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piastrinorris · 2 years ago

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Thanks for all the love on chapter 1, gang! This one's a real slow burn so I hope you're all in for the ride, haha. Also, I had picked the date Ralph arrived at random based on the general timeline I have for this fic, but it was only when making the fake text screenshots that I realised that the following day may have been a major event in the UK, so I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not Ralph was responsible for that one lmao.

Also!! Big, beeg love to everyone in the jq server for enabling, encouraging and basically co-writing this whole premise, but especially to @hawkinsbanishedhero whose one-off typo, as featured in this chapter, inspired the absolute monolith this fic has become. <3

You wake up to a shooting pain in your back and an ache down one side. You groan as you stir into consciousness; for years you’ve always been able to pride yourself on the ability to sleep literally anywhere perfectly fine, you’d never understood why your friends always complain about back pains and knee pains when you’re all still relatively young, but now you get it.

You manage to pull yourself to standing and stiffly make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. You look over at your closed bedroom door, wondering whether to wake Ralph up before you go to work. You don’t have to be there for opening, at least, but you do hope he’s not one to lay in for too long. Besides, the earlier you can get in to catch up on admin stuff before Head Office complain at you, the better.

As though he could read your thoughts, the door opens and a very sleepy Ralph emerges, rubbing his eyes to adjust them to the sunlit room. It’s positively adorable. “Morning,” you smile at him. “Sleep well?”

“Ah, good morning!” Even through his yawns, his voice remains very prim and proper. “I slept delightfully, apart from the occasional din coming from outside. I only noticed that when I was already awake, though.”

“Yeah, perks of being in South London, police sirens are pretty much 24/7 here. You get used to it,” you shrug, and Ralph looks horrified, ignoring your silent offer to make him a cup of tea.

“So, crime just happens? Everywhere? And it’s all just par for the course?!” he asks in shock. You nod, and he frowns. “I don’t think I want to leave the house.”

“You might need to someday, bud,” you point out, still making him one just in case. “I need to go to work, and you might end up going stir-crazy in here all the while,” you gesture at the four walls of your living-kitchen space.

“Yes, it is rather… Cramped in here,” Ralph comments with an upturned nose, though he takes the cup of tea that you slide over to him happily enough.

“Yeah, well. This is how far £900 a month gets you,” You shrug as you take your first sip, and Ralph chokes on his.

“I beg your pardon?!” he sputters out. “Ni- Nine hundre- How much is that really worth?!”

Nodding silently, you hold a finger up and take your phone out. As seems to be routine whenever you and Ralph learn about the stark differences between your time and his, you take your turn to react, almost choking and spitting out your mouthful. “Nineteen pounds?!”

“Well, that still sounds rather extortionate to me!” Ralph replies with wide eyes.

You walk over to where you had last thrown off your jacket and dig out your purse, taking out a £20 note and handing it to Ralph. “This, right here, would have been enough in your day to pay for this whole flat for a month.”

Again, Ralph scrunches his nose in disgust. “I rather feel as though you’re being swindled.” He holds the money up, turning it over and over in his hands. “Is this what money looks like nowadays?!”

“Yeah! Here,” you empty the monetary contents of your purse out onto the kitchen counter. You explain what each note and coin equate to. “I’ll leave them here in case you need to go to the store and get something. C’mere,” you wave him over to the window, pointing down below to a row of shop fronts at the bottom of another estate of flats. “There, on the corner, that’s a supermarket. It’s like, a greengrocers, a pharmacy and a clothing store, all in one. Then, next to it is the gardening store, my number one money sink.” You gesture to the houseplants that adorn the room.

“You do grow a lot of plants,” Ralph muses, smiling to himself as he gently holds a monstera leaf.

“All legal stuff, I promise,” you laugh. “But, yeah. Landlords don’t allow us to have pets, and so I’ve gotta have something to take care of. Of course, if I’d have known I’d be adopting a man born in the Victorian era, I might not have spent so much…”

Ralph, now more awake, bounces on the balls of his feet. “I-I can take care of them if you would like! Our gardener used to teach me all about how to water plants. It came in handy, being out in the garden sometimes. Much… quieter, out there,” Ralph falters, running the leaves between his fingers.

You place a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “Wanna talk about it?”

He takes a deep breath in as his shoulder tenses up under your touch. “Oh, no, it’s quite alright, you’ve got enough on your plate as it is!”

“Okay. Well, if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m more than happy to hear you out,” you rub your palm against him in a single circular motion before pulling away. “Don’t feel like you have to bottle things up around me, okay?”

Ralph chuckles, though there’s no amusement in it. “Oh, it’s fine, honestly, I’ve no trouble with bottling things up. Rather, it’s the fact that I don’t that leads to most of my problems!”

“Okay. You know what you’re happy to share, I’m not gonna push you. But don’t make yourself sad unnecessarily, ‘kay?” You hold your little finger out. “Here, I want you to pinky promise me.”

This time, Ralph does crack a smile. “Pinky… Promise?”

“Yeah!” you grin. “Like, you know how usually big decisions are made with a handshake to make them official?” Ralph nods. “Well, little decisions that still require a commitment are usually made with a pinky promise. It’s like a handshake, but only linking your little fingers. So, pinky promise me you’ll always tell me if there’s something I can help you with? This whole mess is scary for both of us. But we’re in it together.” You smile softly at Ralph, and he returns it. In the early morning light, you can see freckles bouncing off of his face. Of course he has freckles.

Ralph sticks out his little finger, too, and you wrap yours around his for a moment before letting go. “That was… Fun,” his ears tinge a slight pink.

“It was!” you grin. “Now, what would you like for breakfast? I’ve got cereal, I could cook you some eggs and bacon. Or, ooh, there’s one more shop I can show you!” You point out the last one in the row. “That’s a bakery. We can go pick up some fresh pastries if you wanted those, too.”

“Whatever is easiest for you,” Ralph insists. You pour him some cereal and milk in a bowl, stick a spoon in it and hand it to him, offering him to join you on the sofa.

“Okay, so while I’m gone, I obviously don’t expect you to sit here twiddling your thumbs until you get back. Now, this thing here, it’s called a television. Sometimes called a telly, sometimes called a TV. This,” you brandish the control at him, “is called a remote, it’s how you control it. You know how you could project films and stuff onto a screen, in your day?” Ralph nods. “This does that without needing a projector. And you can get all sorts of shows and films on there. I wouldn’t recommend you watch the news, just because… Well, you know why,” you pull a face and he nods slowly. “But I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like, there’s enough out there, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, so the T… V… I can watch people perform on here?” Ralph asks, and you nod. You show him how to flick through channels, and his eyes light up. “Fascinating!”

“And if you want to listen to music, there’s a special speaker, here,” you point to your Amazon Echo. “It has a name, and you can talk to it. So you could say, Alexa, play me some jazz,” you hold your finger up to tell Ralph to wait as the speaker flashes blue.

“Playing songs from playlist Jazz Classics,” the smooth robotic voice tells you, and sure enough, the room fills with the sounds of brass and percussion working in an upbeat harmony.

Ralph absolutely giggles in delight. “Marvellous! What a spectacular creation! And I could ask it to play any sort of music?”

You nod, telling the Echo to stop. “You can even tell it to play music based on what mood you’re in. So, if you need to wallow for a bit, you can have some sad songs to listen to, or if you’re feeling high-energy, you can ask for songs to match that. That should tide you over,” you nod as you take his bowl and yours to the kitchen sink. “I’ll be back around lunchtime to drop you off some more clothes and I’ll get you some lunch too, but if you want a snack in between, feel free to make yourself a sandwich, or…” Another quick Google search tells you toasters were around in 1926. “Or toast! You could make some toast, if you wanted. We’ll go food shopping soon and get more specific snacks for you, but I gotta get going.” You throw your jacket on.

“But what about your money? What if you have to pay for something?” Ralph asks, concerned.

“Don’t worry, mate, I’ve got it covered. That’s yours, yeah?” You point to the kitchen counter. “You can use it however you want when we go out. Just… Don’t go crazy, okay? I don’t exactly break the bank.” You throw your jacket on and wave him goodbye, “See you at lunch!”

Once you leave the flat, Ralph suddenly feels completely stranded. He tries to drown it out by pressing buttons on the “remote” until something shows up. It’s a show about people buying houses that are bare, and fixing them up to sell on. Ralph feels as though they end up looking worse, but he understands why he would feel that way. He just doesn’t understand the modern style, that’s all. It’s not their fault that taste clearly deteriorated over time. Then he watches a show all about “antiques”, though again, it takes him a while to acclimate to recognising certain pieces of furniture as items he’s witnessed being sold in stores just before he left for the army. He wonders, if he keeps watching, will there be an item that once belonged in Penbury House?

His mind wanders back to that comment you had made yesterday. Penbury House. A home that had been in the family name for generations upon generations, now a lowly bookstore. What could have possibly led to it being lost? Were there truly no more Penburys? Had Victoria gone absolutely mad and lost the entire family fortune? Was his accidental trip through time the catalyst to the death of the Penbury name as it was once known? Well, wouldn’t Mother and Father have a lot to say about that. Typical Ralph, can’t hold onto anything. Not even the estate tied to him by his last name, the only thing giving him any purpose.

He realises he needs a distraction. Something to keep him busy. You had mentioned something about toast, the kitchen staff had been very excited to receive a toaster oven not long before Ralph left. He remembers helping the cook, who didn’t know how to read, understand the instructions. It only toasts one side at a time, Ralph knows this. Spurred on by his pride, he finds the bread and puts it in the toaster.

As he’s trying to find the right button, switch, dial, lever - there’s so many extras on here, which one does he touch? - Ralph begins to get overwhelmed again. Echoes of his parents’ quick deflections, telling him to go ask the staff. The staff telling him that they’re far too busy to entertain children - other than the nanny, of course, who also made it very clear that she was only tending to Ralph’s needs because she was paid to do so. Victoria finding the art of making friends becoming second nature to her, and yet not to him for some reason. It’s not fair, he was just like her. So what made people want to be her friend and not Ralph’s?

Head swimming as the toast pops up, he remembers to turn it around to make sure it cooks on both sides - not realising that both sides had already cooked quite well. Soon, a strange smell starts to fill the flat. Then smoke quickly starts billowing out of the toaster. Ralph, terrified, slowly starts backing towards the door. Then an alarm of sorts goes off. Ralph wrenches the door open and backs out, his moon-wide eyes staring in horror.

Someone from the flat opposite opens the door and starts yelling, running in to unplug the toaster oven, pick up some… Tool that clamps together when they press it so, use it to take both slices out to throw them onto the counter. Ralph watches, back pressed to the wall as though he's tethered there, as this brave soul opens as many windows as they can before marching out to him, coughing their lungs out. "The fuck is wrong with you?! Who are you?! Are you supposed to even be here?!"

Ralph finds himself too stunned to speak. The neighbour rolls their eyes. "Do you at least know the person who lives here?" Ralph nods. "We'll see about that."

Being at work again, ironically, feels like it's been a century despite it only being a day. But the floor is running smoothly, everybody's here and working just great. You're even on track to finish all your admin stuff at long last, when - your phone rings as your neighbour's name pops up. You answer it, confused as to why they would possibly need to call you. “Hello?”

“You dating a dickhead, by any chance?” You hear their voice, a constant panicked hooting that - despite you having just met him - you could easily place as Ralph hyperventilating, and your smoke alarm in the background.

You sigh, “Not dating, but my… An old family friend is staying. Proper sheltered guy, sounds like a massive Tory. Is he okay?”

“Sheltered to the point of not knowing how a fucking toaster works?! I should call the fucking police on him for endangering the whole block!”

“No! No, please, I - Like I said, he’s just very… Look, I don’t have time to go through his life history with you -” read: I don’t have time to bullshit something right now - “but can you just… Keep an eye on him while I get back? I promise, he’s not bad, he’s just…”

“An absolute idiot?”

“Yeah…” You sigh.

“Alright. But only because you’ve been so good about keeping my cat secret.”

“I’ll buy Cheese her favourite tuna on my way home as a thank you!” you squeal in relief as you hang up.

You quickly ring up some clothes in the same size as the ones you’d given Ralph last night, explain to your staff that there’s an emergency at home and to call if they need anything - but please, god, don’t need anything, you think that last part to yourself.

Grateful you took your car this morning, you’re able to get back in a matter of minutes. You run into the supermarket to grab a can of tuna, a toothbrush for Ralph and, in a stroke of genius you’d had on the drive, a SIM card. You manage to successfully pay for everything - thanking whatever's out there that your phone's wallet system actually co-operated with the self-checkout for once - and run everything back to the flats, wanting to prioritise getting back to Ralph over getting the car into the right car park. You can do that once your poor neighbour is relinquished of their Ralph-sitting duties.

Once you get to your floor, you see your door still propped open, and your neighbour sat in their open doorway. With a relieved sigh, you fish out the can of tuna from your carrier bag and hand it over. “I will supply as much of that, and anything you want, as thanks for all this. Please don’t be mad at him -”

They raise a finger to interrupt you and lean over, revealing Ralph sitting on the floor of their flat, absolutely beaming as Cheese the cat paces in front of him, rubbing her head and body against his knees at every chance she can get. Ralph even pets her on occasion, which she takes happily.

Your face drops. “How - I have to use that tuna just to get a sighting of her when I come round and feed her!”

Your neighbour shrugs. “I’m just down here because I’m still convinced she’s doing it to lure me into a false sense of security -” You laugh with them at that, and they sigh in resignation. “But look at him. He’s harmless, isn’t he?”

You nod. “He’s just… Not used to living life on his own.”

They rasp as they stand up. “That’s an understatement. What, was he in some sort of imprisonment?!”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know. I just know that he wanted to get out of where he was. And he ended up here, with me.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, then.” A look of realisation dawns over their face as they grin at you knowingly. “Isn’t your flat a one-bed -”

“I am sleeping on the sofa!” You point at the pillow and blanket that still remain strewn over the back of your couch, just about in view of where your neighbour had kept open to keep watch of the flat. Your neighbour laughs as your cheeks turn pink. “I’m not expecting him to stick around, so I’m toughing it out until he can find his feet.”

