#P.S: I just want to make her skin a little brown cause yeah that's really a bit headcanon

[https-b0nb0n]

Strumming with the soulful tune. Cure Beat!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

august

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, age gap

a/n: i wanted to write this chapter to show how y/n’s and lee’s affair began and to show how y/n shaped lee or his point of view. this song is mostly based off august from taylor swift (bc we all know at this point that i’ll just write fanfics based of any folklore/evermore songs) and war of hearts from ruelle. this one is not smut, the next one (illicit affairs) is gonna be.  additionally, i’ve come to the conclusion that knockemstiff y/n dressed like betty draper and after-knockemstiff y/n dresses likes meg draper and that is canon. btw if you’re interested in what she’s wearing in this chapter here [x] p.s.: lee’s not captain yet in this chapter

> ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Salt air and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more. Whispers of are you sure? Never have I ever before. But I can see us lost in the memory, August slipped away into a moment in time ‘cause it was never mine

August was an odd month this year; the godless and sunless town was going through the biggest heatwave anyone could remember. Most habitants were in the parks and outside their homes in plastic chairs enjoying the heat, however, in Y/N’s house, they were baking apple pies with the apples leftover from the little apple tree farm they had a bit south from the town centre. Y/N had suggested they just gave away the apples but her grandmother, ever the traditional woman, believed the best way to show appreciation would be to bake something. “It shows you care, Y/N” as if she cared about anyone in this god forbidden town. She couldn’t wait to pack her bags and go to the big city where she can be something other than a trophy wife. Besides, it wasn’t like there were any available suitable husband options around. 

She wiped the flour out of her forehead as she placed the last pie in the oven. 24 pies, surely that would account for a high electricity bill at the end of the month. Not that it mattered anyway, her grandmother could more than afford it after all she was the woman right now sat at the kitchen table, giving out plates as if they cost nothing. 

     - Y/N, sweetheart, can you go and deliver the pie on the living room. It’s already cold and I don’t want it to go stale.

     - Yeah, sure. 

     - To Captain Bodecker’s house. Promised Jane I’d send her one. 

     - Captain Bodecker’s? But that’s in town. - she scratched her elbows. She’d rather not go to Captain Bodecker’s house yet again he probably wasn’t even around, always busy in the station. - Can I take the car?

     - It’s a 20 minute walk, it’s sunny outside and you’re young. Save on gas.

     - But ...

     - Y/N, you better be outside with that pie in 5 seconds or we’ll have a problem. - she interrupted.

Y/N sighed, unlacing the back of her apron and placing it on the hook. Just great, that’s all she needed today, to walk to the town centre to deliver one of the pies she had just spent the whole morning preparing. She guessed it could’ve been worse, she could’ve had to go deliver it to the police station then Captain Bodecker would’ve definitely been there. It wasn’t that she disliked him, quite the opposite. Back when she volunteered at the precinct he was the only one who was nice to her or at least the only one who wouldn’t try to put his hand under her skirt. He’d even memorised her name which not even the Sheriff who had hired her knew, to this day whenever he saw her he still called her Bella. He was nice to her and she couldn’t say she hadn’t developed a little school girl crush on him, despite the fact he was married. He’d even stood up for her when her manager started screaming at her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stand being in his presence, feeling like whatever she said would get her in trouble. His wife wasn’t someone she enjoyed either; Jane Bodecker was known for having quite the sharp gossiping tongue. Most of her friends commented their “men friends” would comment how she used to have quite the reputation while at high school and whenever she saw her at the shop, she’d always call her Little Miss Perfect or make some side comment about how she was occupying a job that someone else needed. Still, Y/N could deal with Jane, a little smile, a nod and she was ready to deal with the devil.

The sun scorched her skin as she walked her last minutes til the Bodecker residence. It was a nice home, recently painted with some nice flowers in the front garden yet there were rumours of Captain Bodecker wanting to move to Brewer Heights. Y/N didn’t know how she’d react if during her morning walks she passed by him, so she counted it only as rumours. Standing in front of the red door, she held the pie in one hand and knocked against it with the other one. She stood there waiting for someone to come in until footsteps made her wake up from her dream-like state and prepare to deal with Jane. However, as the door open, a familiar silhouette had her heart racing. 

    - Y/N, what brings you here? - she watched him dressed in casual clothing, something she barely saw if she had ever seen; jeans and a white t-shirt. 

   - Captain Bodecker ... I ... I was looking for your wife. My grandmother sent this. - she held up the pie in front of her.  - She said Mrs. Bodecker wanted one. 

   - Jane’s ... out. Come in. - he opened the door wider for her but she remained in the same place like a statue. - Come on, it’s too hot out. Don’t want no fainting lass complains on my day off. ‘Sides, don’t you want a slice of pie?

   - I really shouldn’t.

   - You can say no if you want to. No need to be afraid of me, Y/N. - he leaned against the doorframe. - Thank you for the pie, though. 

   - I guess I can stay a bit. - she tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. Lee couldn’t help but shamelessly check her out as she walked inside his home. It was no secret she was a beautiful woman, heck, Lee thought her to be the prettiest little thing to ever arrive into town, with her sunny smile and pretty dresses. This one was no different, lavender which complimented her so well with a little white rope tied around her waist into a bow, like a little present. Nevertheless, he kept it under wraps he was a married man besides every man in town shamelessly harassed her, despite the side eye he gave them.

He watched as the fabric of her dress swung with the movement of her hips. Lee surely didn’t expect such a pretty girl to walk into his home, had he known he would’ve made an effort to fix the mess that was his house. Normally Jane tended to keep that sorted as he usually spent the day and night at work, but with her staying with her mother after their last fight. It wasn’t anything new, she always did that whenever they fought and then would return after Lee made a fool of himself by begging her to return and that he was wrong during the fight. Still, she placed the pie on his kitchen table with a gentleness and posture which mirrored her privileged upbringing. He couldn’t lie and say his mind hadn’t wandered around how she would look when she eventually got married, after all that was the future of all Knockemstiff women. He also couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t wondered how she would look as his wife. She was sweet, with a sharp mind which definitely had not been appreciated in the precinct. Despite this, productivity seemed to raise whenever she called out any officers who had their feet on top of their desks instead of doing paperwork. He still remembered having to always keep an eye on her, were any officers to get too rowdy with her. Yet, she didn’t care and she held herself and believed herself to deserve the same respect as every working man in Knockemstiff. Although he imagined how she would be as a wife, he had to admit he couldn’t see her ever being some Knockemstiff’s man’s wife and with the example from her grandmother, she was surely on the path to be a rebellion starter. 

    - Big fan of apple pie, Y/N?

    - My grandmother refuses to sell the apples so instead I woke up at 6AM and have been baking apple pies nonstop. She says it shows I care. 

     - Never thought you to be found of Knockemstiff residents. 

     - And I am not. - she spoke as if the mere thought of it offended her.  - She said she promised Jane one. 

     - Don’t think Jane will be back for a while. - he leaned against the kitchen door, watching her place the pie onto his kitchen table. - You can take half that pie, if you want.

    - Trust me, I have my share of apple pie at home. - she folded her hands on top of her stomach. - Uhm ... Do you want me to cut you a slice of pie? I normally take mine with a bit of vanilla ice cream on top. It’s gorgeous, the warmth of the pie and the cold of the ice cream. You should try it?

    - You’re just full of ideas, aren’t ya? - he sat on the wooden chair as she sliced the pie to the best of her abilities. - Shouldn’t you be at university, or someth’ng? 

    - Well, grandma had the stroke and she’s not as motile as she used to be. I’ve been taking some classes at Ohio University but it’s not the same, it’s ...

    - It’s not the big city, ain’t it? - he added. 

    - It’s not that I dislike Knockemstiff, Captain ...

    - Yeah you do. - he interrupted her. - Just don’t let the Sheriff hear it. He already ain’t too found of ya. 

    - Nobody in that precinct liked me. - she rolled her eyes. - Well, they did but I did not like them in that way. 

    - I liked ya. Whenever you screamed at Leroy it always made my day. 

    - Leroy’s the most incompetent person I know. All he does is pimp girls out as if he discovered prostitution. I feel sorry for the girls. 

    - He does a good service.

    - Of course you’d know. - she pushed her hair away from her shoulders, feeling the sweat roll down her neck. God it was, too hot. Lee furrowed his brown, laying the fork onto the porcelain plate. She caught his look, brow raising over in a playful, smug kind of way, before she laid her hands on the table. - I’ve seen it before. 

     - You’ve seen it before?

     - Don’t worry, I didn’t see IT, but I saw Jenny get in the car with you just after graduation. I know what she does, she would call me all the time whenever Leroy was being an ass. 

     - Oh ...

     - Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Everyone in this town cheats, mostly because everyone in this town marries someone just because they think that will save them from Hell. No one is saved if they’re born in Knockemstiff, not even me. 

     - You mean to tell me you’ve done bad things, Y/N? ‘Cause I don’t believe it.

     - I’ve never done it but I’ve thought bad things. All the time. - her gaze lowered from his face to his waist before returning back to his eyes. It was a millisecond gaze, something she herself knew but he didn’t notice, no matter how observant he was. There were no perfect men in Knockemstiff, but in Y/N’s mind he was her perfect man. After all, there are no perfect men anywhere, even Saints sin and then die heroically to get into heaven. Y/N would rather sin than die for people who would’ve had her accidentally killed many times if it weren’t for her grandmother’s name and status in town. What’s the fun in being good? Every time she was good she got yelled at, someone put her hand under her skirt or tried to pin her against a wall. She was good, she would just rather sin so people wouldn’t taint her goodness. It’s a question of self preservation, at least that’s what she told herself. 

    - That doesn’t make you bad. If so there wouldn’t be good people.

    - There are no good people. - she added, ever the negative person she was, something she had inherited from her mother and which everyone who knew her could trace back to. - All people are born so they could be buried. Everything you do ... in a 100 years they won’t remember everything and all that be left of you is your burial site. That’s your legacy. 

    - Such negative views for someone who wants out of Knockemstiff. I thought you’d have a better outlook on things.

    - I’m never getting out of here. - she sighed, almost used to the idea that she was going to stay no matter how long she fought it. - I’m gonna die here. 

    - Dying ain’t so bad. - he leaned against his chair. Y/N smiled at him, looking around his home. It was messy yes but it was still a good home yet that wasn’t what she noticed. Looking out the window, she saw a built in pool. She didn’t remember hearing the Captain had a pool. Sure, he had a the better salary compared to everyone else in town except for the Sheriff, Mayor, and her grandmother. Yet she had never heard of him having a pool, not even she had one. 

    - You have a pool? 

    - Yeah, built it back when Sandy used to come over to wind up from the dinner job. She’s married now so I don’t think she wants a pool at her big brother’s home anymore. 

   - I don’t think anyone in town has a pool. - she rose from her chair and walked to the window in a lavender rush. - It’s gorgeous.

   - You can come over whenever you want, Y/N. 

   - Can I go now? - she looked over her shoulder to him. The idea of being able to swim while the boiling august heat continued to shine down onto the hellish town. Somehow it made sense yet it didn’t. Lee cocked his head to the side, wondering if he’d misheard her words or if she was really considering swimming into his pool. Unwanted feeling stirred south of him and he punished himself mentally for imagining the lavender flower girl in such ways.

    - Well, uh ... you don’t have a swimming costume. - he babbled like a confused, stunned child.

    - I can swim on my undergarments. It’s pretty much a lace embroidered swimming costume. - Lee merely nodded, not knowing exactly what to do but knowing he was flirting with sin, looking at an abysses and seeming not to fear that he was going straight into it. 

Y/N walked from the window up to the kitchen door which led over to the garden. The once white door had withered with time, turning slightly yellowish with rust on the borders, the glass of the small see through windows cracked yet remaining its shape. The door seemed to be a small reminder of what was still wrong in the Captain’s life but she chose not to dwell over it, no to think about it. She felt the cobblestones against her feet covered by an old pair of white ballerina slips as her mirrored image became clear in the crystalline pool water. 

Lee on the other hand watched like a hawk, from the rusted door he’d broken so many bottles of liquor against, as her lavender fabric fell to the dirty cobblestones. The contrast of the prim expensive dress against the cobblestones which had aged as badly as he had done was telling. At least it was telling enough for him and he wondered if this was a gift from God or if the devil was toying with him. The devil is in the details, his mother used to say, yet as she emerged from the water, hands pulling down her hair, he was almost entirely sure the devil was the girl in his pool, the same girl who had worn white dresses until her 18th birthday. Yet again, the devil was once an angel and to him, she was closer to becoming a fallen one than continuing to wear shades of white. 

    - You don’t swim, captain? - she asked as she swam to the border of the pool. 

    - I don’t enjoy doing it. - he stayed glued to the door, a good distance from her to ensure he didn’t get tempted. - You gonna just swim around like a mermaid, huh?

    - It’s better in the water than on the cobblestones, I tell ya. - she dipped into the water once again only to return to the surface, water droplets rolling down from her plump skin. - Come on, captain. You’re gonna leave me swimming by my lonesome? During the hottest day in Knockemstiff?

    - You’re a trouble stirrer. 

    - Maybe I’m just bored. - she smiled at him. He knew she wasn’t tempting him, he knew Y/N. She liked to tease around, she enjoyed the freedoms which she imposed onto herself and as such she was much different from the women he knew. Not that he knew any women outside of Knockemstiff. He’d been born and raised here and all the women he saw from out of Knockemstiff were on his television screen. - Come on, Captain. It’s your pool. 

    - I don’t want you to see my belly.

   - I don’t care, besides, if it’s that bad then come into your clothing. - her arms rested upon the pool border, wondering eyes tempting even the saint of all saints. Lee looked at the cold water reflecting the afternoon sunlight beams, trying to avoid the thoughts that crossed his mind before turning around. He let his jean trousers pool to the ground along with his shoes before entering the water using the ladder. He was almost sure he’d make her laugh if he were to jump into the water. 

The water was cold and dripped from his skin in crystal like drops. Y/N offered him a playful smile, swimming close to him with that wide eye child naughty fun look only she managed to still hold intact. She held her hands slightly back before pushing the water towards him. 

    - You tellin’ me you invited me in for a water fight? - he chuckled at her actions. 

    - Afraid I’ll win?

    - Kid, you’re much too tiny to win against me. 

    - Wanna bet? - she threw water again at him, swimming closer and closer to him before anchoring herself against him, hands on his shoulders. - I bet you as many apple pies as you want. 

    - Yeah, I’m trying not to gain any more weight, kid.

    - You have beautiful eyes, I’ve never noticed. - she made eye contact with him, seeing her own reflection in his light blue eyes. Maybe she’d never notice because the uniform was so dark blue his eyes reflected it like mirrors, yet they were light. - They’re gorgeous. 

    - Trying to make me blush, kid? 

    - Just never noticed. 

    - Well huh ... - he could listen to his heart beating and drumming against his chest along with the soft movement of the water. All his eyes could see was her, her hands holding onto his shoulders and her angelic face looking at him. - Thanks, you have nice eyes too.

    - You can’t take a compliment, Captain. - she teased.

    - I don’t think I’m deserving of any, specially coming from you, kid.

    - What is that supposed to mean?

    - You know what the men say in town. They think you’re the prettiest thing in a skirt to ever pace around here. Pretty sure they’ll kill each other trying to get your favour.

    - My favour? Is that what you think I’m good for?

    - No ... I ... That’s not what I meant. - his face creased. - I’m just telling you what I hear. 

    - You seem to know a lot of gossip about me, captain. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been asking around.

    - What if I have? - Lee watched for the first time her mouth shut close. She didn’t know what to say next, eyebrows furrowed together as she inspected his face, slow blinking. Her eyes left his to look at the water back at him. - Just looking out for you ... not a lot of people like you ‘round town. 

He hands gripped his shoulder as she swam closer to him. Her intention was to hug him thank you. Of course she didn’t expect no one to look out for her, she didn’t care about what a bunch of housewives and hopeless alcoholics thought of her. She knew he didn’t inspire adoration in them other. As she got closed to him, he leaned down, capturing her lips into his. Her hands slide from her shoulders to his chest, almost as if she wanted to be the good one and push him away. He was married after all. However, as his lips moved against hers she found herself incapable of pushing him away, hands relaxing just resting against his chest as she found herself acting on her sinful thoughts for the first time. 

So much for summer love, for saying us, ‘cause you weren’t mine to lose.

taglist: @lookiamtrying​

[smellss]

the matchmaker - zuko x reader

gif credit: @iwaois

request: @kristingirl14

“hi can i please request a zuko x reader where kiyi plays matchmaker for zuko and the reader who both have crushes on another and hilarity and cuteness ensures”

hi all!

hope everyone is doing well, another zuko x reader this time with kiyi! i really like kiyi in the comics and in @mystic-kitten-writer’s zuko x oc fic Limerence so i hope i do her justice in this oneshot, keep requesting!

- smells x

the morning breeze blew through y/n’s hair, the girl gazed out her window the warm sun shining onto her skin brought a smile onto her face as she looked down over the fire nation.

people of all nations walked through the streets interacting with each other, the sound of shop keepers shouting out there latest product for purchase and the music being played by people on the street made y/n smile.

whilst she scanned the streets just people watching her eyes fell upon one couple they were walking together holding hands, the girl seemed to be telling a story whilst the boy was watching her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

I wish someone would look at me like that, well really only one person

y/n sighed a pout forming on her face as she thought about her latest problem, zuko.

y/n had been living at the palace for the past 5 years and has watched the fire lord grown up, turning from that hot headed boy she used to tease into a level head and compassionate man who she now called her best friend.

a best friend who can make me blush if he looks at me a certain way. stop it y/n. honestly imagine if he found out how you were thinking about him

continuing to zone out y/n didn’t hear the small knocks on her bedroom door or the small patter of feet quickly running towards her

“Y/N!” a small pair of arms threw themselves around her hips causing y/n to loose her balance a little bit

“kiyi spirits you gave me a bit of a fright, what do i owe the pleasure of a visit from you honey” y/n laughed at the overly excitable young girl who was practically bouncing on the spot

“well mummy said that i can have the rest of the day off from um royal duties, so do you want to have lunch with me and the turtle ducks!” kiyi practically squealed out without taking a breath, her big eyes looking hopefully up to the girl

“well of course i would love to,but first let me change okay you can sit on my bed i’ll be super quick” y/n smiled pointing kiyi to the bed as she went to change, the young scrambling up onto the bed looking all around y/n’s room before getting an idea

“oh y/n can you pretty pwease wear that super nice dress that makes you look like a princess” kiyi exclaimed bouncing on the bed excitedly

“of course honey but why that dress?” y/n laughed at the young girls antics

“zuzu said it to me that you looked like a princess when you wore the dress last time” kiyi giggled out “he had a hugeee smile on his face when he said it too i think he has a crush on you, do you like zuzu y/n?”

y/n’s walked over to the mirror to grab her brush trying to hide her extremely red cheeks and obvious fluster from kiyi

“awww y/n you look red like your dress, it’s okay i won’t tell zuzu i pinky promise” the little girl ran over sticking out her little finger to y/n

y/n shook her head and let out a nervous laugh kneeling down to kiyi wrapping her pinky around the girls then taking holding her hand and standing up

“okay let’s go to the garden’s, we can walk past the kitchen and get our lunch as well?” y/n smiled thinking if she moved past the conversation quickly enough kiyi would forget all about it

“yes yes but on the way can we drop something to zuzu?” kiyi said giving her bets puppy dog eyes and face

“yes i’m sure he would love a visit from you” y/n exclaimed heels clicking on the ground and her heart racing at the mention of her best friend

once the girls had collected there lunch, they stopped at zuko’s office the two guards that stood out the front greeted them with smiles as kiyi pulled the small card out of her pocket

“can you pwease give this to zuz- i mean fire lord zuko?” the small girl said looking at the guards

“of course” the guard nodded shooting her a friendly smiled

“thank you, oh tell him it’s urgent” kiyi said showing her toothy smile before running back to hold y/n’s hand, the girls both waved to the men before walking to the gardens

zuko sighed looking down at all of his paper work, signing them aimlessly placing them in all different kinds of piles his stomach rumbling for about the tenth time

spirits i hate paper work i wonder what’s for lunch

a knock signalled his guards where entering, the two men walking in standing in front of his desk

“fire lord zuko a message from princess kiyi she said it was urgent” the man bowed trying to hold in a smile

“thank you” zuko nodded taking the little card, the men walking out and resuming there posts

zuko looked down at the colourful card seeing pictures of turtle ducks drawn all over the front with little love hearts and in attempted cursive the word “zuzu” was written

zuko shook his head at the nickname his sister had made for him before opening the colorful card

hi zuzu!

pwease come and have lunch with me y/n and the turtle ducks

p.s i made y/n wear the dress you thought looked pretty on her

kiyi

zuko skimmed over the letter carefully trying to decipher kiyi squiggly hand writing, smiling to himself at the invite from his sister until he read the last sentence

“fuck, spirits kiyi what did you do” the fire lord muttered sucking in air as he read the last sentence over again

great zuko way to be smooth tell your little sister she won’t tell anyone about your feelings for your best friend

zuko placed his head in his hands shaking it back and forth, thinking about what he can do to fix this

you know what i am going to have lunch with them and act like everything is normal

the fire lord stood from his desk and walked out the door towards the gardens acting like nothing was wrong

“honey you have to eat first then we can feed the turtle ducks okay” y/n laughed out rolling her eyes at the girl who was now ankle deep in the turtle duck pond throwing small crumbs to the fluffy creatures

“okay but shouldn’t we wait for zuzu” kiyi exclaimed to y/n titling her head at the girl before her smiled widen and she began to sprint

“zuzu you got my letter!” kiyi squealed jumping into her brothers arms, zuko catching her with ease spun her around before placing her down on the ground

“well how could i deny my to favourite girls lunch especially with that beautiful card” zuko exclaimed to kiyi while giving y/n a wink causing her to roll her eyes and stick out her tongue

the group sat down basking in the warm sun and eating until there stomachs were full, the turtle ducks cautiously coming closer to inspect the group as they discussed there day

“so then i finished my um royal lesson and i went to get y/n and doesn’t she look so pretty in her dress zuzu? i told her to wear because i know you like it” kiyi giggled sitting in between the two now flustered adults

“yes she does look very pretty” zuko smirked drinking in y/n’s appearance making the girl’s face dust with blush as she turned her head towards the pond attempting to not make eye contact with zuko

“kiyi look the turtle ducks look hungry why don’t we feed them” y/n smiled to the young girl handing her the turtle duck food before walking over to the pond with kiyi, zuko trailing behind trying to hold in his fluster

“aww y/n look at the turtle duck mummy and daddy they look just like you and zuzu” kiyi squeaked throwing the two creatures a generous amount of bread before zuko and y/n trying to avoid eye contact there faces getting more flustered by the second

“ why aren’t you guys a couple zuzu likes y/n and y/n likes zuzu i don’t see the problem” kiyi states looking at the two adults who’s jaws where practically on the floor from shock

“kiyi um why don’t um why don’t you go get some fruit tarts from the kitchen?” zuko smiled at the young girl kneeling down towards her to give her a wink

“okay be back in a second” kiyi exclamied skipping off to the kitchen unknown to the mess she had just made

the pair looked at each other, then away, then looked again and then away until y/n finally talked

“so um this is incredibly awkward” y/n said out crossing her arms trying to advert eye contact

“yeah definitely” zuko chuckled scratching behind his neck

“you know what zuko i’m just going to say it yes i have feelings for you and i probably should have told you and not kiyi but i did and i’m sorry but i didn’t want to ruin our friendship but i really like you a lot zuko and i um-” zuko’s lips shut off y/n’s rambling his hands cradled her jaw, raising it up mere inches to meet his.

his soft lips slotted against y/n’s before any other syllables slipped past her lips. after the initial shock wore off, the girls fingers curled around his wrists attempting to bring the fire lord closer to her.

as there lips unlocked there foreheads rested together, chests heaving from the lack of oxygen

“i guess that means you like me back” y/n chuckled out looking into the fire lord’s warm brown eyes

“definitely love, definitely” zuko smirked craning his neck to kiss y/n once more but interrupted by a very high pitch squeal erupting from behind them

“oh spirits my plan worked now you can get married and have babies oooh yay” kiyi squealed running over to hug y/n and zuko, the turtle ducks quacking happily in the background as the sun shone down on the happy little family.

[cootiebakugou]

Confessions (Bakugou x Reader)

Words ; 1.3k

Warnings ; Cursing because well Bakugou (literally only once), Fluff

pls enjoy !! P.S. This is also my first time writing a fic in a while so bear with me.

_______________________________________________

For everyone in Class 1-A, it was easy to see the connection between the loud hot headed blond and you. Well, everyone in Class 1-A except you and Bakugou.

From the staring when the other doesn’t notice, to making the tiniest bits of smiles (at least on Bakugou’s part). If you needed a sparring partner, the hot head would glare at anyone who tried especially the pervy grape head Mineta. He didn’t treat you any differently than the other “extras”, okay well maybe a little differently.

Whenever you needed help with some homework, Bakugou is there. If you wanted some food, Bakugou would make it. Of course he enjoyed the fact that when you first tried one of his dishes, your eyes lit up and you continued to devour the food claiming, “This is so amazing, Bakugou!”.

After months of pining after each other, Class 1-A decided to take action.

___

“Come on Bakubro! I know you would rather be sleeping but (y/n) will be there!” Kirishima said outside of the door. It was silent on the other side until he heard the sound of rusting and a grunt before the door opened and was greeted with a scowl upon his best friends face. Sometimes Bakugou regrets telling Kirishima that he may have had feelings for (y/n).

To be honest, Bakugou didn’t understand why he couldn’t stop his face from heating up whenever he heard your laugh, why his heart would race whenever he saw your smile, but he knew that no matter what, he wouldn’t want it to stop.

With a grunt and the shutting more like slamming of a dorm room door, both Kirishima and Bakugou were on their way to the common room for a nice calm movie night and afterwards some games. As they neared it they overheard many types of genre for movies that they would want to watch.

"Horror!"

"Romance..!"

"Okay what about comedy? Huh? Come on guys!" Kaminari exclaimed. "Nobody wants to watch fucking comedy, Dunce Face." Bakugou retorted when he sat down on one side of the couch. His eyes couldn't help but wander around the room, careful not to get caught and called out on for looking for you.

You, and Mina were in the kitchen and pantry to find snacks for the movie. "Come on (y/n)! Tonight's your chance to express your undying love for Bakugou!" Mina said to the girl. "Mina, what if he doesn't feel the same? I'm too scared to." Mina gave (y/n) a soft look before calling her name and going back to the common room.

"Have you guys chosen a movie yet?" Mina asked with a quirked brow. "Yeah we found one! I heard it got really good reviews." Ochako responded with stars in her eyes. "It's a romantic comedy! I just couldn't wait!" (y/n) smiled at the brown haired girl before making her way towards Bakugou.

"U-Um can I sit here?" (y/n) asked her hands fidgeting with one other. Bakugou let out a, "Tch" and that was all (y/n) needed to know she could sit next to him. Kirishima and Mina both shared a knowing look before the movie started.

Bakugou wasn't really paying attention to the movie or his other classmates. All he could do was drown out the movie and listen to your laughs, your nice small laughs. He would look at you out of the corner of his eye and maybe a smile graced his face, not that he would admit this and would kill anyone who said anything.

Eventually some time throughout the movie you drifted a bit closer to the blond man. He could see your eyes dropping slightly. "Listen, this is a one time offer. If you want you can lean your head on my shoulder, just don't put too much weight on it alright? We got training and I don't want my arm to be sore." Your (color) eyes lit up and you snuggled against Bakugou, wrapping both your arms around his left and laying your head on his shoulder, careful not to put any more pressure than what was needed.

With the laughs and the cries from Class 1-A, you all continued on watching the movie and eating the snacks.

Finally when the movie was over Mina came up with the idea of playing truth or dare.

"Guys! It'll be so~ much fun! I promise!" She exclaimed happily. With a chorus of "okay" and "why not", she began seating everyone in the circle and explaining the rules.

She called on everyone except a handful before choosing her next victim. "So~ (y/n), truth or dare?" She grinned with a small glint in her eyes, and that's when (y/n) knew, it was over Mina was going to have her expose her crush!

(y/n) felt nervous, if she chose truth, Mina would ask her who her crush was, and if it was dare, (y/n) shivered slightly at the thought. With a slight huff she chose her answer.

“Dare...!”

To this Mina smirked and the glint in her eye became bigger causing (y/n) to think that she chose the wrong decision.

“Alright missy, I dare you to sit on your crushes lap and kiss for five seconds!” She exclaimed.

“Wait Mina-!” The pink skinned girl simply shook her head, “You have to do it (y/n).”

With an intake of breathe (y/n) got up from her spot on the floor and walked towards the person who stole her heart. Her head was clouded with thoughts but she persevered and finally made it to the blond boy whose eyes looked like they could burst at any minute before regaining his composure.

(y/n) could feel her heart beating in her ears as she sat down on the blond’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. The look in both (y/n)‘s and Bakugou’s eyes told their emotional and raw feelings towards one another. (y/n) could barely think, here she was sat on his lap and the next part of the dare was even harder!

Even though it was maybe a minute since she had sat down on his lap, she was still too busy with the thoughts in her head. With the whispers and the girls silently squealing, Bakugou took the initiative and kissed the (color) haired girl, causing her eyes to widen then shut as she fell in deeper in the kiss.

Even though the kiss was supposed to be 5 seconds, it wound up being close to thirty. Not that anyone was counting, except Kirishima and Mina. Everyone else’s eyes were widened and they tried to look anywhere but where the two were.

Finally they pulled away and all (y/n) could do was smile as she panted.

“I like you, Shitty Woman.”

“I-I like you too, Bakagou..” She said smiling, her heart never slowing down. “Then be my girlfriend, I’m also not taking no for an answer.”

She make a small laugh, “I would like that very much.”

The girls proceeded to squeal and the guys congratulated Bakugou. (y/n) got up and so did Bakugou, who took her hand and led her towards his room to cuddle. Not like he would tell anyone that, but he was tired and would very much like to sleep to the sound of (y/n)‘s heartbeat.

