you can blame @the-well-rested-one! I have five chapters queued up and outline for several more, that’s a good sign! Please comment if you read, or reblog! Thank you to @nikibi6 and @emulateharry for the looksie!

The One Where Harry Styles Sneezed On Me

Day One

There's only three people out on the pavement ahead of her, and a part of Elise is tempted to tip toe because she watches too many movies.

The streets of London are quieter than Elise has seen them since she moved here. She'd basically never left her university classes and not been shoulder to shoulder with wall to wall people. Her classes were over at rush hour and there were a lot of people in London at any time of day. Had you asked her before the move, she would have said she liked big crowds. But now, the tube sometimes gave her anxiety, a brand new thing, because it was so packed.

Today, well London was like a ghost town, like the film where she'd fallen in love with the city and decided she would study abroad there. It was an odd one, but that sounded like her.

28 Days Later was a weird inspiration, but maybe because London was empty in the movie, she was able to see things about it better. It was also why she felt like she should be extra quiet on the nearly deserted streets, this was the closest approximation to her favorite movie scenes she'd probably ever see in one of the biggest cities in the world. Elise had never been to a big city, not really, the largest was maybe Phoenix. But it didn't really feel that much bigger than Tucson, where she grew up, or maybe it had just grown before her eyes so she hadn't noticed.

London was a proper big city as her roommate told her, and Elise hadn't made it for a semester abroad. She'd wound up here for her post graduate work, she couldn't afford it during undergrad. The living expenses, turns out, were too expensive, but she'd found a way later, because there was a will, a dream.

Her will for today had been to find her way after class to the next public green space on her list. She'd done Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, and Regent's Park. She went after class when she could, if there was sunlight to catch. Today was so pretty, she had decided to go even if it meant catching the tube by herself at night. And then she had stepped out into a London eerily like the one from the movie that had first infatuated her. There were people on the street though, and they didn't look like the walking dead, just the walking afraid. Those who had braved the streets wore masks. One lady had gardening gloves on. Elise wasn't sure if she was underreacting or everybody else was over the top. She hadn't really thought about it, mostly because she was under 80, and well, honestly, maybe she did feel a little bit of the invincibility youth brings.

Apparently lots of Londoners didn't feel the same way. Including those who ran her Uni. She arrived with her notebooks and excited for her day plans, resolute, to find a sign on an easel in the entryway.

"Classes Cancelled today. Online classes will resume tomorrow. All formats will be conducted via Portal for three weeks, or until further notice."

Well, shit. Had they thought to send an email? It may have saved her the trip.

Elise looked at the 100,000 emails in her gmail and discovered they had indeed emailed her. This was why she avoided online courses, she was much better, learned better, in person. Also, she was abysmal at keeping up with things via email. The next few weeks would be a trial.

She'd have to figure it out, and she knew herself; A schedule was necessary, she'd write one down, on paper, to order her life while she had to finish these courses online. But that seemed to be her only coursework for this day.

That was a bright side. She took it as a silver lining, she could head to the old London Heath right away. She considered walking, plotted out her path and realized that it was a long, long way, so long it would steal all of her energy to explore.

The tube was really ghostly, like the ghost town they visited once, Calico or something?

Regardless, she was surprised she wasn't more excited. It was just like 28 Days Later. Well not really, no bloodthirsty, spattered lurchers, but it felt eerie. Like it had the first time she watched it, before she got totally immune to the plot and could only see the sights. She was thankful when a few people got on her carriage, though they sat as far from each other as the spacing allowed. She quickly looked up more information on her phone and estimated how far away the people should be, they were all separated by much more than that.

By the time she got to her destination, she'd normally be just getting out of her first class, and Elise's stomach reminded her that this was meal time. She really was married to a schedule, or at least her biology was. She thought a picnic would be lovely, so she looked up a market and found a Whole Foods nearby. She would splash out for her lunch it looked like, could be worse, could be Waitrose, and must be cheaper than a cafe, surely.

London was pricey. Which she'd known intellectually and was now experiencing literally everyday. As such, Elsie was kinda thinking she needed a job. Was she allowed to work? Maybe on campus. She'd have to ask the question to somebody who knew; she was running through her reserves.

Elise kinda sighed at herself as she walked into Whole Foods. Maybe this was not the best idea. But it was bright and cheery inside and smelled like green juice and roasted vegetables. Her stomach growled and she decided the worst that could happen was she would wind up eating cup o' noodles and have to pack a lunch a lot towards the end of semester before her next stipend.

Elsie shrugged and sang along a little to the song playing overhead. She felt like she rarely heard One Direction here, she heard it played out more in public in the US, and wondered if that was due to public exhaustion. She understood that it had been next level crazy here. Maybe it was just time? They'd been her favorite when she was in early high school. She had decided she was gonna marry Liam in eighth grade. That opinion changed as they all aged. She got too cool for them, and well, some of them grew up nicely. "Just how fast the night changes." She tried to harmonize along. The song also meant she wasn't hurrying she was, however, wandering.

Fruit, she should grab some fruits, that was always a good place to start.

How she wound up by the hot bar she didn't know, but she grabbed a bit of roast chicken and realized the layout was backwards to the one she was used to in Tucson. The metal spoon clanked as she got some potatoes that looked deliciously crunchy and had little burned ridges like she loved. She should have some vegetables. Carrots didn't count, real green things were needed. Asparagus counted. She was looking at the cut fruit, but then thought about her budget concerns and headed over to the produce section.

It was a little emptier than what she assumed was normal, a few ladies and a tall, lanky man in a hoodie and hat were the only people about. He was broad from the back, but had a furtive set to his shoulder that made him smaller. He was also standing exactly where she wanted to be. In front of the bananas, her favorite of the economical fruits. The best bunches clustered where he didn't seem to be doing anything but loitering.

Elise's belly growled, the aroma of her roasted chicken wafted up. She'd give it another minute and if he hadn't moved, she'd try to politely shoulder her way around him, 6 feet or not.

She gave it two minutes. By the end her converse was audible tapping. He still hadn't moved at all. So help her, if he was on his phone! It was time for action. She came up to about his shoulder, and he did not seem to notice there was 5 feet of impatience at his elbow, at least he certainly didn't move. When Elise realized he was on his phone, her patience snapped. That had to break some kind of grocery store etiquette. Was there grocery store etiquette? Certainly, it would extend to standing so people couldn't access foods when you were fucking around on your phone.

She reached past him, "sorry, excuse my reach." she hoped he could hear just how not sorry she was. Elise was good at passive-aggression.

She heard his breathing change and was ready to tell him he had just been blocking the bananas for three minutes, and she knew she wasnt being socially distant, but he was being rude, when he turned towards her. He was being rude, especially by English standards and she would tell him so, even if she wasn't sure if he was exactly impolite, accusing an Englishman of that was very effective.

She realized two things when he looked at her.

One- he was not some stranger- he was HARRY. FUCKING.STYLES!

And two- as his spit splattered all over her face, he wasn't about to call her rude, his gasp had been the beginning of a sneeze.

😷😷😷😷😷

The last hour had been an absolute blur. She had just sat down to eat. And though her 16 year old self would consider this an upgrade, her 23 year old self was really sad the heath was not the site of her lunch, even if it had been switched out for her teenage dream.

Because Harry Styles had started his litany of apologies with a "fuck!" Then a spilling ramble. "I'm so sorry, dammit, I knew I should have just sent somebody. Dammit, Jesus fuck, now you will have to be quarantined too." His hands were fumbling with the wet wipes and she could smell the disinfectant on them. She stopped him short before he was wiping that shit on her face and was redirecting his hand while he was still talking about how they could just both be holed up in his house. It distracted from the fact he was rubbing spittle off her shirt very close to her nipple.

"I mean, it's not huge. Damn, I kinda wish the new house was done. Then we wouldn't even have to see each other. Not that, I um, wouldn't want to see you, or like whatever, but um. We don't know each other and we'll be, like, living together for several weeks. I guess you could quarantine at your place. But I just feel better, cause it's my fault. Seems rude to possibly infect somebody due to negligence, and not like, help them through it. I just had to have my celery juice." That part was said under his breath, and he wasn't holding any juice.

She remembered the closed juice bar. The sign had read: Our fresh bars-juice, smoothie, and coffee are close due to Covid- 19 contagion worries. We apologize for any inconvenience.

Then it clicked, while she wiped his sputum from her face. That is what he was talking about. What the?

"Are you just wandering around whole foods infecting people? You have the virus?"

She realized she'd been talking really loud and attracting attention. Harry certainly realized.

He looked agitated and around to see if they had an audience, and she realized his face was a bit of a liability. That would be some headline for sure. "Harry Styles spreading coronavirus!" or some shit like that. He used to get press for existing, the memory made her soft for him.

"Let's get you checked out. And we can go back to my place and talk?" He made eye contact and she got confused for a second longer.

"What?" Elise found herself saying. She would normally never ever go home with some dude in a store. But, this dude was Harry Styles, and that made her feel simultaneously safer and also like this was a chance she had to take. She also wanted to yell at him a little.

He sighed, like she was a hard to open packet of chips. "Can you check out and meet me outside?" He looked around again and bit his lip because the women nearby were watching them. He handed her his basket and helped her transfer her things to it, "Can you grab my things too?" He didn't sound like she remembered him. But she supposed she'd not done more than listen to his albums once through after she'd grown out of her One Direction phase.

He sounded better. He was still growing up well.

"Huh?" She was not following him. He gave her that exasperated face and thinned his lips before he quickly got a hundred pound note out. "Check out and I'll meet you in my car. I'm near the front, all right?"

She barely remembered checking out. The girl had to prompt her twice, and she'd shoved the sanitizer at her when they'd both had to touch the change. She even considered keeping. Can you grab my things too, the audacity! But she handed it to him promptly and he put it away and sanitized his hands and gave her a squirt too. Chivalry in the time of Corona.

The drive had been quiet. Though she was sure there were things to do, to say, certainly. So the radio played and Harry sang along. It was a surreal moment, right out of her teenage dreams. Listening to Harry Styles sing in his expensive car. The missing piece that made it reality instead of fantasy was that she was not singing along, instead she was confused and hungry.

"Here, I'll warm up your lunch." Was the first thing he said to her as he ushered her into the square house she recognized from something on the internet years ago. It was a little cold inside and Elise fitted her sweater around her shoulders and sat at the wood grain kitchen table. Her food came to her steaming. Then a warm mug she immediately wrapped her hands around.

"You cold?" He asked while moving to a fancy looking blue screened rectangle on the wall. "I'm always cold, so I just wait until someone seems too cold to change anything."

She nodded.

"Right, so you know me?" He asked like it was taking out the garbage.

"Um," Elise took a drink. "Yeah, I was a huge One Direction fan in high school."

He smiled at that. "Ok, is that why you've gone silent? Freaking out?"

"Yeah, and also, I'm not really following. Honestly."

"Why don't you tell me a little about about what you think is going on. Then I'll fill in my side."

She took a breath. "Can I eat my lunch first?" She needed a minute, and she was beyond hungry, and annoyed. Definitely annoyed. And maybe just a touch of freaking out. Harry was her favorite for a lot longer than Liam, if she was honest.

"Oh! Yes, of course." He shook his head, "how rude of me."

That was why he felt rude? Not the bananas or irresponsible shopping trip. Elise widened her eyes at her carton before she dug in and didn't look up until the blender went.

A green smoothie, vibrant and lush, was placed at her elbow. It matched his eyes. "Here, to your health."

"Thank you." She took a sip and smiled. Her blood sugar was rising and she was already feeling considerably better, though her odd situation and figuring it out came to the forefront. "So, um, to my health hmmm?" She cheered the air.

Harry exhaled and nodded.

"To yours as well?"

"I suppose you could say that." He pulled his lip between his forefingers and she remembered that from interviews.

"You're not supposed to touch your face." She ah, ah, ahhed with a grin.

He laughed and it broke some of their tension. "I'm not. Neither are you."

Elise realized she had her chin in her hand. She slapped it lightly on the table and sat up. "Fair enough, so what am I doing here, Mr. Styles?"

He groaned lowly and she wondered what that was about. She didn't let it sidetrack her though, she'd wait out his response.

He took a big gulp of health and Elise watched the chunky residue slide down the glass.

"You've heard of Coronavirus, yes?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

He chuckled, she hoped at himself, what the fuck kind of question was that?

"Right, pretty unavoidable, yeah?" He didn't need her to agree, he kept talking. "I travel a lot."

"Duh!" she interrupted.

At that he really did laugh. "So, I travel a lot, duh, and I flew on a flight where somebody tested positive. There aren't many tests yet, they're rationing them."

"Even for you?" She was surprised.

"Even for me," he sighed. "I'm just a person. Anyway, the person in question asked for a pic for his daughter—."

"Likely story."

"Perhaps, and so, we were in close proximity and we shook hands," she nodded along with the line of his narrative. "They won't test me unless I show symptoms. But quarantine was recommended."

He finished, he'd left out a part though.

"Is Whole Foods part of the quarantine radius?"

He blushed a little, and all of the reasons she'd had some of her earliest fantasies about him surfaced. "No, not as such. But I was low on bananas."

"Nobody you could pay a euro for your bunch of bananas?" She hoped for a laugh.

He squinted. "Course, but I don't like to be a bother."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "So, in your effort to not inconvenience anyone for a couple hours, you've exposed me by sneezing in my face, rude, and kidnapping me to your house? So, now I have to quarantine too?"

"You aren't a kid. How could I nap you?" This was not a joke, but the humor of it was not escaping either of them.

"Not what that means, though I've no idea why." She shrugged.

"Young lady napped?" He tried.

"Oh god, you are sooo English. Young lady napped." She tried on his drawl.

"That was terrible!" He shook his head like he was offended.

"I thought it was pretty good?" She popped her shoulder and her own little dimple in her left cheek appeared, though it didn't pull the weight his did. He narrowed his eyes before raising up his eyebrows.

"It was alright, I suppose. We have time to perfect it."

"Why's that?" She found herself asking.

"Well, we're pretty much stuck together. How d'ya feel about two weeks at Le Hotel Styles?"