“Yeah, well,” they shrug. “Just teach him how to use things in a way that doesn’t involve committing arson, alright?”

Ralph finally notices that you’re stood in the doorway, and the delight on his face immediately turns to shame. He stands and bows his head, quickly heading out and into your flat, not making eye contact with you. You frown, though nod a final thanks to your neighbour who thankfully nods back in understanding, and follow him in. “Hey, you alright?”

“I have failed you,” Ralph says simply, his back turned to you.

You walk over to him, deciding he probably doesn’t want physical contact just yet. “No, you didn’t, I did. I should have left instructions, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how it worked.”

“Is it all ruined?” he asks in a small voice.

You put your bag down on the kitchen counter to look at the toaster and shake your head, throwing the burnt toast away. “It’s absolutely fine, Ralph. Promise.” You lean down until you can make eye contact with him and offer him a smile. “Need a hug?”

Ralph, looking on the verge of tears, nods and you walk over to him with your arms outstretched. He buries his face in your shoulder as you feel his breaths become more and more regulated. You smell the smoke still clinging onto his shirt and tap his shoulder to get his attention. Once you’re out of his embrace, you can’t help but wish you’d lingered just a moment longer. You empty out the shopping bag you’d brought in, telling Ralph, “I bought you some new clothes. And a toothbrush. And something else I’m going to show you later. Go have another shower, get that smell out of you.”

While he’s in the shower again, you go to your junk drawer, thankful that you’d decided not to throw away your old phone when you upgraded through your contract. Putting the new SIM card in, you put your old phone on charge and start Ralph-proofing it. You delete all apps except for Google, so that he can find things out for himself. You’d tell him about Alexa’s capabilities there, too, but you feel as though Ralph isn’t quite ready to understand it can’t answer everything. Not like the internet can. While he's somewhat safe in the shower, and while the phone charges enough to power on, you quickly make sure your car isn't getting towed. That would just be the icing on the cake today.

Still, once you're back in the flat, all that stress seems to ebb away when he comes out of the bathroom. “You look smart,” you chime as he walks out wearing the outfit he’d chosen for himself from the clothes you'd provided: a brown plaid shirt and some jeans - you'd overestimated to be safe, but they didn't appear too baggy. Enough for a belt to manage, but they could fit better.

“Well, I couldn’t find a - a suit to co-ordinate anything with, or a tie, so I’ve had to make do. I hope this is suitable enough,” he brushes his shirt down with his hands and fiddles with the collar.

“It looks great, Ralph,” you reassure, waving him over. “Now, this is gonna be a really big thing I’m going to be teaching you about now, so we’ve gotta focus up, okay?”

You teach him how to send a text message to you, the only contact in the phone now. You teach him how to call you. You have him practise calling by going to your room and waiting for him. He gets all giddy when he’s figured it out. You teach him that if typing is difficult, he can press a button, speak into his phone and the words will come up. You also tell him that if he taps the last square on the screen, and types in a question, it’ll tell him everything he needs to know.

Once that’s out of the way, you remember something. “Ah, shit. Uh, hey, Ralph, I’m supposed to be going over to my friend’s place tonight for dinner. If you want, you can join us, or I can cancel -”

“No, please don’t cancel on my account! Oh, but I can’t be trusted on my own here, can I, oh blast…” Ralph falters, but you once again put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Nah, don’t be silly, you can come with, it’s fine.” You send the group chat a message:

“They say they can’t wait to meet you! All’s good,” you grin.

“It certainly isn’t, what about your job?” Ralph asks with a frown.

You sigh. "Let me make you lunch, I'll pop back in to finish my stuff. It's been a slow one and I've got a good team on so hopefully they understand if I need to dip early to come back to you. Literally, just text me or call me if you need anything, promise?" Ralph holds out his little finger and you link it with an affectionate smile. "I'll leave the spare key out here on the counter if you want to leave. And anything you want an answer to straight away, that I might not have time to answer, you can tap that last square on the main screen and type in the box, okay?" Ralph nods. You make the pair of you some sandwiches and take yours on the road with you, fishing out your spare key and showing Ralph where you're putting it ("just in case").

By the time you've driven to work, you have a notification on your phone, which you finally read once you're back in the office:

Once you're finally done with admin stuff, for the time being, you go back out onto the floor to check on your team. You fill them in on an old family friend coming to stay, he had a bit of an unfortunate incident with a kitchen appliance, all is well but you're keeping your phone on you just in case. They, naturally, want photos and details, which you promise them soon. When you notice you haven't heard from him in a while, you text him:

Your coworkers watch you with amused concern as you go from snorting with laughter to looking at your phone in horror:

Opting to simply wave them all off rather than try to explain what you'd just witnessed over the past half an hour, you help your sales assistants out as much as you can until you feel another buzzing in your back pocket. Half-terrified at what Ralph could possibly text next, you brace yourself:

You let out a stressed breath as you send that last one, and finally, your team wear you down. You explain that your new temporary housemate now has free reign to leave the house, and after the events of the morning, you'd started to regret letting him. When you tell them all that he's 25 (which technically isn't a lie, he's got the body of a 25 year old), they assure you that even the most simple-minded of men surely could only navigate so far. Still, you can't help but pace the shop floor anxiously, refolding shirts and reorganising displays, until:

Laughing with relief, you excuse yourself for the day. You tell the team that you feel awful for leaving them, but they seem to understand that you have a greater purpose ahead of you.

You call Ralph to tell him that you're on your way home, mostly to make sure you don't still hear the sounds of the street behind him. Thankfully, there seems to be some jazz music playing in the background, so he must have figured out how to get music playing, too.

You unlock your door to see Ralph humming along to a tune, wiggling himself around rhythmically as he sprays the leaves of some budded flowers with water. He acknowledges you with a wide, genuine smile. "Hello!" He singsongs. "I thought I'd spruce them up a little before they go to their new home. Just a couple of African Violets, the shopkeeper said. The ones already in bloom on display looked quite wonderful."

It's not that you're not happy to finally see him excited about something he knows about already, but this is the same man who almost burned the whole flat down making toast just hours ago. Still, look at him. It's nice to see him acclimating.

Since Anna doesn't live too far away, you and Ralph walk over to her flat. He's holding his plants and looking extremely proud of himself, until someone almost walks into him and he's suddenly pulled back into the reality of the streets of modern London. His big eyes dart around as he desperately looks out for danger, wrapping his arms around his gift protectively. You take him by the cuff on his wrist and guide him, weaving through strangers who couldn't care any less about their surroundings.

You hadn't told Anna to expect a gift today, and so she seems thrilled to meet Ralph and take the plants out from his grip. He immediately follows her to start babbling on about what the shopkeeper had said were the best conditions to keep them in. Once she's finally able to set them down, Ralph is still tailing her, looking expectantly for more reaction. Amused and slightly confused, Anna reaches up to pat Ralph on the head. He giggles and rushes over to you. You and Anna share a look before you lead him to meet the rest of your friends.

Scott, Connor and Grace all greet Ralph enthusiastically, and he seems to be bursting at the seams at the prospect of so many people being happy to meet him. He stays relatively quiet as you catch up with your friends.

"So, Ralph…" Scott starts. He goes back to looking terrified. "How are you settling in living with this one?" he shoves your shoulder, and you bat him away, playfully flipping him off.

Ralph looks taken aback at such a casual display of vulgarity, but he continues, "Well, it's only been for the one night, and there's certainly a lot to learn about… This… London," you can tell Ralph doesn't lie well, and appreciate that he's trying to word things in as honest a way as possible. “But, your friend here is a remarkable host and teacher,” he nods, smiling to you. It’s up there with one of the strangest compliments you’ve ever received, but it makes you blush nonetheless.

Anna asks for some help in the kitchen, and while Connor is the first to stand up, Scott pushes him back down with a slowly emerging smile on his face, looking directly at you. “Why don’t you give us the chance to get to know Ralphie here?”

You narrow your eyes, “Why do you say that like you’re in your villain arc?”

He laughs, immediately softening. “I just wanna know what makes him tick. Get to know what he really thinks, y’know?”

Ralph’s eyes dart between the two of you. “Rest assured, I have to reason to lie about anybody here in the slightest!”

“I’m just yanking your chain, Ralphie,” Scott laughs, though Ralph is not amused.

Connor rolls his eyes, “Don’t let him put you off us, Ralph. You can get to know us, too, without a certain someone embarrassing us in front of their new friend,” he pulls a face as he points to you with his thumb.

Ralph grins with excitement, his feet running on the spot where he sits. “Do you have a lot of tales to tell between you, then?”

“Oh, we’ve known each other for years. Went to school together.” You explain as you stand, following Anna’s anguished look from her kitchen door.

Ralph licks his lips, sadness dawning on his face. “Does that mean you all knew Lauren, too?”

Scott pulls a face, “How do you know Lauren, of all people?!”

Quickly assigning yourself as damage control, you pipe up, “Before he came to me, when he was living elsewhere, he met Lauren, Nick, Jase and Horace.”

“And yet he only mentioned Lauren…” Scott teases.

“Would you stop?” Grace slaps Scott’s shoulder as he laughs, moving over to accompany Ralph, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “Clearly things didn’t work out. Her loss, mate.”

Even Connor gets in on the teasing as he snorts with laughter while pointing at you. “What a twist of fate, remember when Nick -”

“You know I never actually asked him out, right? I wussed out at the last minute and just told you all that he turned me down,” you interject, to almost everyone’s groans.

“Nah, that makes sense,” Anna calls from the doorway. “Explains why you’re still such a chicken these days. Speaking of chicken,” she ushers you into the other room hurriedly.

As your friends grill Ralph on what he knows about you so far (“Very little, I’m afraid!”), what his intentions in London are (“Sort of making it all up as I go along, really!”), and his tastes (“I’m really not quite sure, um, I’m quite new to all of this… Modern… I’ve always known the classics, you know?”), you help Anna with her final preparations.

“So, how long d’you think you’re gonna keep him around for?” Anna asks.

You shrug, “It’s not really up to me. It’s whenever he’s ready to go back home, I guess.”

“I wonder where home is for him,” Anna frowns, and you shrug, focusing on your task. “He’s so… Out of touch. I know Scott was out of line guessing he’s escaped from a cult,” she mouths the word, “but, like, would him going back home really be the best thing?”

“Babe, you’ve known him for all of five minutes, and all you know about him is that he bought you some plants.”

“Exactly! You two are made for each other,” she muses, to which you grab a tea towel to flick at her.

“I’ve only really known him a day, myself,” you counter.

“And still you let the man live with you,” Anna raises her eyebrows at you.

You shrug again, “I dunno, he’s harmless, i’nt he?” You look over at him, a trace of wistfulness in your gaze as you watch your friends tap his phone for him, pointing things out to him. “I guess we’ll just see what happens.”

Once everything is dished up, you go out to the other room to call them all to pick up their meals. “Hope you haven’t traumatised Ralphie too much,” you comment.

“Not at all!” Ralph beams. “Look at how many new people I have to call and to text message now!” He shows you the addition of your four friends’ numbers in his contact list.

“That’s great, Ralph,” you nod with an affectionate smile. “Now let’s go eat. Sorry none of your favourites are on the menu tonight, mate.”

“Ooh, what are your favourites?” Grace asks.

“Oh, anything with aubergine on the side is always a five-star meal for me!” Ralph grins, and Connor and Scott snort with laughter.

“Hey!” Anna scolds. “No vulgarity at the dinner table, please!”

Ralph frowns. “What is it that’s so vulgar about aubergines?!”

You see multiple people start volunteering themselves to teach him, and hold your hand out to stop them all. “Ralph, there are some questions that you’re better off finding the answers to all by yourself.”

Ralph gasps and points at you, “By using my phone!” You click a finger gun back at him in affirmation. He excitedly taps out a sentence - part of you wants to double-check for him, but you don’t want him to be entirely dependent on you, and besides, he’s a grown man - and frowns at his phone. “Hm, perhaps it takes a while for it to find the answer.”

You groan, “Has the data not kicked in yet? Sorry, that’s on me.”

Dinner goes by delightfully. Of course your friends would make Ralph feel at home. They are home. You wouldn’t even be able to tell amongst the table that one of you was actually from old money - really old money, at that. After dinner, everyone practically fights over getting to play their favourite songs to see how he reacts to them. You could cry every time you see how genuinely happy Ralph looks - though you didn’t want to pry too much behind his back with Anna, you are curious about his life back home. He doesn’t seem too happy thinking about the past, and if he’s so hung up on Lauren, who he barely knew, there can’t have been much luck with any other relationships. Maybe you’ll get to learn more about him. Maybe you won’t have enough time.

But, for now, you’ll happily take the arm he extends out to you as the song changes, laughing as he twirls you amongst the friend group you’ll happily share with him, for however long he needs them.

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics

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gaytedlasso · 2 years ago

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I posted 21,905 times in 2022

2,333 posts created (11%)

19,572 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sketchbookdean

@xofemeraldstars

@castielsupernatural

@castiellesbian

@transsexualcas

I tagged 7,085 of my posts in 2022

#spn art - 672 posts

#el.pdf - 548 posts

#ask elliot - 382 posts

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Longest Tag: 72 characters

#😭😭😭😭🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈😄😇😇😇😇😇😇😇

My Top Posts in 2022:

I love self reblogging. The concept of going "is anyone gonna reblog this amazing content I made?" and not waiting for an answer

1,917 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

We built a little house and filled it with our little dreams

But shining brighter are the moments that were in between

If I'm honest, it felt like love

And in the morning, you adored me 'til the sun went down

And then I knew you were the one I couldn't live without

If I'm honest, it felt like love

Don’t You Worry by Oh Wonder

Day One of My 2k Celebration

light - home - what if it was easy - it will be easy

1,927 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Divinity lives within my skin and my love,

I am blessed that you let me worship at the altar of your lips

“Please,” he says, “I need something more.”

More than life? I ask. Than pleasure?