___

Feel free to request anything! I’ll try my best! :)

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Ch3 Prologue & Pt 1

Author’s note (wait don’t go it’s important lol):

Alright!! Time for Chapter three!! I’ve already gone into what this story is and what to expect in chapter one part one so I won’t explain anything here, but this chapter will be introducing a new side to Ikamara. Also sassy Victor, soft Lucien, and angsty bois!! Also I will be taking lines directly from the game in this chapter. Don’t worry, I will be sure to add credit and the source when I do so they get their rightful credit :D I will be posting Wednesdays/Thursdays so stay tuned!! This chapter has themes that are meant for more teenage audiences so be wary with your young eyes. Nothing too bad but there are some adult themes and suggestive scenes so keep an open mind and prepare for a good story :D

(p.s. I’m mashing the prologue and the part one together because I feel like it :P)

Warnings: Nothing. Honest to goodness soft times with family and adorable cheesy mishaps. The best kind when dealing with a corny intro to a new chapter :3... ah Oh but there is a cliffhanger to throw off the soft mood~

(Chapter One (intro to characters) parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven here :))

(Chapter Two (Gavin) prologue and parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven here :D)

(Ikamara One Shots: St. Richards, Mp3, more coming soon :D)

 Chapter Three:

Prologue:

Dinner had been like all the others before it. With a small prayer from Maria, the kids talk about their day, then Bart would try to get the newest little addition to the family to talk. Their efforts had been fruitless thus far from the past month that she had spent at their foster home, but Bart and Maria thought they were getting through to her. “So, Ikie!" Bart began cheerily, “Ikemilike. Ikeamelon… Ike, how was your day? Do anything worthwhile?” Ike stayed silent, picking at the stake left on her plate. After some awkward silence, Sam stood on his chair.

“Yeah she did!” Sam said happily, “She totally schooled some bullies for me! Isn’t that right, Ike?” 

Still nothing.

“All she did was look at them and they ran off like scared little school girls! It was hilarious!”

“That sounds pretty fun!” Bart chuckled and looked over to Ike, “It sounded like you really had Sam’s back, back there!" Ike took a cup up to her lips and avoided eye contact with Bart.

“Of course she did!"” Sam chimed, “We are connected by a brother and sister bond! I can tell you exactly what she is thinking right now!” Ike halted her movements.

“Oh?” Bart laughed, “Well then go ahead! Tell me, what is she thinking right now?” Sam puffed his cheeks and stared intently at Ike from across the table. Ike placed down her cup and stared back, unphased. Silence washed over the room as Sam and Ike held their eye contact. Bart watched the girl intently. He wanted to have a go at reading her as well. Ike’s eyes portrayed a strong emotion that was indistinguishable to Bart. She looked like she wanted to say something, to scream it to the world. What did she want to say? And why wouldn’t she just say it?

“Got it!” Sam broke the silence harshly, causing everyone, except Ike, to jump, “She is thinking that she loves and cares about each of us! And when she is ready, she will be sure to tell us herself!” Ike’s usual poker face broke. Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide. Sam got it right. 

Sam proudly smiled at Ike, “I got it right, didn’t I?? I told you we are connected!” Ike stared at him for a little longer with the same awestruck look from before. Bart opened his mouth too. He wanted to say something. To encourage her to speak and tell them what she was thinking. To trust that they will do anything to make her happy, but he didn't get the chance to. All at once, Ike regained her original poker face and stood from her seat. She bowed then took her plate up.

“You’re done already?” Bart asked, quickly standing with Ike, “You haven’t finished your food yet!” Ike turned without acknowledging his words and left the room.

“Are you going to the gym?” Maria called back to Ike, after her as she walked to the front door, “Would you like a ride?” Bart got up and followed his wife. Ike shook her head and grabbed the gym bag she always kept by the door.

“Oh so you’re walking again.” Maria wrung her hands nervously, “Well, be careful, Ike. Text me when you have gotten to the gym, Ok?” Ike nodded and slung the bag over her arm. She moved to open the door.

“Wait!” Sam sped out of the dining room and to Ike. She halted her movements and turned to face Sam as he stopped in front of her, panting slightly. He smiled and held out his hands, “I have something for you!” Bart and Maria craned their necks to look at the contents in Sam’s hands. Right in the middle of his palms was an old, small mp3 player with earbuds wrapped neatly next to it. 

“It’s my old mp3 player!” Sam’s voice was so sweet that he could cause cavities, “I have all of my music on my phone now so I figure you can have it! Look,” Sam flipped the player over, “There is a clip-on it’s back so you can use it while working out! I put all the songs you like on there! Plus some songs I think you might enjoy!” Ike stared at Sam’s hands. She held that same look that she had in her eye from dinner but she showed no sign of taking the mp3 player. “I-I read somewhere that working out with music makes the exercise easier.” Sam hesitated slightly. “I know how you gave your mp3 player to Ashton so I’m giving you mine! I wanted to make sure you enjoy every second you spend at the gym… and,” Sam lowered his head slightly, “I… I want you to be happy. I can understand if you wanted to be happy away from us, but I want you to remind you that you can be happy with us as well! So, I hope this mp3 player will remind you of your new family! And how much we care about you!” Sam extended his hands a little further, “If you’ll let us… if you’ll let me, I’d love to show you how much I care! Then maybe, just maybe, you can tell me yourself!”

Ike's eyes were trained on the player but they weren’t focused on them. She seemed to be thinking about something else entirely. Sam noticed this and, looking defeated, he started lowering his hands. Swiftly, Ike’s hand darted out from her side and grabbed the player from Sam. He looked taken aback but soon recovered and he smiled widely as Ike took the earbuds and unwrapped them, draping them around her neck. She looked up, eyeing Sam. Sam opened his mouth to say something but an unfamiliar voice interrupted him.

“Thank you.”

Part One:

My eyes flew open. The alarm on my phone buzzed obsessively but I didn’t turn it off. I didn’t remember falling asleep that night. Nor did I remember doing it at my desk over the paperwork I had out for my meeting with Victor later that day. What was strange to me though was that dream. The woman in front of me. Something about her seemed familiar. Something at the back of my head ached to reveal why but, for some reason, kept itself in the dark. Why? What was so special about her? I finally slid my hand over my phone, pressing the button to silence it. She can’t have been someone from my past. Everyone from my past made me feel weak. That woman’s silhouette… I felt strong. I felt like I needed to be. For her. Who was she?! 

In a white room, one person stood in front of me. Facing away from me. A small woman with shoulder length brown hair, a striped blue dress, and a petite body. I had no memory of her but, somehow, I felt drawn to her. Felt strongly towards her. Protective of her. The woman slowly turned around…

A small ping came from my phone, snapping me to my senses.

>>>

The bottom of the old dresser drawer dung uncomfortably into my fingers as Bart and I carried it up the stairs. Bart had texted me and asked if I could help him move some new furniture into the vacant bedroom in their house. I had already been awake from spending that whole night preparing for Victor’s meeting that day so I accepted. When I had come over they had greeted me with the news that Maria had gotten a call from the foster care center and was asked if she could take in another kid. She gladly accepted and had splurged on items to fill the room with to make it homey. She refused to tell us anything about the new kid but, from the items she chose to decorate the room, it was going to be another girl.

“Why did we need to get a new dresser?” Bart grunted as he adjusted his grip, “We still have Evie’s old dresser upstairs.”

“This new kid doesn’t deserve any hand me downs!” Maria stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at us with worry and excitement in her eyes, “They deserve to be greeted and welcomed home with things just as new as they are! Besides, Evie’s old dresser is in the guest room. And I am not going to try to move that one again.”

“Bart, you can give me more weight,” I reassured as he struggled to lift the dresser, “I can take it.”

“Nope!” He huffed through his cheerful smile, “You were asked to help, not to hold the team.”

“It’s nothing. I normally take this time to exercise anyway. I could use a challenge.”

“No need to show me up in front of my wife, Ikamara.”

I rolled my eyes as Bart continued to struggle. The dresser weighed nothing to me thanks to my Evol, but waiting for Bart to take the next step on the stairs caused the weight of the dressers to ding into my skin uncomfortably. It was then that I was once again thankful for the nerve damage in my left arm. “So, Maria.” I casually made conversation as Bart murmured to himself angrily, “Tell me more about this kid. How old are they?”

“It’s a surprise!” Maria giggled and bounced in place slightly.

“Really? Are we still on that?” I rolled my eyes, “Can’t we just skip the stage of playful teasing and to the point where you break and tell me everything anyway?”

“No way! I’m going to hold off on this one!” Maria had played this game far too often. Luckily for me, I knew just the right buttons to press to get her to talk.

“Whatever, I’m just excited for another girl.” I said this casually. Casually enough to send Maria spiraling.

“AH! ME TOO! I FINALLY HAVE A GIRL IN THIS HOUSE WHO IS OLD ENOUGH TO-” Maria caught the sight of my arched eyebrow and the smirk rising the corner of my lips, “... That was a cheap shot.”

“It was inevitable.” I redirected my attention to Bart, who was trying to find a different grip on the dresser. I sighed and repositioned my hands on the dresser so that I could support more of the weight. I raised the dresser slightly. 

“Hah!” Bart exclaimed, finally finding a good spot to hold on the dresser, “I’ve got it now! Ok, Evie, start making your way up the stairs.”

“Finally.” I sighed, moving slowly up the stairs, “Ok, Maria, You can continue telling me about your new daughter.”

“Ok!” Maria clapped her hands and leaned on the railing as she giggled like a teenager talking about their new crush, “Her name is Adrienne. She is seventeen, really loves to listen to music, is super good in school and is exceptional with kids-”

“But...” I egged.

“But?”

“You only use such over the top adjectives when there is a ‘but’ coming. What’s wrong with her?”

Maria scoffed but, after catching my eye, she sighed, “... She is a flight risk. And I was warned she likes to talk back and rebel a lot. She hates being a foster child and often runs away to try to get back to her parents, who have been called out to a business trip for a few years in The States. So Evie, I know I’ve asked a lot of you lately, but,” I had finally hit the top stair and placed the dresser on the ground when Maria rested a hand on my shoulder, making me face her, “I need you to come over tomorrow for dinner. She’ll have moved in by that evening. I want you to show her this place isn’t as bad as she may think. I want her to stay here until her parents come back. I know you know how it feels to stay here for a long time so… maybe-”

“I’ll be there.” I interrupted Maria. Her eyes brimmed with excitement and her smile widened. She jumped into my stomach, pulling me into a tight hug. 

“Thank you!” She bounced slightly, nudging her head under my chin.

“Yeah, yeah.” I patted her awkwardly on the back, “First we’ve got to move her in. Bart,” I looked over to Bart, who had sprawled himself out on the floor, “You ready?”

“Gimme… a… second.” Bart panted, raising a limp finger. He took a deep breath and slowly raised himself off of the floor. He cursed under his breath as he stretched his back.

“Swear jar.” Ashton pushed Bart out of the way as he came from the bathroom behind him.

“Jeez, dad. You’ve seen better days.” Sam teased as he followed Ashton out of the bathroom and prodded Bart’s side.

“Don’t make me ground you, mister.” Bart teased back, glaring playfully at the boy beside him.

“You’d have to find it first.” Sam laughed and rolled his eyes. They fell on me and his snarky expression changed to a happy one, “Ike! When did you get here??” I checked my watch as Sam made his way over to me. 

“A little over an hour ago.” I accepted Sam’s hug with a couple of pats, “And we have only moved one piece of furniture.”

“It was the heaviest one!” Bart pouted, “You don’t have to be so rude about it!”

I rolled my eyes, “I’ll have to leave soon to head to work”

“Oh yeah!” Bart’s tone changed dramatically as he smiled proudly at me, “Don’t you have that meeting with Victor today?”

“Don’t remind me.” I rubbed the tiredness from my eyes, “I've also got that new assistant that I need to train.”

“Oh yeah! What did you say his name was?” Bart tapped his chin in thought, “Michael?”

“Minor.” I corrected Bart as I nudged Sam off of me. He complied and I repositioned myself in front of the dresser, “Let’s get this done so I can get going. Ready?” Bart grumbled but positioned himself across from the dresser as well, “One… two…”

“Isn’t your date with Lucien today as well?” Sam sweetly asked from next to me.

I froze. After the events of the past week with Gavin and the warehouse, I had completely forgotten about my da-... meeting with Lucien. Whether that was because I was distracted or because I was suppressing the thought, I didn’t know. What I did know was that it was that night.

... And I had completely forgotten to tell Maria.

“DATE?!” Maria nearly exploded. I shook my head and focused on the dresser again

“Three.” I moved to lift it but Bart stood from his spot on the dresser.

“You got a date with Lucien?!” Bart smiled widely at me.

“I guess we are talking about this now,” I sighed, letting go of the dresser and standing as I spoke, “It’s not a date. It’s a meeting to talk about the psychology of our show. He is only there to give me tips.”

“Oh really?” Maria teased, “When will this meeting be?”

“After my meeting with Victor.”

“So after the hours you are working?” Bart chimed in, giving his wife a knowing look.

“That was the only time he was available.”

“Is he going to be the one picking you up?” Now Sam was asking questions.

“I don’t know!” My voice became an octave higher than normal, “When did this become a game of twenty questions?! I-” A small ping came from my pocket. I grumbled as I pulled out my phone. Someone had sent me a message. My heart skipped I read the recipient’s name. That man had impeccable timing.

“Speak of the devil!” Maria had peered over my shoulder and read the notification on my screen. Bart and Sam soon found their way next to me to look at the screen as well.

“Well?!” Sam cheered, craning his neck slightly, “Open it!” I hesitated for a moment, then opened the message.

I am looking forward to our date tonight.

“Ha!” Everyone around me exclaimed haughtily. Maria, Bart, and Sam exchanged high fives. I sighed and rubbed my temples. These people were going to be the death of me. Another text from Lucien appeared on screen.

I have a wonderful place in mind for dinner. Do you have any allergies?

I quickly texted back.

I don’t remember agreeing that this would be a date.

I didn’t wait long for a response.

I’m sorry but I assumed that was what you intended.

“What are you doing?!” Maria pulled the phone from my hand and read the last texts, “You’re going to blow it!”

“Maybe that’s my intention.” I reached to take back the phone but Maria pulled it away from my reach.

“Ike, this is your first date! Are you sure you want to call it off?!” begged Maria.

“I didn’t even know it was a date! Give me my phone!” I moved to take it again but Sam pushed on my stomach. I looked down annoyed at him but my face melted when our eyes met. His eyes were big and his bottom lip was puffed out.

“He said he was looking forward to it.” Sam’s voice was higher pitched and whiny. As much as I hated to admit it, Sam's puppy eyes always got to me.

“Oh don’t give me that.” I whined rubbing my eyes to avoid meeting Sam’s, “I’m not ready to date anyone! Let alone someone like Lucien!”

“When will you ever be ready?” Sam’s question made me stop my movements. I finally met his gaze. He hadn’t dropped his puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Evie,” Sam continued to beg, “Give him a chance? For me?” Words jumbled themselves inside of my head as I tried looking for an excuse to say no… Ugh, how could he be so good at those eyes? A small ping came from my phone.

“He sent another message!” Maria gasped. I held back the urge to tackle her as I held out my hand. Maria looked hesitant, but after one raise of my eyebrow, she sighed and placed the phone in my palm. I looked at the message.

Would you prefer it to be purely professional?

My thumb hung over the keyboard, my stomach turning with anxiety. I should have known that was his intention… Still, this would be my first date with anyone. Ever. Was I willing to have Lucien become someone that I dated? Do I really feel comfortable with dating in general? 

I looked back down at Sam. His puppy dog eyes were gone. He looked at me with genuine determination and hope. I sighed and looked back at my phone. I quickly typed a reply before I could talk myself out of it.

 No. Where are we meeting?

Sam pulled down my arm to look at the screen. His expression changed as a huge smile rose across his cheeks. He cheered and replaced his arms around my stomach.

“Yeah, yeah.” I mumbled, patting his back, “But that is the last time I am letting those stupid eyes get to me.” Maria and Bart had found their way behind me and had read the text as well.

“This will be good for you, Evie.” Bart assured me, patting me on the back, “It’ll get you out of your head and into the world for a change.”

“Not to mention Lucien is a really good guy.” Maria beamed as I tucked my phone in my pocket, “He’ll be a good first date!”

“Right.” I disregarded their words and checked my watch,

“Not to mention good looking-”

“I need to go. Maria, could you help Bart with the rest of the furniture or do you need me?”

“No,” Maria shook her head and rolled up her sleeves, “We’ve got it from here. Have a great day, sweetie! Don't forget to come by tomorrow for dinner!” I nodded and started heading down the stairs. Bart and Maria assumed their positions by the dresser and Sam walked to his room, but another ping from my phone caused everyone to stop in their tracks. “What did he say!?” Maria bounced in place.

“Good bye!” I called behind me, continuing my walk down the stairs slightly faster this time. It wasn’t until I was outside the front door did I check the unread message.

No need to worry about that. I’ll come to pick you up. Where will you be after your meeting?

My stomach turned once again.

I can drive myself.

Lucien replied almost immediately.

I insist.

There was no winning with this guy...

...LFG. 6:00. Don’t be late.

I put my phone back in my pocket and closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath of the morning air. Six o’clock was twelve hours away. That is just enough time to mentally prepare myself to open up to a person… after years of shutting people out… it took me three months just to talk to my foster family… oh boy.

(Next)

[onlystylesangels]

My Love For You

Requested: Anon: Imagine H being really in love w y/n celebrating his daughter birthday at Anne’s and everyone realising that Harry has found the one OMG THS IS REALLY CHESSY I LOVE IT

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, that’s it just fluff and cuteness.

Word Count: 8k+

A/N: I went overboard because I found this concept super cute! I kind of changed it up a bit too.

P.S: Thank you to my beta reader for being the first to read this and giving me amazing advice! 💓💞

“Darlin’. Throw it the way I showed you- no- well, okay.”

Harry was teaching his little ball of sunshine, Evaleen how to throw a soccer ball.

“I can’t do it, daddy. I’m trying me best.” Little Evie said, as her big round green eyes looked up to his.

“Darlin’, it is not that hard. Look, I will show you again, yeah? How’s that.”

“Yes! Yes! Teach again, daddy!”

Evie grabbed her daddy’s hand as Harry only made her grab ahold of his index finger, leading them along the park where the ball was untouched.

“Okay, darlin’. Jus’ like this.” Harry kicked the ball, as little Evie clapped her little hands and ran to get the ball.

“So daddy, like this?” Evie had the ball in front of her foot ready to kick the ball. When her foot kicked the ball, the ball went flying and landed on the ground where the goalpost was at. 

“Evie, darlin’! You made a goal!” Harry ran to his daughter and scooped her up kissing her cheeks and forehead. “I’m proud of you you little petal.”

Evie’s little hands cupped her daddy’s cheeks and smiled, hugging him.

“Tank you, daddy.”

“Everythin’ for you, my little Evie.”  When Harry and little Evie finished playing ball. They walked to an ice cream truck where Evie begged Harry to buy her an ice cream cone. Harry bought her ice cream and they walked alongside each other, making themselves towards the train.

Harry found an unoccupied seat but there was no room for Evie so he made her sit on his lap where a little Evie continued to lick away her chocolate mint ice cream.

“Daddy, Why that girl tall?”

“What girl, Evie?”

The little toddler points to a girl who was standing, holding onto the metal railing from the shaking of the rapid train. She was beautiful. Her hair was loose, legs crossed as her ear buds were in as she bopped her head to whatever music she was currently listening to.

“Don’t point, Evie. S’not nice.” Harry tells her, as she puts down her little pointer finger, as she continues eating the rest of her ice cream.

“Daddy. Why she tall?”

Her curious questions always made Harry overthink things. Such as telling her the actual truth or just telling her a different truth? He didn’t know at first but when she asked him that one time where babies come from and how she was born. Obviously, Harry had to come up with a little lie, and that’s what he would always do whenever Evie would ask him anything.

“She is much older than you, darlin’. That’s why she is taller.” Harry says. As he smooths out her hair. Little strands of hair almost meeting with the sticky and sweet ice cream on Evie’s cone.

Before Harry could finish up smoothing her hair down, Evie hops down from his lap and walks towards the enchanting woman that Evie was talking about.

Her hands tightly wrapped around the ice cream cone which was beginning to get smaller and smaller.

Once Evie made herself behind the girl she tapped her leg with the same finger that she pointed out for Harry.

“’Ello tall girl. Me daddy over there said that you are old.” And she ran back to her daddy as Harry had a shocked expression on his face.

Evie hopped up on his lap as Harry's wide eyes looked down at his daughter. Evie continued eating her ice cream cone. Harry looked between Evie and the girl that she just came from talking to.

“Evie! Why’d ya tell her that?” Harry asked Evie. As she continues to bite her cone, a smile on her face.

“But you said she older than me. yes daddy?” Harry sighs. As he wipes Evie’s mouth with a napkin that he had in his coat pocket.

After the train ride was over, Harry set Evie down on the floor and grabbed her little hand in his and walked out of the train doors.

He waited. He knew why he was waiting. Although he had Evie pulling on his hand trying to make him walk so they can make it home on time for Evie’s favorite television show.

“Hold on darlin’. We’ll leave in a minute.” Harry assured Evie.

When Harry saw the woman walk out the sliding doors of the train he approached her trying to come up with an apology after Evie telling her that she was old.

“Hello miss. I’m so sorry about my little one. She’s quite ambitious. I apologize for saying that you are old, that was never my inten-“

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You have a beautiful little girl.”

“Daddy-- a minute passed.” Evie said behind him. As Harry looked back at a mad little girl.

“I know, I know. My little petal.”

“What’s her name?”

“Evie. Short for Evaleen.” Harry told the woman.

The woman bent down, automatically catching Evie’s attention.

“Tall girl!”

“Hi sweetie!”

“Is it true you are old?” Evie asked. Her curious mind working yet again.

“Well, I don’t think I’m that old. Do I look old to you, Evie?”

“No.”

The woman smiles, looking up to Harry who was smiling down at his daughter. “Thank you, Evie. I don’t think you look old yourself.”

Evie giggled, as she stomped her feet softly. “Daddy! Tall girl funny!”

“My name is Y/N, sweetie.” Y/N told her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“‘Ello Y/N.” Evie greeted. As she waved her little hand and continued giggling as she was hiding behind Harry’s leg.

“You got a cute little button.”

“She is. She’s an angel.”

Harry and Y/N look down at Evie who continues hiding her face behind Harry’s leg.

Harry and Y/N having smiles plastered on their faces make the whole situation less tense and more comfortable.

“I never got your name.”

“It’s Harry. Harry Styles.”

Harry extended his hand for Y/N to shake as she told him her full name, “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you Harry.”

They shook hands as their smiles never left their faces. Their hands detached from each other as they looked at a curious Evie looking up to them both. Her eyes looking between them as she continued smiling.

“Well, we better get going. I think Evie’s favorite show is going to come on soon, so we better start heading home.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t make your little one angry. I have to get going too, it’s getting late.”

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Even though my Evie told you that I told her that you’re old. I still feel bad about that by the way, I apologize.”

“No worries, Harry. I didn’t feel offended in any way so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Okay, love. We’ll see you around. Have a safe walk or drive home, yea?”

“Thank you, Harry and you too.”

“Thank you, love. Evie, my little bunny say bye bye to Y/N.”

Evie looked up to her daddy and up to Y/N who was smiling down on her.

“Bye Y/N!” Evie waved her hand as Y/N bent down and said goodbye to her.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Harry.”

Harry lifted Evie up and set her on his hip as Y/N waved back as the father and his daughter walked away from the smiling woman who was just too sweet and such a beautiful soul who adored little Evie and she barely even knew Harry and Evie. But she was sure for one thing. They were both lovely and a beautiful little family.

**//** “Daddy, daddy! Me teeth need brushy!” Evie pounced on her daddy’s bed, automatically waking up Harry from his slumber.

“Lemme open my eyes first, sweetheart.” Harry groggily murmured out. As Evie continued to jump on the bed.

Evie lied down on the bed facing her daddy. She was smiling her small dimples making their way on her chubby little cheeks.

“Hello daddy.”

Harry opened up his eyes and smiled back at his beautiful little daughter, as he stared at her dimples that he loved so much. He raised his finger and softly poked the indented skin of her dimple, making Evie giggle as she too stuck her finger in her dad’s bigger dimple.

“I’m up little petal. How’d you sleep?”

Evie retrieved her hand back from his cheek and gave Harry a thumbs up.

“Good. Did you let the bugs bite, daddy?”

“Hopefully not,” Harry said as he gave Evie a little kiss on her forehead. “Uh oh. The raspberry monster is coming, Evie.”

Evie was automatically on alert. She sat up on the bed and was ready to slip out of the bed but she was too late to hop down the bed. Harry brought her back up and blew many raspberries on her belly as Evie continued to release many giggles as she tried to tickle Harry so he could finally let go of her.

“No daddy!” Evie exclaimed, as she had her perfect opportunity to hop down the bed, running to the bathroom and hopping onto a little step-up chair so she could lock the door.

“Evie. Let me in, darlin’. Promise I won’t let the raspberry monster out.” Harry reasoned with her. As Evie was hesitant in opening the door, but she did anyway.

“Okay, daddy.”

Harry came in the bathroom and went to retrieve Evie’s toothbrush and her toothpaste.

“Okay, little bun. Hop on the chair.” Evie obliged and hopped on the chair, already giving her daddy the elastic hair tie on her wrist.

Harry gathered Evie’s straight, dark brown hair and tied it into a mini little bun.

“Okay. Like we did yesterday, Evie. Mouth closed brushing side to side and brushing each tooth in a  circular motion.” Harry explained. As he handed her the toothbrush, the bristles full with toothpaste.

Evie started to brush her teeth. Harry looked down at her movements, his smile making its comeback.

“Just like that, Evie. Now I’m goin’ to step out and get you some clothes so you can take your bath, yeah?”

“Noh daddy. Notch chewday.” Evie let out. The toothpaste causing her to say gibberish.

“What was that, darlin’?” Harry asked as he stuck his head back in the bathroom.

Evie rinsed out her toothbrush and mouth, finally putting back the brush in its proper place.

“I say no.”

“No? Why not?”

“Just change clothes.”

“Are you sure? But you usually want me to bathe you whenever you wake up, why not today?”

“Not right now. Later.”

Harry nods at her daughter, as he wipes off the water from her mouth with a towel and they walk to Evie’s room where she goes through her dresser and closet to get her clothes ready for the day.

Evie gets a pair of jeans, but she was debating either putting on a patterned shirt or floral shirt. So she walked back to Harry and showed him what she found to wear. She made Harry to make the final decision on what she was going to wear and he made the choice for her to wear the yellow floral shirt. Once Evie changed into her clothes, she went to her closet and grabbed two head scarves his auntie Gemma got her and one that Harry got her.

“Which one daddy?” Evie asked. As her facial features looked perplexed. Each scarf in one of her small hands.

“Hmm… maybe this one. It would match your outfit and it would also bring out your eyes. Do you want to put this one on?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to agree with me if you don’t want to wear that one.” “I think the purple one.”

Harry grabbed the purple head scarf from her hand and wrapped it around her small head. When he finished wrapping it on her head he got up and looked at his daughter. He just realized that her yellow floral shirt had purple little flowers as well which matched perfectly with the purple scarf. Evie was one who loved to match her clothes and she probably got it from him. They both were serious about their clothing options and they always asked each other which item of clothing looked better. “I think you’re done. Do you think it's daddy’s turn to get dressed?”

Evie giggled and ran towards Harry’s bedroom.

**//**

“You got your boots on, love?” He asked Evie, as he looked behind him seeing a grinning Evie already having her boots zipped up.

“Ready, daddy.” Evie grabbed Harry’s bigger hand and they both walked out, already enjoying the beautiful breeze and the bright rays of the sun.

**//**  When they both stepped inside the small restaurant they walk towards their usual booth where they had a view of the playground that Evie would always go right after having brekkie, but each time Evie asked Harry he would tell her “Maybe later, Evie.” Or “you just finished eating, darlin’.” He wouldn’t want Evie to feel sick while she would be playing on the swings or going down a slide. Harry orders himself a chamomile tea and some pancakes that came along with biscuits so he could share with Evie. And he lastly ordered Evie some blueberry waffles along with a chocolate milk. While they both waited for their food to arrive, Evie and Harry were in their own little worlds. Evie was drawing on the mini coloring book that the waiter gave her while Harry was on his phone sending emails to people about the different designs he had done for the fashion company he worked for. He was certain that one day there would be people interested in his designs so they could make him the creator of his own fashion line. That has been Harry’s dream. Designing something that everyone would be comfortable wearing. He designed gender-fluidity clothing that one day he would love to see people wearing his precious designs. As he continued emailing and texting people, their food finally arrived and Evie automatically wrapped a napkin on the collar of her shirt and she began eating her waffles after Harry sliced the waffles into miniature pieces for her to eat. Harry started to eat once he saw Evie eating her waffles. He cut, stabbed, and bit the pieces of his pancakes swallowing it away with his beverage. Evie continued eating her waffles as she got a precut biscuit and spread strawberry jam on both sides.

“Daddy! Look! It’s tall girl!” Evie exclaimed. Harry continued putting notes on his notepad on his phone, as he jotted down ideas of his next design.

“Hold on Evie. Let me just write this down, okay, darlin’.” Harry said as he continued tapping away on his phone.

After Harry was done he put his phone down and took a sip of his tea.

“What is it Evie.”

Evie pointed and was now standing on the seat of the booth.

“Evie please sit down,” His hands reaching over to sit her back down. “What are you pointin’ at?”

“Y/N!” Evie yelled out.

Harry looked to what she was pointing at and it was Y/N. She was with someone, assuming it was a friend.

“Evie!” Y/N exclaimed. She excused herself to the other woman that she was accompanied with. Evie hops down the booth and walks towards Y/N who was already making herself towards the booth.

“Y/N!”

“Hi Evie. How are you sweetheart?”

“Good.” Evie nodded.

Harry stacked his and Evie’s plates on top of each other before he got up from the booth.

“Y/N. It’s nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles his dimples showing.

“Yes. It’s nice seeing you- it’s nice seeing you both.” Y/N let out, as she fixed Evie’s head scarf from falling from her head.

“Do you both come here often or was it just today?”

“No. I just didn’t feel like making brekkie so we came here. Do you come here a lot?”

“Not a lot. This place is my favorite though.” Y/N smiles at him.

“Me daddy’s favorite, too.” Evie interjects. Her little hands looking at Y/N’s rings and bracelet.

Harry looked at Evie who was messing with Y/N’s bracelet and rings he was about to tell her to stop but Y/N got up from being on her knees for so long.

“I better get back to eating. I haven’t finished my breakfast.”

“Daddy can we go to the park?” Evie asked Harry as he started to put her jacket on for her.

“You just finished eating, sweetie.”

“Can Y/N come too!” Evie looked to Y/N who was still smiling from seeing them both here in the little breakfast restaurant.

“She has to finish eating, Evie.” Harry told her as he was bent down, zipping up her jacket.

“Maybe when I finish eating is that okay?” Y/N said as she bent down to Evie’s height.

She smoothed down her jacket as Evie began grinning, her little dimples showing.

“Yes! Daddy, Y/N said yes!” Evie exclaimed as she tugged on Harry’s pant leg, a habit that she did whenever she was excited about something.

“You don’t have to if you have somewhere to be Y/N.”

“It’s fine. I don’t have nowhere to be. I haven’t been to a park in a long time so it could be fun.” Y/N assured Harry.