He couldn't be serious, could he?

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou #coronafic #quarantine fic #the one where harry styles sneezed on me #towhssom #crack fic #for fun

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

Hey, babe

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU, og6 Avengers appear

summary: Tony and Steve had been married for years and going steady, having a good thing going on. It wasn't until recent times when Tony found out that Steve had a sort of habit, Tony couldn't decide if it was annoying or heartwarming.

length: 2 169

a/n: I was rereading some of my fics and noticed that Steve calls Tony 'babe' a lot. Like a loooot. Granted, my headcanon since I started writing Stony is that Steve calls Tony 'babe' while Tony calls Steve 'baby', but I think I have overused it, especially when it comes to Steve calling Tony. So, this fic is me poking fun at my own habits, while writing some domestic fluff - hope you like it! as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

Hey, babe

“Hey, guys! Sorry, I am late there was a line at the cash register.”

“Was there a line or did you let all the old ladies before you again?”

There was some laughter, and Natasha skillfully grabbed the bag of spicy takis Steve roughly threw in her direction. Clearly to repay for the teasing comment.

“Maybe I did,” Steve clipped, handing more bags of chips to his team, and carefully sliding a huge bag of cheese puffs under sleeping Thor’s arm, the god sprawled all over his favorite red armchair. Thor mumbled out a thank you, and huddled the bag closer to himself, almost like a pillow. “And then I helped some carry their groceries. What?” Steve defended himself with a laugh, lasting a critical look from his team. “They call me Captain, I couldn’t refuse!”

“We all call you Captain,” Clint pointed out, reaching hands for his pack of potato chips, Steve tossing it to him.

“That’s probably why he is always stuck on snack duty,” Natasha whispered to Clint. It became a sort of habit that each impromptu movie night, Steve was the one delegated to go shopping and supply his team with sweet and salty snacks, while the rest chose movies and ordered pizza or some other movie appropriate meals. It was a good system.

“Here is Bruce’s weird mix of spiced peanuts,” Steve took another bag out from the grocery bag and handed it to Natasha, who took one couch for herself and Bruce, Clint sitting on the floor and leaning over her legs, earlier gathering all pillows and blankets available and making something resembling a nest. “And this is for me and you,” Steve smiled, walking to the other couch, solely occupied by Tony, already waiting and curled in one corner and smiling at Steve. “Here you go, babe,” Steve said, handing Tony a pack of gummy bears and a large bag of cool ranch Doritos.

“Thanks,” Tony smiled, accepting the swift kiss on his forehead and even tipped his head up a bit for better access. It was a sweet thing they usually did, something that was so casual it went by without any comments, just this time, Tony heard some muffled laughter. Steve didn’t pay attention, but Tony swayed to the side, trying to locate the source, but, of course, everyone both Natasha and Clint looked perfectly innocent.

“Just gonna wash my hands and be right back,” Steve said, heading out of the living room, greeting Bruce on his way.

“Did I miss something?” Bruce asked, sitting next to Natasha and noticing that as soon as Steve left, Clint started to smile tauntingly, while Natasha had that sort of fondly irritated look on her face, and Tony sat curled in his corner all confused. Thor just kept sleeping, hugging his chips.

“Told you it will happen,” Clint pointed out cheerfully, opening his bag and stuffing a handful in his mouth, chips crunching nicely in his mouth.

“What will happen?” Tony asked, feeling alarmed when most of the people gathered in the room started to send him some looks. As if knowing something he didn’t, and Tony hated not knowing things. “Whaat?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Bruce smiled kindly, taking his bag of peanuts.

“You really don’t notice it, huh?” Natasha asked, sounding baffled. As for someone who claimed to be a genius, Tony could be somehow slow when it came to the simplest things.

“Notice what?”

Tony didn’t find out, as Steve entered the living room and Clint shushed everyone, as the whole room waited for it to happen again. Tony narrowed his eyes, not appreciating being dissed like that. Before he could complain to Steve about their teammates being a bunch of assholes, it happened again.

“Babe, scooch a little.”

And there it was again. Clint burst out a triumphant ‘HAH’, Natasha and Bruce smiled at each other in a soft way, and Tony scoffed not knowing what was happening.

“What?” Steve asked, sitting in the corner instead of Tony so his husband could lean into him. Just the way they liked.

“Nothing!” Clint repeated.

“It is just sweet how you two behave like a newly married couple even after years of marriage,” Natasha said gently.

“Yeah, sweet,” Clint chuckled, and Tony narrowed his eyes again. If it was sweet, why he felt like being mocked? “Do you even remember his name?”

And the secret was out. Tony blinked, somehow always being aware of it, but just realizing it. Practically from when they started to date, Steve barely called him by his name. It was always some sort of pet name, 'babe’ being the most common one. Tony didn’t mind. Usually, he was the one giving everyone nicknames, most of them having some mean, yet hilarious twist, but in Steve’s case it was all love and tenderness. Tony felt really good about being Steve’s 'babe’, year after year. Not that he would willingly admit to it.

“Sure I do,” Steve beamed, arraigning his hands around Tony’s waist and pulling him in closer. “It’s - ” and his voice dropped, just like Tony’s heart did when he heard the hesitation in his husband’s voice. He whipped his head around in panic, just to see that characteristic way Steve pulled his eyebrows together, faking thought or when he was joking, something Tony learned to recognize after all those years spent together. “ - it’s To-ny, right?” Steve asked slowly as if putting it all together cost him effort.

There was some laughter and the happy atmosphere was back, so the movie could finally start. Only Tony couldn’t focus, grounded in a warm embrace of his husband, his thoughts traveling elsewhere.

Mostly around the shared years with his husband, digging up memories from the past, and analyzing them.

It was time to do some research.

Tomorrow. Tony leaned his head back, Steve put his chin on top of his head, further locking them together, and Tony's eyes slid close. There was a limited number of times a person could watch 'Harry Potter’, but being in his husband's embrace never got old.

***

“Morning, babe.”

First one. Just like every morning, just seconds after Tony had stirred in his sleep, slowly wakening up, before he could even open his eyes, there was a soft voice in his ear and a kiss, sometimes on his forehead, sometimes on his cheek, sometimes on his nose. The nose kisses were extra funny and Tony’s nose always scrunched cutely and maybe it was the reason why soft morning nose kisses were one of Steve’s favorite. Not that Tony complained.

“Morning, yourself,” Tony replied, like on most of the mornings, voice still a bit hoarse from sleep. Lazily, he opened his eyes and looked at Steve’s bright blue ones. Just like the early morning sky. That was a sight that never got old. And then, Steve leaned down and they shared a proper, good morning kiss, before starting their day.

***

“Here is your coffee, babe.”

Second one.

“Thanks!” Tony beamed a smile, waiting for Steve to smooch his cheek, and after getting his kiss, he quickly sucked the hot liquid in.

“Hey, what’s your hurry? Slow down, babe!” Steve laughed, observing his husband and flipping pancakes at the same time in the pan, with a single flick of the wrist. Seemed that years of throwing a vibranium frisbee were finally paying off.

Thanks to the sip of coffee fueling his sleepy mind, Tony noticed that it happened for the third time and it was less than an hour from when they woke up. Tony slowly sipped his coffee, waiting for pancakes and wondering what would be the 'babe count’ at the end of the day.

***

“Baaabe! Did you see my sketchbook?”

“Babe, please pass the salt.”

“Babe! Feet off the table!”

Tony grunted and obediently lowered his feet and put them on the carpet, Steve smooching his head on his way out to a SHIELD meeting. Tony glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was 2 pm and it was thirty-two 'babe’ and still counting.

***

“Goodnight, babe.”

Ah, the last one.

“Babe! Don’t hog the covers!”

Okay, almost the last one. When Steve settled, Tony curled with his head resting on his husband's chest and when he felt the steady breathing and heard first rumbling snores coming out from Steve’s mouth the count was over.

Seventy-two 'babe’.

Zero Tony.

Huh.

***

Of course, Tony didn’t mind being called 'babe’ on a daily basis by Steve. It was nice and made him feel all happy inside and somehow giddy, just like during their first years of dating. Maybe it wasn’t the most creative pet name and Steve did overuse it, but Tony felt good with it. It was like a reminder of how much love Steve had for him and it was a really good feeling.

Sure, their team taunted them both from time to time about it, but Tony didn’t care. He was happy with Steve, and he knew that their team was happy for them too.

Just sometimes it was too much.

“Do you really have to call Tony that during battle?” Clint hissed at Steve, sporting a bloody cut on his cheek, while Natasha was busying over him and cleaning a cut on archer’s forearm. She didn’t say anything, just made a grunt of agreement.

Hulk. Black Widow. Thor. Hawkeye. Babe. Captain America.

All members of Avenger’s team.

Steve laughed the complaint off, which wasn’t a great idea when you have bruised ribs and grimaced in pain, while Clint went on a rant how distractive it was, and Tony listened, feeling something tight in his heart. Sometimes it did happen, that out of habit and in the midst of fighting instead of 'Iron Man’, Steve called him 'babe’.

“Babe, on your left!”

“They are coming towards you, babe!”

“Babe, I need a lift!”

Tony sighed, messaging his hurt shoulder with some arnica cream from the Iron Man to building collision he had earlier, thinking that maybe, he should find a way to lessen the frequency of Steve calling him 'babe’.

***

“Morning, babe!”

Tony grunted, rolling away and taking the covers with himself. His body still hurt from the last battle and it was way too early for that chipper mood.

“Aw, my babe is tired?”

Tony grunted again, sounding more miserable this time, agreeing.

“Okay, I will leave you alone for a bit. Don’t want you to be grumpy for the whole day.”

And a kiss. And Tony grunted again. And then he opened his eyes, hearing Steve leave their marital bed, and thinking that he found a way.

***

“Babe, come eat!”

Grunt.

“Babe, I am leaving your laundry on the bed!”

Grunt.

“I need you to sign this, babe, it is debriefing from yesterday’s fight.”

Tony grunted, leaving his scribble at the dotted line. And then allowing himself to be kissed on the jawline.

He tried to pretend that it wasn’t nice, but it was so nice, it was melting his mind.

***

It happened late evening. Tony was working on his tablet, comfortably sitting on the couch, when he heard Steve walking behind him. Time to repeat everything all over again. Tony even paused his work and puffed out his cheek, awaiting to hear familiar, happy voice and get a kiss, when the footsteps got quieter and Steve just passed by him.

Without a word.

Without even a look.

Oh.

Well, it was fine. It was something Tony had been working on for the whole day and it was finally paying off. No more irritating pet names, kisses distracting him from work. Just this familiar, a bit of cold atmosphere he had plenty of while growing up when his parents barely acknowledged him.

Great.

It was what he wanted, right?

Right.

Then why it felt so incredibly sad?

It wasn’t even a big deal. It was just some comfortable routine, Tony didn’t even notice before it was pointed out in a joke and didn’t think he would miss until he was deprived of it.

Tony didn’t like it. Somehow it became a lot darker and colder around him, some depressing feeling smothering and dark clouds gathering over his head.

“Oh! Hi, babe, didn’t see you there!”

And the sun was out again when sweet words and a quick peck fell on the top of his head. It made his heart raise, his whole body warmed up with a pleasurable tingle and it was good that he was already sitting down because his spine felt like melting -

- and Tony grunted. Like if he didn’t have any control of it. The next second he covered his face with both hands, because dammit, why are you like that, Stark, and Steve walked away with a smile, noticing that Tony’s ear tips became almost glowing red, probably just like his face, just from the pure affection Steve had towards him while Tony tried to show so hard that he didn’t enjoy it.

Luckily, after years of marriage and shared life, Steve knew his husband better.

#stony #superhusbands #tony stark #steve rogers #fluff #domestic fluff #humor #humor and fluff #og6 avengers #kinda team fic #established stony #Thor Odinson #natasha romanov #clint barton #bruce banner #fanfic #fanfiction #no tickling

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bethhxrmon · 4 years

Text

do flowers exist at night? -chapter eight

Chapter Eight: A Turkey Dance

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: After a little while, Thanksgiving has finally decided to show up. It causes Annie to have some realizations about everything around her.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, dysfunctional family stuff

A/N: Howdy, not gonna lie, I’ve run out of motivation over the last month. I’ve got up through chapter sixteen written, but reblogs and comments are the best way to help me get that motivation! Also, school’s starting for me tomorrow so that is definitely going to come before this fic. Anyways, if you’d like to see the other parts of the fic you can go here.

~*~*~*~

Thanksgiving was ordinarily a good enough holiday. There was food and a parade to watch plus a cute dog show afterwards. Annie's parents were never into football, so she never had to put up with watching the sport. However, this year was a little different than other years.

By a little different, that meant it was a huge difference. Initially, she assumed that it would just be her mom and herself sitting in front of the television and watching whatever was on.

Now, Annie wasn't against her mom dating someone else, but introducing the guy at Thanksgiving just felt a little bit weird to her. It could have been worse, though. The guy could have been a complete dick and Annie would have purposely made the day a living hell for everyone.

Fortunately, Scott Clarke was a nice guy. There wasn't any way around it. A part of Annie wanted to just hate him, but it was easy to like the middle school science teacher. How he and her mom met was beyond her, but her mom seemed pretty happy about it.

Steve told her to just give him a call if things got unbearable. His parents would be around, but he swore he would make up an excuse to help her out. What were friends for if not saving what was originally a well-liked holiday?

Everything was pretty nice that morning. Annie was working on baking a pumpkin pie and was making some mashed sweet potatoes. That was about the extent of her cooking ability. The pie was easy, she just had to pour a few cans of mix into the premade crust and make sure it didn't burn. The sweet potatoes were just the anomaly of being able to cook one thing decently enough.

"I've heard a lot about you from your mom," Scott said.

Annie nodded as she poured in the pie filling, "Yeah, I've heard a bit about you from some kids I know."

"Which kids?"

"Um... I think they're your AV kids? Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and I think Max is in there, right?"

"Yes, you'd be correct," he grinned, "They're a bright group. How do you know them?"

"Um..." she paused, realizing she couldn't explain the real circumstances, "I helped babysit them a couple of times."