“Yes,” he says, with clasped hands on bent knees,

“I need you”

He spills whiskey into his stomach, smoke into his lungs. He spill blood, his own and others’.

But he does not spill one drop of us, tongue chasing fingers so that he may take what is left of my body from my hand.

- poem by Kath @caskarass

Stolen moments of holy intimacy between Dean and Castiel

Their mutual worship knows no bounds.

2,047 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

baptized in blood,

it drips from my nose

with no absolution.

what if it was easy?

Dean Winchester - patron saint of the weary

for my beloved Sana @sobernatural celebrating 2k

prompt: young Dean

inprnt / redbubble

2,441 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Losing love is like a window in your heart

Everybody sees you’re blown apart

Everybody sees the wind blow

Graceland - Paul Simon

Dean's heart burns in front of him. Leaving the hollow shell of what was. or could have been, if he'd shared it with Cas.

For Liv carrotfricker's 500 celebration - void/grief

2,494 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#4/5 being my art! Winning at tumblr I’m gonna cry #Also one of my posts being about self reblogging and myself being the no. 1 blog I rb from #Iconic of me #I know for a fact that the longest tag is a lie lmao #I leave tags longer than that like every fucking day??#Very confused as to why that’s wrong #tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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theconstantsidekick · 4 years ago

Text

One World One People (2) | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Past Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, OC x Stark!Reader (brief)

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst.

Summary: Sam and Bucky call on the only Stark left in the Superhero business—codename Static—to help take down the Flag Smashers. Only problem is, she’s pretty damn reluctant.

(These scenes incorporate y/n into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing.

a/n: Aight, it's been a fun time so far. This is where I end the story as per canon is concerned. But I have a tentative flashforward planned if you folks would be into that, let me know. And I might keep posting some random flashbacks with Static to other events in the MCU, if you guys would be interested in that, follow along! Also oh, the tag list is open.

sidenote: Seeing as it was the last one, it's the longest. Buckle up, kiddos. Next installment to this series can be found here.

Age of Ultron Flashback prev part | One World One People (1) | Series Masterlist | Static: Get, Set, Glitch (the sequel) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Hey! You came!” Sam exclaims cutting Bucky off. But he’s not upset when he looks up to find out who Sam cut him off in favor of.

“Was I not supposed to?” Y/n asks, as Sam steps up for a hug. She reciprocates with a smile.

They’re all at the dock, celebrating. There’s music in the background, and the smell of some delicious food is overwhelming almost all of Bucky’s senses. People are passing them by, or sitting around, surrounded by laughter.

“No, just thought you were too busy for us normal folks,” Sam throws back, pulling away.

“Sorry about that, my day job’s been… hectic,” she answers with a smile while she waves as Bucky. She's wearing checkered black and white pants, with a crisp black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a white sweater vest. She looks fucking good, as per usual.

“Hi,” Bucky says with a smile of his own, waving back.

“I did get you the world’s most adorable peace offering though…” she says, lifting her arms as if presenting something.

However, nothing notable happens and both Bucky and Sam’s face contort in confusion.

“What is it?” Sam asks, muddled.

“I said,” she says, louder this time, “I’ve got the world’s most adorable peace offering.”

Still nothing.

“We heard you the first time,” Sam chides. “Do you even have something or—”

“Hold on,” Y/n cuts him off, turning her head to the back she whispers something and then turns back to them. She clears her throat and says, “World’s most adorable peace offering.”

And suddenly a young girl pops out from behind her legs, with a familiar smile on her face.

“Oh ho ho! Look who it is!” Sam exclaims as Y/n picks her up and settles her on her shoulders. Y/n holds onto her feet, as she places her hands on Y/n’s head for support.

“Isn’t this the world’s most adorable peace offering?” Y/n retorts.

Sam lets out a chuckle. “Absolutely. You’re forgiven,” he concedes.

Wearing a cute yellow frock, the kid smiles so vibrantly, Bucky can feel himself melt.

“Morguna,” Y/n sing songs, catching her attention, “Could you do me a favor and say ‘Hi’ to these big burly men for me?”

Morgan looks at them, using her little hands to wave. She says, “Hi.”

Bucky’s face breaks into a full fledged smile.

“Hey there,” Sam waves back. “I’m Sam.”

“Cap ‘merica,” she says pointing at Sam.

Sam lets out a triumphant cheer. “You see that Buck?” He asks, turning to Bucky, “She knows who I am!” He looks back at her, “Yes. I’m Captain America, but my friends get to call me Sam. Nice to meet you, Morgan.” He extends his hand over Y/n’s head and Morgan takes it and shakes it lightly.

“You have wings,” Morgan states.

“I do,” Sam confirms. “You like ‘em?”

She nods. “Annie? Can I have wings when I become a hero?” She asks looking down at Y/n.

“What? No!” Y/n balks in disbelief. She’d been looking up at Morgan the entire exchange but now her eyes are bulging out. “Absolutely not!”

“But Annie! Wings!” Morgan whines, as if that in and of itself should be reason enough for Y/n to quit disagreeing.

“Morgan, no!” Y/n scolds.

“But why?” The kid cries out, face contorting.

“Cause I’m very fond of the land of the living and your mother will kick me out of it if she hears you say that,” Y/n answers, with a mixture of fear and exasperation. “And on that note, never say that in front of your mom.”

Morgan hums unconvincingly, “I miss cheeseburgers.”

Bucky’s confused at the sudden change of subject, until he sees the cunning smile on her face.

Y/n, apparently used to the antics, sighs despondently, “I’ll take you for cheeseburgers next week. You happy, you monster?”

Morgan nods happily. “But still want wings.”

Sam barks out a laugh. And Bucky can’t help but chuckle as well.

“Maybe when you grow up,” Y/n replies half-heartedly. “Now, come on, we’re not done with introductions,” she says looking at Bucky.

“Uncle Buck,” Morgan states, looking at him

Well, fuck.

Bucky’s knees want to give out then and there. Because fuck him, that was too damn sweet.

“Metal hand!” She exclaims with utter excitement. She points at his left arm.

Before Bucky can say anything, Y/n cuts in, “Morgan.” Her voice is firm. “That was rude.”

Morgan’s face falls. And Bucky wants nothing more than to rush over and comfort her. He thinks he'll give her the damn arm or whatever else she wants to see her smile again.

What is it with Stark women and Bucky being wrapped around their fingers?

“But cool arm,” Morgan defends. Her voice is so small, Bucky’s heart is breaking.

“I understand you think that the arm is cool, but you shouldn’t point it out like that,” Y/n explains patiently, though her voice remains stiff. “Uncle Buck got very hurt and so they had to put that arm on him to help. It makes him a little different… Now, if someone pointed at you for being different, would you like that?”

Morgan shakes her head dejectedly, looking so guilty and Bucky fucking hates it.

He hates it even more when she looks up at him and says, “I’m sorry Uncle Buck.”

“The kid is trying to kill me,” Sam mutters from next to him. And Bucky has to agree.

He takes a quick step forward, ready to disregard her apology when her eyes meet Y/n’s. And there is a silent plea there not to do so.

He gets it then. She is trying to teach her an important lesson. And hate it as he might, she isn’t wrong.

So he says, “It’s okay. It’s alright, princess.” He hesitantly reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear, while constantly looking back at Y/n for any signs of disapproval. He doesn’t see anything but a kind smile. “You didn’t know.” He extends his arm, pulling his sleeve back, “You wanna see it up close?”

“James, you don’t have to—” Y/n begins.

But Bucky cuts her off with a kind smile of his own, “I don’t mind.”

Morgan reaches out to hold his hand but Sam chimes in, “Hold on.” He stretches out her arms, and Y/n, getting the hint, picks Morgan off her shoulder, handing her over to Sam.

Morgan happily settles in there as she holds Bucky’s hands in both her arms, caressing gently. “Does it hurt?” When Bucky shakes his head, she giggles softly. “Cool,” she remarks looking up at him. Bucky giggles too.

“Alright, come on. Let’s go say hi AJ, Cass and Sarah, shall we?” Y/n ask.

And Sam begins walking their way, passing Y/n by. “You gotta teach me how you made Y/n agree with you. It’ll make me invincible,” Sam whispers into Morgan's ear and is met with a chuckle from the young girl.

“She’s scared of momma,” Morgan whispers back.

Sam lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

“You just got manipulated by a—” Bucky tries to tease her as they both begin to follow Sam.

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, Barnes,” Y/n warns, annoyed.

Bucky lets out a chuckle, as he throws his hands up in mock defense.

The next thought that makes its way into his head, makes his laugh drop off. “Did you tell Pepper you were bringing her here?”

“Of course,” Y/n answers, cocking her head to look at him with bewilderment. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It—It’s just with m—me here—”

“She trusts you if I trust you,” Y/n cuts him off. Then her feet halt as she turns to him, he mimics her actions. “And I trust you, James,” she assures him, her eyes filled with determination. Bucky’s gonna have to go see a doctor after this continuous assault on his heart. He’s an old man, he can’t fucking take it. “Besides,” Y/n adds, beginning to walk over to the table where Sam has sat Morgan down on, surrounded by Sarah, AJ and Cass, “Morgan wanted to meet the people who’ll be watching my back in her stead.”

“Is that so?” Sam asks from behind them. Bucky walks over to join them as Y/n sits down on the seat next to where Sam’s seated Morgan on the table. “Is this an interview, Miss Stark?” Sam asks, looking at Morgan.

She just nods.

“How we doing so far?” Bucky asks, leaning over Y/n.

“Meh,” Morgan answers only to be met with displeasured whines from both Sam and himself.

“Tough crowd,” Sam remarks.

“Tell me about it,” Bucky replies. "Like aunt, like niece."

Y/n just chuckles at the whole interaction.

They spend some time talking about everything and nothing. Upon being challenged, assessing it to be the best chance to show off to the pretty dame, Bucky gets up on the table, putting his arm out for a couple kids to hang off of. He thinks he even notices Y/n check him out, out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, Y/n gets up and takes Morgan away to get something to eat. Meanwhile, he and Sam walk over to stand in front of his boat.

“Glad you didn’t sell it,” Bucky tells him.

“Me too,” Sam replies.

“You know... Steve would be proud of you,” Bucky says, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I am too,” he adds.

Sam looks at him then, and a smile breaks onto his face, “I’m proud of you too, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t think he has words to respond to that, so he looks down with a smile.

“I’d be much prouder if you’d just suck it up and ask Y/n ou—” Sam cuts off suddenly before Bucky can even protest. And that alarms him enough to look up.

Sam’s looking just over Bucky’s shoulder and he already knows who it is.

“I’m proud of you both too, by the way,” Y/n says easily, eating the last of her ice cream and discarding the cup next to her. Morgan’s sitting over her shoulder again and trying her best to not drop ice cream on Y/n’s head. “If that counts for anything.”

“Counts plenty, Y/n,” Sam says.

“That’s not her name,” Bucky cuts in, randomly. He doesn’t really know what drives him to do it. He thinks he still might be shitting bricks from the realization that she’d heard their conversation.

“What?” Sam balks.

“Snitch,” Y/n spits back.

“You were supposed to tell me if I did you a favor,” Bucky reminds her. “And the favor’s already done, sweetheart.” Bucky gives her a smug, yet knowing smile.

“What do you mean it’s not your name?” Sam shouts out, still confused.

She smiles looking right at Bucky, pride evident, as she answers Sam, “Took up a new one when I came out as Tony's sister.”

“So ‘Y/n’ isn’t your real name?” Sam asks.

That makes Y/n look back at him. “That’s not what I said.” She pulls out a couple tissues from her pocket handing them over to Morgan, who accepts them wordlessly, handing over the empty cup of ice cream which Y/n discards. “Both are my real names.”

“But it isn’t your given name,” Bucky ventures.

“I was an orphan in Madripoor, man. I picked out the last one randomly from a book I was reading,” she states, as her hands settle onto Morgan’s feet hanging around her neck. “It’s really obvious guys. I mean, you’re kinda looking at it.”

“Y/n, you promised,” Bucky protests.

She exhales heavily, “You’re gonna feel so stupid when I tell you,” she warns. And then looks up at Morgan and asks, “Pumpkin, who are you named after?”

“Daddy’s favorite superhero.”

Tony’s favorite superher—

Y/N STARK.

“Oh my god!” Bucky shouts out, at the same time as Sam yells, “Oh come on!”

“It was staring right at us,” Sam remarks.

“Literally, right at us!” Bucky adds.

“Told ya,” Y/n states smugly.

Suddenly though, the song changes, and Bucky can’t help himself.

“I need your help.” He extends his hand, offering it to Y/n, “Sam here is trying to have a deep meaningful therapy session where we talk about feelings, Now, I’ll never be one to object to some cathartic crying and a nice warm hug from a big strong man but I’d rather not do it in the middle of a party, ya dig?” He recites her words back to her.

“Hey! You were the one getting sappy, old man!” Sam’s protests go unheard by the pair.

He can already notice a sly smile make its way onto her face as she asks, “And I can help with that how?”

“Dance with me.”

And she takes his hand. But all of a sudden her eyes go wide before they shoot up at Morgan, who’s looking down at her with a smile.

“I’ll take her,” Sam offers, reaching out and picking Morgan up off her shoulder and into his arms. “If it gets you two to finally get your Marvin Gaye on, I’d climb Mount Everest,” He chides as he begins walking away, while Morgan continues softly giggling in his arms.

"Bye Annie," Morgan waves.

"Bye pumpkin."

“I’m tired of third-wheeling," is the last thing Sam says loud enough for both to hear.

“Huh,” is all Y/n says as Bucky begins to pull at her hand, guiding the both of them onto the boat and into the cabin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to do a little more than just dance, James,” she retorts with a coy smile, looking around them.

I must've been through about a million girls

I'd love 'em and I'd leave 'em alone

I didn't care how much they cried, no sir

Their tears left me cold as a stone

He pulls her into his chest with one hand, and she comes willingly. “We danced your way last time,” he puts his other hand on her waist as the first one interlaces with hers. “We’ll do it my way this time.” She brings up her hand and rests it on his shoulder. “My way requires… privacy.”