Harry was still hesitant. He didn’t want Y/N to feel forced to go to the park with them. He didn’t want to be the one to stop her from going anywhere else she had to go. It was the weekend so she might have other things planned for today. He didn’t want her to stop for him and Evie.

“Are ya sure?”

Y/N nodded. As Evie began hopping up and down.

“Okay. Well- We are going to sit on that bench. I don’t want you to feel rushed, love. So please take your time while eatin’.” Harry said, as he pointed to the bench that was overlooking the park.

“Yes. Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll be out in a bit,” She told Harry, as Harry smiled at her. “And I will see you soon, Evie.” Y/N went back to her seat next to the woman that she was accompanied with as Harry and Evie exited out of the restaurant and walked themselves to the park that barely had any visitors.

Harry sat down on the bench as Evie sat right next to him as her legs were swaying back and forth while she sat.

While they waited Evie asked if they could play rock, paper, scissors.

“How ‘bout rock, paper, scissors, and fire?” Evie grinned as she was excited to play the game. Each time that Evie threw a paper or rock or even a scissors, Harry would throw a fire, making him win each time.

“Daddy, you’re cheatin’!” Evie yelled, her little hands throwing whatever little object her hands represented.

“No such thing, lovie.” Harry smirked. During their sixth game of rock, paper, scissors, and fire. Y/N practically speed-walked her way towards the bench where Harry and Evie were sitting.

“So, who’s ready to go on the swings?” Y/N said smiling down at Evie.

“Y/N!”

“Hi little Evie.” Y/N was on her knees as Evie was about to hop off the bench.

“Daddy, can I go with Y/N?” Evie asked, her green eyes sparkling by the sun hitting her little irises.

“Of course, darlin’.” Harry smiled down at her. Y/N gave her hand to Evie who held automatically and they walked towards the swings. Harry was left smiling, his thoughts kept to himself and feeling regret all of a sudden. He was an amazing father to Evie he knew it because his mum would always tell him that he was amazing at it and even Evie would tell him as well. He still felt guilt though. Evie did not grow up with her mother. Everyday he wished that she was here. She would know how to comfort Evie when she gets older, she would teach her more than he has already taught her. He missed her so much, and the fact that he knows that she is no longer with them haunts him and pains him even more. Evie was his treasure and he would love her for the rest of his life. Seeing Y/N and Evie laughing while Y/N was pushing Evie on the swing he felt the butterflies again, reminding himself of his relationship that he had with Evie’s mother. Memories. It was just the memories that were left of her.

**//** Harry went back to looking at his phone, emailing some more, but he stopped when he saw someone sit next to him.

“It’s lovely isn’t it?” Y/N asked him about the beautiful weather, as she kept a close eye on Evie going down the slide.

“It is innit?”

“How have you been? Sorry I never asked you back at the breakfast place.”

“Good. And you?”

“Great,” Y/N smiled, but her smile faded as she looked at a perplexed Harry. “You sure? ‘Cos every time I looked back to see you were on your phone. You looked worried and unsure of something. Is everything okay?”

“Yea. I was debatin’ which designs to send to my boss.”

“Designs? What’s your job?”

“I’m a fashion designer. I’m the one who creates designs and I send them off to my boss and he gets to either decide he wants it for the clothing line or decline it.”

“Fashion designer? I never thought you would be a fashion designer, no offense.”

“None taken, love. What’d ya think I was?”

“I dunno. Maybe some sort of guy that works at an office that owns his own company or somethin’.” Y/N giggled her hands folded on her lap.

They both looked away from each other as they watched Evie already making a friend at the top of the slide. Evie waved to them as they waved back at her, smiling as they saw her go down the slide.

“So was that your friend that you came with at the restaurant?”

“Yea. We work with each other.”

“Where do you work at?”

“At a company- stop, I know what you’re thinkin’, Harry.”

Harry smirked, “And here you were thinkin’ I worked at a company.” Harry smiled as Y/N looked away making Harry let out a laugh. “I’m jus’ jokin’ wit’ ya, love.”

As Harry and Y/N continued to talk they both didn’t notice the time passing by that fast.

Harry checked his watch on his wrist and saw that three hours have passed. Three hours passed. Three hours of non-stop talking. Harry didn’t mind it, to be honest he actually never wanted the conversation to end, he enjoyed talking with Y/N. She was funny and she always laughed at his jokes which was new, because people would just shrug it off and walk away from him. But Y/N, she didn’t. She listened to everything that he had to say and also he listened to whatever problems that Y/N was currently going through.

Harry stood up from sitting on the bench too long and walked towards the swings where Evie was happily swinging herself.

“Come, Evie. We have to get goin’, my bum is hurtin’, lovie.”

“No daddy!”

“Yes.”

“No.” Evie retorted back.

“Evaleen Sty-“ Harry continued, his hands on his hips as Evie walked towards him, shoulders slouched.

“Okay, daddy.” Evie finally says, intertwining her hand into Harry’s. Y/N walks towards the small little family of two. Her insides start to soften, seeing Harry and Evie being happy even though she has noticed that there isn’t a mother in the picture. She was going to ask about Evie’s mother and where she was, but she also didn’t want to ask something so personal to them. And besides, they just met yesterday at the train station so it was a risky question and she didn’t feel comfortable asking.

“Y/N. We’re going to get going, love. It was nice seeing you.” Harry said, as he fixed Evie’s head scarf a bit. She looked cute, a head scarf wrapped around her straight brown hair, almost matching Harry’s outfit. His yellow sweatshirt which made him look like a big bumble bee, paired with some black skinny jeans and brown boots. They looked exactly alike. “Yea yea, you two should get going, it is getting quite dark.”

“See ya later Y/N, the tall girl.” Evie said, as she smiled grabbing Y/N’s soft hand into her little one. “Tank you for playing wit’ me.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Y/N said as Evie wrapped her arms around Y/N’s neck.

“Evie, don’t choke her now.” Harry warned a happy little Evie.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Evie unwrapped her arms from Y/N’s neck as Y/N wrapped her arms around Evie.

“No worries, sweet Evie.” Harry, and Evie said their goodbyes to Y/N who was holding a smile the entire time she has been around them. Before Harry and Evie walked away from the park, Harry asked for Y/N's number and they both exchanged numbers to each other. Evie was smiling and Y/N and Harry were both smiling as well.

One would be convinced that they were a couple and that Evie was their little ball of sunshine. But they just got along so well, it just felt normal for them smiling and laughing at each other.

Y/N was so enchanted with the small family that she was getting a little disappointed that they were leaving. She was not gonna to lie they were amazing people. Little Evie being an angel and Harry. Harry being a gentleman and such a great dad. It was like he was born to be a father and Y/N could tell how much Evie meant to him and how he cherished her to the fullest and that was the most amazing thing that Y/N has seen in a father and daughter relationship. 

**//**

“Y/N, can you get these papers to the boss? I’m going to be on my lunch break.” Cami asked as she swung her lunch bag on her shoulder.

“Yeah. I actually have to go talk to her right now, so I’ll give them to her.” Y/N smiled as Cami smiled and threw a peace sign as she walked out the door and mouthed a ‘thank you.’

Y/N walked towards her boss’s office space and has the papers tucked under her arm. Once she was going to turn the corner she saw someone that she recognized right away. Her glasses made it easier for her to decipher the person better, and when the figure moved closer she noticed that it was a man and a little girl holding onto the man’s hand. She was confused if it was actually someone she knew or if it was a husband visiting his wife.

“Aren’t you a charmer. You look adorable with ya little dimples, love.”

“Daddy! Lady touching me little dimples.” A soft voice that Y/N recognized too well.

Y/N stuck her head out to see the commotion. Harry and Evie were both here, they were surrounded by her coworkers and the women were stealing glances at Harry.

“Hi, I am- we are lookin’ fo’ Y/N. Is she here?” Harry asked, as he held onto Evie’s hand tightly, and looked around if he found the person he was searching for.

“Yeah, Y/N was just giving some papers to our boss, she should be back.” Cami said, as she put her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Y/N walked towards the group of her coworkers and she instantly landed eyes on Harry and Evie.

“Harry, Evie. Hi.” Y/N let out as she ran a nervous hand through her hair.

“Hi love. We were just in the neighborhood and we decided to stop by and give you these cookies, hope you like ‘em.” Harry invited as he handed Y/N the tupperware of cookies.

“Daddy wanted to see you.” Evie confessed, her little mischievous smile making Harry stare down at her.

Harry stiffened, his face becoming a light shade of pink.

“We just wanted to see you.” Harry explained, his cheeks still pink.

“Thank you Harry and thank you Evie for visiting me.” Y/N chuckles as she takes the tupperware.

“We should get goin’ I have to take this little one to get her some new sneakers, she outgrow the ones she had, the little bug.” Harry smiled as he looked down at a grinning Evie who kept looking up to him and Y/N.

“I’ll see you two later then? Drive safely, yeah?” Y/N encouraged.

“Can I show you me new sneaks when you come by?” Evie asked as she was bouncing on her heels and toes.

“Of course, lovie! I would love to see your new sneaks!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Okay. We’ll see you soon, love. Text or call me if you want to stop by, yea?” Harry said as he gave Y/N a hug. “Evie, say bye bye, darlin’.”

“Bye Y/N. Hope you like the cookies, I actually made them, daddy just put them in the oven fo’ me.” Evie whispered in Y/N’s ear, as Harry looked at them suspiciously.

“I’ll love ‘em even more, lovie. Thank you,” Y/N whispered back as Evie smiled. “Bye Evie, bye Harry.” Y/N said as she stared into Harry’s beautiful green irises that she has become enchanted with these past few weeks.

“Bye, love.”

And they were out. Evie holding onto Harry’s bigger hand as they walked towards the sliding doors.

“He’s a keeper, isn’t he?” A woman next to Y/N whispered to her. “Would love me a man like that.”

“He is an adorable dad, where did ya meet him Y/N?” Another woman asked

Y/N just stared into space, she stared down at the tupperware full of cookies and smiled to herself.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” Y/N asked as she now came back to reality.

“Let her be will you? Don't you both have work to do?” Cami retorted, as the two women walked back to their cubicles, sending glares to Cami.

“What were they talking 'bout?”

“The dad and the little girl that just came by. You never talked about them, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I like them, especially the little girl. What was her name?”

“Evie. She's precious isn't she?”

“Her dad is actually the precious one. Did you see his dimples and his eyes oh my go-” A woman added

“Don't you have work to do? Go on, up you go!” Cami exclaimed. “Sorry Y/N. It's just people can't fucking mind their own business. Want me to accompany you to your office?” Cami asked, a real gem she was.

“No, no. I'm fine Cami. I have to give these papers to our boss.” Y/N concluded, as Cami reached for the Tupperware grabbing a cookie.

“Mmm. They're delicious have you tried one?” Cami asked as she munched on her cookie.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll actually take those papers to our boss. I'll see ya later.” Cami says. As she was about to move passed Y/N. “Oh and I almost forgot to tell you. The dad gave you the eye. He is quite fond of you Y/N.” Cami whispered in Y/N's ear. She started to walk off and gave her a wink.

Y/N smiled to herself. Was he fond of her? She never realized the eyes that Harry gave her. If she was being honest she probably sneaked in a couple of googly eyes as well.

Once Y/N was comfortably inside her little office, she opens the Tupperware and grabs a cookie. If she was being quite honest, they were one of best cookies she's ever tasted.

**//**

After three months of seeing each other. Taking Evie to the park and Y/N busying herself by playing with her. And Harry, oh Harry.

At first he thought  it was a slight crush on the beautiful and smart woman that was Y/N. but once they started seeing each other more often, he never really realized how much in common that actually have. Same favorite candy, same favorite rom-coms. (Although Y/N fancied No Reservations, and Harry always told her that The Notebook was and is the best rom-coms that are out there) She also adored Harry's little jokes that he would always tell her which this would make Evie super ambitious and tell some of her own jokes as well.  

Y/N didn't know it at first but when their stars started to connect creating a constellation, they were both falling for each other, but neither of them didn't risk to confess their feelings to each other. When were they going to tell each other? It would still be a cold mystery, but the fact that they have been seeing each other made it so tempting but difficult.

Today Y/N was at Harry's little home. She was sitting on a stool near the kitchen island while Harry was scolding Evie to clean up her toys.

“Evie, sweetie. I think you should do what your daddy tells you, darling.” She told Evie who had her small arms crossed over her chest as a pout was showcased on her face.

“Daddy won't gimme candy.”

“Evie, I will give you some candy when you do what I asked you to do,” Harry said, as he bent down so he could be at eye-level with his daughter. “Jus’ put away  your toys, lovie. Promise I will give you some candy.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, darlin'.” Harry smirks as he bopped Evie's cheeks so she could smile.

“Alright, daddy!” Evie smiled showing off her perfect little dimples. She runs off to her room right away.

“You bribe her with candy?”

“'S the only way she cleans her room. I know I have to move past that when she starts gettin’ older.”

“Parenting at it's finest.”

“Indeed, love,” Harry smirks as he walked towards the big kitchen. “You hungry? I made this pasta casserole, we still have some left.”

“I'm good, Harry. Thank you for offering.”

Harry and Y/N were both sitting on the couch talking about the different designs he was currently working and Y/N talking about some of her annoying coworkers who just can't stop talking about their significant other.

“I mean, we get it Lucy. We all know you are dating for fuck sakes. Don't have to tell us ‘bout your sex life too.” Y/N bickers as Harry is just staring at her laughing at how Y/N was just so worked up about her coworker.

“I get it, love. I hate it too.”

Y/N remembered that one time that Harry and Evie visited her at work. She remembered most of her coworkers talking about them especially about Harry. It disgusted her when she would hear them gossip about his size and how they would wish to sleep with him. Disgusted her and it felt disrespectful. They didn’t even know anything about him and they were all over him after that one day. She didn’t dare talk about the many conversations that her coworkers had that involved him, she just didn’t feel comfortable.

“Cami was the one at that one breakfast place, right?” Harry asked as he rested his forearm on the cushion of the couch.

“Yeah. That was Cami. I love her to bits, a great friend she is.” Y/N smiled as Harry’s smile never faltered.

“She seems nice,” Harry abruptly stood up and walked towards the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Thirsty, love?”

“Yes please.”

“I never asked you. What’s your favorite color?”

“I dunno. I have a lot of favorite colors I can’t really choose one color.”

“C'mon, you have to at least like one color.”

“I can't choose one. I like all of the colors. Why are you asking?”

“Jus’ wanted to ask, love.” Harry teased as he tickled Y/N's side.

They continued talking but before they could continue any further, Harry realized that he hasn't seen Evie after telling her to put away her toys.

Harry was worried if something happened to her because before she would go to bed she would always ask Harry to read to her, but not today.

“I'll be back Y/N, have to check on the little one.”

He walked to Evie's cozy bedroom and found his daughter cuddled in the bed, the covers wrapping her small body like a cocoon. Harry tucks the covers so they could completely keep her body warm and by the time he finishes covering her he leans forward and plants a kiss on her forehead and whispers a good night.

“She's fallen asleep the little bub.” Harry added as he sat on the couch where Y/N was sitting on.

“She did have a busy day.”

“She sure did.”

After hours have passed by Y/N started to rub her eyes and Harry continued letting out little yawns.

“I think I should get going harry it's getting quite late.”

“Yeah. You should start gettin’ home. Don't want ya catchin’ a cold 'cos of staying here so late.”

“Nonsense Harry. I really do enjoy spending most of my days here with you and little Evie.”

Harry grabbed Y/N's coat from the coat rack and helped Y/N get snuggled up.

“You be careful, yeah? Text or call me when ya get home.”

Y/N smiles finally wrapping her scarf around her neck, “Thank you Harry. And yes, I'll call you when I get home.”

“Okay. I'll see ya- we'll see you tomorrow, love, for brekkie.”

“See you two tomorrow Harry, bye.”

“Bye tall girl.” Harry smirked as his body was leaning on the door as Y/N smiled back at him making him combust with butterflies in his belly.

Harry shuts the door after waving goodbye to Y/N. After he shut the door closed he felt an emptiness, there were no laughs, no jokes, no storytelling, but most importantly there was no Y/N.

Harry sat down on the couch where he reminisced the many conversations that him and Y/N had and the abundance of giggles. He missed it already.

To be certain he was actually missing her. He didn't know why she was the one who he missed but he just wanted to see her again even if it was just for a millisecond. He wished to see her again.

**//**

“Darlin’ do ya have everythin’?”

“Yes daddy.” Evie says, as her little hands carry the little lunch bag which contained a variety of snacks.

“Let's see. We've got bananas, pretzels, juice boxes. Is there somethin’ else you want in the lunch bag, Evie?”

“Some cookies?”

“Cookies it is then.”

Harry grabs the cookie jar and puts enough cookies so it could fill up the zip lock bag.

“Okay, petal. I think we're ready to go.” Harry added as Evie looked up smiling as her dimples were on full display.

And with that they were out the door.

The walk was oddly silent. Evie was walking alongside Harry and Harry was constantly looking down to check on Evie. She looked fine.

Whenever they would walk to their location Evie would always ask her dad about something and she always attempted to tickle Harry's side.

But today felt off, she didn't try to tickle him or ask him questions that he secretly loved because that was just what kids do. But nothing. Just a Evie looking down at her shoes while they continued to walk towards the park.

**//**

“What's wrong with Evie?” Y/N asked, as she bit into her sandwich.

“Dunno. She was fine before we left the house, but once we were walking she didn't try to tickle me or ask me anything.”

“Hmm,” Y/N added as she wiped her mouth with a napkin and got up from sitting cross-legged on the grass. “I'm gonna go talk to her. I will be right back.”

Y/N walks towards Evie as she was busying herself with her coloring book.

“Hi Evie.”

No answer

“Evie, sweetheart. What's the matter?”

Still no answer

“Do you want me to sit with you and color?”

Evie finally looked up from her coloring book and nodded her head, handing Y/N a piece of paper.

Y/N and Evie sat next to each other in silence.

Their hands dragged along the paper with many little illustrations filling the pieces of paper.

“Evie. Please tell me what's wrong, your daddy is very worried.”

Evie stopped coloring and looked up, locking eyes with Y/N.

“Sick.” Evie croaked out.

Y/N went to place her palm on Evie's forehead and retrieved it back concluding that Evie had a fever.

“Sweetie, we gotta get you home now.”

Harry and Y/N gathered everything and Harry carried Evie in his arms while Y/N carried the lunch bag.

Once they arrived to the house Harry set Evie on the couch as Y/N stood at the door.

“Harry, I'll be back. I'm gonna run to the market and get some things to make Evie feel better.” Y/N sighed out as she put everything she was holding in both hands on the kitchen island.

“You don't have to do all of that, love. I'm sure that we have some medicine lying around.” Harry said, as he tried to convince her to not leave.

“It's fine Harry, I insist. I won't be long, okay?”

And Y/N was out the door leaving a confused Evie lying down on the couch shivering.

“Daddy, it's cold.”

“Don't worry darlin’ we'll get you feeling better soon. Promise, petal.” Harry leans forward and plants a soft kiss on Evie's forehead.

Once Y/N came back from the market, she brought lemons, ginger, honey, and other things that she was going to give to Evie.

“Evie, honey. Can you sit up? I want you to drink this tea.”

“Is it sweet?” Evie asked, as she held onto the blanket tighter.

“Not really. It may taste bitter at first but it will make you feel better.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Y/N reassured.

Evie drank the tea at first making a grimace.

Harry sat on the other side of Evie so he could be there to check on her and give her medicine.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I have candy?”

“Evie, you’re just barely getting better. Maybe tomorrow when you feel a little better, yeah?”

“Tomorrow?” Evie coughed out.

“Yes, maybe tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came around and Evie was feeling much better than yesterday.

While Y/N was taking care of Evie the day before, Harry offered to let her spend the night because it was getting a little late. Harry wanted Y/N to spend the night so she wouldn’t have to be driving at such a late time, which was something that Harry didn’t want her to do.

“Daddy! Daddy, Y/N stayed home! She stayed home!” Evie exclaimed as she was jumping up and down in place.

“She did didn’t she? Why don’t you go brush your teeth, darlin’, I’ll come in and see how you did.” Harry rasped out as he just woke up from his slumber.

“Okay.”

Evie went into the bedroom while Harry stayed put on his bed. He stared at the ceiling as he rested his head on his hands. Thinking of the day before and thinking about Y/N. Y/N, with just the thought of her made him smile to himself and butterflies started to invade his stomach. Harry got up and walked towards the exit of his bedroom. He wanted to check if Y/N was okay, so he walked towards the guest bedroom and opened it. What he was expecting was Y/N in bed still sound asleep, but what he didn’t expect was seeing a half naked Y/N.

“Shit, sorry Y/N!” Harry yelled out as he covered his eyes.

“Harry! Close the door, please!” Y/N demanded as she continued covering her cleavage as the jeans she was about to zip up dropped to her ankles.

“Sorry Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Harry added as his back was facing the closed door.

“No, no, no. Harry it’s- I just, I was just going to check up on you if you wanted breakfast, but now that you’re awake- do you want breakfast?”

“Yeah, yeah breakfast sounds nice. But I’m making it okay?”

“Okay then.”

“Okay, I’ma go now I’ll just- uh leave you to it.” Harry finally let out as he was feet away from the guest bedroom door.

“What in the bloody hell, Harry.” Harry whispered to himself, as he felt embarrassed from the whole encounter with Y/N.

“Daddy look! I washed me teeth!”

“I see that, lovie. You did really good Evie, proud of ya.”

“Tank you daddy.”

Evie gave Harry a warming hug as Harry smiled down at her.

“Is Y/N still here Daddy?”

“Yes Evie. She might be in her room still.” Harry said, his hand sliding down on his face. Evie ran out of Harry’s bedroom and left Harry with his many thoughts concerning Y/N.

“Bloody hell, Harry. What the fuck were ya thinkin’?”

Before Harry could continue scolding himself some more, his phone started ringing. Once he lands his eyes on the device he sees his mother’s name flash on the screen.

“Mum!”

“Hello Harry, my darling. Are you busy?”

“No mum. I just got up.”

“Good. How’s my little Evie? Is she all right?”

“Yes mum. She’s fine. Jus’ yesterday she had a cold or she was ‘bout to get a cold, but Y/- a friend came and took good care of her.”

“So Evie’s okay? Does this friend have a name?”

Harry took a deep breath and rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs.

“Her name’s Y/N. I’ve been knowing her for almost eight months now.”

“You’ve never talked ‘bout her. Well I’m glad you and Evie are good. Tell Y/N thank you for taking care of Evie and tell her I said hi.”

��Yes mum, I’ll let her know.”

“I called to remind you of Evie’s birthday party. I need to know the theme and what Evie wants.”

Harry has forgotten Evie’s birthday party that his mum was going to throw at her house. He also totally forgot about Evie’s birthday he forgot that it was next month and he didn’t even know what Evie wanted for her birthday. He would always know what Evie would want.

“Evie’s birthday party! I almost bloody forgot that we were going to celebrate it at your house, mum. Let me call her so she can talk to you, yeah?”

“Please Harry, I haven’t talked to her in a long time.”

By a long time, she meant a week without talking with little Evie.

When Harry called Evie in, she was munching on a chocolate pancake.

Harry leaves Evie in his room as she was on the phone with her grammy.

Harry walks towards the kitchen, but before he comes into the kitchen, he stands two feet from the entrance of the kitchen. He stands thinking what he’s going to say. Once Harry maps out what he’s going to say he steps in the kitchen and sees Y/N sitting on a stool near the kitchen island.

“I told Evie to tell you that your pancakes were ready.” Y/N says as she furrowed her brows while taking a bite of her pancake.

“She didn’t tell me. She’s talkin’ with her grammy.”

“She probably forgot to tell you then.”

Then awkward silence filled the kitchen.

“Look I-” They both said at the same time.

“Look, I’m sorry I walked in on you. It was very rude of me to just barge in like that.”

“Harry it’s fine. I should’ve locked the door before going to sleep, it’s not your fault.” Y/N added.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable here.” Harry added.

“It’s all right.” Y/N said as she set her hand on Harry’s folded hands. “Now eat your pancakes they’re going to get cold.”

“I told you I was going to make brekkie.” Harry said as Y/N just smiled.

Y/N and Harry continued eating their pancakes, as they laughed at a joke that Harry finished saying but before he could say another joke, Evie came running towards them.

“Daddy, daddy!”

“What is it Evie?”

“Grammy said I’m going t’have a birthday party!”

“Did she now?”

“Yes, daddy!” Evie exclaimed as she danced in place making Harry and Y/N grin at each other.

“It’s next month. Is there anyone you’d like to invite?”

“Are Luna and Danny going?”

“Yes. Pretty sure auntie Gem and uncle Michal are comin’ so both are probably goin’.”

Evie moved her sight towards Y/N, her brows were lifted as she looked tentatively at Evie and back at Harry.

“Can we take Y/N?” Evie asked as her smile was present along with her adorable dimples.

“Umm- I don’t know. Y/N?”

“Not sure sweetie. I might be busy next month.”

“Aww please Y/N? You can’t miss me birthday party.” Evie asked her eyes getting a little glossy.

“I’ll see if I can go.”

“Tank you Y/N.” Evie said as she walked towards Y/N and gave her a hug. “And tank you for making me feel better.”

“You’re welcome Evie.” Y/N smiled down at the little girl.

Evie smiled back and ran towards her room and yelled out, “I’ll be coloring!”

Harry and Y/N exchanged smiles as Harry ran a hand through his messy curls.

“She really wants ya to come, huh?”

“Yeah. I would love to but-”

“You should go, but if you’re busy that weekend I’m sure she’ll understand, love.” Harry assured her.

“Yeah hope so,” Y/N gets up and puts her dirty dishes in the sink. “I’ll just wash these dishes and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Stay as long as you want, love. And let me help you with dryin’ ‘em, least I can do after you made breakfast.”

Harry and Y/N both help each other wash and dry the dishes and lastly putting them away where they belong.

“I should get going it’s getting late and I have to stop by to buy some food.”

“Sure. Let me get Evie here to say bye.”

Once Harry walked to Evie’s room he saw her lying down on the floor, colored pencils scattered on the floor.

“Oh, my little Evie.” Harry whispers as he carries Evie and sets her on her bed. “Goodnight, Evie.” Harry kisses her cheek and tucks her in.

Harry came back to the kitchen, finding Y/N putting on her jacket.

“She fell asleep while coloring. I’ll tell her in the morning you had to go.”

“Okay then. It was nice spending the night here and cook you both some pancakes.”

“Even though I told ya I was goin’ to cook breakfast.”

“Which you were too slow to come by to the kitchen. It’s fine it was a treat from me to you and Evie for letting me spend the night.”

“Of course, love. Anytime. And thank you for doing your magic and curing Evie.”

“Of course! I love the little one,” Y/N smiled as she walked towards the door. “I’m going to head out now, maybe soon we can go to that picnic or to the park?”

“Yes! Yes, we can go anytime.”

“Okay. Well, goodbye Harry.”

“Bye Y/N.”

Before Harry could close the door Y/N leaned forward to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I really enjoy spending time with you Harry.” Y/N grinned as Harry blushed when they both detached from each other.

“Me too, Y/N.”

Me too.

Taglist: @meet-me-in-the-harry

A/N: Hope you liked it! I know I haven’t posted any writing since last month (I think) Let me know what you thought, your feedback is much appreciated, much love. -Ani ❤💞💓

[ffxivimagines]

Commission 005 | campy

Commissioned by @mathclasswarfare ! Thank you for your patience and cheer! 

Noctis Lucis Caelum is having a no-good, horrible, terrible, very bad day. Well, maybe it’s not that bad, but the Regalia breaking down in the middle of gods-know-where combined with no cell reception that he could use to call Cindy for a tow feels abysmal. The sun is intense, making the back of his neck itch with the force of it, but it’s no worse than the height of Leiden summer. If there is any time worthy of regretting his birthright and the color that comes with it, it’s now. Even the dash of the Regalia grants him no respite once it heats enough to rival one of Ignis’s carbonsteel pans. 

Noctis would quite like to go home now, please and thank you, even if home is a moderately stinky sleeping bag shoved up against the back of a tent. 

He stands next to the Regalia and waits for someone to come down the road. When that fails, he starts pushing. The irony is not lost on him, but neither is his growing dehydration. There are only so many water bottles left in his Armiger and even fewer snacks (no thanks to Gladiolus’s appetite). He has time before he begins to truly overheat, but not a lot of it. 

The first person that passes is very much in a rush, charging past on a particularly fleetfooted chocobo, and Noctis has nearly no time to wave and attempt to flag them down for help. They pass in a blur of yellow and brown without giving him so much as a glance. Right, onto the next. He waits, inching the car along toward where can make out the vague outline of a building, and wonders if it would be a better investment to walk there first and ask for help. 

He waits and sweats in equal measure until there is a very clearly child-sized being charging toward him alongside the smallest chocobo Noctis has ever seen. “Do y’need some help there, lad?”

He has to stop for a long moment, squinting and blinking with his face scrunched up like the foreign being was some sort of hallucination. They’re not quite a child, Noctis notices, as if their tone of voice and way of speaking wasn’t proof enough, but he still grasps at nothing for a name. The closest thing he can think of is gremlin, but that’s a non-starter and rude besides. He settles for asking, “Wha─who are you?”

“Sabiha Humi, at y’r service,” they reply with a smile curving their words. “What’re y’ pushing?” They take a long look at the Regalia as if it’s some strange, likely dangerous deathtrap. It’s not the covetous appreciation he’s used to from Cindy whenever he brings the car in for maintenance, nor the casual-yet-respectful way Prompto always eyes it (he had freaked out after the Regalia had been dented by an Iron Giant’s sword, murmuring rapidfire apologies to Regis as if Noctis’s father would skin him alive for prioritizing his own life over the wellbeing of the car). Noctis is not sure what to make of it. 

“I’m Noct and this is a car,” he says, feeling mightily stupid for phrasing it so rudely. He assumes they don’t know what in the Astrals’ seven circles of hell a car is, but he fears for his shins if they do. To his benefit, Sabiha just nods. 

“I’ll call Cid, then.”

“Uh… Cid Sophiar?”

They shake their head and smile patiently, correcting him with a casual, “Garlond, actually. There a Cid where y’r from?”

Noctis huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah. He’s old and doesn’t like me much.”

Sabiha giggles and reaches up to pat him on the hip. “Let me call via linkpearl an’ he’ll be here within a bell.”

Noctis sits down in the shade of the Regalia to wait it out and wonders what on Eos’s great surface a linkpearl is. 