It was obvious that Scott was trying and Annie had to give him some credit. From how the kids talked about him, he was a smart and nice guy. While she wasn't ordinarily inclined to trust the judgement of a bunch of eighth graders, she trusted those kids.

While this wasn't the Thanksgiving Annie had counted on, it wasn't warranting a call to Steve. However, when the doorbell rang, a few alarms automatically went off in Annie's brain.

She went over to open the door and saw none other than Carter Hardwick. Already, she could feel her stomach twisting in knots. As nice of a guy as Scott was, she doubted that he dad would take well to him. Hypocritical yes, but what was a shitty parent if not just that?

"Anne, aren't you happy to see me?" he asked.

Annie forced a smile, "Uh yeah! Just um- just a bit unexpected."

"Well, I wrote."

Maybe she shouldn't have burned those letters after all.

Begrudgingly, she let her dad into the house. What other choice did she have? If her mom wanted to force him out, she wouldn't stop her. However, Annie was all too aware that she had no way of telling anyone what to do in this situation.

"And who's this?" her dad asked, nodding at Scott.

"Mom's new boyfriend," she said, her brain simply short-circuiting.

How couldn’t that have happened? The way her dad stared at the other man made Annie want to crawl into a hole. Thankfully, her mom came out into the living room. There was no hiding the look of disdain on her face. It was even more obvious when her mom asked him to talk with her for a moment.

He shrugged, "I'm sure whatever you have to say to me can be heard by our daughter and whatever asshole you've got over here."

"I'm speaking to you alone," her mom insisted.

That left the living room with only Scott and Annie. They both decided to just watch the dog show going on in front of them. Erik hopped onto the arm of the couch and Annie busied herself with petting him.

"So what's that little guy's name?" he asked.

"Oh, this is Erik. He's the family cat, but he likes me the most. Probably because I'm the most relaxed one in the house, I guess."

He nodded, "Poor, poor Erik."

"Wait... you've read Phantom?"

"Well, of course. It has some of the most amazing scientific ideas for the time!"

She thought a moment before nodding, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

While Annie wasn't sure what to think of her mom dating someone, she was at least glad this guy was nicer than her dad. The contrast was obvious when her parents both walked out.

"Anne, you'll be happy to know your good-ole dad's gonna be here for the day," her dad said as she dodged him ruffling her hair.

"You're not my dad," she said plainly before her eyes widened a bit.

That wasn't something she counted on coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't about to take it back. Technically, she was right. Neither of her parents were biological. Still, they took care of her like they were. Except, with all the things her dad had said and done in the past, she knew she could hold that lack of biology against him as long as she wanted.

"Go to your room!" he snapped.

Annie let out a laugh, "Are you serious?! You don't even live here! If you actually wanted to be a good dad you would... you- well you would pay the damn child support once in a while! You only have to make thirteen of them!"

"Annette!" her mom said, "I think you could use a moment to cool off."

That was the nicest way her mom could tell her to go to her room. Maybe she hit a nerve or two, but Annie knew she hadn't said anything that wasn't already true. There wasn't any use in arguing, though. Not when she almost wanted out of the situation. She picked up her cat and took him to her room with her.

This was the exact sort of thing she was supposed to call Steve over. So she took the phone in her room and dialed his number. As it turned out, Steve did have a phone in his room. One which they had both completely neglected that night a few weeks ago. A night she wasn't over by any means. She hadn't told her mom about any of it, and she knew that she probably would never be able to explain it. It still stuck around in her head. The inter-dimensional and the real things that happened just wouldn't leave.

She let out a sigh as she heard the phone ringing and she twisted the phone cord around her finger.

"Hello?"

"Steve?"

"It's not even noon yet," he said, almost laughing, "That bad already?"

Annie chewed on her lip, "My dad made a surprise visit... I kinda told him he's not my dad and to pay the child support for once."

"Oh shit..." he sighed, "I'd try to come and get you but um- my parents sprung a surprise trip to my aunt's on me."

"That- that's fine, I get it. You gotta see your family."

"If it's any consolation, I'll wish I'm not there. I'd really prefer to hang out with you."

She smiled a bit, "That's nice... I'd rather hang out with you too. Of course, I'd rather hang out with a cockroach than be stuck here."

"Well, if I make it back early enough, maybe I can make something work," he suggested.

"I'd like that a lot."

There was shouting in the background of Steve's end, "Uh I gotta go. Good luck, though."

"Thanks um- you too."

Then the phone clicked off and Annie set her own on the receiver. Admittedly, she almost counted on hanging out with Steve. Aside from the kids, there really wasn't anyone else she spent a lot of time with.

The thought of him trying to come over later did make her feel special. Not that she was about to say so. It was normal, they sort of just had each other. She didn't have any friends to begin with and she knew Steve would sooner die than third wheel his ex all the time.

Aside from sort of being social outcasts and dealing with the Upside Down together, what did they have in common in the first place? Maybe they had a similar sense of humor and similar music tastes, but almost anyone could have those things in common. They were just friends and Annie knew that didn't mean they had to do anything more than that.

Either way, Annie knew that she wasn't going to bother with leaving her room until someone told her to. Continuing on with her reading of War and Peace was fine with her. Contrary to her dad's opinions, she thought it was an interesting book.

A part of her was almost too invested in some of the drama of it all. What with Natasha now being tempted by Anatole as Sonya tried to be a good and loyal cousin as well as a friend. It had her reading the pages as quickly as she could. Though, a huge factor in getting through the book as quickly as she was had to be waking up in the middle of the night.

The nightmares didn't happen every night, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference either way. It was too much for her to deal with. While Steve wanted her to talk about it with him, she still didn't say much about it.

"Annie?" her mom knocked at her door.

She marked her book, "What's up?"

The door opened as her mom stepped inside, "You know, I think we still need a couple of things from the grocery store."

"Wait," she looked over the list being handed to her, "I thought we had-"

Her mom cut her off, "We're gonna run out soon. Just take your time, alright? There's no rush."

"Oh, okay."

This happened often enough when they lived in New York. If tensions got really high, her mom would send her out somewhere to do something. That didn't mean she missed out on all the yelling and arguing, though.

Still, it was enough for Annie to take the hint and grab her red, fleece-lined jacket off a hanger and left the house without saying anything. She was almost positive they didn't need any of this. They had more than enough butter and Annie could barely stand Stove Top stuffing in the first place.

She walked rather aimlessly, though she was headed toward the town. If she were too aimless, she would have ended up in the woods. As bright as the day seemed, she still didn't trust herself to go there alone.

Besides, she still hadn't found her switchblade since trying to fight Billy. A part of her thought it was possible he had it. Though, it was just as likely that it was in some obscure place of the Byers' house. She didn't want to go back there any time soon. It wasn't that she had anything against the family, but the thought of going back into the house or stepping into the living room? That was out of the question.

A part of her wished she had some way to actually make Billy pay for everything he did. The problem was that there wasn't any way to do that without giving away everything else. Not that she could think of, anyway. And who knows, maybe she didn't interpret everything properly. Maybe he hadn't done anything.

Her hands clenched inside her jacket pockets as she continued walking. A part of her wanted to tell her mom at the very least. The closest that got was when her mom saw the scar that the cut she got on her face left behind. She blamed it on getting into a bit of an altercation with Erik.

After walking for some time, Annie found her way to a small park. Someone was sitting on the swings. She could see the red hair from pretty far off, but she was unsure of who it was. Though, the closer she got, the more certain she was.

"Max? What're you doing out here?" she asked, sitting on the other swing.

Max looked over to her, "Um... just hanging out."

"None of the guys are available?" she asked.

Max shook her head, "It's Thanksgiving, everyone's with their families."

"Yeah? Well, then what're you doing out here? It's a bit chilly."

"Um..." Max let out a sigh, "You know how the whole divorced kid thing goes. It's my first Thanksgiving without my dad around and Neil and Billy are... um... they're being themselves."

Annie frowned, "They're not hurting you are they? Because if they are I-"

"No, not like that. After I almost hit Billy's nuts with that bat he's been a bit better. It still um- it scares me sometimes, though.

She nodded, "I guess that makes sense. I wish I could look forward to my dad showing up out of nowhere today, but that guy's a dick."

"Oh, was it just gonna be you and your mom?"

"And your science teacher."

"Mr. Clarke?!" Max exclaimed, laughing, "You're kidding!"

She laughed along with Max, "I'm not- I mean, having my mom date some guy like this is weird, but- but I guess things could be a lot worse, you know? Well, before my dad showed up and managed to make it awkward for everyone."

"Oh, that sucks. Sorry, I just don't know what else would help you."

Annie shook her head, "That's alright. You're, like, thirteen? You don't need to worry about helping me."

The both of them stuck around and talked to each other for a while. They managed to avoid actually talking about the awful things Billy had done. Likely because neither of them were prepared for a conversation like that. At the very least, Annie knew that just thinking about talking about that with anyone was enough to make her nauseous.

Eventually, it was for the best that Max went home, so Annie walked her back before turning around and heading back to her own house. She would have to face everything there eventually. But maybe her dad decided to buzz off by that point.

There was no such luck, though. As awkward as it was for her, she gave Scott props for not finding an excuse to get out of the house until the meal was over. If she were him, she would have faked a family emergency in a heartbeat. Though, it was possible that he was just a better person than she was. Lots of people were.

"So, Anne, I've heard you're reading War and Peace," her dad said as they all sat around eating pie.

Annie nodded, "Yep."

"I don't understand why you would bother. I've already told you all the reasons it's a waste of time."

Annie set down her fork before looking over at him, "Maybe I started to realize you compulsively lie about everything. Oh, or maybe I realized people have different tastes from you. Hm, maybe it's the fact that I couldn't give a shit about your opinion of me after everything you've done."

"Language, young lady! Elsa, is this really what you're letting our daughter get away with?"

"I'm not your kid! If I were, you wouldn't send me a ten page letter about how I-"

"Cut it out! Both of you," her mom snapped, "Look, I'm not about to kick my own daughter out of my house, but Carter? I've done nothing but try to make this day decent and, frankly, I'm tired of that. I need you to leave."

Annie focused on her pie as her mom and dad headed out of the kitchen. It beat getting told to quiet down or to stop rambling. Although, it was clear the enjoyment of silence wasn't mutual.

"This pie is great," Scott told her.

She forced a smile, "Thanks... my mom ended up doing most of the work this year, though."

"You know, I hope you don't think I'm intruding on anything. I know this wasn't the best time to try and introduce myself."

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you. Having my mom date someone is super weird, but I don't hate you. That being said, if you even so much as think about hurting my mom, I'll find a way to make your life a living hell."

Eventually, Annie was able to go back to her room for reasons other than getting into it with her dad. It was nearly midnight and she was focused on the book in front of her as she sat in her bed. There wasn't any school the next day, so she didn't worry about what time she went to bed.

Her distracted state didn't last long when she heard something knock on the window. When she looked out she only saw a shadowy figure outside and her eyes widened. Though, looking closer, it was obviously just Steve.

She opened the door, though she did so a bit sheepishly. How could she have been so easily scared by her closest friend? Steve slid in quietly, though there was a bit of tumbling in since her bed was right under her window. If he got his shoes on her light grey comforter, she would have probably screamed.

He grinned, "Told ya I'd come over."

"Steve, I- I wish you'd told me first," she said.

His smile faded a bit, "I can leave if-"

"No, sorry, just," she sighed, "I don't know, everything just really sucks right now."

There was a long pause before Annie let herself say what happened that day. She wished today could have been normal. That every day could be normal. If that meant her life was boring then so be it. Maybe all the boring people had it right.

"That's really shitty," Steve said, looking at her.

"Yeah."

"Hey, maybe it'll get better."

"Maybe."

A few more minutes and Steve was doing everything he could to get Annie to laugh. It took a solid half hour to get a real laugh out of her, but he did it. After getting her a bit more distracted, they ended up talking about everything except the things they should have probably talked about.

Instead, it meant both of them staying up until the clock in Annie's room read that it was nearly three in the morning. It was around that point that Steve passed out in the chair next to her desk and Annie was only partially on the bed with her head and torso laid out on the carpet and her legs on the mattress.

Tag List (lmk if you want on): @dungeons-and-demodogs @nxncywheeler @ilovebucketbarnes

#steve harrington #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2 #stranger things x original character #stranger things x oc #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #dfean?

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foxtophat · 4 years

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just so you know this chapter is almost 10k words

SO HEY THERE BUDDY how are you? it’s been a while, huh? i thought for sure i had this chapter well in hand and then all at once i didn’t, now i’m a week behind my usual posting schedule and all i have to offer you is this fucking MONSTER

i don’t wanna get too into it because it’s pretty straight-forward, but let’s just say that nick and kim have a host of problems in this one bro. good thing that jerome is a guy who likes to be righteously better than everyone else right???

i had a lot of fun writing this despite how much trouble it was. the next chapter is gonna be more fun, with maybe even some alcohol and dare i even suggest it dancing??? perhaps... a good time???? highly unlikely in this day and age

well anyway, don’t wanna keep you any longer. thank you guys so much for reading my incoherent author’s notes and being so chill about this dumb self-indulgent fic of mine. i appreciate every comment, like, reblog, kudos or warm thought thrown my way, so don’t hesitate to lay it on me!!

as usual, the text is under the read-more. keep in mind that this chapter is very long so it might be better to read on ao3, but who am i to boss you around?

Pastor Jerome radios the Rye family late one night, so late that Nick had been just about to turn off the receiver when his voice comes down the line. Exhaustion has left a permanent mark on everybody, and Nick doesn't miss it in Jerome as they connect over the airwaves.

"A caravan is going to be passing through the valley tomorrow," he says grimly, with no preamble. "People heading west. There was talk of stopping by your home."

"What?" Nick asks. "Why?"

"People still look to your family for guidance, Nick. I imagine they want to say goodbye before they leave. Others are looking to trade, or just to reach out. It's been a long time. I suppose they'd want to leave on a positive note."