It used to be when I'd see a girl that I liked

I'd get out my book and write down her name

But when the grass got a little greener on the other side

I'd just tear out that page

They begin to sway gently back and forth. And this, this he can do. While it ain’t no ‘40s music; it’s close enough. Slow dancing with a gorgeous woman hasn’t been Bucky’s forte in a long time but Y/n makes it quite easy, he can’t lie. Especially when she’s looking at him like he’s the only thing in the entire world.

But then I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, since I met you baby

I fooled around and fell in love

“So,” Bucky begins, “Who the hell is Annie?”

Y/n chuckles. “Auntie Y/n got a little too long and she was watching Annie? The musical?” She asks him.

“No idea what that is,” Bucky answers.

She hums, as if expecting it, “Annie’s an orphan so…”

“None of the Stark kids can say your name right, is that it?” Bucky remarks, smiling.

Y/n laughs softly, “I guess so.”

It used to be when I'd see a girl that I liked

I'd get out my book and write down her name

But when the grass got a little greener on the other side

I'd just tear out that page

“I have never seen anything as adorable as that girl, you know?”

“I can think of a few things,” Y/n replies. “Not as cute, but… close second.”

“Oh? Like what?”

She leans close and places a kiss on his cheek.

Call the damn cardiologist. Bucky’s gonna have to be dragged out of here on a stretcher. He barely survived the last one. He’d stood on that sidewalk for a good 5 minutes before his body decided to function again. And this one is accompanied with slow dancing and a tender caress of his jaw, with her very hand.

What the fuck is he supposed to except blush?

“That,” she says, her thumb brushing his cheeks where they’ve heated up.

And for the first time since the whole thing started, Bucky finally voices his thought, "Well, fuck."

And she lets out a light giggle.

But then I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, since I met you baby

I fooled around and fell in love

“You ever gonna listen to Sam and ask me out?” She asks bluntly. Her voice isn’t accusatory. Only curious.

Bucky’s a little taken aback but he knew she’d heard them. Granted he didn’t know she’d ask point-blank but that’s the woman he’s decided to fall for. “Ah well. I—um—” He breathes out heavily, and tries again, “Yes… I want to.”

“What’s stopping you?” She asks, her one hand still resting on his cheek, while she rubs his thumb with hers with the other.

And now that he’s looking at her, he can’t really remember what the answer to that question was. Fuck he can barely remember the question.

“Let me guess? Rhymes with Greve Grogers?” She asks, amusement bouncing in her eyes.

His head falls onto her shoulder as he groans because he really wishes it wasn’t some violation of sorts to go after his best friend’s girl. “Yes,” he grumbles.

“Didn’t stop you from flirting with Peggy,” she chides.

And that makes him look back up at her, “I didn’t flirt with Peggy!” She only makes a face at him that conveys her incredulity easily. “I didn’t!” He defends.

“You do know she was my best friend, right?” She retorts, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes of cour—Wait what?!” He balks.

She just shrugs with a smile.

“Wait that means—” Bucky begins.

“—Steve’s already broken the rule you’re so worried about… So have I,” She finishes.

And he wishes that was it. He really does.

But it’s not just that. He’s also very scared, okay? He’s terrified. He hasn’t had anything real. Ever. Back before the war, he was too young to want to be serious, too much of a punk to even look for it. But now, with her, things don’t feel like that. They feel all-consuming. It feels like he’s standing in the eye of the hurricane that is Y/n and for the life of him, he can’t object to it. Because while yes, she’s throwing his life in a spin that he cannot control, she’s making his heart beat out of his chest every chance she can get, she’s also bringing him solace and peace. And for fuck’s sake Bucky misses peace.

But the funny thing about peace is, it can be stripped away without warning or reason. And that hurts worse than never having had any peace at all. He knows that better than anyone.

Free on my own that's the way I used to be

But since I met you baby, love's got a hold on me

(Fooled around and fell in love) Woo it's got a hold on me now, yeah

(Fooled around and fell in love) I can't let go of you baby

(Fooled around and fell in love) I can't stop loving you now

(Fooled around and fell in love) Hey, 'cause I fooled around

“Y/n—”

“Yes, James?”

“Do you really wanna date a former assassin for Hydra?”

“Only if you don’t mind returning the favor.”

So very smooth.

So Bucky’s gotta be smooth too. He nudges her away only to spin her back in his chest and dipping her slowly.

He pulls her up, and their lips almost are brushing and her eyes won’t leave her lips. He can see the sheer hunger he feels reflected back in her eyes when his gaze does manage to flint up from her agape lips for a second.

“Jamie—” Her voice is a whisper. And fuck he cannot fucking stop himself.

He crashes his lips into hers, and she responds immediately. Their lips slot together so perfectly, Bucky’s mind almost goes numb at the pleasure of it. They move perfectly in tandem without hesitation. Her hands are cupping his face and rubbing soft circles on his cheek. She nibbles softly at his lower lip and it’s making Bucky dizzy. His head is fogged up with nothing but her. And what a fucking serene feeling that is. She smells like petrichor. He realizes that’s pretty damn apt because just like the rain she’s unstoppable and loud but all she does is help him grow.

He opens his mouth, running his tongue along the seam of her lips asking as gently as he can for entry and she gives it easily. He pulls her closer by her waist and her hands slowly make their way into his hair, pulling on them softly. And he groans, as his hands move down to the back of her thighs. She gets the hint pretty quickly and holds onto him tighter as he picks her up effortlessly, her legs wrap around him immediately. He pushes her up against the wall of the cabin, windows clanking. And something changes in the kiss. It had been a sweet, gentle kind of passion before. Now it’s roaring with hunger.

The kiss becomes sloppier and her grip on his hair tightens. His hands seeking more travel up from her thighs to the curve of her ass, and oh what a sweet ass. The moment he squeezes it, she begins writhing with a moan, rubbing herself over Bucky’s painfully hard length in the process. And fuck, Bucky’s a fucking besotted fool. He’d tear down civilizations for that any fucking day.

But he might have to kill his best friend first, cause all of a sudden, “When I told y’all to Marven Gaye it up, I didn’t mean, ON MY DAMN BOAT!” Sam yells from outside on the deck.

“Sam! Don’t swear in front of Morgan!” Y/n shouts back, pulling away from Bucky.

“Oh, sorry,” Sam replies sheepishly. “Well, then, don’t get down and dirty on my boat!” And with that, he turns around, with a giggling Morgan still in his arms, and walks off the boat.

But the moment unfortunately is gone. And Bucky remembers all the reasons why he’s fucking terrified of having this. Of having something so fucking serene that the world feels empty without it. Of having someone he’s so fucking sure he can’t live without. James Bucky Barnes rarely ever gets to keep pretty, beautiful things that make him happy. And Y/n is the prettiest, most beautiful thing that makes him the happiest.

Y/n climbs out of his arms, stepping back and leaning to rest on the console. While Bucky leans on his side, on the wall they were just… pressed against.

“Look, Y/n I—”

“It’s alright.” She’s not looking at him. “I understand. You’re not ready for this. You need time.”

She can see the fear on my face, he thinks.

“I… Yeah.” He sighs defeated.

She nods, looking out the door of the cabin.

Bucky hasn’t hated himself this much in quite a while.

She pushes herself up, “Well, I’ve got more of that than anyone else you know,” she offers.

Wait, what?

“Yo—You’re saying you’ll wait for me?” He asks incredulously. When she just shrugs in response, he shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, sunshine. I’m offering.” She begins walking out. But before leaving she turns around to finally look at him. “I’ll be here, Jamie. Whenever you decide you want this, you know how to reach me.” And Bucky, the dumb fucker that he is, lets that gorgeous woman just walk away.

Until two days later. When he finds himself relentlessly knocking at her door at 7 a.m. in the morning.

“Y/N! Tell me you’re home, goddamn it! Please be home!” He’s banging the door at this point. And a part of him wants to break it but the other part of him is terrified of Y/n kicking his ass for it. “Y/n—” The door opens.

“Sarge?” She asks simply. She’s in simple grey sweats and she is the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen.

“Taking time is for losers who didn’t spend 70 years in utter misery.” And with that, he crashes his lips into hers and he can feel her smile into the kiss.

And then they live happily ever after.

Just kidding.

6 Months Later

“No. It’s on up on the left there,” Y/n points over at one of the shelves, as she opens the door. Bucky tries to follow her line of sight but reaches for the wrong shelf. “Sunshine, that is not your left,” she chides, with a chortle and then looks ahead at the person at the door who was supposed to be pizza.

Except, it’s not pizza.

It’s Steven Grant Rogers.

“Oh fuck no,” she deadpans and shuts the door on his face.

Find series masterlist here.

Read next installment to the series here.

tag list: @thisisparadisemylove@justab-eautifulmess@intothesoul @buckyisperfect @aryksworld @ceo-of-daichi @ireadthensuetheauthors @fckdeusername @hotleaf-juice@itspetitfantomestuff @jn-wolf@freeflyingphoenix @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @geek-and-proud @bduchrnskei @love-imagineitall @ironmansuucks @ahahafudge @asimovethroughthisworld

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sarahsedserio · 2 years ago

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I posted 10,301 times in 2022

That's 8,034 more posts than 2021!

144 posts created (1%)

10,157 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@annapoofle

@trollisgirl

@yrbeecharmer

@napo-con-fritas

@wickie-roy

I tagged 4,941 of my posts in 2022

#laugh rule - 70 posts

#obizenyuki - 57 posts

#oh hi mark - 47 posts

#solitaire - 47 posts

#<- prev tags indeed - 41 posts

#pjo - 29 posts

#blorbo - 29 posts

#yup - 27 posts

#percy jackson - 27 posts

#yes - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#go queen 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

My Top Posts in 2022:

Heartstopper leaf pride wallpapers Pt. 1: Light Mode->

See the full post

2,138 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

Heartstopper leaf pride wallpapers Pt. 2: Dark Mode->

See the full post

2,316 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

Jaidenanimations just like made up and drew an absolutely adorable little symbol for queerplatonic relationships aldnkskdjfjwkdnfn

See the full post

2,963 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

I feel a lot of respect and gratefulness for the fanartists in the pjo fandom right now. They've been the mvps with supporting Leah. Like, if you're a kid and you read 9 nice tweets and 1 nasty one, you're gonna remember the nasty one. But the streams of art that y'all cranked out practically overnight, made in her honor? Extra tangible love and support. That's gotta stick. A picture really is worth a thousand words.

6,274 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“Everyone else and their orientations are able to bond and relate to the love and romance aspects and we’re over here like--- We don’t do that.” - Jaiden Animations

Edit-- link to vid <3 :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qF1DTK4U1AM&t=3s

[Image ID: cartoon drawing in Jaiden's style of people partying and having a good time in various pride flag shirts while three people wearing aroace shirts stand/sit awkwardly in the corner]

[Image ID: closeup of the aroaces in the corner, looking like they feel out of place and unsure what to do or say]

25,427 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #WOW i posted 500% as much as last year #fioskekfkf #aw i actually like my top posts this time #OBIZENYUKI FTW i had no idea i posted about them that much lol #yeah this is an annapoofle stan account

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simpingforsoftboys · 4 years ago

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The Odds of Us All

Chapter 3 Pt 1/5?: Message(s) Received!

You answered the call swiftly, bringing the phone to your ear, eager to speak with your beloved boyfriend.

“Kiyo! It’s been so long I missed hearing your voice! :(”

“We spoke last night Y/n...” You could practically hear him deadpanning on his end of the line.

“Yeah but it was about serious stuff... You sound different when it’s normal things... more loving.” It was true, you HAD spoken to him yesterday, in order to inform him about the fact that you had three other soulmates.

“This is just how I talk though?” Sakusa scoffed, but there was a very small hint of playfulness there.

“Sureee.” You agreed, rolling your eyes at him- not that he could see it. “Anyways how was your day?” There was a bit of shuffling from his side before he responded.

“It was alright. Classes are the same as always. Practice was cancelled- some sort of issue with the gyms air conditioners...”

“Hmm did you and Komori practice at home or something? Your gyms renovations are finished right?”

“Yes, Otosan gave us permission to use it this Sunday.” There was more sounds in the background- house slippers against hinoki wood flooring. You had visited the Sakusa home many times over the course of the past year- once Kiyoomi had decided that your hygiene practices were up to his standards.

“Hey Kiyo-”

“Hm?”

“You going to the annual inter-high training camp this year?” The Itachiyama inter-high training camp was an exclusive camp that only invited the most elite high school volleyball teams to attend. Kiyoomi hadn’t been able to attend it during his first year since he had gotten his flu vaccination and was feeling under the weather for a week after.

“Unfortunately, coach will be upset with me if I miss it for a second time. Why? Did you hear that we’re inviting Nekoma this year too?” Okay, that was a bit of surprising news- but not what she originally wanted to speak about.

“Really? How come no one said anything about it?!”

“Maybe the invitations weren’t sent out yet... in that case don’t go around telling anyone.”

“Okay my lips are sealed!" Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell him that you might see him there... You didn’t even know if the team would let you come along- given the fact that you were their brand new manager. “I was just curious that’s all!”

“I’m sure that’s the reason.” Kiyoomi said doubtfully.

“Why do you sound so doubtful? Oh! Do you want to see what I’ve been doing? I’ve been working on perfecting your obaasan’s umeboshi recipe-”

“Sure, I’m expecting some umeboshi onigiris the next time I see you.”

“Ooh- okay I’ll perfect it soon don’t worry!”

They switched over to face time and called for a good two hours more. Sakusa was actually very helpful, having spent years learning his obaasan’s method directly through her tutelage. It wasn’t their preferred method of spending time with each other, but it would do for now. Y/n was sure that she would impress him with perfectly bitter umeboshi filled onigiri’s the next chance she had!

Tomorrow she would worry about meeting the rest of Inarizaki’s team, but for now she was content with enjoying her boyfriend’s company- even if it were only digital.