Noctis finds that he likes this place’s (world’s?) Cid a lot better than his own. The Garlond Ironworks folk are intimidating when they grill him for part specifications and schematics he does not have, but are nice enough when not consumed by technophilia. Noctis really, sincerely hopes Prompto hasn’t left any empty chip bags in the glove box again when Cid suggests a cleaning and some attempts at maintenance. Sabiha tugs him away to wander when he keeps fidgeting and flicking things in and out of the Armiger with the very real excuse of finding him a way home. 

“So y’r not from around here at all.”

“Yeah, about that,” he starts before something in his aether jumps, pulling taut at the vague sound of MagiTek weaponry echoing across the hills. “Nevermind. We have bigger fish to fry.”

Sabiha hops onto chocoback and follows along, chattering to ease his nerves as they search for the cause of his intrinsic anxiety. “─so y’see, I’m here talkin ‘bout how infuriatin’ it is to have some o’those midlander folk talk t’ me like I’m some sort o’child and then, to add insult t’ injury, they ask why a little gal like me is runnin’ about alone! I’m a grown woman, thank y’ very much! Even Gurney knows better!”

Noctis nods along as they traverse the dry brush, tossing in a comment here and there to make sure Sabiha knows he’s listening. Her easy way of speaking reminds him of Prompto─they have a lot in common, the more he thinks about it, if you ignore the obvious difference in physical form─and Noctis misses him acutely. He wants to get back home, to Eos, to his friends, to the destiny he is eternally tempted to ignore. 

He spots a MAX-Maniple clunking along and signals to Sabiha to wait.  He sets his nerves in steel, summons a blade in a flash of blue-white magic, and watches her do much the same. They lay waste to the familiarly damning machine with ease and Noctis hopes it is the last of the ones that followed him. 

They face other creatures over the course of their journey to find him a way home. The Regalia is repaired quickly enough, but Noctis hisses curses when Iseultalon all but shaves multiple years off his life with a few too many close misses. He keeps falling back on familiar patterns, calling for people that aren’t there to back him up, but Sabiha hurls magic into his bones all the same. Her arrows fly true and it becomes a familiar comfort to hear riffs amid the ringing of steel as she suffuses their surroundings with aether. 

Camp is much the same. The first new nights are rough when he pulls a can of Ebony from the Armiger and has to fight to dismiss it instead of putting it on a cooktop that isn’t even set up. Sabiha asks him about his companions, pressing for details about Prompto when he admits they have a lot in common. It’s like something just unlocks─Noctis can’t quite shut up about it once he starts, and Sabiha sits and listens with rapt attention to every one of their adventures spanning from before the Fall to their most recent attempt at completing their Imperial Destruction Plan™ (named as such by Prompto, of course, and agreed upon by Ignis)─where he can talk about his troubles and how much he truly is grateful to Prompto for reaching out and being his friend without having to worry about anyone looking at him strangely. 

“You’re a strong lad,” Sabiha tells him, “an’ I’m quite sure y’r friends are waitin’ for ya to come back n’ tell ‘em all about this. What’s the thing Prompto does? That “selfie” thing.”

“Want to take one? He’d like that.”

They wander through Gridania for a while, Noctis looking for a place he can fish same as take a decent enough photo, and they settle down for the afternoon. It’s a wonderful break from the usual adventuring-to-kill gig they both have going on. Having to kill Garuda (again. Of course it would be a murderous wind bird again) interrupts their relaxation and grants Noctis the way home he so dearly needs. 

Noctis forgets that Sabiha is terrible at warping. She chips away at Garuda arrow by arrow, but most are knocked aside by gusts rather than hitting their mark. He yells over the storm every so often, but it’s a trial in futility when his voice is stolen away time and time again. They manage a few synchronized attacks, but not nearly enough, By the time they make it out of the fight, Noctis has smashed more than a few potions over his head and chest in desperation. Sabiha glares balefully for all the broken arrows littering the ground. 

“I hate this fight.”

Noctis grimaces. “Do it often?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

They stare at the not-quite-Garuda with matching expressions, Sabiha not quite off guard yet while Noctis flicks his sword back into the Armiger. They listen while the primal speaks in a familiarly grating tongue as if its acceptance and blessing is all they’d need want. 

“You have proven your might, Chosen King. At the world’s peril do we grant our might to the untested. I bequeath to you and your companion both my blessing.”

They share a look of absolute exasperation before Noctis remarks, “Divinities… one second they’re trying to kill you and the next they’re helping you. I’ll never understand them.”

Sabiha nods and pats his hand in solidarity. “Time f’r you t’ get going back, it seems.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees. “Thanks, Sabiha, for everything.”

She grins when he gets into the Regalia and flashes a thumbs up. “Be safe! Don’t f’rget t’show Prompto those pictures!”

And Noctis drives into the portal, lead home by the Oracle of his world, leaving Sabiha with the pulse of new-old aether still thrumming in her ears. She tests the bright blue sensation of it and pulls a note from the Armiger on accident. 

Hey, Noct! Wherever you are, come back soon, okay? Iggy is drinking enough Ebony even Gladio is getting concerned!

I hope you’re safe. 

Come back soon, Noct. Please. 

Prompto 

P.s. don’t forget to take pictures if it’s someplace cool!!

Sabiha presses it back where it came from and smiles.

Askbox | Ask Rules | Commissions | FFXIVWrite 2019 Fills

[mycatshuman]

Castle of Devils

Chapter 2

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety

Warnings: mentions of blood? I don't think there is any others? Let me know if I missed any.

Word count: 1,868

Thank you so so much to the amazing @civilsounds17 for helping me and reading through this for me! 💚💚💚 also thank you so very much to @wxlcomxtothxjunglx for helping me with the title.

More Chapters

-----

Roman awoke the next morning to find a tray sitting outside his door with a note. He frowned slightly before glancing around. He wasn't sure how long the food had been out there, he hoped it was still warm. Grabbing the tray, he brought the tray inside and closed the door behind him. Taking a moment to debate where he wanted to eat, he decided to sit his breakfast on the desk beside the window so he could sit and look out at the view.

He shoved the velvet red curtains aside dramatically (as he did everything) and sat down, opening the window, he let out a surprised breath at the view. It was, it the simplest of terms, enchanting. The sun shone down on the land, it's beams hitting the multicolored leaves adorning the trees below. The reds, yellows, and oranges swirled through the air as they fell from the dying branches. The twinkling of the cool water in the river below as it ran over small pebbles and rocks was picturesque, and Roman could have sworn he could hear the trickling of the crystal liquid as it flowed. He let out a small shiver as the crisp fall breeze blew through the air, bringing with it, the smell of apples and pumpkins. The whole scene was like something out of a fairytale.

Roman felt a small, content smile make its way to his face before he turned to his food. He delicately picked up the small note bearing his name with intricate, crimson script. Bringing the note close to himself and opening it, he felt his breath hitch in his throat as the faint scent of...something, trailed along with it. Roman felt his head grow slightly dizzy. The smell was intoxicating. It was the smell of crisp autumn leaves, the smell of pumpkin spices, clover, nutmeg, and cinnamon. The smell of ancient tomes and a slight smell of thrill seeking danger. Roman recognized the scent as it all swirled around him in one unique smell that he distinctly remembered from last night. Virgil.

Roman felt his cheeks warm. He hasn't even been here one night and he was already finding himself falling for someone. And it was his host! At that. Roman shook his head to clear his head of thoughts of pale skin and stormy eyes. He quickly read through the note his host left him.

Dear Mr. Prinz,

I trust you had a pleasant sleep? Please enjoy this meal I have prepared for you when you wake. I shall be quite busy today and I hope that you can get yourself settled into your new home for the next month. If you finish that, please enjoy my library. It has a vast collection of novels and I can only hope you will find something that intrigues you. I shall come find you somewhere around five and then we can start my studies. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.

Yours truly, Virgil Stoker

P.s. the Wifi password is alucard500

Roman chuckled breathlessly before setting the paper down and starting on his food. As he ate, he looked out over the forest surrounding the castle. His thoughts wandered from the serene view to the people in the gas station. Why were they so scared of this place? Sure it looked scary on the outside, at night with wolves howling, but in the day, it was like something out of a fairytale.

Roman frowned. What could they possibly be scared of? It couldn't have been the castle's owner. Virgil was too kind and polite, albeit a little weird, but that couldn't be cause enough for them to call him a devil. And it wasn't like there was anyone else who lived here who could have caused the reputation of devils. Could it possibly be the castle? Maybe something in its past. Could it be haunted? Are there ghost and literal devils and demons here? Could it be a previous owner? The land?

Roman was beginning to drive himself mad as he went over countless possibilities in his head. Maybe I could ask Virgil? He thought as he finished his breakfast. Yes. Surely Virgil would know how the rumors came about. Roman stood up from his spot on the window sill and began to unpack his things and put them away. He was extremely happy to find his closet was much bigger than his one at home. After he was done, he opened the door to his joined bathroom and took a nice soothing bath in the clawfoot tub.

As he soaked in the warm water with the soothing smell of candles swimming through the air and the instrumental tracks to every Disney song playing from his phone, he thought, Why would anyone want to leave? Roman's green eyes flew open as he hit Eureka. Maybe Virgil wants to leave because they whisper such nasty rumors about him! It wasn't much, but it at least gave some light? On the subject. It still didn't give him an answer as to why such wicked rumors were spread in the first place. Although, it could possibly be due to a lifestyle of Virgil's or part of his personality.

Roman let out a sigh and sank into the tub as he closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. It wasn't really something he should concern himself with. After all, it wasn't like it involved him. For all he knew, it could just be a family feud that doesn't involve games and television. Roman pushed all thoughts from his mind and focused on the music spilling through the air, creating a calming atmosphere as Roman prepared for this evenings lesson with his host.

----

Roman found himself sitting at his desk, a few minutes before five, writing about his stay so far when a feather like knock sounded at his door. Roman startled slightly and turned his head to the door. “Mr. Prinz? If you're ready we can start the lesson now.” Roman glanced down at his attire, he was wearing a pair of black dress slacks and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons were undone. Is this professional enough?!?! “Mr. Prinz? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm coming!” Roman called out as he frantically glanced around the room, forgetting his dilemma of a few seconds ago as he tried to make sure his room was at least presentable. Roman moved quickly to the door and fixed his hair before opening the door. “Good evening Mr. Stoker.”

Virgil quickly took Roman in, suppressing the irregular jump of his heart in his chest. The reaction totally wasn't due to how handsome Roman looked. Not at all. “Please, call me Virgil,” he replied before stepping away from the door and sweeping his arm to the side. “Shall we?”

Roman swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded and left his room, closing the door behind him and looked expectantly at the other. A ghost of a smile spread across Virgil's smooth pale face before he lead the way through the hall to the study where they would be completing the lessons.

Roman took the time to study his host's face as they traveled through the dimly lit halls of the castle, the flickering light of the candles (not sure why the castle had candles what with all the technology this age provided but Roman appreciated the aesthetic) casting shadows across the darkly dressed man's face. What had Virgil so busy today? Roman had to admit, it was a little strange that he had only ever seen his host in the shadowy hours of the dark. Then again, Roman hadn't even been here for two days. He could just be paranoid. Although, he wouldn't lie and say the words of the cashier weren't still ringing in his head, putting him on edge.

Roman continued to glance at Virgil as they walked through the halls. On one of these small stalker moments, Roman caught a glimpse of Virgil's eyes. They shone slightly in the light, the grey orbs flashing with mystery. And, oh, how Roman loved mystery. They stopped outside of closed door, which must have been the study, and Roman watched as the other twisted the silver handle and pushed the door open. Virgil stepped through the threshold and Roman followed, finally tearing his eyes away from the other man and getting a look at his surroundings. There was a wide window overlooking the back of the castle grounds where a sprawling garden of flowers and trees of all sorts stood. It was beautiful.

Roman tore his attention away from the view outside and took in the view on the inside. It was gorgeous. Rich mahogany bookshelves stood along the wall to the right, the spines thick with words. To the left, a magnificent woven tapestry hung against the wall, it's thread woven picture depicting a scene of the ocean, her waves reflecting the full moon as it floated above her vast waters. The stars accompanying the moon in the sky of the artwork seemed to almost twinkle in silent knowledge of complex detail. In the middle of all of this, a table stood out amongst the other elements of the room.

The table was a deep brown, its chairs of the same shade. It was round with the base carved into the shape of a great tree trunk, it's thick branches holding up the surface on which one would place their books. Although, Roman would wonder how anyone could possibly place anything atop its surface was when it's face was decorated with such delicate, intricate detail. Roses and thorns carved themselves into the table, their stems connecting all of them all over the wooden surface. It was magical.

Virgil noticed his awe. “You like it?” He asked as Roman ran a tan hand over the dark wood with a feather light touch. He nodded.

“Yeah, this is-” he swallowed. “This is truly magnificent. Such gorgeous craftsmanship. It's like something out of a fairytale,” Roman breathed out, his voice soft with appreciation. “Wherever did you get it?”

A smile tugged at Virgil's lips as he watched Roman. He shifted slightly before mumbling. “I-I made it.”

Roman stopped running his fingertips over the carvings and turned to look at the other, surprise evident on his chiseled features. “You-you made this?” He asked, his voice soft. Virgil nodded and scratched at his cuticles. Roman glanced at the table beneath his fingers and felt a warm feeling blossom in his chest. He turned back to Virgil. “Virgil… this is magnificent. Truly. You have a gift.”

A faint blush colored Virgil's cheeks as the blood warmed his face. Roman watched as the other stared at him with what could only be an expression of pleasant surprise and felt his blood rush to face as it turned a slightly darker shade of blush. After a few moments of uncomfortable warmth and silence, Virgil cleared his throat. “Um, shall we get started?” He asked.

Roman stayed silent for a few moments as he waited for his cheeks to cool, then he nodded. “Yes. Let's begin.”

-----

Taglist: @kittycake574 @rainbow-roman @icequeenoriginal @ilovemygaydad @roman-flair

[typicalfictosexualfangirl]

Exchanged Whispers (BNHA Fan Fiction) - Chapter 1: Vernal

A/N: i’ve been seeing a couple of fanfictions where the reader is portrayed as a villain’s daughter aiming to become a hero or something of that sort, so i thought i’d change it up a little..

this is me trying my hand at writing fanfictions for the first time, so pardon me if chapters are short, the scenes aren’t entirely accurate as the actual anime/manga, and the characters if they aren’t exactly portrayed accurately. feel free to send in any constructive criticisms (not hate mail, pls know how to differentiate) and yeah, i’ll try to entertain and edit them as best as i can :)

just a heads up, it’s in the first person pov, which made it weird for me to read since I originally wrote the reader as ‘you’. and i’m not gonna go in depth on the characters in 1-C, since they don’t exactly play a main part in the story and also because i don’t wanna portray them wrongly, in case they do get portrayed in the manga in future, but i get to describe one or two of their appearances thanks to the sports festival arc 😚

p.s. [Y/F/N] means your full name

Chapter 1: Vernal

vernal (adj.) of, relating to, or occurring in the spring; fresh or new like the spring extracted from Dictionary by Merriam-Webster Inc.

I stood in front of the stairs and ruffled my hair in exasperation. I had rounded the building too many times to count and I’m back to square one where I started my futile search of my classroom.

I’m not one without a sense of direction, which just shows how huge the building was with their floors being at least 2 metres tall, identical walls painted white with a blue border framing the upper part, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It was like a maze, every turn I take looks exactly the same as the corridor I just passed, except for the different labels on the doors which are the only identification of my present location, and in my current case, the counters to how many times I have ran down a certain corridor.

I took a deep breath in and exhaled to calm my impatience and prepared for Search Attempt #7. Just as I rounded the corner for the *insert large number here* time that day, I bumped into something, or someone to be more specific, and fell back onto my hands, both in surprise and exhaustion. “Are you alright?” A hand appeared in my field of vision, offering to help me up on my feet.

My eyes travelled up to the face behind the hand. The boy standing in front of me had spiky red hair and sharp teeth, and if I looked closely, I could see a slight scar above his right eye.

I dusted my skirt and nodded, “Yup, thanks for the hand.”

“No problem, I was the one who caused your fall in the first place.”

I shook my head and hummed in disagreement, “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, I was at fault too.”

“The name’s Kirishima Eijiro, it’s nice to meet you,” he offered me a hand again, this time for me to shake, which I gently took and did so.

I introduced myself as well, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Kirishima.”

“So, [Y/N],” the way he said my name sent a chill down my spine, “what are you doing wandering these halls alone when class is about to start-“ he paused to check the time on his phone- “in a minute?”

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. “To be honest, I’m kind of lost,” I admitted sheepishly.

He chuckled at my response, “I’m not surprised. What class are you from?”

“1-C.”

General studies, huh? “I’ll take you there.”

It was only at that moment when I realised how late I was. “Holy crap, I am so dead, and I am going to drag you down with me!” I started to panic.

“No, it’s okay, my classroom’s near yours anyway,” he tried to calm me down and gave me a reassuring grin.

“Speaking of, you haven’t told me what class you’re from.”

“Me? I’m from 1-A,” he replied, the smile still plastered on his face. “Well, we’d better get going, otherwise we’ll be later than we already are.”

I thanked him for the trouble and proceeded to walk side-by-side with my benefactor as he led me down the winding halls to my classroom.

When I walked into my classroom, my classmates were already in their seats and the teacher was briefing the class on what our first activity in UA will be. Everyone turned to look at me in question, except a boy who was sat in the corner near the back door, his chin on his palm, and staring out the window. All I can make up of him was his crazy tuft of purple hair. When the teacher hurried me to take a seat, I briefly nodded and took a quick glance around the class before realising that the only seat left available was one beside him. I briskly walked to my seat and settled down, catching up with what I might have missed as the teacher repeated what he had said (for my sake).

When lunch break finally came around, I was immediately surrounded by my classmates. “Oh my god, your parents are MIND DUO right?” The very mention of my parents made me shudder, but I smiled at my classmates and nodded.

“Ooh, what are they like? How is it like to be the daughter of MIND DUO?” their incessant questioning caused my brain to stop functioning entirely. I was clearly struggling to answer all their questions but nobody seemed to notice.

Except for a certain someone I never would have thought of.

“Can’t you see she’s uncomfortable? Why don’t you all leave her alone?” a gruff voice suddenly came from my right.

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice, including me, even though I already knew who it was. Finally able to get a good look at his face, I could see his messy hair framing the upper half of his face and bags under his hooded eyes of a matching colour. As soon as he said that, he stood up and sighed, leaving the classroom to remove himself from the situation.

“We’re sorry if we were bothering you,” my classmates apologised before introducing themselves one at a time.

“Having parents with such awesome quirks, what might your quirk be?” a male classmate with brown hair and dark skin asked.

“Amiability,” I responded rather quickly, as if it was my second nature. “It’s not as flashy as my parents’ quirks but basically, I get along with people really well, both heroes and villains alike.”

My classmates looked at me with tilted heads and confused faces, causing me to burst out laughing. “It means that I can dupe them into thinking I’m one of them, allowing me to lower their guards and get more information out of them,” I continued with a smile.

Scattered ‘oh’s reverberated through the air as my classmates slowly understood what I said.

I excused myself and left the classroom, in search of my tablemate (sort of) to thank him for what he did earlier, but my original plan was interrupted when I heard someone call out to me as I passed by 1-A classroom. I backed up and my head popped into the classroom, peeping inside to see a familiar red head waving at me and signalling for me to go in. He was standing at the table of a boy with ash blonde hair that was styled not so differently from his. The scowl on his face made me hesitate for a moment but I managed to gather the courage to step inside. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I walked towards Kirishima, but the overwhelming feeling of me being in a hero class overtook the out-of-place sensation.

“[Y/N]!” Kirishima welcomed me enthusiastically as soon as I reached his side and started rambling on about something to me, although I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying as I felt the seated boy burn holes through my head with his glaring red eyes.

Kirishima looked over at the frowning boy and realisation dawned upon him. “Ah, I forgot to introduce the two of you. [Y/N], this is Bakugo Katsuki. Bakugo, this is [Y/F/N].”

I awkwardly lifted a hand and mumbled a ‘hi’, a subtle side-grin forming on my face. The only response I received in return was a scoff, which I was taken aback by. Before I could ask Kirishima to hold me back to stop me from beating the crap out of this r00D boi, he took my arm and dragged me around the classroom, eyes glistening eagerly, “Let me introduce you to the rest of my classmates!”

“Sure…” I barely managed to respond as I tried to comprehend the current situation I was in.

“Ooh, who’s that beauty you’ve got with you, Kirishima?” a girl with horns, pink skin, and hair a shade darker came up to the both of us.

“Oh, Ashido, this is [Y/N]. She’s from class 1-C,” Kirishima halted in his tracks, letting go of my arm and pointed back at me, who was a step behind him, with his thumb. I pouted slightly at the loss of contact.

“You’re from the general studies? How’s the curriculum like there? What do you learn? Is it any different from the hero course? Why did you apply for general studies? What’s your quirk? Do you have a boyfriend?” she was like an assault rifle, attacking me relentlessly with her never-ending questions, but her last question definitely caught me off guard.

“Um…” I was trying to find the right words to answer when Kirishima stood between me and the overly-excited Ashido.

“Hey, hey, cool it. You’re gonna scare her away.”

She gave a coy grin, “Oops, sorry.”

As Kirishima picked up my arm again and pulled me past her, my free hand covered one side of my lips and I managed to whisper into her ear, “Actually, I applied to UA in hopes of finding a boyfriend.”

I winked at her as she gaped at my fading silhouette. “Call me Mina!” she yelled before I disappeared from her sight. Without looking back, I waved her off casually in acknowledgement.

Throughout the whole introductory journey, Kirishima was a really big help in overcoming my awkwardness and insecurity, but it was also partially thanks to my quirk that everyone was really easy to get along and communicate with. Except for that one gross and creepy perv that I really don’t want to have anything to do with (you already know who it is).

I took a quick look around the classroom and saw Jiro holding an opened bottle of ice water, trying to get past Mineta. I imagined the water emptying onto his small stature and blinked, a smirk forming on my lips as it became a reality.

“Well, lunch break’s almost over. Want to go and grab a quick bite before class starts?” Kirishima turned to me once he was done, taking a deep breath and exhaling from all the exhaustion.

I nodded at his suggestion, almost too quickly to be natural.

He smiled and led me out of the class, unaware that he was still holding on to my arm.

A/N: THAT’S IT for this chapter, it turned out longer than i expected, started with 300+ words and ended up being 1,300+ words, or more than that

i do hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it (minus the parts where i got frustrated with writer’s block, and putting what i imagine into words) get ready for the escalation in the story though, you’ll never see it coming ;)

Exchanged Whispers Chapter List

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

[greezyscumbag]

Selection {part one}

Hello all! This is part one of my new Robb Stark x Reader series, Selection. I’m thinking I’m going to make it about three parts long, but I’m not completely sure yet. I’m really excited to be posting my first ever Game of Thrones story, and I can’t wait to see the response I receive. I hope you all enjoy!! xxx

P.S - This is based a few years after GOT first begins, with everyone being alive and well :)

—

“Now remember girls, I want you both on your best behaviours.” your father states, warning in his tone. “If all is well, Rosa will be engaged to the Stark boy by the end of the night.”

Your twin sister squeals in excitement, your eyes rolling involuntarily. “I still don’t understand why you had to drag me along.”

“Stop your complaining, (Y/N), it’s become tiring.” Looking down to your feet, you obey your father’s words, wishing you were anywhere but here.

Tonight was the night that Robb Stark chose himself a bride. Well, chose one from three girls his mother and father had selected, all important families of course.

Your sister, Rosalie, was positively dying to become Mrs Stark, she’d been practicing for tonight for months. Her curtsy has been perfected, her dancing taught by only the best, she’s even rehearsed a monologue for her and Robb. Let’s hope he knows his lines.

Your eyes follow her as she rushes around the room, adding the finishing touches to her appearance. Embellished golden fabric sits upon her skin, sparkling diamonds decorating her neckline and ears. She was the true definition of a high born girl. No wonder your parents adored her so much.

You feel inadequate as you look down to your brown dress, the dark colour chosen especially from Rosa’s already woven dresses, as not to bring any attention to yourself.

Your ears and neckline lay bare, your hair flowing freely past your shoulders, the handmaiden shooed away by your father once she began to turn her sights to you.

Tears spring to your eyes as you think about how unwanted you feel, a burden to your family and their name. Grace and eloquence doesn’t come easy to you, your fire burning for things like archery and sword fighting instead. Of course, no woman dare equip a weapon. That was not a woman’s place.

A series of knocks sounds at the door, pulling you from your thoughts. Your father gives you a final warning, the ice in his eyes making you shrink down even further. He pulls the door open, and before you know it, you’re on your way to the hall.

—

Laughter and joy fills your ears as you stand against the wall, the ball in full swing as drinks flow and food is passed around. It’s a lot more relaxed than what you’re used to, the people here seeming more like one big family, status of class and authorirty left at the door.

As soon as you’d arrived, your sister scurried off to meet her could be husband, you being ushered to stay behind. That was an hour ago, your family members not resurfacing since joining the gathering.

The balls of your feet ache from standing still for so long, your shoulders sore from standing so straight. An open door across the room catches your attention, your legs carrying you swiftly through the crowds and out into the fresh, summer air.

You welcome the quiet as you drift further away from the party, not being used to so many people. Stables decorate the yard, the horses enjoying a well deserved night off.

You take rest on a bundle of hay, a sound of appreciation leaving your lips. Torches of dancing fire shine down from above, casting a golden hue across the yard, the stars littering the sky and adding to the ambience.

A rustling fills your ears causing you to rise to your feet, a large figure emerging from the shadows. The Wolf steps further towards you, a coat of silky, slate grey fur covering it’s body.

You’re unable to pull your gaze away from the magnificent beast, your eyes wide with admiration, believing direwolves to be extinct. It watches you with curious eyes, it’s aura unthreatening yet cautious.

“My, you’re just wonderful, aren’t you?” you whisper, amazed at the sight. The Wolf grows even bigger as you crouch down, your arm reaching out slowly as not to scare him in any way. God knows how giant it’s teeth must be. “I’m not a threat, I promise.”

The Wolf hears your words, padding forwards to sniff your palm, it’s eyes meeting yours before bowing it’s head slightly. Grinning in achievement, you scratch softly between its ears, the Wolf closing its eyes as you do so.

“He likes you.” You jump up as if you’ve been scalded, the Wolf retreating back into the shadows.

A boy steps out from the trees, though not much about him seemed boyish. Curly, auburn locks sit atop his head, a trimmed beard to match. His eyes are captivating, the true blue bright even from this distance. You feel as if the wind has been knocked out of you, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to form words.

The slightest smirk graces his lips, a blush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, my lady. It was not my intention.”

He steps closer to you, testing to see if you step back. You stay in your place, his lips turning upwards as he moves forwards.

“No, you didn’t. Sorry, I-” He watches you curiously, like you’re an entirely new species. “Is he yours?”

“The Wolf?” he asks, regretting his response immediately. “Of course you mean the Wolf. Yeah, he’s mine. His name is Grey Wind.”

You laugh slightly, enjoying his embarrassment. “It suits him. I didn’t think they existed anymore.”

“Me and my family, we found a litter a few years back. He’s been with me ever since.” he states, patting Grey Wind on the head softly.

“Wow, that sounds incredible.” Your words are nothing but truth, animals always having a place in your heart, even the wild ones. “What family are you from?”

The boy hesitates, your question seemingly catching him off guard. “The Starks. I’m the bastard, Jon Snow. What about yourself?”

“Oh, well it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jon Snow.” you say, meaning the words. Your family and most of the world look down on bastards, but not you. “I’m (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss (Y/L/N).” A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks, your last name never sounding better than in this very moment.

You find yourself in some sort of trance, words trapped with no way to get out. This exciting energy moves between the two of you, the kind of thing you hear about in the fairy tales you read back home.

“What brings you to Winterfell? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.” He breaks the silence, air returning to your lungs.

“My twin sister, Rosalie, is one of the girls hoping to be chosen to wed your brother.” you explain, sitting back down on the bundle of hay, worried your legs will give out if you don’t. You’d never spent much of your time in male company, but you were pretty sure this feeling wasn’t something that occurred with just any boy. It felt like so much more.

“Your sister? Why not you?” he asks, pulling a haystack over for himself, sitting down just in front of you.

“Me?” you ask, laughing humourlessly. “No, my sister is much more beautiful, much more of a suitable bride than I.”

“Says who?” he challenges, a crease forming between his brows. You’re half tempted to reach forward and smooth it out, but you catch yourself before you do, saving yourself the awkwardness it could cause.

You shrug, not wanting to come off sounding jealous or spoilt. “Everyone. It’s just the way things work in my family.”

“Huh.” he says, genuine disbelief in his tone. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he looks at you, only now realising how close he is to you. Your knees bump his as you shift, and if you lean forward just a little, you’re sure you’d be able to nudge his nose with your own, feel his breath on your lips.

“What makes you so sure you’d remember me anyway?” you ask leaning backwards, unable to trust yourself. “Winterfell seems like a pretty busy place.”

“It’d be impossible to forget a face as heavenly as you own.” he confesses, bravely grazing the back of his hand against your left cheek. Your lids fall shut at the contact, your heart picking up speed, ready to burst out of your chest at any given moment.

“There you are, dad has been looking all over for you!” You pull apart at the sound of a girl’s voice, looking to see who had discovered you two. A cheeky smirk sat upon her lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “This looks cosy.”

“My apologies if I’ve kept your brother away, I didn’t realise how late it was getting.” you say, standing from your makeshift seat. Jon rises with you, the frown from before back on his face. “I should be getting back myself.”

The words taste bitter coming from your mouth, wishing you could stay beneath the stars and talk to Jon forever. “It’s been truly lovely meeting you, Jon.”

His mouth opens but you’re away before he can speak, not wanting the task to be any harder than it already is.

“Jon?” you hear Arya ask as you hurry away, your feet carrying you back to the hall.

—

You manage to slip into the hall undetected, Lord Stark already speaking once you’ve found your way back inside. You scan the room for your sister and father, unable to see them through the crowd.

“One day, the duty of Winterfell shall pass to my eldest son, Robb.” Lord Stark states, every single ear in the hall listening to their leader. “When that day shall come, he will need a strong, supportive wife standing at his side.”

You look to Lady Stark, a small smile appearing on her face, her eyes focused on her husband. The love between them is visible for all to see, yearning growing inside of you at the sight.

“Tonight, my son will choose his bride.” Cheers erupt from the crowd, drinks spilling as they’re held up in the air, anticipation level high. You can’t help but revel in the atmosphere, your hands clapping together as you look for the eldest Stark, Jon being the only boy standing at the front. “Robb, who will it be?”

Disbelief chokes you as your newly found friend walks forward to join his father, the unmistakable Grey Wind at his side.

“I, Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell, choose (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), to be my bride.”