A year ago, Nick would have been excited for the company. Knowing a bunch of friendly settlers were coming around to say hello and help out before heading off on their own would have saved him plenty of pain and trouble in the past. But these days, other people coming around can be... complicated, and for reasons that Nick has trouble explaining even to himself.

That's probably the reason Jerome decided to reach out so late. They only got to talk briefly about it in town, since there were too many people to overhear them and honestly, Jerome hadn't seemed keen on having a conversation about John Seed almost a decade after the fact. But they had talked, enough that Jerome has trusted Nick to do what's best without interference until now.

"What do you think I should do?" Nick asks, sure that Jerome will know what he's talking about.

There's a lot of hissing and popping on the line before Jerome responds. "I don't know," he says. It sounds like an apology. "I can't imagine being in the position you're in."

Nick scrubs at his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He clicks the button to let Jerome know he's still there, but it takes a moment to come up with something to say.

"Do I know anyone coming through?" he asks at last.

"You will," Jerome replies. "If not by name, then by face. Hurk and Sharky have offered to escort them part-way. There are some resistance members who want to leave. A few who look like they might've gotten through baptism before the end."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. That's what he was worried about. A couple of survivors who have let eight years rot their hatred would be okay. Hurk and Sharky aren't even that threatening, lawless raider shit aside. But former cultists are going to clock John immediately, and there's no clean way to explain that it isn't the Ryes who betrayed them, but actually John, who's abandoned the very principles that led him to cause so much suffering. Nick's almost okay with the guy, and even he occasionally feels a twinge of fury when he catches sight of the huge scar over his heart.

"Are you sure you know what doing?" Jerome asks. " Really sure?"

Nick chuckles. "Hell, Jerome, I've never known what I'm doing. But, uh... yeah. More than I was when we talked, anyway."

"Even with Joseph's reappearance?"

"Weirdly enough, especially 'cos of that. I know I'm askin' a lot of you, but you gotta trust me."

There's no chance that Jerome really means it when he says, "I do trust you, Nick," but at least he's committed to the lie. "If I can, I'll join them. Try to help keep the peace, when the time comes."

"If the time comes."

Jerome sounds disappointed. "You said you weren't hiding him."

"And we aren't!"

"You can't honestly expect everyone to take the news well."

"A man can hope, can't he?"

"That's about all he can do," Jerome replies. "I'll pray for you, Nick."

"Gee," Nick sighs, "Thanks. See you tomorrow, hopefully."

Nick turns off the radio. He stretches his arms out, as if maybe relieving his sore back will make him feel less tense and anxious about Jerome's news. Of course, it doesn't really help; there's still a caravan passing through tomorrow, and there's going to be some kind of reckoning when it shows up. Nick doesn't know what kind of fallout is going to come from it, but he knows well enough not to hope for the easiest outcome.

Carmina is already asleep when Nick comes up, sprawled out on the edge of the bed. It's not gonna be long now before she starts kicking them through the night, and then they're going to have to figure out a new sleeping arrangement, but Carmina seems as uninterested in changing things as Nick is.

"Just got off the radio with Jerome," Nick tells Kim, keeping his voice low and level so as not to alert Carmina. "Wanted to tell us about a caravan passing by tomorrow."

Kim frowns. "Oh," she says uneasily. "Have you told John?"

"Nah. Gonna wait until the morning. Don't want him trying to bolt in the night."

Even though neither of them think John is going to try to run away, Kim still nods in agreement. "What are we going to do?" she asks instead. It's funny, because he'd been about to ask her the same thing.

"Hell if I know," Nick sighs. He climbs into bed at last, Kim moving over to take the center of the mattress. "But I'll come up with something."

Nick doesn't come up with anything all night. By the time morning rolls around, he's had more ideas than sleep and none of them are anywhere near perfect. They all come down to deciding whether or not John should face the parade of people about to come to their door or not, and he is evenly split on the matter. After all, it could be fine; there could be some yelling and some drama; or there could be a full-on fire-fight. There's a not-outside chance that someone might shoot John before they have a chance to explain themselves. There's a chance that they might shoot Nick, too, for harboring him this whole time.

He knocks on John's door right around sunrise, waiting long enough that he almost knocks again before John grunts something incoherent from the other side of the door. He looks like Nick just woke him out of a relatively good dream, too, which is particularly bad luck. Well, John wanted to pay some kind of penance for his bullshit, right? Might as well start now.

"Sorry," Nick says, even though he's only sort of apologetic. "We, uh... have a problem."

"Oh, good," John groans, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. "Just the sort of thing I like to hear."

Normally, Nick would be glad for a distracting snappy argument over John's attitude, but he doesn't know exactly how much time they're going to have to get ready and Nick doesn't know if anyone's going to radio him ahead of time. John being a catty dick first thing in the morning is the least of Nick's problems right now.

"Look, Jerome radioed in last night. A caravan's gonna pass by on their way out of Hope County."

John's bleary irritation evaporates at the words. "Oh," he says.

"Yeah, oh . You still wanna get back to your beauty sleep?"

"What am I going to do?" John exclaims, lurching halfway to his feet before thinking better of it and sitting back down. He looks up at Nick, who isn't prepared to feel like the only responsible adult in the room, and asks helplessly, "What should I do?"

For once, John's stressed-induced obedience seems reasonable, trying to show restraint instead of hoping for Nick to feed him instructions like some kind of machine.

"You... have a plan, don't you?" he asks.

"I have plenty of plans," Nick replies. "Problem is, they all suck. I guess we could set you up somewhere for the night, so nobody finds you... or, well, we don't. The caravan's mostly leaving for good, but not all of 'em are gonna stay gone, and if they find out I lied to their faces..."

Nick chews on his cheek to keep from rambling on, but the truth is that he doesn't want to lie if he can help it. It wouldn't be right.

"If I stay, they'll kill me," John counters, pretty compellingly all things considered.

"That... might happen, yeah," Nick admits reluctantly. "I mean, not if I can help it, but I don't know what kind of people are gonna show up. Maybe they're the reasonable type."

Sighing heavily, John scrubs a hand heavily over his eyes. Nick is weirdly reminded of Kim in the middle of an argument about classic movie plot points. "I think you overestimate the average person."

"Hey, I'm an average person, and I take offense to that."

John scowls at Nick for a moment, and Nick is again reminded of Kim mid-argument. "No, Nick. You're not."

Nick... doesn't know how to respond to that. "Uh, okay, well," he says, stalling out.

John runs his hand from his eyes back through his hair. "Whatever you think is best," John says at last. He almost doesn't seem to realize it when he says, "I trust you."

"Oh," Nick says. He wants to say more, probably should say more, but he can't think of anything to say. "Well, uh, that's good, I guess. I could still use your help, uh, figuring out the logistics." He points his thumb back over his shoulder and asks, "You, uh, want some coffee? 'Cos I need some."

John huffs. "Yeah," he sighs, knowing full well that he doesn't have much of a choice. "Sure."

It's obvious from the beginning that hiding John isn't going to work. Nick word-vomits about how uncomfortable the idea makes him for a solid two minutes, only to receive a few short agreements from John that are barely better than noncommittal grunts. From the start, John is nervous and uncomfortable, the coffee doing nothing to ease his anxious jitters, but at least Nick can talk out a plan with him without feeling like he's hurling words at a brick wall.

By the time the sun has reached vaguely nine-AM, they've decided that they can't simply drop the news like a bomb, and they know that John is going to hide out in the hangar until Nick decides it's time to fess up. It's a bare-bones plan that has no consideration for logistics, but at least when Kim wakes up, they'll have something to offer other than worryingly asking for her help.

Kim comes downstairs without Carmina, who's probably happy to sleep in for another half-hour or so before the sun nails her in the face and forces her out of bed for good. Kim looks like she barely slept, but she smiles warmly at Nick when she sees him, and groans thankfully when he gets up to get her a cup of coffee.

"So," she asks after she gets a cup of coffee, "What's the plan?"

Nick wouldn't call it a "plan" so much as a "vague idea," but he explains the thought-process anyway. John, who has already heard everything Nick has to say about stowing John away until the "right time" occurs, excuses himself with some half-assed excuse about cleaning the fire pit, ducking out back to probably pace around until he collapses under his own discomfort. Nick can't blame him, really; they're hanging his entire life on the end of a branch labeled "going with Nick's gut," after all.

"What exactly is going to make it the right time ?" Kim asks.

"Well... I guess once we know everyone is here. After we figure out just how badly they might react. If they're real aggressive about it, we can always just... wait until Sharky and Hurk come back, and tell them."

"Yeah, I don't think either of them are going to be happy to know we hid John from them." She sighs, adding reluctantly, "I guess it's a good back-up plan. In case things go really badly from the start."

"God," Nick sighs, draining his cup of coffee, "I hope this doesn't blow up in our faces."

There are footsteps on the front porch, followed by a knock on the door. The two of them freeze, staring at the door for a hot minute until a recognizable voice calls from the other side: "Nick? Kim?"

"Jerome?" Nick calls, pushing himself up from his seat and heading to the door.

At first, he only opens the door a crack, enough to check that Jerome is on his own. When he's pretty sure the caravan as a whole hasn't shown up, he opens the door wide enough to block the entrance with his body.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asks. "The caravan can't be coming through already."

"No," Jerome replies. He looks winded, sweaty and dirty from what looks like a long walk. Nick hopes he didn't come all the way from town by himself on foot — that's more risk than it's worth, with all the wild animals out there. "They won't be here for hours yet. But I... I couldn't sleep. I had to get here before them."

"Jesus, why ?"

It takes Jerome a moment to find the words, but as soon as he gathers the strength, he blurts them out before he loses his nerve. "There has to be something I can do to convince you not to throw everything away like this. Your family has been vital to the county, and I cannot let you ruin your lives when we need to stay together the most ! You're going to turn everyone against you! A monster like John Seed as no right , asking you to risk your family like this!"

Jerome looks to Nick for some kind of reaction, deflating when he doesn't see what he wants. "He cannot be worth it," he finishes miserably.

"Hey, now," Nick says, unable to help sounding offended. He hopes Jerome doesn't take it the wrong way, but from the scandalized look on his face, he most certainly has. "I know what I'm doing, okay?" he amends, feeling a little bad for lying.

A hand touches his back, and so Nick opens the door wide to accommodate Kim standing next to him. "Jerome," she says gently, as though she hadn't heard his outburst a moment ago, "Why don't you come in and have some coffee?"

"This isn't a social visit," he says, startled.

"You can still have a cup of coffee," Kim replies, nudging Nick out of the way. "Come in so we can talk."

Kim takes point from there, leaving Nick to shut the door while she brings Jerome to the table and has him sit, coffee already poured for him. With the living room cleaned up and Jerome sitting at close to his usual spot at the table, Nick finds himself transported backward in time. For a second, maybe even less than that, Nick can see the house the way it used to be — the way it might've been, if maybe they had been less wrapped up in the cult bullshit and more worried about the disquieting news coming in from outside their small ecosystem.

The moment passes, and Nick is still in this uncomfortable situation with a house that's falling down around him. Figures that he can't enjoy the fantasy for even a moment.

Nick mostly keeps to himself, hovering near the support beam while Kim does her best to explain the situation with John to an increasingly upset-looking Jerome. She rehashes the stuff he already knows, about how Nick found him, and the ultimatum that's kept him sheltered and fed for more than half a year now. She even mentions some of the work John's done for them, although she doesn't go into much detail. After all, not many people are going to be impressed by John sorting nails and repairing fences.

What she does focus on is John's reaction to their demands. The way he'd agree to anything, working himself well past the point of exhaustion, falling into mute obedience — Kim tells Jerome everything, listing his strange, unsettling habits like a worried mother talking to a pediatrician. He doesn't sleep. He talks to himself, struggles to focus past the things that have consumed his mind. She's worried about it, and what it means about his time underground. She's seen how people break. Despite everything, she thinks he sincerely is trying, but he won't open up and she can't help but worry that it might cause more problems down the line.

Nick doesn't know how comfortable he can be, listening to Kim discuss John's progress like a teacher talking about a troubled student. He manages to stick it out for a few minutes, but when Kim starts talking about Joseph, and the trembling wreck his appearance had turned John into, he finds himself making a measured retreat for the backyard. Somebody ought to tell John that Jerome has come by, right? And that somebody might as well be Nick, who can't stand to hear Kim worry about John goddamn Seed for another minute.

There isn't much to do in the backyard. Most of the fence is in place by now, and the debris has been pulled around back of the hangar, leaving the yard an empty wash of dirt tamped down by their daily movement. Even the fire pit has been cleaned up, thanks to Carmina taking her chores seriously yesterday. If John had come out here to try and find something to distract him, he's going to be hard-pressed.

For his part, John has taken up a spot by the planters. Kim and Carmina have planted some soy beans in the second planter, but they haven't taken off yet and none of them are sure they will. In the meantime, John plucks out some errant weeds, careful not to disturb the few sprouts that seem to have taken root.

"Hey," Nick says.

John barely looks Nick's way at the greeting. "I thought I heard something," he says instead, which at the very least saves Nick an awkward segue.

"Uh, yeah." He scratches the back of his head. "Jerome's just inside. I thought you'd want a head's up. The caravan shouldn't be here for a while, though. A couple of hours, anyway."

John swallows heavily. "That isn't much time."

Nick nods, looking around the backyard to avoid long eye-contact with John. "Not like we'd have anything to do if it were further away," he points out. "Things here are about as good as they're gonna get."

"It won't be enough." John fixes Nick with a dark look, one that reminds Nick that John's list of past transgressions is miles-long. "This isn't going to be enough for them."

"I guess you'd be the expert on repentance, huh?" Nick knows it's kind of a dig, but at least that ugly look on John's face is replaced by one that's more simply offended. "Look, I know you don't think we... punish you enough around here or whatever, but..."

"Don't say it like that ," John groans miserably.

"Hey, the point stands whether or not I say it! Just — trust us, okay?"

John shakes his head. He doesn't seem willing to admit to it again again, but that's okay. Nick knows he's got John's trust, even if it's been given mostly against John's better judgment. Considering this is the same guy who thinks Nick should have left a few prominent scars to convince strangers of his atonement, maybe Nick doesn't care so much about his judgment here.