Facts/Trivia

Sakusa is pretty handy in the kitchen

Y/n is more of a cook than baker... she’s given up trying to impress literally anyone with her (lack of) baking skills

Sakusa’s grandma absolutely ADORES Y/n

Kiyoomi may or may not have put in a good word for Nekoma-

Series Masterlist

Prev | Next

Taglist: OPEN @kac-chowsballs @kotwd @ems1des @normalisthenewnorm @micheleinumaki @gomchan @empress-simps @mer-der-mi @honeyswhiskers @sakusas-number1-stan @astronomyturtle @akirahyoshi @afire24 @chibiitakoyaki

*Send ASK to be added; bold means I can’t tag you

#haikyuu poly au #haikyuu smau #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu soulmate au #sakuatsu x reader #miya twins x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #sakusa x reader

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sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 4 years ago

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The Devil and the Mermaid - Chapter Three: Lucifer x Mermaid!Reader

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Hehe, I’m back??? kinda anyway, I had gotten some energy and motivation to finish up chapter three, while also getting ideas on where the goal of this series is headed. The inspiration here came from a dream of mine, also one of my favorite shows “The Legend of the Blue Sea” has some heavy inspiration in here as well. Thank you so much for the support in the first parts! I will also create a tag list for this story since I saw someone interested in that. Again I love reading your guys’ comments and if you want to be part of a tag list for this series please let me know :) Thank you so much for all the new followers and notes!!

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @magnet-girl

_______________________________________________________________

You woke up when a blinding light hit your face, you let out a groan and opened your eyes. You looked up to see Lucifer was the one to open up the blinds with a big grin on his face. “Good morning sleeping beauty, you gotta get up because we got some things that we need to get for you if you are planning to stay here with me,” he points to a closet, “Go in there and pick whatever you want.”

You begrudgingly stretched and rolled off the bed, when you walked to the closet you caught your reflection and you got a huge smile on your face. “The moon really did grant my wish! This isn’t just a dream!” you squealed and with more enthusiasm, you went to open the closet.

You didn’t know what over half of the stuff in there was or how you were supposed to put it on your body, so you just looked over at Lucifer with a sheepish look in your eye. He sighed playfully and he goes, “Oh alright, I thought you might have some ideas, why don’t you wear one of my dress shirts and I think I can find sweatpants for you somewhere.”

So after some time of debating in his head on what would look best on you, and with some comments coming from you, Lucifer managed to put on the outfit for you as well as some very unfitting shoes.

With all that settled Lucifer clapped and then escorted you towards the elevator as he says, “We are going to be getting you clothes for you as well as actual good shoes for you. As a human, you need to protect your feet so it won’t get hurt. We may even get some breakfast or lunch depending on how long we’re out.”

“That sounds awesome, but how can I help you with that? Don’t people buy things with something? I’ve seen humans use green things to get things, I don’t have any of that,” you questioned as you tilted your head.

He just lifts his hand as he tutted, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing like that, and might I add how perceptive you are of humans, it’s quite impressive.” You blushed at his compliments and he grinned when he saw your red face.

“Now, let’s get going, shall we? I had my whole schedule clear for you, I want to make your first day in the human world a good one,” he said as he walked with you to the elevator.

As Lucifer kept spending more time with you the more he felt entranced by you, your beauty, curiosity, and just absolute adorableness. ‘Maybe you were a siren instead of just a mermaid?’ he thought.

The first stop of the trip was a shoe store and he let you pick whatever you thought looked the nicest, which there were some boots, high heels, and a pair of sneakers. It was pretty awkward for both of you to try to figure out what size shoe you were but you ended up getting it right for all the pairs of shoes you got.

The next stop was you ending up going clothes shopping, never in all your life had you seen so much life before, well not aquatic or marine life that is. You were at a mall, and all the smells and sights were flooding your senses and you felt so giddy at everything around you. Lucifer found you incredibly adorable to watch as you found your way through the mall. He noticed that you did have some odd effects on aquatic creatures, like koi.

After shopping for quite a bit both of you were pretty tired from all the shopping and there was a seating area near a koi pond. Lucifer has sat by here before, he found the little koi to be rather serene so he wondered what you would think of them. After a while of you staring at them you turn to Lucifer and say, “They’re very homesick, they don’t like it here. Well at least the oldest ones don’t, the kids don’t seem to mind they like watching people.”

“Oh? You speak fish?” He asks with a smile. You scrunch up your nose at him and replied, “Something like that, my clan we are more attuned with speaking to dolphins, whales, and sharks but when you get to be surrounded by so many different species you learn to pick up a thing or two.” Lucifer gives a hum in response and nods his head as if he’s thinking about what you said.

After a couple of moments of you having a conversation with the eldest koi, who calls himself Melvin, Lucifer decided that he would treat you to some lunch. “Now what is it that you normally eat?” he questioned. “Well depends on where we are, sometimes we can only eat the plant life, other times there will be an abundance of fish that we can eat and still keep the local life sustainable,” you explained. “I think you might like sushi, it’s fish mixed with other human food, it can be quite good,” Lucifer grinned. With that being said he took off in the direction of the sushi place, and you followed along with him.

You ate with your hands and stuffed your face full of the delicious food that you got there. Much to the amusement of Lucifer, who had tried to teach you how to use chopsticks. Your eyes are bright with delight from all the good food you had and Lucifer cracking jokes with you, even if you don’t understand most of what he is trying to say to you.

As you were walking back you felt that someone was following the both of you and you tried to get Lucifer’s attention to notice that someone was following you at the tail end of your trip. Lucifer snuck a glance at who you thought might be following you, he let out a long sigh and he rolled his eyes. “Stay close to me,” he told you as he turned fully around with arm blocking you protectively.

As the creeper approached you, you recognized them as the woman from Lucifer’s place earlier, you think he called her “Maze”. She swaggered forward to the both of you, and Lucifer said exasperatedly, “What do you want, Maze?” “I’ve just been keeping tabs on the two of you, wondering what it is about this one that you seem so keen on keeping this time,” Maze taunted as she stuck out a finger towards her.

You just look up at Lucifer with a curious tilt to your head wondering what in the moon’s light is she talking about? Lucifer shrugged his shoulders at you while he went back to Maze. “Look Maze, you are going to have to get used to her being around the club and me. She is-you are,” as he turns to you, “amazing and has reinvigorated me with energy that I haven’t felt in years. Not even the humanity that the detective seems to inspire within me, but (Y/N) here is simply extraordinary, now what is exactly your problem with her? I’d like to get this over with now. I don’t want any miscommunication from us.”

“Does she know who we are? What we are? I don’t want you to forget what your responsibilities are while we are here. And what about your precious detective? Hmmm? Have you tossed her aside while you picked up this new plaything?” Maze sneered.

You pursed your lips as you were observing what was going on, even if you were new to this whole human emotion thing, you can easily tell that Maze was giving off a vibe of her defending her territory, what territory she was defending you couldn’t tell. You left this conversation to Lucifer, not knowing how to appease this strange woman. Was she like Lucifer, you wondered, because of her line of questioning you assumed so.

“Yes, she knows about me that is a part of the reason why I like her so much, I doubt the detective would be so at ease with me if she found out about who I was. However, she doesn’t understand our world or the rest of the world for that matter. I would also like to emphasize a point I made last night, I do not like the tone you have with (Y/N) fix it. She is not my ‘plaything’ as you so delicately put it. She’s a confidante of sorts for now,” he rectified.

As his answer seems to register to all of you, Maze crossed her arms as she gives a hum of acknowledgment. Lucifer took your hand in his and started to walk away from Maze, seemingly ending the cold confrontation.

You looked back at Maze who glared at you but sighed in resignation as she walked in the other direction of you guys.

When you guys got back to LUX anxiety seemed to be creeping up on you as the conversation kept sinking further into your mind, but you tried to be strong because of your faith in what the moon brought you to. Your clan didn’t believe in much but it believed in the powers of the moon because it had given you protection and gifts in many varieties.

So, you just had to keep pursuing what your heart was after, and your heart was after Lucifer. You just hope that your faith and love was strong enough for you to stay on land, for the sake of both of your futures together you hoped so.

#lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer netflix #x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer imagine #lucifer x you

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ponfarrtimeatthevulcannightclub · 2 years ago

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Oooh fuun ok this is in no order bc I suck at rating things buuut

Wendell and Wild. Flippin awesome movie that everyone should watch bc capitalism sucks

Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio. THE PRODUCTION VALUE IS SO GOOD AND THE STORY IS AAAAA AND EVERYONE WATCH THIS FR

Star trek IV the one with the whales. I absolutely adore this movie its pure crack but you have to watch the second and third movie first bc it's a trilogy but tou should also watch the first one too just watch them in order

The Bad guys. A whole mood everyone is queer, found fam is yes, based off a kids book all of it is yes

Wish you. Gay, music

Single all the way. Fake dating gay Christmas movie

The Man who sold the world(1976). This movie is very wtf, weird fever dream, weird fever dreams scare ne more than horror movies, sound track is dope, weird sex so be warned of that, torture, and david bowie which is the only reason I watched this movie without context

The hunger. Also weird fever dream scared me more than prev movie, bisexual vampire, David bowie, gay sex, I think the sexual attraction in this movie scares me, only watched for David bowie without context

Reanimator trilogy. Watched for jeffery combs without context, gory, gay, herbert is pathetic and so is Dan, hill is a perv, there is sa in all 3 movies as well as pervs, lots of nudity in all the bowie and Jeff combs movies, honestly the gore is the least worrying part and you need to watch the delete scenes for the movies to make sense

I was gonna do another Jeff combs movie here but I forgot the name and it's really stupid and he isn't even the main character but it's basically a stereotypical horror movie and the premise is weird bc brings dead guy from tomb makes a cult kinda, kisses him, he comes back and kills all of them except one so instead I will do star trek first contact. Love that movie as well, only 40 more yrs till the Vulcan, we know where spock gets his gay and obsession w humans from

Bonus movie the labyrinth with David bowie. David bowie is awesome, least concerning movie I've seen him in, I got a crystal ball because of it, the ao3 fics are weird and I regret looking at them but some are ok but that vast majority arent

Tagging peeps but idk ur mains so srry: @oceanniiaa17 @fictional-malewife-tournament @qpr-competition @dissociationswagcompetition @awkwardtuatara @mad-scientist-showdown @heyboywhyboy @derpycat02

Thanks to the ever-astounding @finniestoncrane, I will be sharing with y'all some of my favorite pieces of cinema in no particular order. And yes, they are cinema.

Rules: post 10 of your favorite movies and tag 10 people.

Captain Marvel (2019) - The film that made me realize why guys like to watch superhero movies so much. I've never felt more powerful.

Curious George (2006) - For the era in which it was made, this movie has some of the best animation I've ever seen. Also, Jack Johnson popped off on the album for the film.

The Batman (2022) - I feel as though I'm contractually obligated to include this one. It's my current comfort movie, and, unlike most films, I can watch it over and over.

Happy Feet (2006) - I already know I'm going to get clowned for this one, but I don't care. I don't even like musicals, but I like penguins, stories of self-discovery, and Boogie Wonderland.

The Adventures of Tintin (2011) - This was the first movie I watched, not as a child, but as a partially fully sentient being all my own, and thought "that was a whole ass movie".

Lilo and Stitch (2002) - This one never gets old. Like, I could watch this movie for the rest of my life and still find joy in it. That opening song, He Mele No Lilo, it inspires something in my heart.

The Avengers (2012) - A classic. Whenever I see that it's on, I stop, smile, and think fondly on the joy that was. Interpret that as you will.

Howl's Moving Castle (2004) - One of my first Ghibli films, and my favorite one without a doubt. It never ceases to amaze and makes me cry when I go back and watch it.

Doctor Strange (2016) - This movie was one of the coolest things I have ever seen. Also, I love wizards.

The Secret of Kells (2009) - I found this movie on accident, but I was never the same afterwards. Like I can't describe it. Something inside me changed.

@rallazarthemagnificent @eagleflightdraws @hallowsden @heartsick-honeybee @vellamare @fallingpapersnow @finzphoenix @sillysamta

As always, no pressure to participate. Just thought it would be fun 💙

#some of the movies i love are already here so #also i didnt know curious george had a movie #i need to watch it

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angryinternetduck · 4 years ago

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When All Feels Lost Chapter Three: We'll Be Alright Nerves, fancy boas, a phoenix rising from the ashes. A princess is left on a cliffhanger, Harry's a dramatic Renoir painting, and you dive in headfirst. It won't be an easy ride, but you'll be alright. Warnings: Explicit language and more of the heavy topics from last chapter. about 8,000 words << prev chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | ask ~*~ “You look nervous,” Harry murmurs into your ear as he appears next to you. His hand hovers at your waist, charm turned up high as he gives smiles and waves to the people walking into the theater.

You shrug, keeping your own smile on your face as you say, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“You’re gonna be great,” Harry tells you anyway.

“Sure hope so.”

Around you, the theater looks nothing less than glorious. All the lights are on, a warm golden against the deep burgundy of the walls and carpet. Diamonds glitter, shoes shine, dress hems flirt with the floor.

There’s a low hum of chatter from the masses of people filtering through the lobby and making their way to their seats. Lights in the chandelier hanging miles above you twinkle and clink as they shift in the soft breeze floating through the open doors.

Despite what you told Harry, he’s right; you’re nervous as hell.

Which makes sense. It’s opening night. Of course you’re nervous.

Your first scene is a few scenes into the second act, meaning you have plenty of time to help Harry greet everyone up front before heading backstage to get ready. It’s quite different than all of your previous opening night experiences, but it’s no less nerve-wracking. In fact, it’s significantly more nerve-wracking because of how much is riding on its failure.

A small man wearing a beret and large glasses catches your attention, and you nudge Harry so he sees him too. Harry nods, confirming your suspicions: that’s the critic from The New Yorker.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Laughing slightly, you walk over to the critic and start to fiddle with your purse. He looks up, thick eyebrows furrowing at the sight of you. “Hello,” he says curtly, and you smile at him. “Hi,” you reply. “You’re here for Fatigue?”

“Yes.”

“A critic?” you go on.