—

[ra3lynn3]

Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long while since I last posted an update. Big thanks to @savvylark for making my first (beautiful) banner 😍. Much love to my beta @pip117, too, for your quick work. I hope you all enjoy! Chapter 15 Katniss was more than a little surprised when she walked into work the next morning to find a small white envelope laying on her computer keyboard. She glanced around the near-empty office scanning for the possible sender. She picked up the small orange flower that accompanied it, twisted it between her fingers and brought it briefly to her nose. She reached for the envelope noticing her name scrawled across the front in Peeta’s familiar, smooth, writing. Turning it over in her hands, she lifted the flap to discover a simple note inside. It read: Katniss, I’m sorry for being weird yesterday. I was being stupid. Forgive me? -Peeta P.S. dinner tonight at 7? Katniss felt a smile tug at her lips as she glanced around again for any sign of Peeta. She considered the note a moment longer before setting it back on her desk and heading to the break room for some water for her blossom. She wasn’t sure what was up with Peeta, or what prompted the note. But when she considered his behavior from the day before, he had been noticeably different. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought him jealous over the sudden appearance of Dalton. But that was ridiculous to even consider since the two of them were just friends, right? Although, she definitely felt a peculiar pulling at her heart when he blew off her lunch invitation. She grew more than a little concerned when he mentioned in passing that he had a headache (that would explain why he was acting so distant and short with her). She also thought a little too long about his leaving early for the day, saying something about meeting with Finnick, Annie, and the kids for dinner. In the past she couldn't have cared less about Peeta or his feelings, but the more she got to know him and spend time with him, the more that began to change. She was lost deeply in her thoughts when Peeta’s voice filled the quiet space, causing her to startle. “I see you got my note.” He said, nodding toward the flower she held in her hand. “I’m beginning to think you like scaring me!” She chastised, heart beating wildly, as she filled a small glass with water. "Yes, I got your note.” Katniss continued, a smile playing on her lips as she set the bud inside. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You feeling better?” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye before turning to lean back on the counter. “Yeah, nothing a swift kick in the pants from Annie couldn’t fix.” He replied with a smirk as he rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Katniss asked glancing at him suspiciously before she walked back toward her desk with Peeta following closely behind. “I’ll tell you later.” He replied, waving it off. “We still on for dinner tonight?” “Definitely.” She replied as she sat down at her desk and settled the flower beside her computer. “Great!” Peeta said with a clap of his hands. Katniss shot him a smile, glad for the change in his mood. Once Peeta had walked away, she grabbed her phone and eagerly texted a picture of the flower to Johanna. Her friend’s reply was swift: “Will you just sleep with the poor guy already?!” Katniss scoffed and rolled her eyes before replying, “It’s not like that! He was only apologizing for blowing me off yesterday.” “Jealous.” Was all Johanna replied. “I doubt it! It was nothing, just a bad day.” “And that’s why you’re still single!” “?” “Oh darling, go buy a brain! He. Likes. You. You like him. Simple. Stop over complicating things! And stop being so oblivious...it’s not cute anymore.” Katniss rolled her eyes and set the phone down intent on ignoring her friend’s jabs. Not one to leave well enough alone, Johanna’s next texts pinged in quickly, one after the other. Katniss picked up her phone and read: “He was jealous, acted like an ass and had enough maturity to admit it AND apologize?” “Good luck finding many men like that!” “And again... Stop. Over. Complicating. Everything. It’s time to put on your big girl panties and have a real relationship already!” “I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in the ass! Let me know how dinner goes tonight. Xox” Katniss chuckled while setting her phone down again, knowing that Johanna’s rant was over. She had made several valid points but there was work to be done now. Even though thoughts of having Peeta Mellark all to herself this evening made that near impossible. Katniss ran her fingers through her hair and tugged at the bottom of her blouse, wondering if she had overdressed. She also questioned if the lace undergarments she’d opted for instead of her usual cotton was taking things a bit too far, or expecting too much too soon. ”Too late to turn back now!” thought Katniss, she had already knocked on his door signaling her arrival. “Hey.” Peeta offered simply as he opened the door, eyes surveying her. Katniss began feeling unnerved as his stare grew longer, an unreadable look upon his face. “Can I come in?” She asked, peering over his shoulder curiously. “Of course! Please!” Peeta said, seeming to break from his trance as he moved aside to let her in. “Nice place.” She remarked as she took in the sight of his apartment. The inside of the home was simple. The layout was open, with one space leading seamlessly into another. The furniture and decor exuded warmth, comfort and manliness, but not so much that Katniss felt like she was in a dorm. She found her mind wandering dangerously as she assessed the home, curious to know what every room in his apartment looked like. “You look really beautiful, Katniss.” Peeta offered looking bashful. “Thank you.” She replied after a moment, coming out of her head. She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling a heat rise to her cheeks as they stared at each other for a long moment before a chiming from the kitchen pulled Peeta’s attention. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Make yourself comfortable." He announced, motioning toward the sofa in the other room as he stepped away to the stove. Katniss wandered toward the living room gazing at the paintings on the wall, framed photographs adorned the tables that flanked the couch. She took a seat gingerly on the sofa, running her hand over its smooth brown leather and glanced briefly at the rough sketches drawn out on the pad of paper sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “What did you want to drink?” Peeta asked drawing near. “Whatever you’re having.” She replied giving him a smile. “Beer it is!” He said with a snap of his fingers as he disappeared back to the kitchen, returning moments later with two bottles in hand. “Are all of those yours?” Katniss asked, nodding toward the paintings on the wall beside them. “Yep, all mine.” He replied sitting down next to her and taking a swig of his drink. “Don’t worry though, you’re welcome to touch them.” He said with a wink. Katniss nudged him playfully in the side, taking a drink herself. They sat quietly for a moment while she eyed the art a moment longer. “I think I’m falling for you.” Peeta blurted out, catching her off guard. She swallowed quickly causing herself to choke and sputter, trying to think of a way to respond. “What?” She croaked trying to regain her composure. “I’m falling for you, Katniss.” Peeta admitted again gently. Her mind was racing; stomach in knots. They had come so far in such a short time. Was it possible he really was falling for her? “Are you sure?” She replied, instantly feeling stupid for asking such a question. “I mean...how do you know? What makes you think that?” She was floundering. Fast. Peeta smirked, “I just do,” he shrugged. Another chime from the kitchen caught his attention. Katniss stood eagerly to follow him. She watched at his side as he pulled a dish from the oven, set it down and turned a series of knobs before removing his oven mitts. “Listen, Katniss,” Peeta said turning toward her, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “I don’t think I can do this whole ‘friends’ thing with you. The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s you. You’re it for me. Even early on when I acted like a completely stupid jerk. I guess it was my way of getting your attention. Being near to you.” He offered with a shrug. “In the worst way possible.” Katniss muttered under her breath, glancing to the side. “Yes, in the worst way possible! I know!” He grabbed her hands in his looking her square in the eyes. “But I want you. I want to do this with you. I think about you all the time. I like being around you, talking with you, working with you.” His voice rose with each admission. “I’m tired of being alone, Katniss. I’m tired of being lonely...” He said quietly, trailing off. They looked at each other for a long time while Katniss searched for the right response. She was terrible with the mushy stuff. Feelings and romanticism were never really her thing. Her mind reeled with several different ideas of words to say. It seemed, however, that none were forthcoming. After awhile Peeta looked expectantly at her and Katniss’ mind froze completely. “Say something.” Peeta urged giving an awkward chuckle. “Dinner smells amazing.” Katniss offered meekly, going for the first idea that came mind. Peeta heaved a sigh and turned to grab the dishes for dinner. Katniss felt her chest tighten. If words were not her strong suit, actions definitely were. Gathering her courage, she stepped closer to Peeta’s side. He turned his head to eye her curiously just before she grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, feeling Peeta turning to face her. She felt his hands press against her back, bringing her closer to him and dug her fingers into his hair at the back of his neck, feeling his soft wavy locks on her skin. She allowed her hands to roam over his broad shoulders and down his arms. Peeta pulled back after a moment and gave her a small smile before taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips so softly that Katniss wondered if they had made contact at all. She found herself eager to feel his mouth on hers again and pressed against him. Katniss felt relief when Peeta pressed back, a grunt coming from the back of his throat as he pushed her into the countertop. “How about a tour?” Katniss asked pulling back breathlessly before diving back in to kiss Peeta. Their hands roamed each others’ bodies hungrily. While she was normally one to move painfully slow when it came to relationships, there was something about Peeta that ignited a fire in her. And right now there was only one thing she wanted to do slowly. “Sure.” Peeta replied with a quick nod before leaning down to kiss her neck. “This is the ah-kitchen. Living room.” He said with a quick glance around, motioning with his hand before tending to her neck again. With his hands on her hips, he began to guide her backward down the short hallway. Leaving dinner behind and long forgotten. “My studio.” He choked out before a moan escaped his lips. Katniss smirked as she nibbled his earlobe, pleased with the reaction she had elicited. “Bedroom.” Peeta whispered pulling back once again, searching her eyes. Both stood breathless, foreheads against one another. Katniss’ back pressed against the door. “Thanks for showing me around.” She replied biting her lip. Reaching behind her back to search for the door’s handle, she quickly found success. Peeta steadied the two of them as they spilled into the room. “Peeta?” Katniss muttered. Peeta gave her a noncommittal grunt and continued in his quest to kiss every inch of her neck, nibbling at her earlobe. “Peeta!” She said more insistently. “What?” He asked pausing from the action, a heavy-lidded expression on his face. Katniss felt her stomach knot as she admitted, “I don’t want to be friends either.” Peeta gave her a seductive smile as he dove in to kiss her lips, kicking the door shut behind them.

[brutashaswin]

Could we have a fanfic with Bruce talking about his father ? 🙄 (P.S I love your fanfictions)

Thankyou so much!!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying myfics, they’re a ton of fun to write! Hope you like this one :) (Fair warning,it’s my longest yet and it takes a hot second to get into the part on Bruce’sfather. I think the build-up is worth it, though!)

Disclaimers:I haven’t seen either Hulk movies, so I’m not entirely surehow they’ve handled Bruce’s father in the MCU. I loosely based this off of theBrian Banner’s Wikipedia page, which I thought had the most potential for myfic. It gets pretty dark, and has mentions of child abuse and the death/murderof Bruce’s mother. Please read with caution if any of these topics make youuncomfortable!

Source: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Banner

Chapter One: (NYC, presentday)

Natashaleaned over the edge of the sink, her throat burning. Her mind was racing,trying to figure out what was making her sick. As a spy, she had naturallydealt with all kinds of poisons, but the effect she was experiencing now wasunlike anything she’d ever felt. She didn’t eatanything unusual, she wasn’t particularly nervous, she wasn’t on her period….

Atthat, her entire body froze in shock. 

Ohmy god. She thought. I’m late. 

Sherummaged through the medicine cabinet to find the pregnancy test that shealways kept in the back. (Just in case of emergencies, like this.) As shewaited for the results to show, her legs felt like jelly and her palms weredamp with sweat. Finally, the screen revealed a little pink plus sign.

Shewas pregnant.

“Bruce!” She called,tears welling in her eyes. She ran out of the bathroom and into the masterbedroom, where Bruce was curled up under a pile of blankets.

“Bruce! Honey, wakeup!” 

“What is it?” Hegroaned, rolling over to face her.

She kneeled againstthe side of the bed and gently ran her hand down his arm, keeping her eyestrained on his face.

“I’m pregnant.”

Bruce’s eyes widenedand his jaw slackened. He was barely able to stutter, “P-p-pregnant?”

Nat’s grin got evenwider, her voice nearly reaching a squeal. “Yeah, I took a test andeverything!”

“Oh my god!” Hecried, his face lighting up as he pulled Natasha into his arms. He stood up andkissed her forehead as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Hot tears of joystreamed down their faces as they held each other closer, savoring this perfectmoment and wishing it could last forever until….

Natashajerked awake, and opened her eyes to a concerned looking Bruce. He had one handon her cheek and another on her shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” Hemurmured, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Itwas…just a dream. A really good dream.”

“Good.” He said,kissing her on the forehead. He outstretched his arms lazily, and she snuggledagainst his chest. They laid there together in comfortable silence, until theirheartbeats became synced.

“Hey Bruce?”

“Mm?”

“I think I’m ready to adopt. What do you say?”

Brucegently pulled away so that he could look deep into Natasha’s eyes. His face lit up with a warm smile as he leaned back into give her a passionate kiss.

Whenthey broke apart, she giggled and said, “I’ll take that as ayes?”

“Absolutely, 100%yes.” He said, the cheesy grin never leaving his face. 

“I love you so much,Nat.”

“I love you too,Bruce.” 

Chapter Two:

Thescent of coffee and cinnamon spread through the Banner-Romanoff kitchen. Duringlazy weekends like this, French toast at 1:00 in the afternoon was typical.Bruce had just finished flipping the last pieces of bread as Natasha walked inwith the mail. 

“Anything good?” Hecalled, as she took her slippers near the front door.

“Ah, let’ssee…water bill, honeymoon postcard from Pepper and Tony, and…” she paused,eyeing an ordinary white envelope. “Something from…Hennessy Funeral Home?It’s for you.” 

“Huh. Wonder whatthis is all about?” He said, taking the letter from her and ripping into it. He skimmed it, and his facefell. He sat down at the kitchen table and said nothing.

“What is it?” Natasked, sitting next to him and resting her hand on his arm, which was clenchingthe letter.

“They…they want meto pay for my Dad’s burial.”

“Your dad? I thoughthe died years ago.”

“To me, he did. Buthe…he’s been staying in a mental institution since my Mom died. His sisterpaid for it, but then she died too and then…” his voice trailed off, nottaking his eyes from the letter.

“You started paying for it?”She added gently, placing her free hand on the small of his back.

“I couldn’t let himgo, Nat. All I could think of was him hurting some other woman like my Mom. Ithought, at least this way, he’s out of my life and away from other people.”

“I understand, hon.You did the right thing.”

“I’m not sure. GuessI’ll be spending the rest of my life figuring that out. It’s just…if we’regoing to be parents, I want to make sure I never repeat his mistakes.”

“You won’t. You’re agood person, Bruce, and you’re going to be an awesome dad. But we don’t have to rushinto anything if you aren’t ready. We’ll tackle the world together, just likewe’ve always done. Right?”

A smile finallycreeped on Bruce’s face as his body relaxed under Natasha’s touch.

“Right.”

Chapter Three: (Ohio, 1974)

“Hey, you okaybaby?” 

“Yes, mama.” 

Rebeccawalked into her son’s room and carefully shut thedoor. Bruce was curled up on his bed, his body shaking and his eyes stained redwith tears.

“Good.” She mumbled,kissing his forehead before sitting down on the foot of his bed. 

Shegently pulled the covers off him and brushed his curly hair off of hisforehead. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Brucegot on all fours and crawled into his mother’sarms. 

“Why don’t you leavehim, Mama?”

“Oh Bruce, it’s notthat easy. I love him.”

“But I don’t love him. And he doesn’t love you.”

Rebecca paused inhurt, hesitating before speaking again. “Well…sometimes the people that don’tlove us are the people that need our love the most.”

“But he hurts us. Wewouldn’t get hurt ever again if you just left him.”

“Honey, we can’tleave. I’m sorry. I wish we could, but we can’t.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know, baby.”Rebecca kissed her son’s forehead and rocked him in her arms. “I know.”

Chapter Four (Hennessy MentalInstitution, 1989)

Themetal cell door slammed behind Bruce as he turned to face his father.

BrianBanner sat huddled in the corner of his cell, tall and scruffy and shrunken. Thestraightjacket he was wearing made him look all the more menacing, and at thesame time, pathetic.

BettyRoss gave Bruce a reassuring nod from behind the bars of the door. He becamepainfully aware of skipping a shave that morning, and how similar his browneyes looked to the broken man that lay at his feet.

“Hi,dad.”

Brian’sface contorted into a sinister sneer.

“Brucie.Come to pay your old man some respect?”

“AuntSarah asked me to check in on you.”

“Shetold me you were graduating, Brucie. Top of your class.”

“Yes.I’ll be starting my doctorate next fall.”

“Hmmph.Figures you’d be a doctor. Good for nothing, freeloading know-it-alls trying tomake themselves important. You’ll fit right in.”

Bruce’sglare, tinged with the slightest hints of green, replied for him.

“Yourmother though, she’d be disappointed.”

“Don’t.”He warned, clenching his fists to prevent them from swelling with rage.

“Shethought of you as some kind of angel vigilante. Wanted you to be a lawyer. Ofcourse, you know how I feel about lawyers, they’re the reason I’m in this messin the first place!”  

Brianlaughed a sickening laugh that chilled Bruce to the bone and made his bloodboil.

“Youknow why you’re here.” Bruce growled.

“Andwhy is that, Brucie?”

“Becauseyou’re a LUNATIC.”

“Andwhat makes me a lunatic, exactly?”

“Becauseyou KILLED MY MOTHER!” Bruce yelled into his father’s face, getting dangerouslyclose to slipping out of his mind and into the monster’s.

“Bruce.”

“WHAT?!”Bruce turned to the source of the second voice, only to see Betty’s expressionchange from concern to utter terror.

“We…weshould go.” She stammered, her eyes darting from father to son. He wasn’t surewho she looked more afraid of.

Adeep wave of shame washed over him, and he felt every last bit of the Hulkleave his body.

“You’reright.” He said, giving her an apologetic look.

“Bye-bye,kiddo.” Brian jeered as his son turned his back to him. When Bruce didn’trespond, he cocked his head and waved to Betty. “Bye, sweet-cheeks.”

“Goto hell.” Bruce replied, not bothering to look over his shoulder at him.

Bruceslammed the metal door for the final time, vowing then and there that thiswould be the last time he saw his father.

Chapter Five (Present Day)

“Hewas a bastard.” Bruce muttered, kicking a pebble at his father’s tiny tombstone.

“We’renot here for him.” Natasha said softly, taking his arm and leading him severalrows down, to a grave marked with several vases of pretty flowers and the nameRebecca Banner.

Brucekneeled down and placed a bouquet of flowers in one of the vases.

“Petuniaswere her favorite…I got them for her for Mother’s Day the year she…” he lookeddown at his feet and took a deep breath. Natasha never let go of his hand.

“Shewould have loved you.” He continued with a small smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,she loved ballet. And she took her coffee the same way you do.”

“Twosugars, six creams?”

“Exactly.”

Along moment of peace passed over them. The wind caused the flower petals toflutter like a butterfly’s wings, and the sun felt warm and comforting againsttheir skin. Bruce gradually lightened his grip on Natasha’s hand.

“Ithink I’m ready.” He said finally, looking at her with complete adoration.

“Okay.Let’s go home.”

Asthey got into the car, Natasha’s cellphone began to ring with an unfamiliarnumber. She answered it and put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi,is this Mrs. Romanoff?”

“Yes,it is.”

“Goodafternoon, Mrs. Romanoff! This is Angie with the Adoption Agency. I was callingto inform you that we’ve found a child that was an excellent match with yourfamily’s profile, and they would be delighted for you to come and meet them.”

[thoughtsoftheantagonist]

A Song for You

IM BACKKKKKKK. I know it had been a minute but this has been a crazy bit of time for me. Things should be calmer now, hope you are ready......I wasn't. lol

P.S as always let me know your thoughts and I'll see you on the next one. 

Chapter Sixteen

Juice POV

 How does one stop heartache? How do you reach into your own chest to stop the painful throb? Everyone had different ways that worked, different formulas that were tweaked to their body chemistry. And these past three days he had watched his club brothers and wife exhibit every kind. From rage, numbing it with a drink to ignoring it all together and going forward. He and Joy had finally stopped pretending and had broken down into a heap not a day after the funeral. Lyla had just been over for dinner with the kids as they tried to settle into some kind of normal routine and figure out the day to day shit. And once the kids had left he held his wife on the coach as she silently cried, and seeing her pain has started him up until they had fallen asleep there, waking in the morning when Hap had come by when they missed the first hour of work, after that day his father in law had been over every day and oddly enough had decided to help Lyla where he and Joy couldn't.

Agreeing to take the three children to school if either of them couldn't. And it had honestly started to work well, but it was still early to tell if it would stay that way. He was currently printing out receipts for someone before he heads into the clubhouse for a break with Joy. Jax, Bobby, and Chibs had been gone for about an hour already. Something about the diner in town, he had honestly been too tired to care, he shakes himself from his own daze and hands the person their papers with a parting nod and heads into clubhouse his feet picking up pace as he heard his wife's voice growing in volume. “Either turn in your fucking papers by days end or turn in your god damned patch and find another charter you shit heads. I'm not telling you again.”  the scene he catches as he rounds the corner makes his eyes narrow and his hands clench. His five foot three wife is nose to chest with a red-faced Frankie who is glaring down at his wife's upturned face. Damn happy and passing down his anger to his daughter, wasn't the Irish in her enough, he quickly moves to stand next to his wife.

“If you haven't noticed sweetheart you have no more weight here. You turned in your own VP patch so I don't have to listen to shit you have to say. So back down.” Frankie is quicker then he was ready for, his hand coming to shove Joy back by her shoulder. He isn't as big as Frankie, but no one touches his fucking wife, he uses his elbow to catch the man in the stomach. Hearing the air leave Frankie lungs in a painful grunt he uses his left hand to crack him in the jaw. Sending the man sprawling on the floor, standing over the man he speaks calmly “Don't touch my wife. Turn your fucking papers in or turn in your patch. Jax will hear about this shit.” he drags Joy from the clubhouse, finally getting her to the playground next to the garage. Without a word he sets her on the seat and starts to push, he knew from the look on her face, knew she needed to tamper down her anger before she could tell him what happened before he got there. Lunch could wait, something wasn't right.

His wife talks as he pushes her. “I don't fucking trust them. All three of them, it's like this little voice in the back of my head. And so much is wrong Juan, Opie is gone, Lyla isn't talking, there are three little people who depend on us to help, my dad is never around anymore unless he is asleep or helping with Lyla. And we are trying to keep both our necks above water and I look into my president eyes and I feel like I don't know who the fuck he is anymore.” he sighs, yanking on the chains he pulls her to a stop, moving around he kneels down before his wife. Hating how she is hunched into herself, how small and afraid she looks, rubbing his hands up and down the outside of her thighs he says “I get it. It seems like our club is falling apart around us. We are dropping like flies and Jax is different, he watched his best friend die baby. And I don't think all of him came back from that.” his grip on her thighs tight for a moment “it was like losing his brother, Joy. It would be like me losing you or visa versa. You can't come back whole from that.” he looks up as her small, soft hands cup his jaw. The sad look in her eyes hurt him, but he could also see understanding. “Your right. I normally handle stress better. It's just one after the other and it's like none of us can catch our breath from the last one. I'm so scared Juan that the next son to drop will be you or dad.”

Standing he pulls his wife up with him, wrapping her in his arms. Realizing he hadn't just held her without it being for comfort and he instantly realized he had been slipping on his job. Sure Joy needed comfort but she also needed someone to help yank her up out of this funk. They needed to be solid places to push off when the other didn't have it in them to move on their own. Pulling back he holds her soft rounded face in his hands, looking down at her he takes in her make up the free skin, the bags under her eyes on full display. “We really forgot to look after ourselves and each other didn't we baby.” Her rueful grin is her only reply, dropping a kiss on her forehead he sighs, resting his lips against her warm skin as he speaks. “We can't let this stop us Joy. This club is our family but we need to make promises to leave this club outside our front door when we get home. Kinda like our promise to never lay in the bed angry, the club doesn't come home with us. At least until it's not causing us to lose our sleep and minds. Deal?” she stares at him for a solid moment, her golden eyes doing several sweeps of his face before she speaks “And people say I'm the brains in this relationship…...guess I got lucky. Good looks, great body, smart, big heart and big dick.” he chuckles and with a smirk he pats her on the ass, hearing the guys pull up he plants one more kiss to her forehead before wrapping an arm around her shoulder, leading her towards Jax, Chibs and Bobby. He wasn't bullshiting Frankie. Jax was going to know about his he-man shit.

Joy POV

After she and Juan spoke to Jax about the confrontation between herself and Frankie, with a hefty amount of reluctance and reassurance that she was fine they headed inside for Church. Seeing the bruise on Frankie Diamonds jaw already showing made her grab her husband's thigh under the table. Juan's hand lays over hers as he leans back into his seat as Jax goes right in “All right. Meeting's all set with Gaalan and the cartel. Finally get this big gun deal locked down. Make green and brown happy.”  She laces her fingers with Juan as Clays warn voice sounds off from his place at the end of the table “It's currently black that concerns me.” his comment starts a domino effect as Frankie speaks “Everyone else, too. People putting this home invasion shit on the club.” She and Juan release their grip on each other's hand to lean forward, her husband scuffing as Gogo adds his two cents, she rubs her temples as a migraine starts to form above her eyes. “Yeah, locals are very skittish, man.” this wasn't news, this town either loved or hated them. For shit, they did control or shit they didn't. She couldn't count on one hand how many women in town would switch to the other side of the street as she did her grocery shopping. Charming was her home now but it was so damn wishy-washy.

“We can't control what people think. Charming's love and hate swings back and forth on us. It always has.” She nods, but her eyes automatically roll into her head, seems Clay just couldn't keep his decrepit mouth shut. “Be aware, son. As long as these attacks keep happening, that hate swings that far out may never get the love back.” seems she and Tig were of one mind today, she watches him lean forward, his bright eyes zeroing in on the new men at the table “You guys are all full of shit. The town knows these attacks are not on us.” Her husband and Bobby on either side of her saying their agreement. She actually snorts as Frankie says “You calling us liars, Tiggy?” Chibs having mostly kept his thoughts to himself had reached an end “No, no, what he's saying is you, you, and you don't know shit about our town. And I wouldn't be surprised if ya fucks were lying since ya would rather push a lass then turn in your fucking papers.” Frankie moves to stand but her father's hand slams him back down by his shoulder as Peg leg shouts “We know Roosevelt's gonna be up our ass.” Jax having had enough slams his hand on the table “Enough.I'm sitting down with Pope as soon as he's back in town. If it's black, it'll stop. End of discussion.”

In the silence everyone takes a breath, Juan's hand slides up the back of her cut and shirt to touch her skin. She leans into it as Chibs soothing bough almost whispers “It ain't the attacks we should be worried about. It's the coke mule. We gotta figure out that endgame.” She nods, her hands flat on the table as she speaks mostly to herself, having forgotten how quiet it was. “He's right.” and for the first time since their face off Frankie speaks directly to her “ So you want out?” she glances up at the man, she can feel Juan's hand move to grip her shirt in his fist, expecting her to fly over the table. But she doesn't, locking eyes with the man she speaks coldly “I want to stay alive. We have lost two men since this shit started. I don't want to put another of my boys in a box.” She feels her father's foot bump hers under the table, she doesn't look at him though, moving her focus back to her hands still on the table as Jax struggles to keep them focused “Look, business with the cartel does bring in a lot of cash. But it also brings in a lot of heat, man. We voted this in knowing it would be short-term. I'm also looking for other ways to earn. Steady cash without the risk.”

She arches a brow as she looks up at Jax, but Bobby's voice makes her look at him. Shocked to see a grin on his face “ It's pink, wet, tastes like sunshine.” She smirks as speaks at the same time as her father “Pussy.” She glances over at him, leaning across the table to slap hands with him as Tig says “or Italian ice. I'm okay with both.” she giggles as she plops back down in her seat, her husband's shoulders shaking as he shakes his head at Tig. Jax chuckles and leans forward on his elbows “Nero Padilla. The guy that gave us safe haven before we went to County. He's been running a legit escort service for five years. Recently got pushed out of Stockton due to our complication. He's looking for a new place to set up shop I've made a deal with him. I'm gonna be his partner. We'll tap into Cara Cara, add a little star power to her stable.” She nods, it would work, her mind already speeding off a mile a minute. She barely hears Clays say “What's that look like for the table?”

She had to admit, she was curious “Right now, I'm fronting the merger, but I want this to be a club business. I trust this guy, He's straight up about profit.” Her husband, ever the businessman ask the question on her mind “What kind of money is it?” Jax's leans back in his chair, tilting his head to look between her and her husband “ It ain't as lucrative as hauling coke. But it'll keep us comfortable. And out of Fed crosshairs. When it's up and running, take a look. You guys want in, we'll vote it.” Personally, she didn't want you to wait, this was a project she could sink her teeth into, for once Clay said something she actually agrees on “Why wait? Let's vote it now.” the look Jax gave Clay showed his mounting annoyance with the older bastard but he gave in “All right. Everyone in favor of moving into the companion business.” a united agreement sounded through the room. And she couldn't help but smile. Maybe they would finally be done with this shit “Good. We'll figure out percentages when I nail shit down with Nero.” As the gavel bangs she and Juan head for the door, her nose taking in the smell coming from the club kitchen and she can't help but peek inside. Grinning at Chucky as he cooks “Chucky, what are you cooking in there? Smells good.” the man turns to her and smiles “Just some gumbo, seafood to be exact. You want a bowl? Heard you and Juice haven't eaten lunch.” she nods “ two bowls would be nice. Thank you.”

Taking the two piping hot bowls from the man she trots into the main room. Seeing most of the guys relaxing, she spots her husband on the couch with his laptop on his lap. Moving around the majority of her grouped up men with passing grins she makes it to Juan and sets the bowl on the table in front of him as she takes her seat next to him. “What's shaking my sexy tech master.” she takes a bite of the gumbo and winches as her eyes water. Fuck that's hot. She glares as Juan smirks at the look on her face. “You need either blow on it or wait till it cools down Joy.” she swallows and steals some of his water on the table “Oh I'll blow something later.” he chuckles and leans over to kiss her jaw. “But seriously. What has you at your Keyboard?” she does as he advised, blowing on her spoonful before taking a bite as he points to the screen “I was thinking maybe Nero could use a website. Working on an example to show to him and Jax. Online reservations, bios of the girls, maybe have their talents. Since this isn't meant to look like a high-class whore house but an escort service maybe say some of them are good at public functions and for appearances. Maybe function dates and the like in the larger cities around Charming.” she nods as he talks, he had a point. Charming wasn't large but she knew Diosa had girls that were international from the blonde girl living out of state. Holding out a spoonful for Juan she comments “Not bad. You should let Jax know so Nero can give you his girls info. Get a jump on it so you can have the website before the opening Have the girls scheduled up.” She smacks her husband's hand as he tries to grab for her bowl, pointing to the one on the table. “I'm still working on the break-ins. I'm thinking about going to talk to Eli and Unser. See what either of them have. Won't ask him at the station, meet his wife through Gemma and I brought her some cookies once. Might go by their house.”  Juan narrows his eyes, pointing his spoon at his wife as he scuffs through his mouthful of food. “You just want to pick his wife's brains since your green thumb is slowly turning black.” the spoon fight that ensues was photographed and observed by their grinning club brothers. She currently has one of said pictures as her screen lock.