"They won't be satisfied," John mutters.

"Maybe that's just your dissatisfaction talking. Most everyone around here are good, decent people, even after everything they've been through. Anyone who thinks we didn't beat you enough is better off getting the hell out of my county. We don't have time for that kind of shit around here."

John is quiet for a bit after Nick's outburst. Nick's not surprised, since John seems incapable of understanding Nick's pacifism, but at least he isn't immediately refuting everything on principle alone anymore.

"I need it to be enough," John finally says hoarsely. "I can't have all of this be for nothing. I can't ."

For once, Nick doesn't bother to stop his knee-jerk reassurances — John looks like he could probably use them. "Even if nobody else is convinced, uh... you should know, we do believe you. Sort of," he clarifies hastily as John casts a horrified look at him, "At least, I don't think you're bullshitting me right now."

John swallows thickly and nods. Words don't seem part of his acceptance, but that's all right, Nick doesn't need them.

The back porch creaks unhappily behind Nick, who turns to find Kim and Jerome standing there. John sees them too, half-rising to his feet before seeming to think better of it and sitting heavily back down on the planter.

"John," Jerome says. He doesn't sound happy, but at least he doesn't sound like he's about to chuck a Molotov in John's face.

"...Pastor Jerome," John responds, looking nauseous.

Jerome steps off of the porch. "We have some things to discuss."

Instinctively, John's hand reaches up, as if to stop Nick from abandoning him, but he aborts the gesture quickly, digging his fingers into the tire treads instead.

"...You're right," John admits. Even though he isn't trying to stop Nick from leaving physically, he looks like he absolutely does not want to be alone around Jerome. Unfortunately, Jerome's expression tells Nick that whatever words he has to share with John, they are private, and they're just going to make Nick wish he'd never heard them.

"It's gonna be fine," Nick tells him. He mostly believes it, too.

The front of the house has mostly been left to rot, which had been fine when Nick wasn't expecting a half-dozen cars to show up in his drive. With John and Jerome busy out back and Kim getting Carmina prepared for company, Nick is left alone to clean up the tumbleweeds that have made their home against the dilapidated remains of chain-link fencing. He could probably leave it — after all, nobody is expecting perfection these days — but somehow he can't bring himself to leave a poor first impression. What John said must have gotten to him, because here he is, looking over a patch of dirt and trying to see how he can make it seem like enough . Proof that he knew what he was doing when he saved John, proof that he knows what he's doing now, trusting the guy with his reputation and that of his family.

Unfortunately, there's not much to save in the front yard, and Nick's bottle of weed-killer is six-years expired and empty to boot. They're all just going to have to work with what they've got.

Carmina comes out at some point to help, mostly by distracting Nick with lots of questions. Are there going to be kids coming? Is Grace going to show up too? Can she trade The Wizard of Oz for another book? Will they mind that John is here? Shouldn't he be hiding? What if Grace does show up, too? Is she going to be okay?

"Honey, I don't know," Nick replies to most of it. Thankfully, he taught her early on that adults saying "I don't know" is actually a good thing — mostly because Nick says it too much to have his daughter think he's being dumb.

"All I know is that we're gonna do our best to be hospitable," he clarifies, because that's a lesson Carmina still hasn't learned anything about. "This is the first big caravan of the year. People are gonna be passing through a lot more as things get back to normal, and they'll always be a grab-bag. Uh, that means it'll be a surprise, what kinda people will come through."

"So there could be kids?" Carmina asks hopefully.

"Sure," Nick smiles. "Kids, dogs, friendly old ladies who'll pinch your cheeks too hard. All sorts of people. But this one is... extra important, you know?"

"Because of John?" Carmina asks. "That's what mom said."

Nick sighs. "Yep," he says, "Because of John." Maybe that's a little harsh, but it's true. Still, Nick tries to sound less exasperated when he continues. "Some of the people coming through probably won't be happy to see him. That's why Pastor Jerome is talking to him now — to see if he can help."

"I thought Jerome didn't like John," Carmina replies.

"Nobody likes John," Nick clarifies. "That doesn't mean we aren't gonna try to help him out."

" Why ? If nobody likes him..."

Nick sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Because it's the right thing to do, Carmina. If somebody needs help, you oughta help them if you can. You know, even before the bombs, everyone out here relied on each other when things got tough. It might not be much, but that's one thing I'm not gonna give up on." He looks around the yard, mostly to avoid his daughter's eye-contact, but eventually, he offers her a smile. "You get it, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says, most likely not getting it at all.

It's not that much longer before the first car shows up. The dark blue sedan that rolls down their drive has heavily patched tires and a crack through the windshield, but the engine sounds plenty capable of a long drive. A mattress and a wardrobe box are strapped to the roof of the car with ropes, and the back seat is full of boxes, but Nick sure hopes they have more supplies on hand than what he sees.

"Go tell your mom," Nick tells Carmina, who nods and jogs off to warn everyone that it's show time.

Nick guides the car around a deep crack in the drive, and he's privately relieved to barely recognize either of the people in the car. The couple that climbs out is passingly familiar — Nick has a clear vision of the man at Lorna's, for some reason — and they seem excited to see Nick, but honestly, he couldn't name them if he tried.

"I sure hope Jerome sent word we were coming," the lady driving says after she dusts herself off. She's got her hair shaved up short, and a long welted scar runs from her temple to her nose. Nick remembers her, minus the scar, but he can't remember her name. Joan, maybe? Georgia? Something like that...

"That he did!" Nick offers her a friendly smile, gesturing towards the house. "We got everything all set up if you wanna make yourselves at home. Uh, he didn't tell us how many were coming, so I dunno if we got enough space, but..."

The guy, whose name Nick definitely doesn't remember, waves a hand in an attempt to ease Nick's worries. "Don't worry, it's just a couple of cars. Us, a couple guys who found a working Honda, and the Halls. They've got a big-ass truck, though, and a trailer, so they might need help with that ditch."

Kim comes around from the back before Nick needs to come up with more small talk. Pleasantly surprised as she recognizes their guests, she calls, "Julia, is that you?"

"Kim!" Julia exclaims, going in for a hug that Kim is glad to give. "It's so good to see you again!"

With the ice successfully broken and Kim taking point on hosting duties, Nick slowly feels himself start to relax back into the role himself. Julia and Clark are long-time Hope County residents, and they seem just as happy to have a brief return to normalcy as Nick is to indulge in it, so for the next few minutes, the conversation stays light and upbeat.

Clark can't give them a head-count, but he talks about the Hall family and their plan to head as far west as possible, implying the whole time that most people found the idea to be too risky to actually take on. When Carmina comes downstairs only to be disheartened by the lack of kids around, Julia is quick to reassure her that the Halls have a boy about her age. It's probably that news that keeps Carmina docile as Julia proceeds to fawn over how big she is.

Sure enough, the next car to come in is a large, beat-up F-150, the bed's sideboards painted with faded apple orchard logos. The family Clark and Julia mentioned are sitting up front in the cab, while three more people take up space in the bed. Nick helps them down the drive, careful of the small trailer they've got with them. The whole time, Carmina is waiting behind him impatiently.

Before Nick can join Kim in introducing Carmina to one of the few kids her age in the area, he's distracted by the third car rolling into the yard. The Honda is another four-door, although it looks more comfortable in the back than Julia and Clark's car, with or without the boxes. Nick catches sight of a toddler sitting on a woman's lap, which will probably bum Carmina out, but at least she can get some practice in with babies.

The headcount comes to ten people, minus kids, which is a lot less than Nick's worst fears expected. What's more, they all seem like reasonable people. The problem, though, is that Jerome definitely mentioned Hurk and Sharky tagging along, and Nick doesn't know how many people might be riding with them. Plus, they've been openly experimenting with the Mad Max raider thing, and Nick isn't 100% sure just how hard they're leaning into it. Escorting a caravan full of families with minimal weapons doesn't exactly scream cutthroat bastards , but the worry sticks to the back of Nick's mind.

Things are calm for the next hour or two. The three people who came with the truck all seem eager to keep moving at first, but they slowly relax once they're seated inside at the dinner table. With a couple of the windows unboarded and the back porch fully open, the inside of the house is filled with light. They had to get rid of the couch when they unburied it, but now Nick wishes they had more seating in here.

"The place looks great, right?" Julia asks one of the girls at the table. Neither of them have ever been here, Nick doesn't think, but they play along.

"Most of the houses collapsed," Katrina comments. She's the most jittery out of the three sitting at the table, and so far Nick only knows that she's from California and has been wanting to get back there since the bombs fell. "You guys got lucky."

"Things are way better once you get out of close-range areas like this," the girl sitting beside Katrina says. She calls herself Merit, and it's clear from her worn-out gear and her heavy goggle-lines that she's been traveling for a while. Nick wonders if she just happened upon the caravan, or if she helped put it together. "Some towns barely look any different."

"It took a lot of hard work to clean it up," Nick offers awkwardly. "You should've seen how much dirt we had to move."

It's weird, taking credit for John's work. Nick takes an immediate dislike to it. He would look to the third person at the table, a gruff and quiet man named Everett, for some kind of distraction, but the guy doesn't seem interested in conversation.

"You think Helena is going to be better than this?" Katrina asks Merit.

"Oh, hell yeah," she says.

As soon as Merit launches into hypothesizing what the next towns might be like, Nick makes a quick exit for the back porch. Carmina and the Hall kid — Liam, Nick's pretty sure — are drawing big shapes out in the dirt with sticks, gossiping as best they can without any daycare socialization to help them. Kim seems satisfied with it, anyway — enough that she can dedicate most of her focus on trading gardening tips and general life-hacks with the two other mothers in the group. Jerome rejoins the group for a few minutes, but after he drifts briefly through the conversations, he seems to disappear again. Nick isn't sure if that's a good sign or not, but he's gonna have to trust himself while he flies blind for a bit.

Nick doesn't know which is louder on Hurk's arrival: the three roaring motorcycle engines, or the cacophony of black metal that comes with them. It's a whole lot of presentation for three guys on some busted old Harleys, but it sure does the trick of drawing everyone's attention. By the time they rumble down the drive, everyone has congregated to the front of the house, just in time to witness an almost coordinated stop beside the truck.

The music blares from an old stereo on the back of one of the bikes, so killing the engines doesn't do anything to stop it. He doesn't take off his helmet, but Nick recognizes Hurk swearing a blue-streak as he tries to shut the music off with as little noticeable fanfare as possible.

"Party train's in town, bitches!" he hollers, as if they aren't watching him beat up a cassette player in real-time.

The two guys with Hurk take off their helmets, and Nick immediately pegs them for ex-cultists. There's something about the way they look at the house, as if the last time they saw it they were busting in the doors at John's command. One of them, nearly as big as Hurk, the only hair on his head his long, untamed beard, looks like he never quite came off the Bliss, his eyes glassy and vacant. The other fills out their stereotypical raiders unit with his wild locs and big, unhinged smile, giving off real wild-card vibes in a pack already chock full of Jokers.

Neither of them are Sharky, which is... weird. Truthfully, seeing Hurk without his cousin is a little jarring — after all, they've been together since the world ended.

Hurk must notice him looking around because he's quick to put any worries to rest. "Sharky's gonna show eventually," he says. "Likes taking the road less traveled, y'know? Since all the roads these days aren't traveled, though, he's gotta get real weird with it." He waves a hand as though swatting away a troublesome fly. "You'll hear him before you see him."

It doesn't take long for that to backfire spectacularly in Nick's face. Not three minutes later, Nick catches the distant roar of an ATV somewhere out in the trees. He isn't the only one; pretty much everybody else swivels to nervously eye the woods until Sharky's caterwauling eases their deeply ingrained flight instincts. Like before, the entire crowd migrates towards the noise, following it into the backyard.

Nick tries not to worry about it as Sharky comes up from the wrong side of the hangar. After all, Sharky's probably gonna drive right by the hangar without so much as a second glance, and anyway, Jerome is there to run interference if things go south. Sharky's mellowed out since the apocalypse — surely he'd listen to reason. Right?

It's all Nick can think about while he and Sonny Hall talk about the potential hazards on their way out. He almost convinces himself that things are going to be fine by the time the ATV engine cuts off, writing it off as nothing more than a random habit of Sharky's to park in the most inconvenient places.

There's no way to rationalize the terrible crash from the hangar, followed by Sharky's blood-curdling holler of, " What the fuck !"

Sharky himself rushes from the hanger via the utility door, practically spilling out into the dirt wash between the two buildings. He rushes towards them with his mouth agape and his face pale from shock; he pulls up short as he catches Nick visibly flailing from his discovery.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck John Seed is doing in your fucking hangar ?" he asks, voice cracking as it fails to contain all of his outrage.

Nick opens his mouth to say something, anything to ease the blow that's coming, but Hurk cuts him off at the head. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he scoffs loudly, waving a dismissive middle finger in Sharky's direction. "Do you know how fuckin' nuts you sound right now?"

Sharky's face turns beet red, fists clenching as he locks eyes with Nick for a brief, furious second before about-facing for the hangar. His betrayal and fury sting like a bitch.

"Sharky," Nick calls, but the guy is definitely not listening to him right now. He looks where Kim is standing, her hand tight on Carmina's shoulder, but she's just as lost as he is. They'd planned to segue into this, for God's sake! This isn't anywhere near what they planned!

Shit. Nick can't let Sharky be the first one to reach the hangar. He needs to get in front of this, before everyone swings into mob mentality and tears John to pieces. As he jogs in Sharky's furious wake, he can feel the group closing in behind him, fear and curiosity and utter disbelief drawing the whole goddamn posse down at once.

Sharky flings open the door and disappears into the hangar. Jerome tries to calm him down, urging him to hold on, but it does nothing to slow the guy down. Nick reaches the hangar in time for Sharky to shove John through the door, knocking him to the dirt in front of Nick's feet.

"Jesus Christ !" someone shouts from behind him. Nick just knew that haircut was going to get them into trouble — as if John's tattooed arms aren't bare and visible to the crowd.

"What the fuck is this shit!" Sharky shouts as he clears the door.