“Yes.”

You clear your throat, slipping your hand into your purse. Lowering the small bag to waist height and glancing around to ensure no one’s looking your way, you murmur, “I’m a co-producer of this fantastic play...” You shift your fingers to show him a few hundred dollar bills. “And I’m sure your review will be nothing less than spectacular, correct?”

The critic scoffs, eyes widening, and he whips off his glasses in rage. “You dare attempt bribe me?” he hisses. “You think I, a critic of high moral and dignity, can be swayed by a few measly dollar bills?”

You struggle to hide your grin.

“I can assure you, madam,” the critic continues, “this review will be short and honest.”

“Oh, no,” you say.

The critic scowls at you, barks a crisp, “Goodbye,” and storms out of the theater.

Turning around, you meet Harry’s gaze and snap your fingers in a sarcastic oh, drats sort of fashion. Harry grins, and this time you don’t hide your own smile as you mirror his expression and walk back to him.

“Too easy,” you tell him.

Harry smiles. “And now we wait for, uh - Joe,” he says, reading an email on his phone.

“Joe,” you echo.

“Dziemianowicz.”

You blink. "What’d you just call me?”

Harry snickers and tilts his phone so you can see the name on the screen. Sure enough, it says Joe Dziemianowicz. “‘The esteemed critic from the New York Times,’” you read. “I’m sure he’ll love this.”

Harry shakes his head. “I certainly hope he doesn’t.”

“Right,” you say. “How do you know he won’t react like, uh - like The New Yorker guy?”

“Because I’m such a charmer,” Harry replies with a sweet smile.

You raise a brow. “And I’m not?”

“You are,” Harry says, shrugging. “When you want to be.”

“You flatter me,” you deadpan.

Harry grins. “I do try my hardest.” He points out a guy with a notebook under his arm, then tells you, “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah? Make sure D’Angelo’s not fainted yet.” He walks off, and you watch him for a second.

The plan is to get as many awful reviews as possible. Most of them should just come naturally - no one could watch the play and give it any positive comments at all - but you’re guaranteeing two of them to be absolutely horrific with bribes.

The critic you just attempted to bribe from The New Yorker should give some sort of irate nonsense about the dishonorable intentions of the producers of the surely terrible Fatigue. As for the fellow Harry’s heading for, his review will be more detailed in its critique. Harry’s goal is to actually bribe this Joe Dziemianowicz successfully - but for a bad review.

As Harry begins his explanation to Mr. Dziemianowicz, you slip through the crowds until you reach backstage, where D’Angelo is, in fact, on the brink of losing consciousness. He’s taking small sips of water from a glass in which you can see small pink feathers floating. They’re probably from the large pink boa he’s wearing over his suit, which is a slightly jarring green color covered in tiny pink butterflies.

“Angel,” you greet him, giving him a hug.

“Oh, Magenta,” D’Angelo replies woefully. “It’s a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.”

You sigh. “It hasn’t even started.”

“Oh, but when it does, it shall go down in flames.”

“And from the ashes shall rise a phoenix.”

D’Angelo gives you a faint smile. “I do adore you, darling.”

“And I you,” you say with a grin. “Come on, Angel, we have a play to put on.” You gently lead him through the dressing tables, where everyone’s getting ready. Someone glues orange lashes on while another person zips their dress; an actor expertly quiffs his hair in the corner with a loud can of hairspray.

“Your optimism… is inspiring,” D’Angelo murmurs, absentmindedly fixing someone’s collar as he passes. “That’s the goal,” you tell him, taking his glass of water from him when he holds it out to free both his hands. He takes a makeup brush and palette out of a girl’s hand and begins to brush some product on her face. She looks slightly startled, but doesn’t say anything.

“Where’s your Harry?” he asks as he works. “Charming the audience, I presume?”

You start to reply, stop, and then decide on, “Um… probably.”

“He certainly has a way about him, doesn’t he,” D’Angelo muses.

You clear your throat and look down, smiling involuntarily. “Yeah.”

D’Angelo sighs. “You must remember to keep your head up.”

Impulsively, you snap your chin up straight, then realize he’s talking to the girl whose makeup he’s doing. “And keep your voice up as well,” D’Angelo continues. “Project, my dear. You have a very pretty voice.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Also,” D’Angelo adds, handing her makeup products back, “your blouse is inside out.”

Flushing through her makeup, the girl looks down at her blouse, which is, in fact, inside out. The tag waves at you from her neckline. She looks a bit horrified, and she hurries away to correct it as D’Angelo ambles on.

“Have you talked it out yet?” he asks. “With Harry?”

You frown. “Huh?”

“Oh, you know,” D’Angelo hums, giving you a lazy smile. “The ‘what are we’ talk.”

You’re too surprised to even reply, but D’Angelo takes your surprise for denial. “Oh, don’t play coy, Magenta. To steal the wise words of Miss Swift” - he clears his throat - “you could see it with the lights out.”

“Sometimes,” you tell him, “you’re just a bit too dramatic.”

He catches your eye. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You hold his gaze. “You are.”

“Your acting talent is astounding,” D’Angelo murmurs, looking away.

“I think I preferred your hopeless talk of your failing play.”

His brows jump. “My failing play,” he echoes incredulously.

“Our failing play,” you amend.

“Go find Harry, darling,” D’Angelo tells you with a smile, “and stop bothering me.”

You grin. “If you insist. Break a leg, Angel.”

“I’ll break yours if you keep talking,” he says. “Run along, now.”

***

The theater, sweeping out below you in a magnificent blend of golds and reds, is truly breathtaking. You’re in the balcony seats reserved for you and Harry now, watching the chatter and buzz of the people below.

You nudge him and echo his words from earlier. “You look nervous.”

“I am,” he mutters.

“Don’t be.”

He laughs wryly, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. “Gee, that fixes everything.” You sigh and sit back in the chair, looking down at the stage. “It’ll work. There’s no way it won’t.”

“I know,” Harry says softly, looking up.

There’s a beat of silence. You’re not sure what to say. Then the lights begin to dim, and Harry leans back again. In the darkness, you feel his hand find yours. He squeezes your hand, then lets go.

The conversation fades, and Charlie Manswell, playing Leopold Gray the retired FBI agent, walks out onto stage. He looks even more nervous than Harry does; you can see his hands shaking from all the way up here.

The play drags on. Neither you nor Harry says a word at all. Tension settles, heavy and dense, thickening in the air between you and Harry. An hour in, a group of people walk out. Low murmurs sound throughout the theater, and then it goes quiet once more.

You and Harry exchange a glance.

A few minutes before intermission, you go down to start getting ready for your part. Backstage, D’Angelo has calmed down significantly. He looks to be in a bit of a daze, holding his half-empty glass of water in both hands.

“Ah, Magenta,” he greets you when you say hi. “Just in time. Your costume’s over with Madeline… Stay away from the makeup, darling, Madeline will do it for you.” A smile teases the corners of his lips. “No more catastrophes, thank you…”

“I’ll try my best,” you reply, walking over to get changed. Your nerves intensify as you get dressed and made up. A swarm of butterflies turns your stomach over, adrenaline spikes through your veins, sweat gathers in your palms.

Standing in the wings just out of sight, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. The lights dim, the curtain lifts, and you open your eyes. Your gaze darts over the crowd, struggling to see anything through the bright lights.

It takes a second to process, but a grin’s breaking out across your face almost before you can fully form the thought: the theater’s practically empty. People must have walked out during the intermission, you realize with a quiet, giddy laugh.

Charlie, standing on stage, must have noticed too; his voice wavers just slightly through his first few lines. You feel a twinge of sympathy for him. Despite everything, you do feel terribly for all the actors who really are taking this seriously. They’ll still get their cut, though, if not a great review in the newspapers.

When you see your cue, you walk out and begin to act.

Ridiculously, it feels good to be on stage again. Even if it’s doomed to fail, if it’s a joke, if your already nonexistent reputation will almost certainly take a nosedive after this play even if it’s the best performance of your life.

The second half of the play goes much faster than the first. You’re taking bows before you realize, and you smile happily not because of rambunctious applause, but because of the few scattered claps you receive from the nearly empty audience.

Harry’s giving you a standing ovation from his box.

Backstage is quiet after the curtain falls. D’Angelo, surprisingly, is the most cheerful, popping around and giving everyone enthusiastic feedback. He’s exchanged his glass of water for a flute of champagne, which he sips at elegantly in between words.

“Wonderful job, darling, positively splendid,” he says to you, patting your cheek. To Harry, he adds, “And wonderful play, Mr. Styles. The reviews shall be the first of their kind.” A grin begins to spread across your face, and D’Angelo winks at you before whisking off to console someone crying by the mirrors.

“The first of their kind,” Harry echoes under his breath.

You laugh and reply, “He got that right.”

“Let’s get food,” Harry suggests. “I’m starved.”

Nodding, you tell him, “I’ll meet you at the diner,” and grab your stuff to change out of your costume. He walks off, saying goodbyes as he leaves. After changing into something more comfortable, you do the same, hugging D’Angelo goodbye and talking with a few people on your way out.

A Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the jukebox when you walk into the diner. Harry’s chewing french fries, staring out the window. He looks pensive, and you tell him that as you slide into the booth.

“I am,” he admits quietly. Then he tacks on, “Worried” like it hurts to say. “I’m worried.”

You bite your lip, watching him for a second. His eyes are downcast. “Your ringer’s on, right?” you ask, nodding at his cell phone. Harry nods, picking it up. “She’ll call,” he murmurs, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself.

“She will,” you assure him. It’s the company manager you’re talking about, who will hopefully decide that between the attendance - or lack thereof - and horrific reviews, she can’t keep your play open any longer.

“Ninety percent of the theater walked out,” you go on. “There’s no way they won’t close us.” Harry shrugs, leaning back and clearing his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah.” He nods, an air of finality around him as if he’s done talking about it.

Tapping your fingers against the table, you hesitate for a second before speaking again. “Not to… pry or anything, but what happened with you and her?” you ask. “Gwen? The company manager?”

Harry’s brows jump. “What makes you ask that?”

A tad embarrassed, you shake your head. “Oh, it’s… nothing. Just with… Aurora… and what you said about, uh - Tanner Smith liking your old… girlfriend… presumably…” You laugh, a bit awkwardly. “But you don’t have to answer that. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry says. He shrugs, looking at his glass of water. “Yeah, we had a thing. It was a while ago. We, erm… We were pretty close.” A small smile curves his lips as he traces shapes in the condensation on the glass, and your gaze shifts to the window.

“We worked on a project, a big play we wrote together… Smith helped with that. She’s gorgeous, Gwen…” He pauses again. You regret asking. Finally, he clears his throat and goes on, “Er, but yeah, he took a liking to her. That’s really the only reason he still invests in anything, I think. He keeps hoping she’ll come back.”

He looks up, giving a wry laugh. “She won’t. Aurora scared her off. I brought her to the hospital and she kind of… It was too much. She was a little bit… she wasn’t very…” He clears his throat. “Nice with her. With - er, with Aurora…” His smile fades into something a little bit more genuine, and he meets your eye. “Not nearly as nice as you are with her.”

You frown.

Another bit of a pause, and he looks back at his glass. “But, erm… yeah, Gwen wasn’t a huge fan of the whole… taking-care-of-a-sick-child-in-the-hospital thing. She said all this stuff about commitment and not even wanting -” His jaw clenches, and he makes faint air quotes with his fingers as he mutters, “‘Normal kids’, much less a kid that…” He fades off. “I dunno. Wasn’t great. So.” He looks up and shrugs. “That’s that.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “I’m - I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be,” Harry sighs. “It’s over now.” He gives you a half-smile, popping a fry into his mouth. “I’ve gone and ruined the mood, haven’t I?” You shake your head and reply, “I asked.” You half-smile back at him. “If anything, it’s my fault.”

“If you insist,” Harry says. “Come on, tell me something good.”

You raise a brow. “Like what?”

He smiles big, nudging your foot gently under the table. “We’re going to Rio.”

You smile big too, because he’s not even kidding. You booked the tickets with him a few days ago. The plan is to get out of the country for a while until everything settles down. You’ll avoid a few calls, lay low, then come back to thousands of dollars and all your problems solved.

“I can’t wait to go to the beach,” you murmur, leaning back against the booth.

Harry hums in agreement. “You’ll love the view,” he says.

“You’ve been?” you ask.

Harry shakes his head, a stupid smile on his face. “Nah. But the view of me in my little yellow swim shorts can make up for any underwhelming scenery.” You scoff a laugh and echo, “Little yellow swim shorts?”

“They’re fantastic, darling,” Harry assures you with a big grin. “We’ll have to go shopping so we can match.” You nod, giggling despite yourself. “Forget the beach, I can’t wait for that.” Harry nods sagely. “It’ll be great.”

You crack jokes with him about his swim attire the whole way home.

The phone doesn’t ring once.

***

The second night is not nearly as exciting as the first. The lobby is empty. A few people filter in, but there were significantly more tickets bought than the number of attendees. As far as you know, there aren’t any more ticket sales, either.

You’re somehow even more uneasy than you were last night. Harry is, too. Nobody says anything. It’s just a bunch of nervous looks and heavy silence. Backstage is quiet, too. D’Angelo is the only one saying anything at all. His voice is lower, though, and even his orange boa seems to be a bit lifeless.

The play seems to take hours. People walk out. It’s getting a bit depressing - you realize that’s your goal, for the theater to be totally empty, but it’s really quite difficult to act to a nonexistent audience.

Backstage is quiet after the play, too. You get changed and walk out to meet Harry, brows jumping when you see him talking to a woman you don’t recognize. She’s tall and thin and blonde, sunglasses perched on top of her head. Her clothing is casual, just a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Hello,” you say hesitantly as you walk up to them.

“Hey, there,” the woman greets you. Bright blue eyes meet yours, and she smiles as she sticks her hand out for you to shake. Her nails are painted a light pink. You match her smile and shake her hand, introducing yourself.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Gwen.”

Ah, you think. You steal a glance at Harry, who looks a bit tense.