Hour later

She was not looking forward to this meeting with the Kings. The others were ok it was mostly Galeen who was pissing her off, she understood wanting to work with Clay because of his past relationships but to outright refuse to work with the club because Clay had been down was Childish and unprofessional. She pulled up next to barn she grins to herself as her father and Juan pull up on either side of her. Seemed not a lot has changed, after all, Walking around the van holding Miles and Clay, she stands between Juan and her father as she asks Miles about Clay. Mindset, living and the like, she might have hated the man but until Jax gave the go-ahead she would keep him comfortable…...like a lamb for slaughter. She leans next to her husband against the van, her hand moving between him and the van, letting her pointer finger hang from one of his belt loops as they waiting for Clay and Galeen to finish shooting the shit. She is broken from her silent musing when she hears Galeen’s distinct voice rise in volume “Our seniority is earned, not sewn on with cheap thread.” She sighs, pulling a Joint from her inner pocket case she lights up as Jax's steps forward. Galeen wasn't fucking with old Jax anymore, this new one was a whole new man “Hey. We got some kind of beef, let's throw it on the table.” she watches the boys surround Jax, her father and Husband included, she wasn't a fool to think this wouldn't end in a showdown, she was half Irish. She knew what was about to go down. “Don't be so sensitive, laddie.”

She almost chokes on her inhale as she laughs, maybe she and this new Jax weren't so different. “Grow some balls, you Irish prick. You got a problem with me, you tell me to my face.” she watches Galeen as he walks over to Jax, she stays silent, looking to any outside as if she could care less what they were doing. Her boys knew better, she had already counted multiple ways to kill the Kings and had long ago walked these woods to find ways out. She was her father's daughter. “ All right. I think you're arrogant, selfish, and explosive. Wreckage you caused in Belfast got a man of God and one of my dearest friends killed.” Many men had died in Belfast from what she remembered her father and Juan saying so for once she was extremely confused until Jax speaks “You talking about the priest?” she watches Galeen nod “Aye. Kellan Ashby took me out of the streets of Armagh. Saved my life.” she could understand now, some of the anger Galeen had for Jax, but the priest kept Jax's child from him. The bastard could rot in hell for that, Able was like her own child, she would have spilled holy blood in rivers for her kid too.

She can't help but smirk as Jax's voice gets that decidedly evil tint to it “Right. Gave you the Catholic blessing of the blood? Made you a gangster of Christ?” she isn't as shocked as the guys are when Galeen swings on Jax, knocking him backward into herself and Juan, her arm is stretched over his shoulder with her Glock in hand but he grabs her wrist “Down girl.” she slides her Glock back into her holster, watching Jax strip off his cut and sweatshirt, tossing them to her husband and his rings to Bobby “That's it! Now we're making progress.” she shakes her head with an exasperated grin as her husband and boys watch Jax and a now shirtless Galeen circle each other. They were all bloodthirsty shit heads, but she will admit to being just as excited to see this showdown. As smoke billows from her lips and upward she winches as Jax's fist slams into the Irish king's face with a resounding crack. As they rip each other apart, insults flying like their fists between them she finishes her blunt. Snuffing it out on the bottom of her boot she moves to stand next to Clay, watches the two she sees Clay's head turn out of the corner of her eye. Following his gaze she sees the Cartel pull up.

She locks eyes with Clay for a moment, even though both their glasses it was obvious they were locked. She scuffs and looks away “How's your half lung?” the older man gives her that wide teasing grin that takes her back to first meeting him “I'm not dead yet sonshine.” She smirks, watching the two men fighting, blood dripping from cuts in their eyebrows and lips. “not yet anyway. I haven't tried.” Her smirk grows at his weathered chuckle, she would never forgive Clay, even with her dying breath and his body long dead she would curse him. But she would always be thankful for her cut, he did give her that chance. She didn't have to like the man to respect him on some things. She shakes hands with Romeo as he moves from his hummer to her and Clays side “ I didn't know you were gonna have entertainment.” Clay smirks “Just a little Irish discussion.” she snickers, Romeo looks over at her, his eyes serious “Should I be worried?” she grin, waving her head as she lights up a cigarette “Nope. It'll all end in Guinness and man-hugs.” she walks over to her husband's side telling him to hold her bag, not answering him as he asked why, she could feel his eyes on her though, She goes around the side of the barn, tying her hair back in a ponytail as her cig hangs between her lips as she drags the hose past Clay and Romeo. Her thumb firmly on the opening she locks eyes with Phil tilts her head back to where she came from.

The bigger man chuckles and goes to turn on the hose. As she feels water slowly start up she aims it at Jax and Galeen, smirking as it takes them a minute to realize they were being hosed, both men sputter and turn their backs to her. She yells for Phil to turn off the hose, she drops it and reaches for her bag as her husband holds it out to her, she tries to ignore the heated look he was giving her. She would deal with him later, she holds out to cig to her husband to take it from her as she glares at the two soaking wet men. “Now that you to are done. I have shit to do and since you, two Irish blooded shits want a fight do it on someone else's time. Let's go.” Jax narrows his eyes at her but nods, Galeen wipes blood mixed water from his eyes and speaks “You didn't have to hose us lass.” She arched a brow “I'm half Irish, try that shit on someone who doesn't share the same temperament.” she walks into the barn, hearing Galeen ask who her blood was, but she ignored it as she got comfort sitting on one of the only surfaces not covered by ammo or hardware. Her husband files in not seconds later, a grin on his face as he leans on the haystack next to her. “You realize you hosed not just your club prez but an Irish king.” She snuffs, checking the time on her watch “No I hosed down two idiots who wanted to measure their dick sizes but were to chicken to whip it out on the fly.” Her husband's wheezing laugh makes her giggle as he leans his forehead on her shoulder since no one was around she kisses the side of his tattooed scalp. “I love you wheezy.” he lifts his head to kiss her lips. “Love you too baby.”

As the three groups file in she and Juan put some distance between them. It wasn't a fact of not wanting to be close, she wanted him in her orbit constantly, even after months of being married. But they both understood business, during business hours they weren't Juan and Joy, they were Juice and Sonshine. Romeo looks through a few of the crates before turning to Jax and Galeen “Trust you gentlemen worked things out.” as both men nod she smirks, she doubted this would be the last incident. Romeo nods, getting right down to business “Whole payment for this shipment, half down on the next. We'll haul these back today. But we're gonna need a drop every two weeks.” Jax looks her way then nods “Yeah. We can make that work.” Galeen glances at Clay sitting not too far from her. He didn't seem to get that Clay wasn't making choices anymore. “Us, too.” with that the meeting was over in minutes. As she was making her way the door to help the Cartel boys load up Galeen says “Don't you want to check your hardware first?” something in his voice was off, she slowly moves to stand with her father and Juan. Both of whom were watching the scene with confused stares as Romeo says “I trust you.” Galeen having none of it, shakes his head, moving to stand behind the large Gatlin in the middle of the barn “I insist. Open the door.”

She is yanked to stand behind Galeen along with the others, she watches in Horror as the bastard opens fire. Chibs, Bobby and Jax bikes taking it full force. She feels Chibs try to crawl over her, using her body weight she leans into him as the others hold him back. She glares down Galeen as he releases the gun turning to grin at her enraged group. But Jax walks past him with a grin “Way to close the deal brother. We will bill you for the bikes.” she lets the others follow him, walking past Galeen she spits at his feet “Coward” She watched the boys inspect the damage, feeling relief flood her when she realizes her father, Juan and her bike were beside the barn. Not in front where the rounds were fired. She feels Juan at her back, leaning into him she lets her tension release “We need to head out. I'm letting Chibs take my bike, you good with me driving yours and you ride behind?” she turns her head to give him a weary smirk “Any excuse to feel up those Abs I'll take.” She hands him the key, pressing a kiss to his slightly flushed cheek as Bobby wolf whistles, having heard her comment. She knew about the Biancone project Chucky had been on, she had helped Chibs lace the fudge, hell it was her fucking fudge they had laced.

So when they pulled up and went inside she wrinkles her nose at the slumped over man Tiggy was leaning on. “And I thought it needed to lose a few pounds.” She yelps as Juan cracks her on the ass, looking at him she sees his displeasure with her comment, she holds her hands up in surrender much to the men around her amusement. “But seriously that can't be healthy.” Her husband shakes his head, putting down the photography bag down on the floor gently as Jax looks the man over “How much did he eat?” Chucky leans around her shoulder to peer at Jax with his standard grin “All of it.” She couldn't help but grin, She made damn good fudge, laced or not. She catches the empty box as Tig tosses it to her “Chucky and I think he actually licked the box. Not that I blame him good shit.” she winks at the curly haired man as Jax moves to stand next to Juan, both their eyes focused on the slumped man “ How long do we have you think?” she shakes her head as Juan chuckles “ He's a big boy. Maybe like four hours?” she swats Juan's arm as he waves it in the passed out guys face, doing the same to Tig as he places his hand on the man's head “Stop it. Tig I know you like freaky shit but no…..just no.” the blue-eyed man pouts somewhat at her as Jax tells them to get the large man undressed.

She refuses to look and gets to work pulling out some things she had delivered to the clubhouse the other day. Feeling Tig rest his chin on her shoulder she smirks as he lifts up a set of nipple clamps with feathers and a ball gag. “And you say I'm freaky kid?” she giggles and shoves him back with her elbow. Handing the man a leather g-string in the man's size “put this on him you dork.” Once the man at least had on the g-string she turned around, walking over she gets to work on putting the clamps, Gag, and collar on him. Once that is done she grabs a chair as Juan gets to work snapping pictures, she watched him and can't help but grin. Sure the situation was fucked, but he seemed in his element behind the camera, maybe she should talk to him about looking into doing a few shots with him. For his eyes only of course. She is shaken from her thoughts of naughty photo shoots for her husband to Chuckys voice “We got something coming.” She stands with Jax, her eyes widen in shock for a moment before she realized what she was seeing. Jax was thinking on new levels nowadays it's seemed. “Salutations, gentlemen.” The taller woman's eyes land on her with a surprised look. “And gentle lady. Venus Van Dam, at your pleasure.”

She steps up past the guys and holds out her hand from the woman, giving her a genuine smile. “Joy Ortiz. Venus. Thank you for your time.” the taller woman nods and pulls her hand back “Aren't you a peach.” she winks as Jax finally gets a hold of himself, the man attacks like he hasn't seen a strong woman before “Thanks for coming.” She has to bite her lip to not howl as the woman gives her president a teasing grin “Not yet, baby. You gotta eat dinner 'fore you get dessert.” she looks at all her boys, and realizes they haven't dealt with someone of Venus’s caliber before, but with growing up openly liking any and all forms of Gender express or non expresstion as it were she wasn't that fazed. Guess she would be holding the bootlaces today, she moves to stand by her husband, rubbing his back as he looks between Venus and the large past out man. “Is he dead? 'Cause I don't do dead.” she giggles as Juan leans his head on her shoulder, his body shaking with silent laughter as Chucky, bless him, says “No, he's just fat.”

She watches Jax face off with Venus and can't help but feel like her poor prez is way out of his ballpark on this one. “Nero explain the situation? I need to know what happens here stays here”Venus never loosing her charm as she tilts her head in a distinctly feminine way “All my dates have that need, baby. But discretion ain't cheap.” she watches Jax hold up a folded stack of bills “I was told $2,000.” she leans back against her husband's chest, her head tilted back as she finally laughs, Bobby joining her as Venus gives her Prez a wicked grin “You were told right. That will do. My lips are sealed. Although I might open them up a little bit for you.” she sees Juan move his arms around her, Camara on hand and she helps him angle it just right as Venus drags her french tripped nails alone the large man's sternum to his navel as she speaks “He has been spending a little too much time at the pie-eatin' table. What am I supposed to do with Shamu?” as Jax handles that she flips through some of the pictures, nodding at Juan's work, turning her head she kisses his jaw “Looks good baby.” she lowers her voice. “Mm, maybe I should let you test your skills later, do a little naughty photo shoot.” Her poor husband, his eyes widen and he hides his flushes face into her neck, trying to muffle the groan. She is snapped from her warm, Juan shaped gazed as Jax calls her name “Joy.” she snaps her eyes towards him, seeing everyone watching them she arches a brow “Yes boss?” he nods to Venus who is watching her with a soft grin “Can you take me to the powder room peaches?” she nods, kissing Juan's stubble jaw she pulls away from him. She is stopped as Tigs voice stops them “I can give you a hand. If you need it beautiful.” she glances back to see Tigs eyes firmly on the taller woman by her side, said woman was currently taking in Tigs form and she couldn't help but smirk “It's not gonna happen tiger.” She laughs as she holds her arm put for Venus, leading her to the back bathroom. “Here you go. I'll let you change yourself. Let me know if your curls fall while changing, I'll help.”

The look Venus gives her is a soft one she doesn't quite understand, but it's gone quickly under her mask of sugar and sharp smiles “I'll be fine peaches. But if you insist. I'll call on you if needed.” It isn't long before Venus is out and she was seated with Chibs and her father as the other guys buzzed around Venus as she road the large man for all she was worth. Her father and Chibs hand long since rested their heads on her shoulder, trying to zone out of the situation they found themselves in. The old farts, she leans her cheek on Chibs head as she watches Juan and Jax talk “Did you get that Juice?” her husband holds up the camera and Jax chuckles “Oh, that's fantastic.” Her husband's wheezing laugh makes her smile at his back “ I don't know if that's the right word.” Juan kneels to get a good shot of the guys face and Venus and Jax watches him “Are you sure you can get rid of that tape?” She scuffs, making Jax turn to her with a grin. “That's Photoshop 101. I can do that in my sleep.” he chuckles and turns to Juan as he adds “Software I got? I can make this guy shit unicorns.”

Venus drops her act and turns to glare at Jax and her husband, what she says makes her choke so hard from laughing her dad has to wack her on the back “ There will be no shitting anything while I'm this close to that giant ass crack.” Once she downs the water Jax had given to her with a smirk she was ok, but her heart stops when Chucky stammers “Um guys you expecting somebody else?” No the fuck they weren't. She jumps to her feet as Chibs and her father move to stand on either side of the door, when it opens a body a little taller then hers is yanked through. Her father yanks the body to its feet and she sees it's a young man. Couldn't be maybe her age or even younger. “Holy shit!  What are you doing to Allen?” She glares down the small boy, her mind coming up blank, she was so fucking worried not even Venus could make her chuckle right now “ Charming Community Theater, baby.” she slowly slides her hand behind her back to her Glock, but is stopped by her husband's hand on her wrist “ Yeah, right. I know who you guys are. You're Sons. Yeah, what, you guys drug him or something? Huh? Allen. Damn You dudes are totally blackmailing him.”

She turns to Jax and Chibs as the older man's voice practically echos around the silent room “What do we do with this, Jackie?” she gives the kid a chilled grin “I could take good care of him.” the boy shrinks back, her husband's arm drapes across her shoulder, holding her back gently by the neck “Come on Ms.O. it's me, Devin Price. The bag boy who helps you load up when you come by the market.” She replaces the boys outfit with the green apron and white shirt of the country market and curse to herself “Your his stepson aren't you.” the boy nods and moves to step closer to her, seeing as she was the only one he kinda knew “Nah, it's cool, Mrs.Ortiz. We can work something out.” she watches the boy yank out his phone, snapping a few pictures before her father snatches the phone from him. “Ow fuck! come on, dude. I just want to use this shit against him, too.” she tilts her head, her mind working a mile a minute, but it seems Jax had his own ideas “ I'm guessing you two aren't very close.” the boy scuffs, glancing down at his overweight father with contempt “Nah, he's a total dick, man.” Venus makes a noise, causing everyone to glance her way, Joy could see she was up to something “How how old are you, sugar?” the boy stares directly at venus, well her tits anyway “Twenty-one.” She watches Venus prowl towards the boy, she had an idea what Venus was up too, but she wanted to see it in action “Mm. I do like 'em young and sweet.” Venus stands before the boy, her hand reaching down to grab him “Now have you ah. Have you ever had your dick sucked by a Southern girl with a huge cock? Oh, baby, you are in for a treat. I will make you come so hard it'll make your grandmamma wet.”

She can't help but bite down on her lip at the hazy look on the poor fools face as he stutters out “My grandmother is dead….and Dude, you're like, a dude.” She hears Venus’s chuckle from her place between Juan and Chibs “ Well, now you're catching on, young gun.” Jax seeing a chance takes it, peering around Venus at the boy he gives him a look of mock sympathy “Doesn't mean you're gay, man. We all been there.” she tries to keep her face straight as the boy looks hopefully around the room, her husband's voice barely composted as he says

“Lot of cock. Lots of slamming cock.” finally the boys eyes land on her  “But Mrs.O is a chick.” all the guys look at her, she knows she has to drive it home. She wraps an arm around Chibs waist, giving the boy a teasing grin she says “Doesn't mean I don't wear a strap on boy.” She swats Chibs on the ass, causing the Scot to glare at her when the boy isn't looking. “All right. Cool, let's do this.” Venus laughs and wraps her Scarfe around the boys neck “Pants off. Wrap this around your eyes. I like the element of surprise. Back there.” she points to the lounge area and once the boy vanishes around the corner Chibs closes in on her and pinches her side “thems fighting words lass.” She hides behind a wheezing Juan as Venus talks to Jax, taking the boys phone from him. “Now I suggest you clean up Tubby while I get some photos of this disenchanted little boy.” She smiles over her husband's shoulder at Venus “That would be very helpful my lady.” She gives Joy a teasing grin “Oh as much as I like you Princess Peach  I'm not about helping you, It's about my bottom line.” Venus turns her attention to Jax, the man nodding “I'll give you another grand.” Venus scuffs, holding up two fingers “Two. Okie-dokie.” Jax gives in with a smile, the woman had done him a solid today, in Joys book she could have what the hell she wanted. She watches Venus look at Tig that same soft look, flashes before she gives the blue-eyed man a wicked grin “You jealous, tiger?” Tiggy just smiles “Kind of.” Venus nods “I know you are.”

As Venus heads back to take care of the boy they all scramble to get the man dubbed Shamu back into his clothes, she put all the clothes they had used for the pictures in a bag she planned to burn later. She hears the shout from the back room as the boy finishes, embarrassingly early as she looks at her watch, ten minutes. Yikes. She is seated on her husband's lap when Venus comes out, waving the phone for Jax to take. As Jax fills the boy in on how things will for from here she looks over the pictures with Bobby, grinning as he chuckled at some and nodded at others. But their eyes are snapped back to the boy when he says “I would never rat on you guys, man. I think the MC's awesome.” Jax grins and pats the boy on the shoulder trying to steer him to the door “Yeah, we are. All right. See ya kid.” The boy shakes off the hand and looks at Joy, hoping she will understand “No, I mean seriously. I'd like to, like, hang out with you guys sometime.” She gives him a hard look, getting to her feet she stands before him, he has maybe an inch on her but apparently, she was still somewhat imposing despite her short stature “I'll make you a deal. Get your own bike with your own hard earned money from the market. Learn to ride the bike until it's practically second nature, take care of and dismantle and put back together said bike and we will talk. I did all of this before I was even a prospect. My dad helped me learn.” She nodded to the imposing figure by the door, grinning when the kid sank into himself even more. “But that will take forever Ms.O.” She nods “Exactly. If you want this you have to prove you can put in work. We were all prospects at one point kid.”

The boy nods, holding out his hand for her to shake she chuckles and shakes his hand, turning him by the shoulders she pushes him towards the door. Once it's shut Jax turns to give her an odd look “Why do you actually talk to him about it. He won't make it.” She arches a brow “Because it took me years to do what I told him to do. By that time I hope we aren't losing brothers. He might be smarter and better by then.” Jax shakes his head but lets it go. Venus comes up to stand between her and Jax, Jax holds out another stack of bills for the taller woman “Thank you, darlin'.” Venus nods, handing Joy a slip of paper that she slides into her cut pocket to check later, she accepts Venus kiss to the cheek. “Whenever Y'all need a little Venus love, give me a call. I'm the belle who does not tell.” she snickers at the look on Jax face as Venus plants at quick kiss on his lips. But she is more interested at the exchange between her and Tig. She can't hear what Venus says to him but she catches the sly pinch to his ass. Shaking her head she moves to grab the huge man's tie and pull as her husband, father and Chibs struggle to push him towards the desk. She screams and falls to the ground as the man seems to spring awake, shoving her to the ground to get to Tig. She hears Tig scream and by the time she is back on her feet the man is knocked out again and his mouth and shirt are covered in blood. She calms her husband as he checks her over “I'm ok. Just bruised hip.” She walks over to Tig who is leaned against the wall as Chibs checks his bloodstained ass cheek “That's gonna scar.”

TIME JUMP

Once they had gotten Tig to the shop she had kissed Juan goodbye. She needed to try to catch Roosevelt's wife before she left her plant shop, she had almost missed her, pulling up on her bike she grins at the woman “Glad I caught you, Rita.” She and Rita had known each other since Eli came to town. She had wanted to spend time on making a garden while Juan and her father had been gone, to give her then ole man something beautiful to come home too. So she had came here and struck up a friendship with the older woman. Even when she found out who the woman was married too she still came by each week to see her and the new plants in bloom. But as much as she hated how Juan put it her green thumb was turning black. And she needed advice. “Hello, Joy. I'm actually headed home. If you want to follow feel free.” She nods, it wasn't the first time she had been to the lovely sheriff's house, and honestly, she was happy Roosevelt had no clue. She did like the woman and didn't want her husband thinking Joy was out to get something from him through her.

Before long hours had passed and they were laughing on the couch “It's not funny Rita. Juan has no filter. Flat out told me my thumb was gonna kill my garden.” She couldn't help but giggle as the older woman kicked her feet as she laughed. “Ok, I'm sorry. Your husband is just funny. I see him around town sometimes. He seems like a sweet man.” she nods “Thank you. Most people just see the cut and tattoos. But all my boys are good men. Just hard lives. I just hate how the town thinks the break-ins are us. It's not Rita I swear to you. Seriously I'm out here looking for clues too. And I'm stumped.” the woman gives her a deep look, almost as if she is looking for the lie in her words before nodding. “I know your club does things on the other side of the law then my husband. But, I can see your club through you Joy. If these men are anything like you, then I believe charming is safe from direct harm from The MC.” she nods, wiping under her eyes as the tears in them flow over, it was good to be believed without having to bare your soul. She loved the women she knew through the club but she saw Rita was the except, this was someone who she could talk to about other things, not club related. She is broken from her musing as Rita runs for the bathroom, chasing after her she holds the woman's hair back as she heaves up the juice she had been drinking.

Finally, when she is done, she leans the panting woman against the tub, filling the cup by the sink up and handing it to her as she flushes the toilet for the woman. She holds her hand out once the woman seems to gather her wits, she gives her a hesitant grin “Should I say congratulations or was that from bad food at lunch?” the older woman scuffs and moves into her bedroom “Congratulations.” Joy can't help but smile widely, wrapping the slender woman in a warm hug. “I'm so happy for you.” both women pull apart as the sound of a door creeping open alerts them they aren't alone, Rita moves to open her mouth but Joy quickly slaps a hand over it. Keeping her voice low she whispers “Do you have a gun?” the woman nods behind her hand, her shaking hand coming up to point to the bedside table where Joy could also see a landline. “Take the gun and the phone. I want you to lock yourself in the bathroom and call your husband. Tell him to get home now, and tell him I'm here. If you hear me tell you to run you shimmy your ass out the small window in there and go. I'll be fine ok.” Rita nods, quickly doing as she was told while Joy locked the door and checked her silenced Glocks. Seeing Rita looking at her from the bathroom, she sees the fear in the woman's eyes as she dials for Eli. Joys Glocks aimed for the door. “Eli, please come home. Someone is here. I'm with Joy, don't ask why just come home.” she hangs up, Joy nods and moves to close the door but Rita stops her, her eyes wide and blown out “I'm scared.” She was too, but she gives the woman a shadow of a grin. “I'm not dying today Rita.” she slams the bathroom door and waits to hear the lock fall into place before facing the door. Joy was gone, Sonshine was checked in.

“Wrong House asshole.” the door to the bedroom is kicked open, and for a solid minute, the world was blurry and slow until she feels a body ram into her and it all speeds up again. She uses her Glock handle to hit the large man on top of her in the back, he knocks the guns from her hands yanking her up by the hair she uses the momentum to push him onto his back, leaning down she clamps her teeth onto the only visible skin she could see, his neck,  take a chunk out as the taste of iron fills her mouth and she yanks, taking skin with her. The man uses his foot to shove her off, scrambles away from her, holding his neck as she wipes her mouth yelling “GO RITA.” She moves to her feet to ram the man before her until she sees two others come up behind him, she realizes she lost her Glocks. Glaring them down, blood dripping from her mouth, she barely remembers what happens next, she couldn't tell you who fired.  But she remembers the pain, she remembers the smell of smoke as the gun goes off, and she remembers as it hits her in the stomach, she falls back into the dresser and down to the floor, as pain radiates she curls into herself, her bloody hand she used to wipe her mouth held over her stomach as she listens to the men “Fuck. You shoot her. Dude that's Sonshine what the fuck.” She was trying to push past the pain, they knew her. How? She whimpers as one of them pokes at her with his boot “Yeah. Come on. She won't make it as is and we need to go. Sheriff's old lady ran for it.” She listens to the sound of their footfalls on the carpet as they run. She hears noises not long after, the sound of yelling, handing holding her face, she opens her eyes and sees nothing but blurry shapes as tears stream from her eyes, but she knows Rita's voice, knows the floral smell of her perfume. She is safe, she smiles, one word falls from her lips as she finally gives into the darkness around her “Juan.”

Juice POV

His body couldn't stop shaking, even as Hap drove them to the hospital, Tig and Chibs had been in the clubhouse when Roosevelt came by. All he kept hearing was Joy was shot, her face flashed before his eyes and he was already out the door before the man could finish, Hap on his heels. Making it to St.Thomas he runs inside with Hap while Tig and Chibs find a spot, he almost slides into the front desk he is running so fast “Joy Ortiz. She was shot.” the woman looks through the system “Room two twenty.” he nods and hits the elevator. The guys would catch up, him as hap must look half insane, bobbing and weaving through the late night staff. Finally, he comes to a screeching stop outside Joys room, flinging the door open. What he sees makes his legs give out, his wife, his beautiful wife was sat up talking to her doctor, looking a little worse for wear but alive….She was alive. He feels hands on his arms as he stares at her, seeing the look of pain on her face as she tries to stand and come to him he crawls to her. Not caring who sees, he presses his face into her sweatpants covered thighs as she sits on the bed. His arms wrapped tightly around her as he cries, she was cold, he could tell by the way she slides her hands down the top of his shirt, her hands felt like ice and he cursed the hospital temp. His wife didn't like the cold.

Once he could finally release his grip on her legs enough to look up at her he saw her wet, red-rimmed eyes on him only. He leans into her fingertips as they trace his ear to his jaw “Oh Juan. I'm ok. Did Eli not tell you the whole story?” he gives her a watery laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand “He started off with you were shot. Didnt get much else out since we were half way here by then.” she laughs, but the flash of pain and the way she grabs her side makes him stand. Finally realizing her doctor had been watching the scene unfold with a shocked expression he holds out his hand “I'm sorry. I'm her husband Juan. These men are her father and uncles.” The doctor shakes his hand and opens his charts “Perfectly alright. As I was telling your wife, she was lucky. She was wearing a vest that stopped the bullet, but the force from it being close range did leave a nasty bruise.” his eyes glance at her as she lifts the hem of the hospital issue sweatshirt and hisses through his teeth. The bruse itself was a dark purple, it was an inch or two above her navel, and spread outward like a sun drawing. Looking back at the doctor he points to his wife “Anything else?” the man glances over the charts. “We got blood from her mouth but it turned out to be one of the men. She took skin and blood when she bit him.” he heard Tig chuckle, he ignores the man as he walks over to give his wife a firm kiss on the head. “She will mostly be sore in the bruised area and her lower back, the man rammed her pretty hard. Other then that we gave her pain meds to take, she had already taken one so she won't be up much longer and other then not letting her drive while she is on them that's all we have.”

He nods shaking the man's hand as he makes his way out, taking his wife's face in his hands he looks her over. She looks bone tired and a little doped up already. “I'm so happy your ok baby.” he chuckles when she pokes out her lips, trying to get him to kiss her. He gives in when she yanks him close by the bottom of his shirt, feeling a hand on his shoulder he moved out of the way as Hap finally had enough. He let's Joy and Hap have a moment, pushing the guys from the room he rubs his forehead.  “Ok, Chibs can you pull the van around? Wanna get Joy home but I need to fill out her release forms.” Chibs gives him a mock salute and heads for the elevator. Turning to Tig he looks over his shoulder and narrows his eyes “Can you track down a wheelchair? I don't want her walking in pain and doped up.” Tig is off like a hound dog. He heads for the half moon shaped nurses station, he gets to work on filling out the paper for his wife when he feels a tap on his shoulder, he expects to see one of the guys but is surprised to see Eli and his wife Rita. He holds his hand out for the woman “I don't think we have meet properly. I'm Juan.” he almost loses his footing when the woman bypasses his hand to hug him, his arms by his side he looks at Eli to see the man with red-rimmed eyes, but he takes the man's nod and hugs the slender woman back before pulling back. “Um, thanks. I guess.”

Rita nods “Joy saved me. She didn't even think, I don't know what would have happened had she…...I'm pregnant and….” it made sense now. He watches Eli slide his hand over his wife's stomach, Joy must have known. He shakes his head “My wife is tough. If she had it in her head to keep you and your kid safe you were going to be safe no matter what she had to do.” he sees Eli turn to look down the hall, and he can't help but grin when he sees Tig, Hap and Chibs fighting over who gets to push his wife in the wheelchair, Rita heads towards his wife, leaving him and Eli alone. It's awkward as hell, but Eli breaks the silence “I see now. That I was wrong.” Juan looks up at him in confusion, but Eli isn't looking at him. He is focused on his wife as she talks to Joy, holding one of her hands as she does “Joy wouldn't have stood in front of a bullet, to save my wife and child if she thought Rita wasn't actually in danger.” Roosevelt turns to face him “I still think the club is a key but maybe not a willing one. Your club or I need to stop this Juice. Before someone's wife doesn't make it.” As Joy reaches them he can tell the pills have kicked in by the hazy look in her eyes as the way her head keeps rolling from side to side. Moving Tig from the handles he takes over, leading down he kisses the top of her tangle curls “Let's get you home.”