John remains on his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on the dirt beneath him. A flurry of anxious chatter goes up around Nick, who finds himself suddenly standing in a strange no man's land between John and the crowd he'd been part of just a minute before. It's a terrible feeling, watching everyone pull back from him like he's got some kind of disease or something.

Nick fumbles with the words that he wants to say, unable to have practiced for this awful scenario. "I, uh, can explain," he says.

"You'd better ," one of Hurk's riders shouts.

"Look, okay, so..."

Nick is positive they aren't going to like the truth, but it's all he has to offer them. They never got a chance to see John lying in the brush like a wasted corpse — all they see now is the end result of all of Nick and Kim's hard goddamn work, trying to find some kind of real human being under all of the rot. He never should have kept John a secret — he should have forced everybody else to look at the work the three of them have had cut out for them, and then maybe they wouldn't be looking at him like he's some kind of monster for admitting that John had just been too sick, too close to death already, for Nick to bring himself to pull the trigger.

"It wouldn't have been right to leave him there," he sighs.

"You should have put a bullet between his eyes!" Katrina shouts at him.

"Don't you think I considered that?" Nick snaps. "It was the first thing I thought!"

"Then why the fuck didn't you?"

He throws his hands up, feeling crazy for having to shout, "Because I didn't want to !" He's been thrown into some horrible alternate universe where people don't think twice about shooting first and never asking questions. "I've never wanted to kill anybody ! I didn't want to back then, and I sure as hell don't want to start murdering people now ! And I couldn't just — I needed to know how he'd survived, if maybe Dep had..."

"Don't finish that sentence," Sharky warns.

"Or what ? You think that they would've done it differently?" Nick points at John, who sits with his head bowed. "I found this sorry bastard struggling to breathe in the dirt! You tell me what Rook would've done differently if John hadn't given them a good damn reason to pull the trigger!"

"A reason ?" Sharky spits in disbelief.

" Yeah , a fucking reason! I'm not a goddamn murderer, Sharky, and that's what it would've been!" He takes a breath, desperate to keep his cool. "We gave him an ultimatum," he continues. "He could stay with us if he did everything we said, if he swore off of the cult — and he did. He has, I mean. He isn't with the Peggies, he isn't with Joseph —"

"Yeah, until that sonuvabitch shows up and takes him back!"

"Joseph can try ." Nick scowls, glancing briefly down at John, who still hasn't moved, not even to look his accusers in the eye. "C'mon, John. Tell them."

"Like I'm gonna believe a word that fucking maniac says!"

John swallows. But for whatever reason, he manages to find enough words to begin defending himself. "The Project was a mistake," he rasps. "It was a pointless endeavor from the start and somewhere inside I knew that."

Katrina surges forward as though she might burst through the crowd and personally beat John to a pulp. Merit's hand on her arm is the only thing that keeps her from doing it. "You fucking monster!" she howls.

"Yes," John replies. He doesn't look up, too scared to, but Nick knows he means it when he says, "I'm sorry."

"Fuck your apologies!"

Jerome, standing quietly in the doorway until now, steps forward. He doesn't quite kneel, but he reaches down to put a firm hand on John's shoulder. It's not a comforting gesture — if anything, Jerome is holding him in place.

"I know," John rasps. He lifts his head at last, revealing a fresh black-eye, which is no doubt Sharky's doing. It takes him a moment to find the words, but he's resigned himself to the mercy of the crowd, and he doesn't try to plead with them.

"There's no forgiveness for the things I've done. There's no... fixing it. I should have died. When Nick found me, I should have forced his hand, but I... couldn't."

"You had eight years to kill yourself," Everett points out grimly. "You should have done it then."

John swallows. "Yes," he says. "I really should have."

Nick can't help muttering an uncomfortable, " Hey ," but Jerome cuts him off just by looking at him. There's plenty of time to freak out about the suicide talk later, hopefully once John avoids being executed entirely.

"I was a coward," John says. The words come out with the force of a long-held confession. "I've always been a coward. It's why I joined Joseph when he found me and followed every word. It's why I listened to Nick when he told me to choose between being shot in the head or helping him. Everything I've ever done has been — just mindless self-preservation."

John swallows. Nick isn't sure who he's looking to, exactly, but he speaks to one person in particular as he says, "I tried to tear my sins out of you to save myself. Manual labor, mending fences — it's never going to be enough to make up for that."

"You bet it isn't," Everett says.

"You probably have enough skin for us to return the favor," Katrina says. Nick doesn't know if she's carrying a weapon or not, but he's pretty sure he'll be the only one to object if she pulls one on John now.

"Hey, now," Nick interjects, unable to help himself and absolutely unwilling to stop himself this time around. "We're better than that."

"Fuck you! You keep him around like a pet farm-hand on land that could keep us all safe and fed, forcing us to go fend for ourselves while you harbor a goddamn monster under your roof!" She points accusingly at the house. "Yeah, real nice place, you fucking traitor !"

"Who do you think we made fix everything !" Nick exclaims, throwing his arms wide. "The only reason we've got all this usable land is because of John, goddamn it! And you all want to leave. You said so yourself, you're not even from here! If you think you can just roll onto my property and act entitled to it, I'll teach you the same goddamn lesson I taught those Peggies nine years ago!"

"More like cult property," some jackass says, as though shouting something loudly enough makes it true. Nick scans the crowd for the culprit, but there are honestly too many guilty faces to choose from.

"Eden's Gate is dead," John says, as if somehow he's the person to bring reason and civility back into the conversation. "Whatever Joseph thinks he's doing now, it's a crippled organization of people more desperate than you. There aren't enough believers left to allow the Project to become a threat. Even if he wanted it, he could never take this property."

"As if I would believe you ."

"You don't have to believe me," John replies, shrugging off the disbelief. "It's true either way. I know what the Deputy did to the bunkers. The most faithful were being held there — if they weren't destroyed with the gates, then the Collapse would have left them feeling like sinners. And I know what eight years of isolation away from Joseph can do to a person's faith. He'll never have the numbers he wanted, much less the numbers he had before the Collapse."

Nick knows that most of the people standing here are never going to forgive him. They're never going to forgive John, either, and one day they might come back expecting the worst from Nick's bad decision. But at least for now, John's honesty seems true enough to reassure the best of them. Everett hasn't left to get his gun yet, anyway, and Katrina hasn't tried to burst through the crowd and flay John alive. That's something, anyway, right?

"What if you're wrong?" Sharky asks. He still looks pissed, but his arms are crossed defensively over his chest and he doesn't look willing to start a fight right now. "Not saying I believe you," he adds, just in case anyone had any doubts. "But if I did ."

John doesn't hesitate. "If I am, kill him. Of course, his followers will martyr him, so you'll have to kill them as well." He clenches his jaw for a moment, as though he doesn't want to say it, and then admits, "Anyone who would follow Joseph now has to be completely devoted to him. They'll take any outside aggression as a reason to attack. If you move on Joseph, you'll have to be willing to exterminate the whole group."

"That sounds like a whole lotta work," Hurk points out pragmatically.

"Sure sounds like you're telling us to let Joseph do whatever he wants," one of his biker pals adds. It's also a pragmatic observation, but Nick has no doubt it's meant as an accusation. "We show up here and find out John Seed is still alive, and he's telling us to just leave it alone , and you want us to believe you're not part of all of it?"

Nick doesn't realize at first that the guy is talking to him . "Are you kidding me?" Nick asks. "Are you forgetting who shot this sorry fuck out of the sky? He tried to rip the pride right outta me —"

"And yet here you are, defending him!"

"Of course I'm defending him! Nobody else is gonna do it!"

With his blood about ready to boil, it's a good thing that Kim arrives before Nick says something stupid. He's not sure when she rejoined the group, but now she cuts in front of the strangers in their home, resting a hand on his shoulder as she steps up beside him. He grabs it immediately, maybe a little too tightly, but he can't afford to lose his cool any more than he already has.

"I know, it's a lot to handle," she says. "It's been a lot for us, too. But Nick is telling you all the truth. It has nothing to do with the cult. We aren't being manipulated, and we aren't trying to betray anyone. Nick found him when he needed help, and we helped him. It's as simple as that."

She offers them an apologetic smile. "Things after the bombs have been hard on all of us. But the past still haunts me. It's been almost ten years and I still have nightmares about it. I want this world to be better than the last one, but there's still so much of me left back there. When Nick found John, I thought — I thought we might not be done, honestly. I felt the same way you all feel now. But then I thought, maybe if somebody like John could change, then maybe that meant better for me. For all of us."

Hurk, frowning heavily, crosses his arms over his chest as Sharky slowly uncrosses his. "You really wanna put that much hope on that guy?" he asks.

"Well — yes," Kim admits. "I know that maybe it doesn't seem like enough — I know it doesn't seem like enough to him — but John has been trying. And I can't afford to give up on anybody who wants to be better than the person they were."

Nick realizes that Clark has disappeared from the group. The family from the Honda is nowhere to be seen either; Mary Hall is standing at the back porch with her hands on her son's shoulders while Carmina stands next to them.

For a moment, the silence between the two sides seems insurmountable, and Nick worries that they might have to be ready to move or otherwise defend their home from an angry mob. But eventually, after a few tortuously long seconds have gone by, Sonny Hall comes to a decision.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter what happens in Hope County anymore," he says, scratching his chin. "Only time will tell if we'll have to deal with Eden's Gate in California. Still... Might be best if we get moving sooner, all things considered."

"Guess we're getting out while the getting's good," Merit tells Katrina, who looks like she still wants to pick a fight, even with a wide-open escape at her back. "Don't worry, nothing from this podunk piece of shit is gonna affect anything, ever!"

Katrina stares at John like she's memorizing a mortal enemy. "You better hope not," she tells him, although she looks at Nick when she says it.

Sharky doesn't move as the group begins to retreat, leaving Hurk to awkwardly stop some feet behind and wait for him. He stares at Nick like he doesn't recognize the ugly thing he sees standing there.

"It was a real low blow, bringing the deputy into this," he says. "You know that."

For the first time today, Nick feels truly guilty. True or not, throwing anything Rook-related in Sharky's face is definitely a low blow. "Yeah," he says. "I shouldn't have done that."

Deflating at Nick's apology, Sharky scowls in John's direction before eyeballing the Ryes. "Lucky for you, I like Kim," he says at last, sniffing dismissively. "Otherwise, we'd have a real problem here."

"Thank you, Sharky," Kim replies. "Be safe, okay?"

Nodding reluctantly, Sharky turns to join his and Hurk's small gang. Nick watches them all go, unable to decide whether or not that was the best possible outcome, or simply the least bloodthirsty. He can't help but worry who they're going to tell what , but at this point, it's out of his hands.

"I'll go get Carmina," Kim says after a brief silence. "It might be better if they don't see us before they leave."

"I'll do it," Jerome says. He breaks away somewhat guiltily, but Nick can tell that he wishes he could join the caravan right now and get as far away from this mess as possible. Hell, after the way things went today, he still might try.

It's only once Jerome is gone that John speaks, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. "It's not really over," he says, "It can't be."

"Well, we'll have to go through that a couple hundred more times," Nick points out, "But... I mean, yeah. It's over. Sorry I wouldn't let them flog you or anything."

It's probably too early to joke, but he manages to draw a sigh from John, which is better than nothing. He's saved from having to respond as Carmina jogs across the yard, bouncing from foot to foot once she comes to an antsy stop in front of them.

"Is everything okay?" she asks. "They're all leaving!"

"Everything is fine," Kim tells her. "They want to get some distance before night-fall, that's all. Did you have any luck trading with Liam?"

Kim distracts Carmina from the escaping caravan by talking about her new book, as well as some potential ways to find new reading material. Nick and John both remain in the same spots that they'd defended themselves from, until the last car rumbles out of the drive and Jerome reappears on the back porch.

"What now?" John asks.

"I dunno," Nick replies. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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lifeinahole27 · 4 years

Text

Oh Man... Here we go...

Okay so! I probably said a while ago that I was gonna do a bunch of shit that I never ended up doing! Well! There’s an explanation for all of that.

Let’s start with a quick recap:

At the very end of July, one of my coworkers no call/no showed and quit. Well, there was this whole shit-crazy story that came out as her “reasoning” but it was all total bullshit and long story short, she gone. THANK GOODNESS. She was the worst. There were more shifts than I can accurately count that I spent hours trying to fix her total bullshit mistakes that she shouldn’t have still been making after six months on the job. Stuff that she was expected to do every single day and mark it off on a checklist that just wasn’t getting done, or wasn’t getting done properly. Like I said, total bullshit.

So she’s gone, and was the last pin that my supervisor would take all her angry frustrations out on. Okaaaay, so what ends up happening? Her attentions shift. And to start, it shifted to me and another of my coworkers, who I’ll name T. T and I both got chewed out one day for not handing over the phone when the gentleman asked for a manager. Now, previously, we’d been told that we should make our own decisions and we needed to stop looking at her for guidance. Kay! So I answered this call and asked if they wanted to be transferred to our GM’s mailbox. She flipped her shit at us, told us we don’t view her as management, that we don’t respect her... Blah blah blah. So I go and apologize and tell her that I do respect her and she’s the one I am always turning to when I need any kind of help or guidance. Chilly, she accepts, but I know right then and there that this is fractured and it’s either going to mend in a bit of time or completely break apart.

Guess which one happened! Over the next six months, things go to absolute shit, and in that same amount of time, I put out what has to be something close to 60 applications at other hotels, at offices, every-fucking-place that sounds good, pays well, and that I’m qualified for. All of it. I legit made it rain with my resume if that’s even possible when it’s digital.

Out of all of those applications, I get something less than 10 callbacks. Which is downright fucking disappointing. But somewhere in there I must’ve reblogged the right “you’ll get good news!” post or my mom’s prayers were answered or the universe heard my sister getting ready to fight it for me to get a new job.

All throughout this, my supervisor is going back and forth on this emotional roller coaster bullshit. One day she’s like BFFS and the next she’s literally throwing things around the front desk in anger and screaming about things that I probably had nothing to do with. One day there was a trailer in our parking lot (don’t even get me started on that policy or I’ll scream) and she’s like WHY IS THAT THERE and I snapped back that the GM was the one to OK it.