You clear your throat. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yeah,” she replies, laughing a little. “I, uh… Yeah. Well, uh, I was just starting to talk to H about Fatigue. And, um… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure you’ll be happy to hear our decision…” You look at Harry again, and he doesn’t meet your eye.

“That doesn’t sound good,” you say, because Harry stays quiet.

“Well, I think you’ve seen the reception,” Gwen says. “And there hasn’t been a single ticket sale since before it opened last night.” She sighs, a sympathetic look on her face as her gaze bounces between you and Harry. “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to keep it open any longer.”

“We understand,” Harry says, finally speaking up. His hand slides into yours, surprising you, and you watch Gwen’s eyes flick down to catch the action. “We’ll go tell everyone,” Harry goes on. “It was nice seeing you, Gwen.”

He leads you away, and you nod goodbye at Gwen a tad awkwardly over your shoulder.

“You okay?” you ask quietly once she’s out of earshot.

You see his jaw flex, but he doesn’t answer for a moment. He pulls his hand away from yours and runs it through his hair, and then, barely loud enough for you to hear, he says, “That was my sweatshirt.”

“Oh,” you say, wincing.

“I can’t believe her,” he mutters. “Christ.”

You pause a second, unsure what to say, then decide, “I’m surprised she didn’t just call.”

Harry just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just… We’ll have to tell them. They should hear it from us.” You nod and murmur, “D’Angelo will be devastated.” Harry sighs, pushing open the door. “I’m sure he saw it coming.”

Everyone looks up when the two of you walk in.

As soon as D’Angelo sees your expressions, he finishes the last of his champagne in one gulp. He sighs, holding your gaze, and then speaks to Harry. “How’s your lovely Gwen doing, then?” he asks breezily, his easy tone a sharp contrast to his strained body language.

“I’m not sure,” Harry says quietly. “We didn’t talk much.”

D’Angelo hums lowly. “It’s not good news, I presume?”

“No,” you say. “No, it’s… it’s not.”

“Finished, are we?” D’Angelo asks.

Both you and Harry hesitate.

And then Harry answers, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you add weakly.

D’Angelo raises his empty champagne flute. “It was a valiant effort.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then everyone looks away and begins packing up their things. Low chatter breaks out, and D’Angelo slowly drifts over to the half-empty bottle of champagne in the corner. He inspects the label, swirls it around, and then takes a drink directly from the bottle.

Harry clears his throat next to you. “I was planning to go to the hospital,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, that’s a - that’s a good idea,” you reply with a nod.

You lock eyes, just for a moment, and then Harry turns away.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” he says, and walks off.

You say your goodbyes and follow Harry out.

***

“You’re… leaving?” Aurora gasps, eyes wide and beginning to glisten.

Harry squeezes her hand and tells her, “Just for a while.”

“A while?” she echoes, a tear rolling down her cheek. “But - but -”

“We’ll be back before you know it, princess,” you murmur from behind Harry.

Harry nods. “You’ll blink and we’ll be back.”

Aurora hiccups a sob, chin wobbling as her gaze darts between you and Harry. “But we’re almost done with - with Trumpet,” she whispers. “You can’t leave me on a - a hill - a hang - a rock -” She breaks off with another sob, pulling away from Harry to wipe at her nose with her little hand.

Your heart cracks in two. “A cliffhanger,” you whisper.

“You can’t leave me!” Aurora cries.

“We’re not, baby,” Harry insists, voice cracking. “I promise, we’ll be back.”

Aurora sniffles, crossing her arms over her chest and stubbornly looking at the other end of the room, away from either of you. “Just go,” she whimpers. Harry reaches out, and she jerks away, closing her eyes as tears fall faster.

“We’ll be back,” Harry promises again, voice barely audible.

“Go away!” Aurora sobs, and she burrows under the blankets.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, looking hopeless, and you place your hands on his shoulders. “Come on,” you say softly. “She’ll come around. We’ll call her. FaceTime.” Harry closes his eyes, just for a second, and then stands up.

“We’ll… we’ll be right back,” he murmurs.

No response.

“I love you, okay?” he tries. “And I promise… I promise we’ll be… right back…”

Still nothing.

Harry wipes his face and clears his throat. “Bye, Aurora,” he whispers.

Aurora just sniffles again, pulling the blanket further over her head.

Gently, you take Harry’s hand and guide him out.

“It’ll all be worth it,” you tell him, squeezing his hand.

Harry nods and squeezes your hand back, silent.

***

Everything’s packed.

The money has been transferred to several offshore accounts, safe to stay unnoticed until everything’s settled down and you and Harry can start slowly shifting it back into your own accounts.

The plane ride is a bit tense. Harry brought a deck of cards, of course, and you trade magic tricks and play games of Go Fish and Gin Rummy. He chews gum and you giggle watching him attempt to blow bubbles.

It’s hot in Rio. Harry holds your hand as you navigate the airport and the buses to your hotel. It’s a relief to finally arrive, to collapse onto the big fluffy bed and sprawl out in the glorious air conditioning.

The first night, the two of you order room service and eat dinner while watching TV.

And the phone. You watch the phone, too.

Every so often, your gazes will both drift to the phone at the same time, and you’ll catch his eye and give a half-smile. You’re waiting for a call from an investor, of course, demanding where their money is and why the hell they haven’t been able to reach you.

In reality, there’s no way they’ll think of you. The play has probably already been forgotten. Individually, each person gave such a small amount that they probably forgot about it days after they signed the papers. To think that they’d not only remember your play but that they’d be angry that you lost their money is ridiculous.

There’s no way.

It’s silly to think about, really, and whenever you find yourself worrying, you take a breath and think about how mind-boggling your situation is. You’re in a hotel room in Rio de Janeiro that’s almost as big as your entire apartment.

The hotel room you’re in is large. It’s a suite. The bathroom’s ginormous, the closet’s practically just as big, and the desk is a rich, dark oak color fit with huge drawers and a bright lamp. There are two small couches situated in front of the windows, right in front of the door to the little balcony just outside.

Huge windows look out over the glittering city, and far in the distance, you can see the Christ the Redeemer statue. Twinkling lights wink at you, brightly colored in the pitch-black night. Trees sway in the light breeze, and the softest sound of music can be heard even as far from the city as you are.

In a suite as big as this, there are two beds. Harry falls asleep in the same bed you do anyway, on the opposite side. You don’t think about it until the next morning when you realize both of you somehow gravitated to the middle, and you’re curled into his side with your head on his chest.

The sound of birds wakes you up. You’re struck with the oddest of feelings; everything is just so surreal you’re not even sure where to begin. It’s so much more pleasant than it should be to just lay there, reveling in how content you are nestled up to this guy you used to despise with all your being.

Then, suddenly, your heart begins to ache, because you realize you haven’t gotten around to letting him know just how much your feelings towards him have changed. Nothing’s happened since that kiss, and it hurts.

It hurts just to think about it, and being right next to him like this isn’t helping. You roll out of bed, wash your face with cold water, push all of those thoughts out of your mind. It’s not worth the stress.

Harry stirs as you brew a cup of coffee, sitting up and running a hand through his hair with his eyes still half shut. “Smells good,” he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. “Coffee,” you tell him, lifting your now full cup. “Want some?”

He nods, stretching up towards the ceiling before flopping back down. “Mhmm.”

You start another cup, then turn around and lean on the dresser, watching him while you take a hesitant sip of your scalding coffee. You can see his chest rising and falling gently, and his swallows peek out of his white t-shirt. He’s on his back, head to the side, morning sunlight reflecting through the trees by the window and splashing over his face like he’s in some dramatic Renoir painting.

The coffee maker sputters to a stop. You blink, feeling like an absolute creep for just staring at him like this, and hurriedly turn around to grab the cup. Harry sits up as you walk over, and after handing him his cup, you sit on the edge of the bed, crossing your legs and cradling your warm coffee in both hands.

He takes a sip, and his eyes flutter shut blissfully. “Bloody hell,” he sighs.

“Jesus,” you laugh. “It’s not that good.”

He pouts at you. “It’s fucking incredible.”

“Guess it’s those Brazilian nuts.”

Harry grins. “Damn right,” he says.

He holds your gaze for just a second, smile still in his eyes, and you have to look away.

Standing up, you clear your throat and turn to look out the window. “We should… go somewhere, or… something,” you say. There’s a beat of silence, and then he laughs, just a little, and you’re looking over at him again before you can stop yourself.

“What?” you ask, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling, either.

He giggles at you. “I - we’re in Rio, and you think we wouldn’t go somewhere?”

You scoff, shaking your head as your face heats a bit. “Hey, I don’t know!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he tells you, still smiling, and he stands up and runs his hands through his hair as he stretches again. “We can take a walk,” he suggests. “Get to know the place.” You nod, looking down into your coffee.

“Sounds good,” you say.

***

“It’ll have six bedrooms.”

Harry grins. “Eight bathrooms.”

“Twelve kitchens.”

“Fifteen pools.”

“Twenty - uh… Twenty… fireplaces…?”

Harry laughs, shaking his head, and takes your hand, swinging it up and down. You’re walking along a beach, sand slipping under your flip-flops and sinking under your feet. You’ve just finished breakfast, and you feel perfectly content.

“I’ve always wanted to build my own house,” Harry says.

“Missed opportunity in construction?”

Harry frowns and amends, “Er - well, more design my own house.”

You nudge his hip, smiling. “Think you’d look good in one of those orange hard hats.”

“Thought you’d prefer something else that’s hard…”

You scoff a laugh. “Wow. Coming on strong for ten in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Harry laughs. “Too much?”

“Maybe just wait a few more hours. Let me get something better than coffee in me.”

“Asking me to get you drunk?”

You just shrug, grinning at him.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Harry says.

There’s a beat of silence, and you watch your hand, intertwined with Harry’s, still swaying back and forth. The waves gently crash against the shore, birds chirping away in the distance.

After a second, you clear your throat. “So,” you say, “you kissed me.”

Harry gazes off at the water. “Did I?”

You stop walking. You open your mouth to reply, then close it again.

He looks at you, and there’s a smirk on his lips. “Don’t remember that,” he says.

You’re not sure how to respond. Hurt rushes through you, then anger, confusion, and -

“I think I’ll have to do it again,” he goes on. “See if it rings any bells.”

Relief floods your body. You smile, just slightly. “Right,” you breathe. “Guess you will.”

He kisses you, softly, hand cupping your cheek gently. He touches you gingerly, like you’ll break, like you’ll pull away, like he’s a little scared. So you’re the one to lean into him, you’re the one to slide a hand onto the nape of his neck and pull him closer, grinning against his lips and giggling when he smiles too.

“You’re a bastard for that,” you tell him when you pull away, a bit breathlessly.

“For what?” he asks innocently.

You roll your eyes. “Pretending you didn’t remember.”

“Sorry,” he says, kissing you once more.

He takes your hand, starting to walk again, letting silence linger for just a second. He’s looking at the sand, smile fading away. He looks like he’s in deep thought, and you squeeze his hand. “You okay?”

He looks up at you and smiles just a bit. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I’m just thinking… You know, erm… I don’t want to pressure you,” he tells you, his voice lowering as he stops again to face you fully. “I, er… I know the original plan was to - you know, go our separate ways after… after all this. And it’s… It’s a lot, I know -” He laughs softly. “Christ, I’m a lot, just with Aurora, and the theater, and…” He fades off, running a hand over his face. “Er… But yeah. I just… I wanna let you know that I’m not… pressuring you to stay, or anything… We can stick to the - the plan.”

“No,” you say immediately, and then feel a bit self-conscious. “I mean… I don’t want to. I really…” You give him a smile. “I really like you. And Aurora. And it’s a lot, yeah, but… I don’t care. I don’t mind. I love all of it. I -” You falter, then, “I mean - I like - I -”

He raises a brow at you.

So you bite your lip, then dive in headfirst. “I love you,” you say.

“Love you too,” he replies with a big smile, and he kisses you.

***

It’s hours later, now, and you’ve wandered into some restaurant by the beach.

The bar is loud, crowded, and thrumming with music in Portuguese. Somebody’s singing from a big stage in the back. Your hand is firmly in Harry’s, walking next to him through the mass of moving bodies. A warm breeze heavy with ocean air flows through huge open windows, colorful lights shining in the dark.

When you finally make it to the counter, Harry gestures vaguely at something on the wall to the bartender, and you point at the drink of the person next to you. You glance at each other, shrug, and watch as the bartender mixes and shakes up a bunch of mysterious liquids.

Your final result is bright blue, like the one the girl next to you just finished. Harry’s is pink and green. With laughs neither of you can hear over the noise, you clink your glasses against each other and take sips.

Harry’s nose wrinkles. “Sour,” you see him say.

Yours is extremely sweet, and you make an eh motion with your hand and hold it out to him. He takes it and gives you his, and you try his as he tries yours. Your nose must wrinkle like his did, because he grins and hands yours back.

You shake your head, though, and look around for someone who has a drink you’d actually like to have. When you spot someone downing a shot glass full of what looks like water but clearly isn’t, you point that out to the bartender along with two fingers.

A few shots later, you’re buzzing, dancing with Harry amid the mass of people on the dance floor. The music’s so loud, electrifying the air around you. It seems like you’re being shifted towards the front of the room, and before you know it, you appear to be on the raised platform all the way at the front.

Bright lights hit your face, making you giggle and squint. People start clapping, Harry spins you around, and everyone cheers. There’s a screen directly in front of you. You walk up to it, practically dragging Harry with you, and realize it’s a song bank - and there are microphones on the table next to it.

“Karaoke!” you shout at Harry.

He grins and starts flicking through the song choices. When you see one you like, you reach out and tap the screen, pointing at it. Harry laughs and nods excitedly, clicking it. Immediately, the music changes.

On cue, you and Harry come in.

“Yoooo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want -”

It’s not in Portuguese, but nobody seems to mind, and they give you rambunctious applause regardless. You and Harry can barely get the words out for how much you’re laughing and giggling at each other’s dance moves and crazy singing. He spins you around again, you spin him, both of you trip on the mic wires at least three times. As the song ends, he dips you, kisses your nose, and then stands up so both of you can take big bows.