Next Morning

He had woke with a start, dreams of Joy not making it, of having to bury his wife had his body drenched in sweat. But looking over her sees her inky black curls a riot against her pillowcase and some curls even making their way onto his pillow. He leans over to press a kiss to her temple, he heads to the bathroom to catch a shower, by now he knew the others had filled in the guys and since church wasn't until noon he still had a few hours to make breakfast and get Sonny out in the backyard. Or that had been the plan until he felt his wife's small hands slide around his waist from behind as he showered. Bringing her around fro behind him he took inventory, now that she was stripped of clothes he could see the full extent of the damage, the bruise had gotten larger, much to his dismay, it's looked like a purple sunburst above her navel. Looking up at her he sees her looking off to the side, shame and embarrassment plain as day on her face and he scuffs, grabbing her chin he forces her to look up at him. “Don't fucking do that. Don't let this shit make you embarrassed to be seen by me. You saved a pregnant woman last night, you stared down three men from what you told the doctor said, even took a fucking bite out of one. I don't know a son now who would do that and survive. I'm in awe of you.”

He watches her eyes close, tears mixing with the water. He let her have her moment, his hand working her shampoo through her long curls, she carried so much inside of her body. So much love, fire, and brilliance. But with those good extremes comes bad ones, doubt, low self-esteem, a temper hotter than hellfire on a ahair then trigger. But he wouldn't have her any other way, he was halfway through washing her legs while he let her conditioner sit when he felt her hand on the top of his head. Finishing what he was doing he stands, looking down at her he sees her eyes seem lighter like they had been before all this. Pressing a kiss to her lips he sighs “I love you, Joy. Finish up in here. I'm going to let sonny out and make breakfast. Want some fruit?” she smiles up at him, making him chuckle and lean in for another kiss. “Ok I need to go before I start something.” he swats her naked ass, dodging her swinging arm as he escapes. He cleans off as he watches her peek around the shower curtain with narrowed eyes that promised retribution...he couldn't wait.

He knew Joy took more time then he did in the shower so he headed for the living room to get some early shit done but stops dead in his tracks, seeing Tig and Chibs on his couch, both passed out cold. He back peddles to the spare bedroom seeing a large lump under the covers he guessed was his father in law. Ok…..fruit wasn't the only thing he would be cooking it seems. He saved Joys for last, she liked her stuff cold when she ate so he set about mixing the batter for pancakes and put the hot coffee on knowing the guys would rise as the smell of food and drink filled the house. Not twenty minutes later three silent men drank and ate before him as he guzzles down his own morning mix, he was used to the looks Tig would give his morning green mix. So he ignores him while he cuts up some watermelon and pineapples for his wife. Her bottle of cold brew already in the fridge, All the men in the room freeze when Joy makes her appearance, her wet curls making her hair look twice as small as it normally was, she was already dressed for the day in dark jeans and an old sons shirt. Her cut was hanging by the door next to his, he watches her press a kiss to each men's cheek before coming to stand at his side.

Joy POV

She can feel them watching, she knows they are worried but she is ok. She knows how bad it could have gotten. Finally having enough she put her fork down and stares them all down “Guys I promise you I'm not going to explode. I'm ok. It was scary as fuck I was shot point blank. But I'm not dead. Can we please move on and try to find these assholes, I have ideas on who it might be but I want to check a few things first.” at least they had the sense to look somewhat chastised, taking the last bite of her watermelon she puts her stuff in the sink and opens the back door letting sonny inside from his little roll on the morning grass. Looking over at Juan she grins “Go get dressed, we have church soon.” she heads into the living room, letting the others finish their food she lays out on the couch and let her thoughts wander, she knows exactly who it was at the house. Sure she could take this straight to Jax, but she needed proof, she needed Unser and Roosevelt. Sure she had Frankie by the balls, or the neck as it were, her teeth would put him in that house. But Peg and Gogo would be harder. Frankie could have been flying solo, and that still doesn't explain why they did this, why fuck up a club they were a part of.

She jerks when someone lays their hand on her shoulder, she hisses as she curls into herself, making the pain in her stomach flair. She refused to take those damn Meds unless she was fucking crying, she slaps Tigs hands away as he kneels down before her to fuss over her, taking deep breath the pain dulls and she looks at the worried man before her. She sighs with a painful grin. “Don't scare me Tiggy. Tensing hurts.” the man nods, his pretty blues taking in her face and she sees he wants to say something. She tilts her head “Come on Alex. Don't hold back on me now.” he chuckles, his fingers coming up to playfully knock her chin. “Don't scare us like that again kid. Don't know what a few of us would do without you.” despite his teasing tone she knew he was serious, she knew he wouldn't be the last of the men to tell her today. She expected nothing less, as much as she says these men are her boys she never stopped to realize she was one of their girls. She leans forward, kissing his forehead as nods “Promise to not fly off without any of my boys close. Deal?” she holds up her pinky, wiggling at him he rolls his eyes but locks his pinky with hers. She turns when she hears a rough chuckle, seeing Chibs watching them, a grin on his face “I see, he gets a secret handshake but I get my ass felt up. I see how it is lass.” the scene her husband walks in on has him grinning most of the day, it was good to see him so happy, after the terror he must have faced last night.

Hour Jump

She expected the concern, but she hadn't expected to be swarmed by a group of grown ass men, spitting out questions like the cops she shoves past them all saying they would talk later, she was tired of retelling the story,  she took her seat between Bobby and Juan, her hand over his as it rested on her upper thigh, she looked up to see Jax watching her. “Go about business and I'll tell you later.” the man narrows his eyes but nods and begins church “I pressed Pope on these home invasions. He swears it ain't coming from him. He's gonna dig into the street, see if he can turn up some new intel.” all eyes zone in on Tig as he speaks up, his eyes off to the side “Jax. You believe this guy?” she understood his hesitation, this man they were currently in bed with is the same man who burned his daughter alive. He had every right to be worried and uncomfortable “Look, we all know who this guy is and what he's capable of. But what he's doing now suggests he's telling the truth.” she glances at Juan and her father, seems she wasn't the only one confused, just ask she was about to ask her father beat her to the punch “ Like what, taking half our muling cut?”

Jax's takes her father's question with patients alot of people didn't have “Like offering to double it. Pope can push another 30 keys east through Reno. We talked to Luis. Galindo can easily up the supply. Now, what that means for us is we'll haul 60 keys back from AZ. Pope gives us the 50 he was gonna take that's another hundred on top.” She feels Juan stiffen next to her, and she understands. Both of them had been against this from the very start, and now to see him wanting to go deeper but hearing him talk of leaving it the other day had her more confused then she would like to be. She doesn't even glance at Bobby as he speaks “This guy realizes he can make a lot more money if we're an ally.” she saw the science, get the money they need now and split, but what else would they lose on the road to the end of this shit. She rubs her eyes with the hand not holding Juan's as Clay speaks “You know I've seen guys like Damon Pope before; I know how they operate. They make you offers too good to pass up, they line your pockets with easy cash, and before you know it you're wearing shackles, calling him Massa.” She nods, as much as Clay stepped on any and every button in her body he did speak sense. “He is right Jax.” she opens her eyes to see looks of surprise on her club brothers faces “I hate Clay, but I am tired of the shit muling had given us Jax. Two dead brothers and I almost died last night and this shit gets us deeper. But maybe you see something I don't.”

Jax's face, for a split second, loses the hard look and she sees her friend, not her president as he reaches over to pat her hand she had laid on the table “We're getting out of the coke haul. That's a promise. But for now, for me, this makes sense. Let's vote for it. Everyone in favor?” Once again she and Juan stood firm, no. She was done with this, but she couldn't help but feel hurt hearing her father agree. But she had long ago told herself to never hold votes against the person. Everyone had their reasons. With it, evening even at six to six Rat slammed the hammer firmly into the yes court by seven to six. Once again they would be muling, only a larger haul this time around. Jax slams the hammer down as the others move to leave he grabs her hand “You and Juice stay. I need answers.” she nods, leaning back in her chair she watches the others leave. Once the door is closed she glances at Jax “Where should I start?” she watches him rub his face as Bobby grabs the seat on his left that Chibs had vacated. She takes comfort in her husband as his hand rubs up and down her thigh. “I went to dig up some info from Roosevelt. I and Rita had gotten somewhat close while I was doing stuff in the garden of mine and Juan's house. I didn't know Roosevelt was her husband until he showed up at her shop one day when we were talking.” She leans forward her elbows on the table as she combed both hands through her still somewhat damp hair. “Anyway, that night I caught her at her shop, went home with her to wait for Roosevelt. And she got sick, told me she was pregnant, then we heard noises, her not being half as paranoid as I am I keep her quiet, get a gun and phone in her hand and force her to lock herself in the master bathroom. Not five seconds later I'm being rammed into by a man, felt like fifty tons of asshole slams me onto the floor. I use my Glock, smack the back of his neck, barely seems to faze him. Smacks them outta my hands and yanks at my hair, I do the only thing I can, us his own momentum yanking me up to shove him onto his back. I see the skin I go for it, I can fucking taste this assholes blood, Jax .”

She knew tears were streaming down her face, Juan had his forehead rested on her shoulder. She knew this was hard for him to hear for the first time, hell even Jax looked a little misty. She swipes under her eyes and continues “He knocks me back, I hit the dresser hard. I stand and go to charge at him but two more show up behind him. I know I was fucked, but I also knew as long as they shoot at the vest I could fake it enough to look like I was actually shot. I wiped my hand over my mouth so I had some blood in case, I'm actually not sure who shot me. I just remember the impact and the way my body crumbled. I curled up and used my hand to put blood on my shirt over the wound. Lucky they only poked me and didn't turn me over, but they did speak.” all three men lean close to her, her eyes off in the distance as she remembers one of the last things she heard before passing out “You shot her. That's sonshine dude what the fuck.” She scuffs, her hands moving up the table she stares at her hands “Yeah. Come on. She won't make it as is and we need to go. Sheriff's old lady ran for it” she locks eyes with Jax. “They knew my Club name, Jax. Sure it's on my cut for the world to see but no one calls me that but the people in this. And only when it's business time.” Jax stares her down, his head slowly shaking. She slams her hands down onto the table “I don't give a shit if you don't believe me, Jax. I expected as much but I will find proof. I know it was Frankie. I know that voice and I know Peg was there too which can only mean Gogo was the third. Be in denial all you want. But know I'm watching them.”  

Time jump

After her blow up she barely had time to calm herself before Bobby, Chibs, Jax, Juan and herself were off to mee the other presidents and leaders. Black, Brown, Asian and the sons. She watches the men face off from her spot with the other, Juan had broken their rule of keeping his hands to himself in front of the other groups. She understood he needed to touch her, hold her to know she actually was ok, telling them about the break-in had been hard but it had lifted a weight as well. She felt lighter, and now that she had time to calm herself and put her feelings aside she understood Jax's denial. He didn't try to make her seem a liar, he was doing his job as President to be partial. So now the ball was in her court to gather evidence. Leaning into her husband she watches from behind her shades as the Mayans president talks alone with Jax before walking with him over to the rest of the sons. She gives the older man a grin “Mirando bien Marcus.” ( Looking good Marcus) the older man chuckles "Escuché lo que te pasó. Quería asegurarme de que la princesa de Sam Crow estuviera tan viva como dicen los rumores.” (I heard what happened to you. I wanted to make sure the Sam Crow princess was as alive as the rumors are.)

She chuckles, using the hand not in Juan's to flip him off. “Estoy bien. Tenía un chaleco cuando sucedió. Nada más que un desagradable moretón para demostrarlo. Gracias por su preocupación." (I'm fine. I had a vest when it happened. Nothing more than a nasty bruise to prove it. Thanks for your concern.) The older man nods, looking at Juan over her shoulder before looking back at Joy with with a teasing grin “Tu viejo todavía no entiende el español, ¿verdad?” (Your old man still does not understand Spanish, right?) All she does is smirk as Juan speaks to Marcus, his chin rested on her shoulder “Te sorprenderá lo rápido que aprendo. " (You'll be surprised how quickly I learn.) Marcus chuckles, smacking Juan on the shoulder. Pressing a kiss to Joys cheek she watches him head off. Speaking over his shoulder as he goes, switching back to English, she knows it's meant to piss Jax off. “Let me know when you're ready to switch sides. I'll take you both. Happy too.” she giggles as Jax glares at the man's back, but he locks eyes with her and for a second he grins. Maybe everything would be ok between them after all, everyone's eyes glance to the side as a car pulls up, she sees it's August Marks. Watching the sharply dressed man approach then they all crowd around Jax as the man holds out a piece of paper to Jax. Before turning to her with a grin “Good to see you up and moving Ms.Ortiz. Mr.Pope sends his well wishes.” She nods, not altogether sure how she feels about Mr.Marks, but Damon Pope can choke on his well wishes.

Jax looks down at the paper “Is this my name and address?” August turns his attention from Joy to Jax “Yeah. But not the one you asked for. Can't shake nothing lose from the home invasions. Street doesn't know shit.” she wasn't surprised, she already knew what was happening. But she kept her mouth shut, she didn't want to stir up shit like she had an hour ago. She watches Jax face as he looks the paper over again, she saw the shadow fall over his eyes as he read the paper over again before looking up at Marks “Mr. Pope thought this might buy some goodwill. Prove his intentions are above board and looking forward.” without a word Jax and Chibs head for the Cars Mr.Marks had arrived in, her and Bobby share a look before following. It isn't twenty minutes before they pull up to around a house since Jax, Chibs, and Bobby had taking to ride with Marks she and no Juan were in the second car. They pull off after a few moments and her phone rings, seeing it's Chibs she picks up “The fuck is going on Chibs? What are we doing here!?” she knows she sounds angry, hell she is. She didn't like being out of the loop. “It's the guard Pope got to kill one of us. He is the one who killed Opie Lass.”

The phone drops from her hand, Juan grabs it and talks into the phone. She couldnt hear anything, the man's face now burned into her head, Opies face swims to the front, cold, lifeless, the closing of the lid to his coffin. She feels hands on her face and she jerks, her eyes locked on her husband. “You don't have to do this baby. Stay here with me. Let the guys do this.” looking out the window she realizes they are in the parking lot of some chicken place. She sees Tig is already here, how long was she under? Looking back at Juan she leans her forehead against this. “His face haunts me. I have to do this, I have to see it through.” Juan's hands grip the back of her head as he sighs. Pulling back he presses a kiss to her forehead, his lips press to her skin he speaks “Do what you have too. Then come home and let me love you. Ok?” she nods, kissing his lips quickly before getting out of the car. She left Joy with Juan for safekeeping, walking up next to Tig she silently holds up a hair tie for him, the man had worked next to her long enough to know she wanted his help tying back her hair.

As he did that she held out her hand for a black hoodie even as Jax stares her down “You sure your up for this? You are sore.” she arches a brow, gives Tigs hand on her shoulder pat as he finishes “I have a promise to keep.” Jax didn't ask, but he knew it was something Opie made her promise so he left it alone. Bobby comes to her side, his hand rubbing her back “You gonna help me keep them in line Sonshine.” She nods, looking into the duffle Tig brought she also grabs the black fanny pack she knew he packed for her. She had multiples of these laying around for moments like this, with how technology was advancing she tried to keep up with all of it. She kept what she called her evidence fucker kit in these packs, bleach, hydrogen peroxide, and rubbing alcohol. And tweezers to take anything from under the nails, as long as this club was her home no one would be caught by DNA while she breathed. Hooking the back around her waist she glances at Tig who looks at the pack and rolls his eyes. Flipping him off she grabs her seat between him and Bobby in the back she doesn't shake him off as his hand grips hers. She knows this means something to all of them, she knew every man in this wagon felt responsible for Opie's death, she felt it too. So today wasn't about deep-seated revenge, not for her anyway. It was about keeping Jax's head about the waters he seemed to be swimming in, she would do that...for Opie. Once they got there no one spoke, they were all of one mind anyway. She followed behind Tig as Chibs leads them in, all guns silenced and hoods up.

Watching Jax face down the man who put Opie to death had allowed herself to lose focus, she heard the cocking of the shotgun before she saw wife, as she gets two shots off she tackles the woman head-on, using her gloved hand she backhands the struggling woman while the others run after the guard. She feels the pain in her abdomen but ignores it as she lifts the now unconscious woman and sets her in one of the dining room chairs. Panting she holds a hand over her stomach as she waves as the hand at Tig and Bobby “Tie her up I just need a second.” she leans against the counter, watching the woman regaining consciousness she growls as the woman lashes out, her nails catch Tigs neck. Grabbing her silenced glock she hold it to the woman's temple, giving Bobby enough time to slap duct tape on her mouth. Kneeling behind the woman she reaches into her pack and quickly sprays all three chemicals on her bloody fingers, once they were clean she quickly cleans under her nails and puts her stuff away as the guys come in. Looking at Tig she smirks “And you said my pack was dumb. Just saved your ass Trager.”Bobby chuckles as she moves to Sit on a chair near the wall, watching them throw the man near her feet she smirks as he glances up at her, she knew her face was new to him. Standing she plants Herself in front of him, her gloved hand gripping his hair in a fist “Can I play with him?” she forces him to look up, making him see his wife tied up and gagged before him before releasing him. Moving to stand with Tig by the wife.

Bobby narrows his eyes at the wife before turning to the rest of the guys “She is a problem.” she locks eyes with Tig, seeing him staring at the woman she nods, both of them pull their silenced glocks out and fire into her head making the others jump. Tig stares off into the distance as the other curse, she stares Ithem all down until Jax nods “She is coladoral damage. For Opies murder.” She watches Bobby take her old seat, his eyes on the man currently sobbing on the floor “What do we do with him?” Jax glances at Tig, his eyes the coldest blue she thinks she had ever seen before. “Find a Pipe…..” as Tig Leaves her side to finishes his search, she gets to work untying the wife, heading outside she grabs both the tarps they had in the back and brings them inside, Chibs helps her carry out the wife and by the time that's done and they are both back so is Tig. The next five minutes are blurry to her, she watches as one of her closest friends and president beats a man's head in with a snow globe, she knew any sane person would feel regret, disgust, empathy for the life that her friend snuffed out. But she felt nothing, not even the peace of mind she had expect to get knowing he was gone. Maybe it was because the ones who actually physically killed him were still out there. She was on autopilot as they cleaned up and put the guard's body with his wife in the back of the wagon.

She felt nothing until she saw her husband, sat on one of the high walls of the parking garage, she stares at him as he stares off into the distance, his Camera from the other day at his side making her wonder what he had taken pictures of. As if he felt her eyes on him he turns towards her, watching the broad, toothy grin meant only for her change his face she slowly makes her way towards him as he turns around to jump off the wall. Without much pause, she walks into his open arms, for a few moments neither spoke. Even as Pope pulls up she doesn't release her husband and he doesn't release her, the feel of his hands rubbing up and down her back, his heart beating against her cheek. She feels her center of gravity shift back into focus, the scent of his cologne brings warmth to her body again, tilting her head back she gives him a bone-tired smile, her smile growing as he stares into her eyes until their foreheads touch, the feel of his nose nudging hers she can't help but giggle. Their bubble is burst when she hears a loud whistle, both of them turn to see Tig tapping his watch, she nods and turns back to press a quick kiss to Juans turned cheek as he glares at Tig, using her hand she turns his focus towards her. “Don't glare. You will get wrinkles.” she snickers when he rolls his eyes, patting her on the ass he releases his hold on her reluctantly and hand in hand they walked to the guys.

Juice POV

Getting back from Oakland had been long and tedious, neither of them cared to make dinner so once everyone and everything had been done for the day they grabbed a to go bag from the diner in town and headed home. Joy and Sonny had long since passed out next to him on the couch, he always found it funny that no matter how big Sonny continued to get, the pup continues to lay his whole body vertically on top of you. And since both Joy and himself were stomach sleepers he found it fucking hilarious when he would go to wake Joy and Sonny would be laying on top of her. He hoped he would grow out of it because as it was Sonny was looking like he was going be a barrel-chested dog, and that wasn't light in the least. He is about to reach over to wake his wife and the snorting pup on her back when the knock on the front door makes him and said dog look up, putting his hand on the dogs head he makes sure he isn't going to bark and wake Joy, looking at the clock he sees it's only ten, so he grabs his gun from the coffee table and walks to the door, peeking out of the peephole he relaxes his grip on his gun when he sees it's just Roosevelt. Sliding his gun into the waistband of his sweats he looks back at Sonny “Watch her.”

He knows the dog might not understand him but the way sonny rests his head back on Joy's shoulder makes him think otherwise as he heads outside. Leaning against his own front door her eyes the man currently before him, gone was his uniform, and if he were honest he looked like he hadn't slept. “Keep it down Joy is sleeping. What do you need Roosevelt?” the man sighs, his hand coming up to scrub the side of his growing stubble, he holds up a manilla envelope to Juan. “This is an ongoing investigation into the home invasions. That is everything we have so far.” he grabs the envelope from the man's hand, he knows what this means if the man gets caught. Looking between Roosevelt and the papers in his own hands he nods “Thank you. I know this could look bad on your record if you had been caught. I promise you this shit stops once Joy sniffs out this lead she has, and we can all go back to you chasing us down and trying to destroy us.” Both men chuckle, Roosevelt holds out his hand to Juan who takes it with a firm grip and shakes it. He watches Eli walk to his hatchback, but before he gets all the way there he turns back to face Juan. “Can you tell Joy thank you? I have my wife and child still. And I know she is the main reason for that.”

Juan grins, hearing the door behind him open he feels the small hands of his very sleepy wife slide around his sides to rest on his stomach, her cheek resting on his back. He lays a hand over her laced ones on his abdomen as he speaks to Roosevelt. “She is the main reason a lot of things did or didn't happen. Haven't you heard?” Roosevelt shakes his head and gets into his car, turning his wife's arms he looks down at her eyes, seeing them barely open he kisses her forehead before leaning down to grip the backs of her thighs. Pulling her off the ground he carries her like a child through the house as he turns off the game he had been playing and all the lights, locking the doors he ushers his small family into the master bedroom he lays his once again sleeping wife down and covers her up before sliding in next to her, he sets the envelope still in his hand on top of his bedside table for her to check out tomorrow. He wondered himself what was in that envelope, whatever it was he hoped it was enough to show Jax that Joy was right and that it would give him and Hap to go ahead to do what both of them were always willing to do for the curly-haired woman across from him…...kill for her.

Hope you liked it. see you next time

[cecesf06]

Fate~ Nolan Holloway

Anon: Hey, can I have a Nolan Holloway cute/awkward imagine please?   It's Halloween and reader is trick or treating with like her little   cousins or siblings so she wears a goofy costume and they knock at   Nolan's door (without her knowing it's his house) and it's just awkward because of her silly costume but then later they meet again at a party but she has a different costume (more sexy I guess) and idk  Just   something Halloweeny with Nolan :) thanks                    

A/N: of course anon! I am kicking myself for taking this long to post it, but here it is, and sorry its not as cute as I wanted it to be.. (P.S. Sorry its so late!!)

(GIFS NOT MINE!!)

Warnings: none, besides awkwardness, and somewhat fluff!

Word Count: 2k

_____

"Robert, let go of my hand one more time, and we're done."

"Crissy- I told you you could wear the sunglasses, but only on top of your head. It's getting dark!"

"Vincent, slow down! I said no more than a five mile radius at all times!"

It's been three houses so far.

Three.

Not even five minutes in, and you were already losing your marbles.

You would think that at the ages of nine, seven, and six, your siblings would be with the program and have complete comprehension of the holiday, but unfortunately that's not the case.

You hate Halloween. Actually, scratch that- Halloween is great. You had no problems with Halloween itself. It's the trick or treating part that makes it less than desirable.

Not to mention the ridiculous matching costumes during said less than desirable part.

So here you were, dragging two six and seven year olds by the wrists while chasing a nine year old up the street in a ladybug costume.

Yes, you read that right- a ladybug costume.

Ten sizes too big, showing only your face, arms, and feet, you were basically a walking red blob.

Luckily, your street was full of old people, and hermits, so you wouldn't see anyone you knew- from inside, and outside of school- until tonight at the annual open house at some kid's house. He's been hosting for about five years now, and no one even knows his real name, or why he was still in high school, calling him "Banger Bobby". Anyone who is anyone shows up, and dammit you were going to do anything to show up for your last year of high school.  

And that anything was taking your younger siblings trick or treating up and down your street.

An easy task, you had scoffed when your mother tried to warn you, but now you finally understood the horrors she went through, and her complete hatred of the holiday every year.

But alas, it will all be worth it to be able to party with your friends whereas any other time you ask, she says no.

Groaning, and wishing the arduous task to be over as soon as possible, you herd the three overbearing children up the steps and onto the porch of the next house- a little blue thing that used to belong to Ms. Weeks, an elderly lady who passed away that past year. The house was resold, but being the hermit family you were, you never bothered to meet your new neighbors.

And now you suddenly wished you had, because as luck would have it, your longtime crush was the one to open the door.

Nolan Holloway- adorable, shy, quiet, smart Nolan Holloway. Also probably the only boy in your entire school you maybe had feelings for.

His blue eyes bore into your y/e/c ones, and you both froze, your face suddenly the same color as your costume.

Robert broke the silence, shouting an impatient, "Tricks or treats!" and Nolan suddenly jolted in place before dumping the goodies into your siblings bags.

Of all people. Of all places. Of all moments in time and your existence, this had to the be it. This- this embarrassing, humiliating, awkward moment had to be the first time Nolan Holloway looked in your direction.

And as you dragged your siblings home in a haste, ignoring their complaints, you suddenly wished the spirits of the Day of the Dead could actually sense your desire to join them and grant your wishes.

____

Not worth it.

When you had gotten home, shredding the disaster of a costume off in place of a black cut out crop top, blank spandex, and fishnet stockings, you clung to the hope that it would be worth it. That Banger Bob's open house would be so legendary, and as amazing as it was hyped up to be that it would be worth the utter humiliation of earlier. As you styled your hair, and did the whole "sexy bunny" thing every basic girl at your school did in an attempt to look not as out of place as you were most likely going to be, you prayed to any God out there that Nolan Holloway would not be at that party.

Welp.

Your friends had long since found a few guys to inevitably hook up with, leaving you to stand awkwardly by yourself, attempting to blend into the wall behind you while clutching a solo cup for the sake of clutching one.

You watched with trepidation as a few girls danced way to extra to the trap rap that seemed to be one repeat, same boring bass blasting through the aux.

You watched as a few guys attempted back flips in the grass out front, the only one able to actually do so being the new kid, Alex, or Alec or whatever.

You watched Theo Raeken make out with Liam Dunbar against the wall, and- wait what?

You turned your gaze awkwardly to your cup, head spinning.

The minutes stretched on, along with the tight feeling in your chest, and the thoughts ran through your head, mocking you. Why were you even here? Why did you even want to come?

Your eyes flicked up again, and the sandy brown hair, light spattering of freckles on his nose, the bright blue eyes all causing your heart to stop, mouth becoming all too dry.

Nolan Holloway was here.

And you wished the wall would swallow you whole as he made his way in your direction, and you hesitated between pulling your phone out to call an ambulance because you were definitely having a heart attack right now, or just simply running.

"Y/N?"

Too late.

"N-Nolan!"

You didn't even know what to do with yourself. Here you were, an embarrassing mess for a second time that night in front of Nolan Holloway- the only person you sort of liked in this world. He didn't seem to mind though, peering at you with an amused look in his blue eyes.

"What happened to the lady bug?"

And its a estimate to how nervous you were at the moment, because you burst out laughing and suddenly couldn't stop.

Maybe the best part about embarrassing yourself in front of Nolan Holloway for the tenth time is that you literally had no shame anymore.

"Yeah, uh, I only wore that because this would probably not be appropriate for kids." you laughed, gesturing loosely to your costume your mother would have a heart attack over if she had actually seen.

Nolan looked you up and down after that, gaze lingering on your fishnet stockings, the way the spandex hugged your skin, and the wonders of your push up bra. He grinned.

"It's a shame. I liked the ladybug better."

You snorted, peering at the ordinary shirt, the ordinary jeans, the ordinary shoes on his feet- an ensemble he'd wear to school, normally. You quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, do you now.. what are you supposed to be anyway?"

He grinned, and man his grin really knew how to light up a room.

"I'm Alec." he motions to the boy still flipping around the lawn, also dressed in a similar attire. "He's supposed to be me."

You were silent for a moment.

"Hm. It's a shame. I like Nolan better."

He blushes.

"You like me?"

And now you're blushing, dammit.

"Uh, I, um-"

He shakes his head at your stammering, a small smile spreading.

"I'm just messing with you Y/N."

You let out an awkward giggle, and then the silence stretched on, and you didn't know how to break it.

"I, um, I have a confession." he mumbled, coughing a bit at the end to hide his nervous voice crack. "I..."

He never finishes, standing in front of you awkwardly, blushing, and you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Did you know bats always turn left when exiting a cave?"

He blinks a bit, perplexed, and it distracts him from the nerves threatening to crush him, and he smiles. "No I did not. But did you know ninety percent of the pumpkin is made up of water?"

You grinned, and he found himself transfixed on your bright smile, not wanting to look away even as you began to speak. "Well did you know jack-o-lanterns were actually first made by carving turnips instead of pumpkins?"

He snorted. "Ew. Thank God that changed. But, contrary to popular belief, the pumpkin is actually a fruit because-"

"-It has seeds." you finish at the same time, smiling softly at one another, and Nolan finds his eyes flitting from your stunning y/e/c ones to your soft lips.  

Nolan swallows hard, willing himself for once in his life to make the first move. Earlier when he tried, he choked up. But you're Y/N Y/L/N, the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and he's liked you since he first laid eyes on you.

Sure, the whole "you can't like someone without meeting them" thing is true, but not with you. Nolan can't explain it, but something about you just... clicked. Like he knew right then and there he had to meet you.

Too bad he's terribly and embarrassingly shy.

So when you appeared at his door in that God awful ladybug costume, he considered himself the luckiest man alive. Because even though he froze up at the time, he had a reason to walk up to you at this party, and talk to you- something he's never done before.

And man do you look beautiful tonight. You look beautiful every day in Nolan's eyes, in anything you wore- and probably, he's guessing, in nothing, but hey.

But tonight, with the dim glow of the crowded house, where to him it was just the two of you, leaning against the beige walls, your eyes sparkling, even with the pupils dilated almost obscuring the color, your hair impossibly gorgeous, even with the stupid bunny ears atop it, he just wanted to kiss those soft lips until they were swollen and bruised from his own.

"If I do something, and you close your eyes, can you promise you won't freak out?" he whispered, neither of you realizing how close he had gotten to you, almost an inch apart.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You're not going to just walk away while I have my eyes closed, are you?"

His face scrunches up in confusion, romantic daze faltering.

"Uh. No?"

Your eyes promptly shut as a blush covers your cheeks, the fan of your fake lashes across your cheekbones capturing his attention, and he knew he wanted to do this more than anything in the world, thanking any God out there you had knocked on his door that night, fate bringing two shy, blushing souls together at last.

"Forget I said anything."

He laughs, and then clears his throat, as if nervous, and you were suddenly nervous too. What was he doing?

Lips were on your own. Jolting with shock, you froze at the unexpected gesture until it suddenly registered in your brain.