All through this time, also, I was trying to keep my cool. To make it out without getting bitched at or screamed at or really to have her pay any attention at all to me because I was sick of it. She was instrumental in pushing me into several anxiety or panic issues, and I just wanted out. I have a post screencapped from some moment where she posted a meme on her FB about how she wishes her coworkers would do their fucking jobs when legit all of us try harder than I’ve seen her try since I started over a year ago.

In any case. A bunch of those callbacks all came in at the same time. One was for a hotel in the middle-of-goddamn-nowhere Ohio, one was for a hotel down an hour away, and one was for a sales position with a company one of my buddies works for.

The sales position would’ve been double my current yearly salary and it was in a city I wanted to work in. But the phone tag was taking a week between each call, basically, and by the time he returned my call the one time, I’d already interviewed and decided to accept one of the other job offers. The hotel in Ohio would’ve been an Assistant General Manager position which is what I originally applied to be out at my current hotel. But it was seriously in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t do it. The apartment that I’d scoped before the interview just in case was next to a house that had a confederate goddamn flag outside of it. Nope. Absolutely not.

And then there’s the one an hour away, which I ultimately ended up accepting last Friday. I’m going to be doing the same job as my supervisor, at higher pay, at a bigger hotel, in a city. Yeah, that does feel pretty good, especially when she essentially threw a three day tantrum over the fact that I’d gotten a different job and had put in my notice.

This includes posting up on her FB literally minutes after she must’ve found out: “I don’t think I have ever been this angry before.”

I found out later through grapevine that T overheard the GM telling supervisor that she had to stop being angry that I’d gotten a job and was leaving. Again, yeah, it feels good.

SO! What does all this mean? Well, my life is about to become an absolute shitshow. I had to cancel going back to Enchanted con this year, which has been an absolute heartbreak. I also had and lost the opportunity to go to Boston for Ace Comic Con all in one shot. As the lineup keeps beefing up, I get sadder and sadder about what happened to my prospects for conventions this year, but I’m hopeful that a) there will be other comic-cons in the future that I can attend and b) that Jen and Colin will reunite at another convention that I’ll have the time and funds to attend. It would be super cool if it was in the US... Just putting that into the universe and hoping for a good time.

But the good news is, that any money I didn’t spend on those two things is getting set aside for moving out of my parents’ house. And while it’s still a couple months away, it’s gonna be pretty spectacular to have my independence back and be on my own again.

The bad news is that all this shit, including holiday depression, the death of a close friend’s father, the general downs and downs and downs of life, all pushed me to the brink with my writing. I am finally down to the last four or so scenes in my rewrite and I only took a breather (I’m at work right now) to write up this post because it’s all been dying to break out of me to talk about all of this. I’m going right back to it in a moment because I am so fucking determined to finish this fic if it kills me. And if I don’t, my beta will kill me, so it all works out in the end!

But the rest of the future is very unclear right now. I still have holiday fic bits I want to post up and soon, and of course this rewrite will enter edits after tomorrow. I’m going to have a solid week off between ending my current job and starting the new one, so I hope to get a bunch done both online and offline. We’ll go from there on everything else, though.

So look for some stuff to be posted soon, and just a general Thank You to all of you who are still here, who still read my posts - whether they are fic or not - and for the support, love, encouragement, kind words, props, and everything else. I legit don’t know where I’d be without any and all of you out there that have done something to help keep me up in a world of downs.

I hope to be able to post writing soon, right around the corner, so I hope you’ll enjoy it when it gets here.

#sarah for life stuff #there's a lot in here so like... watch out for depressing shit in some areas #that's a good warning isn't it?

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years

Text

A Tale of Two Soldiers- Part 2

Title: A Tale of Two Soldiers- Part 2

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader, Erik x black!reader

Summary: Erik attends the readers birthday party.

Word Count: 5150

Warnings: SMUT (18+), cussing, Erik being Erik

Read Part 1 here.

A/N: This is my first MCU fic and Erik fic. Please don’t hate me if its trash lol! There will definitely be multiple parts. This is set after Black Panther but before Infinity War. Please reblog if you really like it!

A/N: Sorry this is so long, but I had so many ideas for this part and I didn’t want to break it up in mini-parts.

Your birthday party was in full swing. The dj was playing a mix of 80s to current music, the food smelled delicious, and you were surrounded by family and friends. The only thing that was missing were your friends on the run: Steve, Nat, Sam, and Bucky.

Your outfit was a simple, black maxi dress with black wedges, and a gold hoop earrings, which unfortunately matched Erik’s which was, a black t-shirt with black adidas joggers and his gold canine grill, which caused your family to believe you were a couple as soon as you stepped out.

“Girl, you sure he ain’t your man,” your oldest sister, Jemilah wondered as she pointed her cup to Erik while he was talking to your brothers and brothers-in-laws.

“Yes heifer! I’m sure that he’s not my man. Why you asking that stupid ass question?”

Casey, the second youngest interjected, “Because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since the party started.”

“Well, you need to tell him that, because the way he looking at you telling me he in love and he gon be breaking your back tonight,” Jemilah claimed.

You just told your sisters that Erik was just watching out for you, because he knew you could get a little buck wild when you drank and he didn’t want you to act a fool in front of your family. Soon, they dropped the topic to start gossiping about some of the party goers and you were thankful the attention was off of you for a while. However, your respite was short live, because your mom was strutting towards you with a man who gave you Morris Chestnut vibes with his physique and beautiful skin.

“Y/N, dear, this is Malcom. Malcom, this is my daughter, Y/N, the birthday girl.”

You shook Malcom’s hand, which was smooth unlike Erik’s or Bucky’s. While you two exchanged pleasantries, your mom listed off Malcom’s credentials like she was reading his resume. You tuned her out while seeking a way out at her blatant attempt of matchmaking, when you suddenly felt a familiar warmth behind.

“Hey princess, one of your sisters said they needed your help with something.”

You gave Erik a silent thank you and told your mom and Malcom you catch them later. Somehow your mother caught you taking a break from everyone in the kitchen. “You know, you didn’t have to have your little friend help you escape. I’m just trying to help.”

Exasperated with the same conversation with your mother you sighed, “Help with what mama? I’m not ready to settle down, especially not with some lame lawyer.”

Your mother walked up to you and grabbed your arms, “Baby, Malcom is not lame. He’s a Morehouse man, does plenty of community service for kids of color, and he worked for Obama. The Barack Obama,” she stressed. “And you ain’t getting any younger.” Of course, your mama would be the only one to consider 26 old. “I don’t understand you, Y/N. Why you must be the only one out of 6 kids to rebel against everything. You chose to go to Howard instead of Spelman like your sisters did and if you were a boy you wouldn’t go to Morehouse like your brothers, then you had the nerve to join the Marines, and when you got discharged you did something even crazier, you let my crazy ass brother and his ridiculous friend Tony Stark talk you into joining the Avengers.”

Pulling away from her, you begged your mom, “Can we not argue about this today? I just want to enjoy my friends and family and celebrate my birthday. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Is it too much for me to ask for you to be happy and safe,” your mom threw right back. After a moment of silence, surprisingly, your mom agreed to drop it but promise you two would talk more about it tomorrow.

As you made your way back outside, you joined your siblings on the dance floor and began doing the bunny hop with them. Once that ended, the dj began playing Get It Ready by DJ Jubliee and you knew you were about the cut the fuck up. You felt Erik’s familiar presence behind you and once you heard ‘walk it like a dog’ you were grinding all up Erik like y’all weren’t at a family function. When the song was over you heard your dad clear his throat to break the lust filled gazes you and Erik were giving each other.

“Sorry, daddy,” you mumbled to your dad and ran off to join your sisters and Nakia, Okyoe, and Shuri at the tables. When you joined them, you heard Jemilah mutter to the others, “Mmmhmm, ain’t my man my ass.”

“Oh, he’s not. Y/N has another suitor back home,” Shuri happily confessed.

“Traitor,” you whispered in the princess’s ear.

Casey started whipping her head around as she was in search for someone, “Why he ain’t here then?”

“James does not feel well,” Okyoe admitted while she gave you a secret wink. Thank God, she lied for you, because even though you’ve done undercover ops for some unknown reason you can’t lie to your sisters that well.

“Describe him,” Jemilah ordered.

Thinking of Bucky automatically had you in a dream-like state, “Tall. Broad shoulders. Body of a Greek God. Oh, and his eyes. They’re this deep blue—”

“BLUE?” your sisters shouted.

“You really trying to give mama a heart attack. This man white?” Casey chuckled and you shook your head yes. You knew their outburst came from the fact that your mama had this goal of all her children have a black love relationship like her and your father. It wasn’t bad that she promoted black love, you really appreciated it, but she was harsh on y’all if you tried dating someone outside your race, she and Erik had that in common. You remembered when Casey brought back her white boyfriend during Christmas break one year and your mama was so hard on the poor boy, he didn’t make it to Christmas Eve dinner.

“He is. And I obviously don’t care what she thinks, so lets drop it ok,” you demanded and thankfully the women obliged.

You and the other women discussed the Wakanda Outreach program, when Casey swore, “Aww fuck! Here comes ‘Cousin Faith’.” Now you really didn’t have a Cousin Faith, her real name was Stephanie, but you and your sisters called her Cousin Faith because she was always trying to steal one of y’alls man, even after your sisters got married.

“Y/N, how the fuck you bag a prince,” Stephanie whined.

Clearly confused you looked at her crazy, “Girl, what are you talking about? I’m not dating any prince.”

“Not yet anyway. That dread-headed nigga, Erik. He was talking to your mama and daddy about how he sees a future with you, and said his last name is ummmmm… shit….it’s something foreign.”

“Udaku,” Shuri interjected.

“Yes that’s it,” Stephanie exclaimed. “And your mama walking around saying you marrying a prince and you’re gonna be princess of a country of black people. Girl she even kicked that lame nigga, Malcom out the party. Talking about she don’t want him to mess up your chances with Erik.”

Your sisters just stared at you with slacked jaws and wide eyes at this revelation. You only told them that Erik was an American close with the Wakandan royalty and worked for the Wakanda Outreach Program out in Oakland. Jemilah was the first to say something, “Whew chile. You better get ready for that wedding, because you know mama ain’t gon let up now she knows he’s a prince.” You just rolled your eyes at her and went in search for the soon to be dead prince of Wakanda.

Erik must have known you were looking for him, because when you put your sight on him he ran the opposite direction and went inside the house. The nigga was fast because he was nowhere to be found.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. where is Mr. Stevens,” you called out to the AI.

“In the downstairs bathroom by the kitchen. I have unlocked the door for you.”

You shouted out a thanks to the AI and proceeded to find Erik rolling a blunt in the bathroom. Wasting no time, you decked that nigga in his pitbull ass face. “Oh shit, princess! That hurt. What the fuck is your problem?”

Pointing a finger at the handsome but infuriating man, you responded, “What’s my problem? My problem is you telling my mama that you a whole damn prince!”

Erik rubbed his chin and smirked at you, “So what you’re saying is, you’re mad at me for telling the truth about being a prince, but you ain’t mad that I told your parents I have plans for making you my wife.”

Oh shit, you forgot about the part. Damn, now this nigga really thought he had a chance, but somewhere inside of you knew that the prospect of being Erik’s wife sounded ideal, but you couldn’t let him know. “That’s beside the point Erik. You knew my mama thinks of herself as a so-called matchmaker and you just add fuel to her fire. She’s not gonna stop until I become Mrs. Y/N Udaku.”

Erik couldn’t stop cheesing when he heard your name in front of last name, it gave him a sense of pride that he hope would become true someday. “Baby girl, I’m sorry,” He lifted your chin so you could make eye contact with him, “But after you were throwing that ass, your parents pulled me aside and started asking a bunch of questions about you and I.” At this moment in time Erik looked nervous and unsure of himself when he rubbed the back of his neck. “And, shit princess, I couldn’t lie to them. I wanted my intentions to be clear to them and I threw in my last name so your mama could stop pushing that wack ass Morris Chestnut wannabe up on you.”

With Erik’s declaration out in the open you couldn’t really be mad at him anymore. Rubbing at your temples, you said “I guess I understand. But you don’t understand that my mama is about to work my nerves even more this weekend.”

Erik got that devilish glint in his eye when he was up to no good and presented you with the blunt. You were automatically shaking your head no, because you didn’t smoke, and Erik knew that. “Erik, I can’t smoke that. I never smoke it right and I’ll be wasting the blunt.”

“Nah, its your birthday and I caused you some trouble at your party, so imma get you high,” Erik was practically pushing the blunt in your face. You jumped on the sink counter and took the blunt to your mouth so Erik could light it up. Your first couple of inhales had you coughing, but you finally got the hang of it and it was becoming smooth.

Sensing that you were comfortable with smoking, Erik was pushing the hem of your dress up and kneeling on the ground. “Boy what are you doing,” you questioned him with half hooded eyes.

Again Erik had that damn devilish glint, “Imma help you relax even further baby, so you won’t even be aggravated by your mama.” You just let out a sigh of content and was about to hit the blunt, when you felt Erik’s tongue on your pussy. First, he was making small, slow licks and began to pick up the pace until you felt an orgasm overcome you. “Please…please,” you begged.

“Please, what,” Erik mumbled.

“Please don’t stop,” you slurred out.

And when you didn’t think it was possible began flicking your clit even faster and inserted two curled fingers inside of you. It didn’t take long for you to gush all over Erik’s mouth and fingers. You were in a world of euphoria thanks to the blunt and Erik, that you ordered Erik, “Take your dick out.”

It took him a little while for the words to register in his brain, but once they did he was pulling down his pants and boxer briefs, “Shit, you ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Erik grabbed a condom and rolled it onto his hard length. Once, he was sheathed, you grabbed Erik by his dick and guided him inside of you. When he was completely inside, you both let out a sight of content, and then he began thrusting into with wild abandonment. You both knew this little fuck session couldn’t last long, because people at the party would notice you two were missing, so Erik made quick work and had you both cumming within two minutes.