You’re breathless by that point, and you stumble off the stage with Harry as someone else takes the mic. On some unsaid agreement, you both keep going out of the restaurant and back onto the beach towards your hotel.

With your fingers tangled in his and chests heaving, you walk all the way back to the hotel. It’s pretty close, and when you arrive, the two of you lean against the door and grin at each other, hearts still racing.

Harry kisses you, then, hand sliding against your cheek and lips smiling against yours. The wood of the door is cool against your back, and it’s not because of the hot Brazilian air that you’re warming up again.

He pulls his shoulder off the door, almost pinning you against it as your smiles fade and your kisses become more desperate. You want more, more, more; want him closer, closer - even closer - and with fumbling fingers you shed the clothes that separate you as you lurch towards the bed.

It’s warm, in Brazil, so warm, and you’ve never felt a greater thrill.

***

The next morning, after grins and kisses and coffee, the phone rings.

Harry glances at you, then picks it up.

“Hello?” he says. Then, “Yes, this is he.”

He’s quiet for a while. He fiddles with his lip.

“I know,” he says. “Right. Right, I know. Don’t worry… Yes, expect a call soon. Won’t be from me, no, but… No… Yes, of course, I… Fantastic. Great talking with you. Expect that call! Bye, bye now.”

He hangs up.

“Investor?” you ask.

He nods.

You open your mouth to say something, then stop.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you, starting to smile. “They’ll never remember. One call, that’s all. That wasn’t even the guy himself - it was his assistant. We’ll be buried under hundreds of other things to do. I’ve had to remind people, you know, even on plays that do well. They always forget.”

You’re not quite persuaded, but he comes over and squeezes your shoulder and says, “It’ll be alright” so convincingly that you can’t help but believe him. You nod, taking his hand, and let him lead you out to the balcony, where fruit and warm bread are waiting for you.

Over the next few weeks, only a couple of calls come in. Harry handles them, uses that same calming tone, and says basically the same thing each time: expect a phone call, sorry for the delay, don’t worry about it.

You sit back and distract your racing heart with the beautiful sights, sounds, and food.

***

Harry makes some killer pancakes. After living with him for months and months, you’ve had more than your fair share of his fluffy, buttery pancakes. And while you’d be the first to crown him the best pancake maker in New York, his pancake breakfasts have absolutely nothing on the Brazilian breakfasts you’ve had since you’ve gotten to Rio de Janeiro.

Nevertheless, it’s a few weeks later, and you’ve awoken to the scent of bacon.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, following your nose to the small kitchenette in the hotel suite. “Pancakes!” Harry exclaims, flipping around to brandish his teeny frying pan at you.

“Oh, Harry,” you sigh, taking a tiny pancake from the pile anyway.

Harry turns back around to busy himself with his task. “Listen,” he begins seriously. “I’m aware of how good the food here is. We’re had right scrumptious meals here -” You giggle through a bite of pancake and interrupt, “You’re right scrumptious.”

“Shush,” Harry says, but you can see him dimpling from behind him. “What I mean to say is that I was bored, so don’t blame me for the American food.” You frown at his back. “Bored?” you echo.

You’ve hardly been sitting around doing nothing, you think at first, but then as you think about it more, you… kind of have. The two of you were on a good run the first few days, going out every day and finding a new sight to see. Three weeks in, though, it’s a lot more tempting to just stay in bed all day and lounge around in the sunshine.

“Yeah,” Harry replies now as he turns to face you. “I’m getting antsy.”

“Find an anteater.”

He pouts.

You smile apologetically at him and hold up a little pancake. “Delicious.”

“Thanks,” he says.

You bite your lip, leaning back in your chair as your brain slowly wakes up. “How about… a picnic?” you suggest. “We could go down to the beach again and bring a basket - make it all aesthetic and pretty!”

Harry points his spatula at you. “That’s the spirit!”

“You can pack the basket,” you say.

He frowns. “Maybe try a different spirit.”

“How about - I don’t pack it, and you pack it!”

“That’s… the same spirit.”

“I’ve never believed in ghosts anyway,” you tell him, and you stand up, sliding your plate into the sink. “Have fun!” you say, patting him on the chest as you pass him “And pack some fruits, Styles. Let’s stay healthy.”

“Let’s,” Harry echoes, grumbling, “as in let us. Let us pack the basket.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” you call.

He is, really, he is a gentleman, because he packs it despite your later offers to help and then presents you with a ginormous sun hat when you appear fully changed. You put it on, and when its brim droops over your forehead, you say, “Hey, it flops, just like all of your plays!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry scoffs, but he’s laughing so he can’t be too insulted.

It’s gorgeous by the water, unsurprisingly, and you feed each other strawberries and sip sparkling water while you chatter away about nothing. You drift closer and closer until you’ve forgotten all about the view of the sunset for strawberry sweet kisses, and you both decide to call it a day and head back for the hotel.

You see him fiddling with his phone as you step out of the bathroom, changed after your shower, and your smile dims a little as you realize what he’s thinking. “We should try again,” you tell him, and he looks up, looking conflicted.

You’re talking about Aurora, about calling her, because she hasn’t picked up the last twenty times you’ve tried. Harry’s talked to her nurses, who say she’s doing relatively well health-wise but not great with everything else. She misses them, the nurses say, but she’s still angry.

“Come on,” you say, plopping down next to him on the bed and gently sliding his phone out of his hands. You move slowly, giving him the opportunity to stop you, and then hand it to him before pressing the call button.

He gives you a smile. “Hundredth time’s the charm.”

And lo and behold - he’s right.

“You gotta come back,” Aurora says as soon as she picks up. “I had a dream about the little swan last night, Harry, you gotta come back! I need to know what happens!” Harry breathes an incredulous laugh and clears his throat.

“I - er, yeah, Ror, of course,” he says. “Soon.”

You pop into the camera view for a second, wiggling your fingers, and Aurora gives a shy smile. “Hi,” she says, sounding a little guilty. “Sorry for not… picking up.” Harry glances at you, and you reply, “Don’t worry about it, princess.”

“We’re still sorry,” Harry adds.

Aurora pouts, looking down, and mumbles, “Should be.”

“Just a few more weeks, Ror,” Harry tells her, his voice weak.

She huffs a little bit and then glances up again. She moves around a little bit, peering into the camera like she’s trying to look behind you. “Where are you guys, anyway?” Harry smiles and exclaims, “Brazil!”

Aurora still looks confused. “Well, where’s that?”

“Remember when we went to Disney World for your birthday?” Harry asks, and when Aurora nods, he goes on, “Right, well, it’s like if you went there, then kept going for a few hours until you heard Portuguese.”

Aurora blinks, then chirps, “Okay!”

“How’re you, princess?” Harry asks. “Any drama we should be aware of?”

“Oh, so much,” Aurora gushes. She starts her story, and as the air warms with her voice, Harry’s hand slides into yours and you begin to relax. Through the end of the phone call, you and Harry can barely keep the smiles off your face.

***

You stay in Brazil for a long time. After it’s been two weeks without a single call from any of the investors, you decide to pack it up. Back home, it’s totally quiet, like nothing ever happened. It’s still scary, though, and the plane ride back is mostly quiet. You’re cautious driving through town, peeking into the theater, greeting people as you walk into Harry’s apartment.

It only takes a look to agree on where to go first after dropping everything off in the apartment, and you’re at the hospital in no time with a huge bag of souvenirs. You’re both greeted with huge smiles and hugs all the way to Aurora’s room.

Aurora’s asleep when you walk in, and Harry gives you a bit of a nervous look before approaching and kneeling down beside her to gently place a kiss on her forehead. She wakes up slowly, blinking blearily before processing Harry in front of her and gasping and throwing her arms around his neck.

“Harry!” she squeals, hugging him tightly. With wide eyes, she looks up, then exclaims your name and you walk over to give her a hug of your own. “You’re back!” she says happily, glancing between the two of you excitedly.

“We sure are,” you tell her.

Harry nods. “We missed you, princess.”

“Missed you too,” Aurora replies.

You clear your throat and bring the small present from behind your back. “We have something for you,” you tell her, handing the little white bag to you. Aurora laughs delightedly, clapping her hands and crinkling the tissue paper inside before pulling out the gift.

“Oh…” she breathes. “Pascal!”

It’s not exactly Pascal, Rapunzel’s pet in Tangled, but it’s a little stuffed toy of a chameleon you found with Harry in some gift shop in Brazil and you figured Aurora would like him. “Told you I’d bring you a Pascal one of these days,” you say with a wink.

“I, of course,” Harry begins with a dramatic sigh, “am completely against this gift.”

Aurora breaks out in giggles.

“... So I had to get you something else,” Harry finishes. He hands her his own gift, a sparkly pink bag with two things inside. Aurora is enthralled with the delicate tiara, and Harry makes a whole production of crowning her princess of all of New York.

The second gift is a small snow globe, but glitter rains down on a beautiful beach scene rather than snow when Aurora flips it upside down, eyes wide with wonder. “I love it,” she says, voice a little quiet in awe.

“We won’t have to leave again,” Harry promises softly.

Aurora looks up, lowering the globe to her lap. “Please don’t,” she says.

Harry smiles a little, then squeezes her hand and stands up, sliding The Trumpet of the Swan off its spot on the table. “Hope you didn’t read any without us,” he sighs, settling down in his spot on the sofa.

Happily, you curl up next to him, just as pleased as Aurora to be continuing the story.

***

Back at the apartment the next day to finalize some paperwork, your phone begins to ring. It’s an unknown number. Glancing at Harry nervously, you pick it up and wander over to the window as the voice on the other end begins to talk.

Your heart drops as you realize what’s happening. It’s someone from another company, asking you to audition for a play they’re starting to work on. Apparently, someone had seen your performance in Fatigue and thought you were wonderful. They couldn’t believe you were working with such a shit producer, they said, and would you like to join their company?

“Yes!” you say immediately, a little too excitedly. “I mean - yes. Please. Thank you.”

They give you the details, and with a still racing heart, you turn around and see Harry, working on some papers at his desk, looking very confused. Your eyes widen. “Oh my God,” you say, realizing what you’d just done.

“You alright, love?” he asks, sounding a bit amused.

You clear your throat. “Um, I just agreed to audition for another play?”

His brows jump, and he comes around his desk to wrap you in a hug. “Bloody hell!” he laughs. “Congratulations! That’s great - did they say when auditions are? Is it close by? What theater?”

You sputter a laugh, surprised at his reaction, and start, “Well, I… I mean… Are you okay with this? Did you want me to stick with you?” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You’re too good for me. My producing days are over.”

“Really?” you ask, startled.

He leans against the desk, shrugging slightly. “Well… yeah. I mean, my record hardly suggests greatness, you know? I’ll find something else.” He grins, wiggling his brows, and adds, “Maybe I’ll go into writing. I certainly know what to avoid.”

“That would be great!” you exclaim. “Harry Styles, writer-producer extraordinaire!”

“Damn right,” Harry tells you, and he kisses you. You lean into him, hand sliding into his hair, and he whispers, “This desk hasn’t been broken in yet.” You snicker, about to reply, when your hand grazes a stack of papers and you sigh, pulling away. Harry whines, puckering his lips and smooching at you.

“We have paperwork to do,” you tell him.

He pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“After,” you say, giving him one last kiss.

“Maybe we can multitask,” Harry muses, turning around anyway and starting to shuffle some papers. “It takes you about a million years to finish a document when I’m not distracting you,” you reply, stealing a pen from his cup.

“Reckon I just need practice,” he says as you collapse on the sofa. You sigh, smiling despite yourself as you click your pen, shuffle some papers, and get to work. “Sure, Styles,” you say.

***

Two nights later, you’re sitting on the floor in the hallway of the hospital.

Beside you, the vending machine hums lowly. It harmonizes with the fluorescent lights buzzing on the ceiling, which are so bright they make your head hurt even when you close your eyes. Every few minutes, the lights flicker just slightly. Just enough for you to notice.

Harry dusts his hands off, reaching up to toss his candy wrapper into the trashcan. Like yours, his legs are stretched out in front of him. His hands are folded in his lap, head rested against the wall behind him.

He nudges your toe with his foot, shifting to look at you. He looks tired. When you meet his eyes, he starts to smile, lips curving slowly until he’s full on grinning, dimpling at you and laughing just a little.

“What?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from laughing just a little too.

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

You hold up the wrapper from the candy bar you just ate, peering at it, and tell him, “I wonder if it’s possible to get a sugar rush at one in the morning.” Harry takes it from you and pushes it into the trashcan.

“If you eat the entire vending machine,” he says, “probably.”

“I’m tired,” you whisper.

“What happened to the sugar rush?”

You take his hand, a bit delirious, and flip it palm up in your lap. “You’re gonna have a long life,” you say softly, tracing a random line on his skin. You start at his wrist, and follow a few lines up to one of his rings. “And be very stylish,” you continue, spinning a ring around.

“Why, thank you,” Harry says.

You smile at him. “You’re welcome.”

Harry touches the bottom of your chin with his finger, gently pushing up, and press his lips to yours. You relax at his touch, eyelids fluttering shut as his hand slides to hold your cheek, supporting you, grounding you, giving you butterflies.

Aurora’s sleeping in her room. Harry finished reading The Trumpet of the Swan just before she fell asleep. Earlier, while she went through tests and played, you and Harry filled out the proper forms for the procedure she’d need in a few months. It won’t be an easy ride, but she’ll be alright. And sitting on the floor, head rested on Harry’s shoulder and hand entwined with his, you get the feeling you just might be alright, too.

~*~ and there she is!!! all done!!! i'm gonna admit this chapter took SO LONG - i'm pretty sure i finished the first two chapters in like less than a month and this one took me. five months. BUT i got it done and i hit my word goal and i'm super proud of myself! honestly i'm just glad i got it out lmao. but i do hope someone out there enjoyed it, and if u did, a reblog and some feedback would be absolutely splendid <3

thank you for reading!!!!

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #🧇

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