After being thoroughly fucked by Erik, you two return to the party, him to the tables and you to the food to make y’all some plates. You just sat in Erik’s lap when you put his plate in front him when your eldest brother, Thomas, interrupted y’all from eating, “Damn, nigga! What the hell you do to my baby sister?”

Both you and Erik looked at each other confused. “What do you mean by that,” Erik questioned.

“Little miss thing over here,” Thomas said while pointing at you, “has said she will never make a man’s plate, because his arms and legs works just as well as hers and she be too damn hungry to make two plates.”

Erik looked at you adoringly while you just wanted to go under a rock and die. Thankfully, Casey slapped Thomas in the back his head, stating he needed to keep his damn mouth closed. Erik just gave you a small kiss on the cheek and a quiet thank you, and then y’all resumed eating without any more embarrassing moments for you.

It was about half hour later and it was time for you to open your presents. T’Challa, Shuri, Nakia, and Okoye designed your gift. T’Challa presented you with a long skinny box that was wrapped in onyx wrapping paper. You made quick work of the wrapping paper and opened the box, which revealed a sword, your preferred weapon.

“Its completely made of vibranium. I used training footage of your fighting technique and designed the sword to compliment you. Even if someone else got ahold of it, it wouldn’t be as deadly as it is with you. Its almost like Thor’s hammer,” Shuri explained.

“Whoa, that’s badass,” your twin nephews exclaimed in unison.

“Watch y’all mouths,” your mom reprimanded the boys while you gave a thanks to Shuri, Nakia, T’Challa, and Okyoe.

“Its our turn now,” Tony announced while he Pepper approach you. You watched your mom roll her eyes as Tony presented you with a manila envelope, not even trying to hold his disdain for him.

“Before you open that, I just want to tell you something Rhodey Jr.,” Tony held up his hands and stopped you from opening your gift. “I’m proud to say its been a pleasure from watching you grow up from that annoying little brat that Rhodey would bring here during the summers to a badass, intelligent young woman. And Pepper and I want to thank you for helping with everything, so you deserve this brat.”

You were on the verge of tears, but you knew Tony didn’t do crying so you just hugged him instead. “Whoa kid, you haven’t even open it yet,” Tony exclaimed as he patted you on your back. At that you went back to the envelope to discover a document. For a while you just sat there in silence as you read over the document a couple of times just to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

Getting tired of your silence, your Uncle Ray demanded, “Girl tell us what it says!”

Breaking out of your trance, you mumbled, “They gave me a 20% share of Stark Industries.” Instantly you went up to Tony and Pepper and pleaded with them to take it back, even with it just being 20% they just made you a billionaire. “Guys you can’t give this to me. This is too much. What about your future kids? They deserve this more than me. You gotta take it back,” you ranted.

“Y/N, no one deserves this more than you do. You work about as much as Tony and me on Stark Industries business, so 20% is nothing,” Pepper explained to you.

You knew that you wouldn’t win the argument, so you gave the couple another thank you and sat down for your final gift. Erik approached you and set down a gift bag in front of your face. “Happy birthday, princess.”

When you reached into the bag you pulled out three tickets, three Beyoncé concert tickets to be exact.

“Beyoncé?!?!?!?” you exclaimed.

“Yeah umm, I got ‘em for you and your sisters,” Erik responded shyly. “They’re meet and greets also. But I got the whole day plan for y’all: massages, mani and pedis, hair appointments, and a shopping spree.” Your jaw dropped more when Erik listed what he had planned for us that day. You couldn’t understand how someone so aggravating, annoying, and selfish could be so thoughtful and selfless at the same time.

“Do you need a wife, girlfriend, side ho, concubine or something? Because damn nigga, that’s one hell of a birthday present,” Casey blurted out, causing her husband to tell her to shut up and sit her ass down, and Jemilah to punch her in her shoulder.

Erik chuckled and waved his hand, “Na ma, I’m good. Besides I only got eyes for one Y/L/N,” Erik stated while looking you dead in the eyes. All the women at the table practically sighed in amazement at Erik’s confession. Pointing at the gift bag, Erik mentioned there was another present in the bag. This time you brought out a small velvet box and fear overcame you. You heard your mom whisper to your dad hoping it was a ring and you were hoping for the complete opposite. Noticing the apprehension on your face, Erik calmed you down, “Chill out, its not a ring. I’m not proposing yet.”

Your mama nudged your dad in his ribs, “You hear that Charles? He’s not proposing yet.” And your dad just responded with a grunt, still not giving his full approval yet. “I like you more and more with each passing moment young man,” your mom called out to Erik.

Relief overcame you and that’s when you opened the box, revealing a necklace with a black and gold jaguar pendant inscribed with a Wakandan text.

“Warrior princess,” Erik said pulling you out of your trance.

“Huh?”

“It says warrior princess. You can kick anybody’s ass, so you’re a warrior, and you’re my princess, so you’re a warrior princess,” Erik explained.

“Girl, if you don’t marry him, imma beat your ass personally and then take him for myself,” your Aunt Charlene blurted out.

You couldn’t help but laugh at your outspoken aunt’s words, but you also knew she would keep her promise, which made you briefly think of a future with Erik. Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts too long, you gave him a kiss, thank him for your gifts, and whispered in his ear that you would properly thank him in the bedroom later on that night, which resulted in him growling in your ear and rubbing on your ass in front of your whole family.

After you finished receiving the rest of your gifts, your Uncle James pulled you to the side. “Here, this came a couple of days ago and I didn’t want you to open in front of everyone,” James declared as he handed you a package.

You knew it couldn’t be a gift from your uncle, because he already gave you his earlier. Inside of the package was a sketchbook, which confused you because you couldn’t draw for shit, but once you open it you knew exactly who sent the book. It was from Steve. He sent you a book full of drawings of you with him, Sam, Nat, or Wanda. There was a picture of you struggling doing your hair during wash day and Sam just laughing at you, another one of you and Nat flat on your asses because y’all managed to take each other down at the same time, one of you having a heart attack while Wanda lifted you in the sky with her powers, and one of you and Steve watching tv during one of your many movie nights. As you made your way through the drawings, a note fell out:

Sorry kid, we couldn’t make your birthday. Sam’s a little sad that we can’t go to the strip club, that you made me promise I would go to on your birthday. However, I’m thankful. I still don’t think I’m quite ready for that. It sucks that we’re not there but trust me we’re doing fine, which brings me to my point. Although, its very much appreciated STOP SENDING MONEY. I don’t want you to get caught, that’s the whole reason we kept you out of the fight in the first place. Don’t worry we’ll see each other soon. Happy birthday, Y/N! Love, S.R.

P.S.- Sam speaking here, I’m not little mad, I’m BIG mad that we’re not at the strip club! Don’t listen to the big guy, keep sending that money. Do you know what type of motels we’ve been staying in? Its not good for my delicate skin. Just kidding, I guess, stay safe kid and happy birthday!

Before you knew it, tears were falling onto the note. “Thanks for giving this to me Uncle James,” you mumbled in between sniffles.

Pulling you into a hug, your Uncle responded, “No problem.” You were making your way out his embrace when he pulled you back, “One more thing. Be careful with that Killmonger.”

You were about to ask your uncle how did he know about Erik’s military codename, but you remembered that he was a colonel and had access to the most sensitive information. Hugging him tighter you told Uncle James, “I will.”

You went up to your room to put away your gifts and clean your face when you got a notification from your kimoyo beads. Suddenly, Bucky’s face appeared before and he immediately took in your red and puffy eyes, “What’s wrong, doll?”

You waved him off, “Nothing. Steve sent me a birthday present, so the waterworks came.”

“That punk. I’ll make sure to beat him up the next time I see him. How’s the party?”

“Its great! Tony and Pepper gave me a 20% share of the company, Shuri—” you absentmindedly went out your room, not thinking about anyone seeing you talking to Bucky, then BOOM, you ran into your sisters in the hallway.

“Bitch, is that the Winter Soldier!?!?” Casey all but screeched. You immediately pulled them inside your room, so no one could see or hear them. “Y/N he’s fine! So, this was the James you were talking about. What kind of conditioner he use, because his hair is on point,” Casey rambled.

“I gotta handle this Buck. Talk to you later?”

Bucky saw your problem and quickly reassured you, “Yeah no problem, doll. Happy birthday and talk to you later.”

“Doll???” Both of your sisters questioned playfully.

Frustrated that they caught you talking to an international fugitive, you asked your sisters, “What the hell y’all doing up here?”

“We were coming up to say goodbye to our baby sister. What the hell you doing talking to an international fugitive,” Jemilah threw right back.

It was Casey turned to speak, “Didn’t he kidnap your ass once and kill T’Challa’s daddy?”

“Yes, to the first question, but he was brainwashed and no to the second, someone used his face as a mask and framed him,” you informed your sisters. Giving them both your puppy dog eyes, you pleaded to them, “Promise y’all won’t say anything. Even to your husbands.”

Jemilah and Casey came and sat on the bed with you and each grabbed one of your hands. “Y/N you know we won’t. If you say he didn’t do those things, then he didn’t do it. We trust you. Now you better hope mama don’t find out he’s the reason you’re not with Erik, because she would flip her shit,” Casey confided in you. Thankful for your sisters you hugged them and returned downstairs to say goodbye to the rest of the guests.

When you returned back to your room, you found Erik without his shirt laying on the bed and scrolling through his phone. Deciding to skip a shower for now you got out of your outfit, just leaving you with your bra and panties on and joined Erik on the bed. “You know, you didn’t have to give me all those presents for my birthday. I would’ve been fine with one or the other,” you whispered to Erik.

“No, baby girl. You deserve that and so much more. I just wanna show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Honestly E, I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you said as you traced his scars.

“Are you for real,” Erik asked incredulously as he rolled your body underneath him. “Princess, you saved my life up on that mountain. I owe you my life.”

The battle was getting tiring and you didn’t know if it would ever end, even with the help of the Jabri tribe. One second, you’re knocking out one member of the Border tribe, and then the next you see all of the Border tribe on their knees surrendering to the Dora. And what a sight to see, all of those men kneeling before women. However, you didn’t get to enjoy it for too long, as T’Challa called you over the comms. “Y/N, I need you to meet me on the mountain. Erik’s hurt.”

Dropping everything you had and running towards the mountain, you replied, “I’m on my way.” On your way towards the cousins you thought about how your stay in Wakanda wasn’t suppose to be about fighting a war against your ex-fling. When you came here it was for keeping an eye out onBucky and not wanting to return to America after the way Tony and Steve fell out because of the Accords, but here you are running towards a man, who you had a brief fling but intense connection with, who was also dead set on killing his cousin, because of the sins of his father.

“Bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage,” you heard Erik declare. You made it up to the panther mountain just in the nick of time, because Erik was pulling out the spear, but thankfully you stop him. “What the hell are you doing, Y/N,” Erik grunted.

“Saving your dumbass. What do you think?”

Erik chuckled and even near death’s door he was beautiful, “I see you still got jokes. I hope you know I ain’t getting lock’d up, so let go princess.”

“No.”

“No?” Erik echoed.

“Did I stutter nigga? No.”

T’Challa interrupted yours and Erik’s banter, “Y/N, I said help him, not antagonize him.”

Turning towards the rightful king, “Chill, I got this,” you assured him. Turning your attention to the would-be usurper, you instructed Erik, “You’re not dying today, I won’t let you.” “All the shit you’ve done was payback for you and your dad, right,” you questioned.

At that Erik just shook his head, so you continued on. “But didn’t he just want you to come to Wakanda and experience its wonders?” Again there was another head nod from Erik. “So, why would you want to die? Yeah, you might have to spend a little bit of time locked up, but it won’t be forever. Your cousin understands your pain. You were abandoned as a child with no one in your corner, let T be in your corner now. Let Shuri be in your corner, let Queen Ramonda be in your corner, let me be in your corner!”

By now, both you and Erik had tears falling down. It was a rare moment where both of you were vulnerable and both of you were crying for the boy in Oakland who lost his innocence. You were confident enough that Erik wouldn’t remove the spear, so you let it go and cupped his face instead. “What King T’Chaka did to your father was wrong, but T’Challa is not his father, just like you’re not N’Jobu. He’s T’Challa and you’re N’Jadka, y’all can be better than your fathers ever were.”

“Ok, princess, you got me. Besides I still need to take your country bumpkin ass to Oakland,” Erik joked with you.

“Thank Bas,” T’Challa murmured off to the side.

“Nigga, how many times I gotta tell you I’m from Houston and that’s a major city, not some podunk ass town. Anyways you can’t convince me Cali is better than Texas. Y’all may have Tupac but we got Beyonce and Whataburger is better than In-n-Out,” you argued back with Erik, grateful that he decided to live.

“Whatever, I’ll prove you wrong. But are either one of you niggas gon help me or y’all just gon talk me to death,” Erik questioned. Both you and T’Challa shared a look before y’all rolled your eyes at Erik’s antics and helped him up. You both knew keeping Erik alive was the right thing to do, but you also knew he would sometimes make you regret the decision.

“E, babe, I just talked to you, you responded back as you absentmindedly traced his scars.

“Well, that talk convinced me to live. Now thanks to you, I have a family, I have a home, I have a noble purpose, I get to watch those Wakandan sunsets my dad always talked about. Baby girl, I owe you everything. I’ll be with you always, even if you decide to get with tin man, even though it would be a mistake, because I’m the better choice.” You playfully slapped Erik across his chest, which he thought was an invitation for play fighting.

A couple of minutes later, you ended up on your back again, and one of Erik’s legs in between yours. He cupped your chin, “I’m serious princess. I’ll never stop being thankful,” Erik confessed. For a while the pair of you stared in each other’s eyes until you reached up to kiss him. Then, Erik made quick work of getting rid of his and yours remaining clothes. Once you were both naked, he entered inside of you and for the first time ever, you and Erik made love and not fuck. While he was giving you slow deep strokes, and whispering sweet nothings and praising you in your ear, you fully admitted to yourself that you were falling in love with Erik and being Y/N Udaku-Stevens wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

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