Nolan Holloway is kissing you.

Your long time crush- the sweet boy with the bright blue eyes, and splattering of freckles is kissing you.

And you were kissing back.

The kiss lasted a total of ten seconds, but damn if it wasn't the best ten seconds of your life.

"I, um, I-" he began sheepishly, a cute little blush popping up under his freckles causing you to blush.

"Okay, now you close your eyes and promise you won't freak out." you blurted out, a little nervous, and he smiled.

"I won't freak out." he promised, holding out his pinky, and you laughed. As you hooked them together in a "pinky promise" he found a warm feeling blooming in his chest at the sound of your laugh and knew he was in deep.

And when you kissed him again, it would not be the last.

And you thanked any God out there you had knocked on his door that night, fate bringing two shy, blushing souls together at last.

A/N anddd there you have it! Not my best work, and i was a real jerk taking forever to post, but i finally got it done!

im also grounded all weekend, which means ill be home ready to write all weekend... ;)

THANK YOU FOR READING!!

[tenderdnp]

we’re already each other’s, yet you aren’t mine

beta: @star-crossed-phan​

artist: @just-another-phanfic​ + a pt. ii of her art is here!

word count: 26.2k

rating: PG-13; genres are romance, fluff, and angst

warnings: mild language, homophobia (internal and external), mild homophobic slurs, alcohol, hints at sexual intimacy

summary: in a time where tattoos bloom upon the skin out of nowhere - dan is a boy who paints watercolor roses in his backyard and has a single hidden marigold behind his ear, all while phil, who has tattoos of daisies around his ankles + shoulders, writes poetry on the front porch next door. (a high school, art student au)

author’s note: aaaa my first pbb fic!! :’)) thank you so much to kayla for betaing this! you are so sweet, and we talked more than just about editing which was so lovely. bless you for sticking with me even though the word count went from what was supposed to be 5k straight to 25k; you’re a real one! and thank you to kat for being a great pinch hitter artist, your moodboards make my heart go !!!!!

and a p.s. —  this fic was inspired by @demonphannie​’s post and @audaw​’s art. ty for existing

moodboard by @just-another-phanfic

. . .

For centuries, humanity has held art to the highest of esteems. Early neanderthals began it all with their coarse hands, withdrawing the dirt from the earth below their feet to leave marks upon rugged stone walls, the ones that would convey the beginnings of history. In the millenniums that followed, an elitism has formed around the most talented ones who have managed to make a name for themselves. The names of these creators are commonplace in many households amongst the nations; buildings are erected with the mere purpose of showcasing such artistic creation.

Perhaps it is for that reason that the phenomenon in which ink would envelop one’s skin was thus regarded as a wonder, rather than as an alarming fright.

Despite seeming harmless, precaution took place of course: scientists all over the globe have dedicated themselves to research the peculiar tattoos. Theories ranging from genetic mutations related to the brain’s creative processes to shifts in the earth’s overall physical environment resulting in a strange seismic change have arisen, but nothing about their origins have been confirmed as of yet. For that matter, nothing has been confirmed as to how exactly they appear either.

<<>>

It’s the sound of lips on skin and lips on lips that makes his shoulders tense and his hair stand on end. He can’t ignore them, they’re only three lockers down after all, and his peripheral vision just happens to be especially keen. Dan Howell has the new girl -new as in she had literally transferred into their art school several days ago- pinned against the locker’s cold metal, his lips pressing against hers again and again. It isn't a shock, really. She is likely his latest rendezvous, i.e. the new girl in both the real and alternative sense.

The probable truth of that fact makes his gut twist.

His thoughts are confirmed by gossipers in the hallway, their ringing giggles unintentionally piquing his interest. Their conversation automatically separating from the bustle of bodies and hallway sound, he listens in on their eager chatter.

“Did you hear who it was this time?”

Her friend squeals —was that necessary?— in response. “No I haven't! Who?!”

“It was Erin—”

“Erin? The new girl who came in and started here last week?”

“Yes! Well, she came in a totally different way last night,” he could hear a smirk and a wink in her voice. The if you know what i mean was a little more than heavily implied, making him internally cringe. “Everybody’s saying that they just locked eyes across Chris’ living room and like, totally fell in love. Or lust. You know how it is.”

“Of course,” the friend laughs knowingly, “Not a single girl has ever lasted too long.”

From there, as the conversation topic shifted, his attention followed. Suddenly irritated, he shuts his locker with a slam, not loud enough to gain the passerbys’ attention, but enough to snap Dan and Erin (she has a name now) out of it. By the time he turns around, Erin shoots a mildly peeved glance his way. Familiar words of it's always cloudy except for, when you look into the past, one night… flow from his worn earbuds to hit his eardrums as he makes his way to class, clearing his mind and relaxing his annoyance.

He shakes his head to himself, and puts a little smile on his face. It happens all the time, so he shouldn’t be bothered. Today is gonna be a good day.

He can feel it.

<<>>

As per usual, he is the first one in the classroom. It is a basic english class, because despite being at the art school for written work and thus having several writing and literary classes under his belt, he is still required to take a “basic” class for the english language.

His efforts to convince the principal to change his situation (that other students have voiced to have as well) otherwise was, needless to say, futile.

The class bores him a bit, but it’s not like he can do anything about it. More often than not, he keeps to himself and simply chooses to not actively participate in class. Besides, being one of the teacher’s favorites due to having a particularly advanced grasp of the material is not necessarily the worst thing in the world (plus it gives him time to write rather than pay attention).

Several minutes pass before Dan enters the classroom. As per usual he is the last to enter, with Erin in tow. Her blonde curls are even more all over the place than they usually are and his typically perfectly straightened hair is a little less than perfect; to add even more to that, their clothes are crinkled, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as to what their shenanigans were. The teacher makes no comment but a slight disappointed exhale and a passing gesture of the hand for them to take their seats before he opens up the class for the lesson.

“Now for the past two weeks we have been talking about poetry…” Mr. Lamansi begins, clapping his hands together. “And for today in particular, we will be focusing on Walt Whitman’s Song of the Open Road.”

The class proceeds by his calling on various students in a random fashion to take turns with reading stanzas, his choice sometimes falling on the ones with their hands raised and other times upon those who were purposefully remaining quiet and avoiding eye contact. Phil allows himself to take advantage of this time to freewrite, allowing his pen and mind to wander.

brown is all sorts of golden in the sense it gives...

“Phil? Could you read these few lines for us?”

At the teacher’s interruption, Phil looks up and nods, proceeding to put down his pen and stand up from his seat as every other student had. His hands hold his textbook as he prepares himself to speak, but the moment he opens his mouth, Mr. Lamansi stops him.

“Actually Phil,” Mr. Lamansi begins, “Can you come up and read in front of the class? This is one of my favorite parts.”

Phil bites his lip. “Y-yeah. That's fine.”

Everyone’s focus is on him as he strides towards where the teacher directed him to go. He’s not a fan of this kind of thing you know, being the center of unwanted attention that is, and each stare only seems to be encouraging the swirls that are slowly appearing on his lower back. Once he reaches his spot in the front, each set of seemingly judgemental eyes causes buttercups to rapidly pop up on a concentrated spot on the inside of his wrists, mapping the places where he feels anxiety and unease.

An awkward cough to clear his throat and break the stillness of the room comes first. Then, he begins.

And it's captivating.

“The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road. O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me? Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost? Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me? O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you; You express me better than I can express myself; You shall be more to me than my poem.”

His voice pulls at the heartstrings of everyone watching him, or at the very least, grabs their gaze so that they don't look away. Other students were bored and monotone in vocal delivery, but his take on it is deep and rich. It's lovely, and all the students (okay, except maybe a select few, but you can't win them all) are listening. Breathtaking is definitely the right word to describe it, for the full classroom of rowdy adolescents are nearly completely silent.

Unbeknownst to him, when he's finished, Dan’s lips are parted oh so slightly in a sort of soft awe.

As Phil sits back in his seat, his face burns red, a murmur of applause going through the room. His teacher praises and thanks him, but he pays it no mind. His eyes shift down at his desk as he brainstorms and works on a poem for the rest of the period, until the bell eventually rings.

Now mind you, Philip Lester was usually very observant. His eyes were open, all the time— as a poet he had to take inspiration from every facet of the world around him. However, perhaps if his mind didn't force itself to replay the most anxious of moments, and he wasn't so distracted by his writing, Phil would have caught how peculiar it was for a certain Dan Howell to throw a fleeting gaze at him just before leaving the room.

<<>>

philip michael lester. flashback; age four.

Life was pretty nice when one’s age was still a single digit number.

While his mother was cooking, Phil was sat in the chair at the dining table. Legs swinging in the air because he was far too short to reach the floor, with a face of curiosity he pointed a small finger at what was on her bicep.

“Mum, why does your skin have different colors there?”

She briefly stopped her stirring upon the stove, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion a little before she saw what he was pointing at and laughed in understanding. “This?” she clarified while she smiled, pointing at the tattoo of a concert ticket that lay on her upper arm.

“Yeah!” young Phil exclaimed, nodding eagerly. “And Daddy has one too!”

His mother hummed in agreement and continued to make supper. “Indeed he does,” she laughed, “And that's on purpose you know. The first time I met him was at a concert.” Her voice became wistful as she continued, “I was sold a counterfeit ticket and because of that was absolutely devastated, with tears in my eyes and all, and was on the way to being sent home. On my way out, I had bumped shoulders with your father. We were completely knocked down to the floor! And then…” Her hand stopped once more as her words trailed off.

“And then he noticed my eyes and asked me what's wrong. Once he heard about what had happened, he told me that his friend became sick and that he had a free ticket. Only if I wanted it of course. I accepted it, we ended up having a great time, kept contact, and eventually started dating. I got one half of a concert ticket on my left arm, and your father had a concert ticket on his right.”

“Wow! Now you two are matching, right mum?”

“Yep! They say that nothing’s been proven but if anything,” she turned towards her son and made a pointing gesture to emphasize her words. “This appeared out of love, I’ll tell you that.”

“Love?”

“Yeah, love.”

Phil’s cheeks beam with a smile. “Love sounds so nice.”

As she sets a bowl of Phil’s favorite soup in front of him, an easy reply comes as a response. “Oh it is, dear. It really is.”

<<>>

“Just milk and a bag of crisps? Again?”

Phil places his tray down with a playful eyeroll. “Peej, you know it's because I’m not hungry.” He sits down next to his best friend, unzipping his backpack to take out his phone and aimlessly scroll while they’re chatting.

With his mouth still full, PJ says pointedly, “Yeah sure.” He swallows his food. “I’m just worried sometimes, you know.”

“I know,” Phil laughs, “And I appreciate it.”

PJ does a cheeky little grin and wave with a jokingly bashful, “Aw you’re making blush and all Philip, but let’s cut the sap.” He takes another bite of his lunch. “So how are you? How’s your day been so far?”

“Ugh,” Phil groans. He stuffs his face with practically six crisps at once, annoyed. He had nearly forgotten about how his day started, and now PJ had reminded him. He chews rapidly before he swallows so that he may continue talking.

“Dan was making out with some girl this morning at the lockers… It was obnoxious. Annoying as hell.”

PJ just smirks. His body leans in closely, accompanied by a wiggle of his eyebrows and reply in a teasing tone, “Are you sure annoyed is how you’re really feelin’ Philly? No jealousy because of ‘ol pretty boy—”

“How are things going with that film project?” Phil quickly interjects PJ’s sentence with his cheeks suddenly red, making PJ immediately drop both his smirk and the topic. Ooo ouch, how touchy.

“It’s good! It’s going. I hope to actually start the filming part soon.”

Pride for his friend swells in Phil’s chest. “That’s great!”

“Yeah I guess, but I’m stuck with the script. I’m really lacking inspiration,” PJ mutters, his eyes looking back down to his food.

“Oh, I totally get that,” Phil nods with a wave of his hand. “It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

The other laughs, immediately dismissing the comment. “Pff, yeah right! Coming from the guy who never stops writing ever.”

“Peeeej! Trust me, I’m serious! Okay listen—” Phil’s voice softening, almost as if he was revealing a big secret. “Sometimes you just need a break, you know? Or to look for inspiration in unlikely places. You have to have a muse.”

“Aw Philly, are you saying that you have a muse?” PJ smiles.

Before he can answer, Phil catches a glimpse of Dan walking to join his group of friends, and in doing so, Dan passes by he and PJ’s lunch table. Phil only lets his eyes linger for a moment more before he turns to look back at PJ, and gives him his response, letting out a low hum first. A cheeky hint of something is playing at the edges of his lips.

“I guess you could say that.”

<<>>

brown is all sorts of golden in the sense it gives as much warmth as a gentle sun    when it touches every bit of soil and soul of the earth a sign that even angels admire from afar, a bronzy glow of the ages - p.l.

<<>>

“Now creative writing has a key word: creative. And what does creative mean?” implores freshly graduated teacher Miss Caroline (who, at the beginning of the year, refused to be called Miss Alabang due to it apparently being “too formal”). A resounding lack of feedback comes from the class. Rolling her eyes in response, she shoots them all a you guys are useless look, accompanied by the typical seriously you could do better eyebrow raise.

Not many people are in this particular class, so theoretically, there should be more student engagement. But oh, on the contrary, it was not working out that way.

Throwing her hands up in the air with a passion, she exclaims, “It means to think outside of the box of course! Which is why there will be an interesting new project for the midterm. Never before done, never before seen by this institution.”

She begins to pace around the room, her voice rising and falling in a way that seems to soar over students’ heads and then capture their attention, while her gaze creates eye contact with each and every person to guarantee their engagement. “This project,” she says with a pause for dramatic effect, “will be a collaboration with the art students.”

“Exactly right.”

Art teacher Miss Land enters the scene. Her chin is raised with a sort of delicate poise and her hands are held behind her back, a contrasting yet pleasing juxtaposition that is a great complement to Miss Caroline’s own casual stance and posture. While Miss Caroline has a voice that projects itself as much as her eccentric presence, Miss Land’s is a bit more subdued in the sense that listeners had to concentrate more to hear her.

“The idea is to bridge together visual art and written art…”

“...essentially taking words and bringing them to life.”

“Both pieces must be able to both stand on their own, yet inspire one another. A mix of two mediums that are strong individually, yet when put together, fabricate something that reaches beyond what one could achieve as a solo piece,” Miss Land elaborates.

“Any questions?” asks Miss Caroline. The students helpfully provide her the deafening silence that fills the room in response.

Miss Land nods. “Good. My students, please don’t crowd around the door. Line up against the front, please.” She gestures to the front board, each art student awkwardly shuffling to their own spot, standing expectedly as the creative writing students sat and looked upon them with neutral expressions. Most are calm and collected except for a select few, who shift in their seats at the thought of working with unfamiliar people and a medium they didn't know. Among the art students is new girl Erin who couldn’t care less, and she has a hand on Dan’s arm while she whispers into his ear. He chuckles, and makes playful a face back at her as if saying, “Shh, we’ve got to listen now.”

Miss Land then glances at Miss Caroline, sharing an exchange of the eyes before coming to a silent understanding. From there, Miss Caroline addresses the group as a whole.

“So I’m going to randomly choose a student from my creative writing class, while she,” placing emphasis on the last word and looking pointedly at Miss Land, “will randomly choose an art student of her own. Okay? Sounds good. So first off: Eli Romano.”

“...Louise Pentland,” completes Miss Land.

“Andee Steiner with…”

“Erin Romer.”

“PJ Liguori.”

“Chris Kendall, you’re up.”

“Philip Lester���”

“...Dan Howell.”

As partnerships are created one by one, it is so interesting to see the reactions of each couple (couple used for the lack of a better term here, of course). For example, Eli, Andee, Louise, and many others seemed like the type to not mind whomever they were to be assigned to. Erin on the other hand? No one missed the huff she let out and the scrunch of her nose when she heard that she was not assigned to Dan. Chris Kendall stuck his tongue in his cheek with a smirk then let out a big grin when he sauntered over the PJ’s desk, while PJ himself held a soft smile.

In regards to Phil, he kept it together. If together meant his leg started bouncing at a great speed, that is. As long as no one looked below the desk, no one would notice. His fingers start picking at the ends of his sleeves. Buttercups were starting to appear.

And Dan was just an enigma. Nothing in the eyes, nothing in his stance, only a polite smile.

Once the partner assignments are completed, papers are handed out, and a direction is given for everyone to go with their respective other half of their duo, the art students disperse and fill the empty seats. Immediately, chatter begins to diffuse throughout the previously quiet room.

Squeaks come from the moving of chairs and desks, along with slight oomphs of backpacks being tossed down to the linoleum floor and pushed to the side in order to be out of the way. Phil bites his lip as Dan sits in the desk next to his own, and with every ounce of effort in his body he tries to make sure his voice is steady when he breaks the ice between them.

“So, I guess we have to exchange info right?”

“I guess,” Dan replies simply, scratching his neck awkwardly. “I don’t really know, but I guess there’s not really any other option. I mean, what else can we do.”

Not too far from them is PJ, who leans back in his chair and sends a questioning glance over to Phil, who then does a small shrug in reply. Turning back to Dan, he purses his lips a little before continuing. “Okay, so uh, my number is…” Phil lists the memorized numbers with ease, then repeats it once more. “You got that?”

Before Dan can even nod, the bell rings, and out of nowhere Erin grabs Dan’s hand right for the two of them to immediately bolt out the door.

<<>>

Dan is reading over the paper that the art teacher gave them earlier. He wants to start brainstorming, the concept of combining two different art forms seems really interesting… It would probably be best to discuss it with his partner, though.

His partner: Phil Lester. Dan knows him, he lives next door to him so how could he not, and they have gone to school together for a while now. Yet despite having known him all these years, he only knows of him. Dan has never spoken a word to Phil, to his knowledge.

Although he never paid mind to him before, when Phil read Song of the Open Road in his english class today, Dan admits that he was surprised. He never expected something like to come from him.

Dan takes out his cellphone, tapping the screen to reach the number that he put in earlier. Because Erin pulled him out before he could tell Phil his own digits, he is forced to be the one to text first. He types a quick message, and hits send. Better now than later.

from dan, to phil:

hey it’s dan. meeting in the library after school tmrw sound good?

He doesn’t expect a reply, but for some reason it’s like he’s waiting for one. When he thinks about it, Phil seems like someone he would want to get to know better. He seems interesting.

This project may actually be kinda fun.

A reply comes a minute or two later, and it’s like Dan has something caught in his throat when he rushes to see the message.

from phil, to dan:

Okkie dokes! :D

Aw. Dan can’t help but smile to himself. Heh, how cute.

<<>>

Phil ends up arriving first. In his defense, he spends most of the time in the library anyway, and extra time gives him the chance to pick the perfect spot: one with a lot of sunlight, and where not a lot of people are studying. And besides, there’s nothing wrong with wanting for today to go well, right?

Dan arrives about ten minutes following the school’s ending bell, and Phil doesn’t even notice him walking through the door. He’s got his head in his notebook, as usual.

“Bye, see you later,” bids Dan, giving Erin a quick kiss on the cheek. Although he begins to head off, he remains facing her, walking backwards, giving a little farewell salute and a quick wink to match.

Erin calls after him. “Goodbye baby, have fun with the project!” She accompanies it with a chippery wave back, and blows him a kiss right before orients his body forward so that he could see where he is going.

Phil looks up from his work, disturbed by the noise. Dan has spotted him, eyes lighting up in recognition, and he is starting to make his way to the table. When he gets there, it is a moment when first impressions are made.

For Phil, it’s like an up close confirmation of everything he has admired from afar. Everything is so lovely, and the way the sun hits Dan is so nice. His eyes aren’t just brown, they fit every descriptor that Phil has wrote with— caramel, golden, earthy, warm. Choosing this spot was the right choice.

As for Dan, he is taken aback by the scribbles of sentence fragments and various adjectives and lines that cover the pages of Phil’s notebook and Phil’s hands. They’re like stories that others want to read, but won’t understand, because Phil is the only one that can tell them.

He doesn’t know it yet, but he is one of the few willing to listen.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Dan grimaces, feeling guilty that he was the second to show despite being the one to set up the meeting in the first place. When he grabs the seat next to Phil to sit down, he misses the edge of the chair and the sound of his bum hitting the hardwood floor echoes through the library, making Phil laugh and Phil’s heart swell.

Embarrassing. Still grinning, Phil holds a hand out, helping him up. Dan lets out a laugh as well, Phil’s attitude spreading to him.

“Don’t worry about it Dan, I was willing to wait for you.”

<<>>

His car purrs as it rolls into the driveway upon his arrival home, having just come from hanging out with friends after school. Dan loves going out with them, but to be frank, it gets exhausting sometimes.

Right now, he kinda wants to take a nap.

A chirp comes from the car as he hits the buttons on his keys to lock up the thing, and the moment he unintentionally shoots a glance at the house next door happens to be the same moment that Phil looks up from his spot on the porch.

Phil looks down at his feet right when their gazes meet, before choosing to raise his head once more and give Dan a little wave. “Hey,” he mouths.

A moment of hesitance, then Dan smiles and takes a step forward. As if it’s an invitation, Dan walks over and sits next to Phil, joining him. The last time they had talked had been over text a day or two ago, and they have only met up once more since their initial meeting at the library. The steps creak a bit at their weight and their legs nearly touch, but not quite.

Slowly but surely, they are warming up to one another.

“So what are you working on? Are you working on our project?” Dan leans a little into Phil’s side to get a better look at Phil’s notebook, while remaining careful as to not be too invasive of his space. A writer’s notebook is like an artist’s sketchbook: a secluded place for the expression of thought. The cover is worn and the pages are messy, Phil’s writing ranging from neat print to rushed scrawls. Anyone could tell that that little notebook was the receiver of a lot of love. Dan’s heart skips a little at that thought; it always makes him happy when a creator is passionate about their own work.

“Yeah actually,” Phil replies, not looking up. He keeps writing as he completes his thought. “Just brainstorming about various ideas.”

“Is it okay if I stay here?”

Phil nods. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

A few minutes pass of comfortable silence, and Dan even took out his own sketchbook from his backpack. He keeps making a few strokes then erasing, feeling the urge to do something as Phil is sitting beside him seemingly within an endless river of creative flow. He breaks the silence as he wonders in a whisper out loud, “You know, people always see you writing in that thing.” Dan then pauses, attempting to formulate his question before he voices it. “How do you… How do you constantly have something to write about?”

Phil is quiet, thinking before he comes up with a response. “It’s about being honest I think.”

“Honest?”

“Yep, honest.” Phil affirms. His pen stops writing for a second, and he makes a motion towards his body, looking forward rather than directly addressing Dan. “Let whatever is in you tell the story you know? They don’t have to be complete ideas, you just need to let them exist. Like how our tattoos appear on their own, but still tell our story to others, in a way.”

As Phil rambles on, without realising, Dan is sketching Phil’s profile. Glancing up to look at him while he speaks to give an occasional sign that he’s still listening, his wrists make little flicks and strokes across the page, while his hands are especially careful with shading. Dan spends quite a bit of time on Phil’s cheekbones, for he can’t seem to get it right.

He grins softly. Phil seems to be all angles and sharp edges, and it’s kind of enticing.

“...And most of all, with honesty, you know what is real.”

<<>>

“You know Phil, this is a bit clingy.”

“Clingy? May I remind that you were the one calling me at two in the morning for the past week and a half.”

“Pbbbt, but you said you didn’t mind!”

“Yeah, you’re right—”

“Damn straight I am.”

“But anyways, you didn’t call me tonight, and I was still awake, and now here we are.”

“I don’t need your excuses, Lester. So what do you wanna talk about? Because we’ve got all night.”

<<>>

According to Dan, working at a Starbucks coffee shop is ‘too corporate,’ and that is why they are at a local cafe now.

Chris and PJ are here as well. They’re doing a cute little “study group” thing, but instead of studying they are discussing their projects. It’s always good to have someone to bounce ideas off of, and brainstorming is better when one is able to hear feedback from other people.

They’re all casually chatting, as friends of friends all together.

What’s strange though, is this: Chris is being particularly touchy towards PJ. It was playful touches at first, to his arms and to his sides, but then all of a sudden he put his arm around PJ’s shoulders. PJ didn’t acknowledge it at all, but the expression on his face was one of someone who was definitely flustered.

Dan raises an eyebrow at Chris upon seeing this, the other only responding with an eyebrow raise back as if in a challenge of, what? Something wrong?

And as for Phil, his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth as he has a shit-eating grin, simply amused.

It becomes a source of small unacknowledged tension, but no one brings it up and they all continue their relaxed chatter. Each of them grab several pastries and a coffee each, scones and croissants and the like, “brain food” being the excuse for all of the sugar in their purchases. They then head towards a table by one of the cafe’s huge windows that overlook the London street.

PJ speaks up about their projects first. “So, what’s your guys’ idea?”

“We’re going for a kinda… like… nature-y? Is that the right word?” Phil looks at Dan, who just kinda shrugs. “Theme. Something with the forest, or the ocean… We don’t know for sure yet.”

Chris nods, and looks at Dan. “Colors?”

“Earth tones, I would guess,” Dan replies, taking a bite from his scone.

Chris hums in approval. “Some cooler undertones would work nicely with that, I think.”

“How about you guys?” asks Dan.

“Something with a whole lot of bold color. That’s kinda all we got.” PJ shrugs.

“We’re just rolling with it,” Chris barely manages to add, mouth full.

Phil points his question towards PJ. “And how’s the writing?”

“Well I haven't had too much time to really develop it, I've been working on stuff for the poetry slam…” PJ says sheepishly, momentarily preferring to watch himself stir his coffee over looking up.

“Spontaneity is the best kind of creativity!” Chris exclaims defensively, yet mostly excitedly, He lists descriptors as he counts them off on his fingers, voice all sass and eagerness, making everyone laugh. “It's gonna have a lot of color, it's gonna be bright, and it's gonna be cool as heck!”

“Poetry slam?” Dan inquires. “Our school has that, PJ?”

“Yep! It's open to all the students but mostly english students enter, I’ve been bothering Phil to join for ages—” When PJ moves his hand to point at Phil, the porcelain of his coffee mug hits the table and his drink  becomes a brown puddle of a mess out of nowhere. It had narrowly missed his crotch, and thank goodness, not a drop fell upon the notes of his that were scattered on the table in front of him.

Chris’ eyes widen, and he reacts quicker than all of them. “I’ve got this,” he assures PJ, immediately rushing off to grab napkins, but not before leaving PJ with a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine!”

When Chris is out of earshot, Phil immediately gives PJ a look.

PJ’s face only gets redder, and he folds his hands in his lap. “Shut up he didn't mean anything by it…”  

But Phil is relentless, and he’s not buying PJ’s denial at all. He doesn’t stop giving his old friend that look that is all smiles and muffled laughs. Eventually, PJ breaks and bursts out with, “Okay, I admit it, he might’ve maybe asked me out yesterday…!” Phil smirks, and finally lets out the laugh he was holding in. “But to be honest I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

Throughout the past few moments of Phil and PJ’s exchange, Dan had remained silent, gaze bouncing between Phil’s knowing grin and PJ’s not-at-all-subtle blush. It is for that reason that when he makes a comment it catches them both off guard, even though it was more of an observation to himself, if anything. With his chin in his palm and his elbow resting on the table edge, Dan murmurs, “Huh, that's why Chris looks so happy. He's probably the happiest I've ever seen him.”

“Yeah,” says PJ after hesitating a little, addressing Dan’s words. He bites his lip, the corners of his mouth hinting at turning up as he admits the truth. “He makes me really happy too.”

“Happy enough to write about?” asks Phil with a smile, referring to their conversation from way back when. Dan sits, listening still.

PJ doesn’t look at Phil directly, but his hand unconsciously reaches up to his face to briefly touch where Chris has left a quick kiss earlier. If you looked closely, a little tattoo of a planet was beginning to fade into view.

“We’ll see.”

Chris finally returns, a wad of napkins in his grasp. Carefully he begins dabbing at the mess, nudging PJ’s papers aside so that they would be out of the way, all while PJ has a look that is entirely of affection all over him, as Chris pays no mind.

Very casually, PJ throws a question into the air. “So, what time and place?”

Chris crumples up the napkins, the coffee mess finally cleaned up, and heads towards the nearest bin. “For what?” he calls, throwing the trash away.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about our date already.”

Standing in place a couple feet away, Chris is frozen and his jaw goes slack, and PJ can’t help but giggle. Chris is simply beaming now. He rushes to the table to directly talk to Dan and Phil, words rushed and excited. “Sorry to cut it short lads, but we’ve got a date to plan,” Chris says matter-of-factly, adorned with an adorable little salute. After that his hands move to help PJ pack up his things, and in a matter of seconds everything is put away.

When they head towards the cafe door, PJ flashes a sheepish expression to Dan and Phil and mouths a “Sorry about this,” followed by a sincere, “Thank you.” Before they disappear, Chris then grabs PJ’s hand in his— holding it up to his lips to place a quick kiss on the back of PJ’s hand.

Cute.

As for the left-behind-two, an hour and a half more passes before they make any real effort to go. The company is lovely even if they aren’t talking. They are simply working in silence, both lost in their own creative worlds, and it is only when a worker comes up to them and asks if they would like to order anything more (to which they politely declined) do they begin to clean up their space.

“They’re cute together,” says Phil, a comment that breaks the stillness between them.

“Yeah,” Dan replies nonchalantly. He closes his bag after putting away his sketchbook and pencils bag, and slides the strap on his shoulder as they both head towards the door. To no one in particular he adds, “They’re really happy together, aren’t they?”

The edges of words seemed to be tinged with a bit of longing, if you listened hard enough.

When they step out of the cafe, Phil immediately rubs his arms, his breath forming a small cloud with each exhale from the oxygen in his lungs and the brisk air. “Heh, I didn’t expect it to be this cold today…”

Almost hesitantly, Dan places his own jacket upon Phil’s shoulders. The gesture isn’t acknowledged at all, and he just keeps walking, ignoring the fact that the chill was now getting to him. He refrains from rubbing his own arms, and just shoves his hands into his pockets. He only did as any friend would do.

In the meantime, Phil just stands there, not knowing how to react.

Steps ahead now, Dan merely waves his hand before quickly putting it back into the pocket of his jeans, beckoning Phil to walk a little faster.  “C’mon Phil, let’s go home.”

<<>>

phil: <IMG_0981 is attached. View image?> phil: LOOK AT THESE DOGS!!!!! phil: IT’S A DOG WHO HAS A GUIDE DOG

dan: asagAFGAAJHLHFW dan: THAT’S THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER S E E N

<<>>

philip michael lester. flashback; age eleven.

He stood outside, garden hose in hand. His mother had told him to water the plants around the front porch, and that is exactly what he did. Although the job required focus, it did nothing to prevent him from becoming lost in thought.

The age of him and his peers was one where crushes were all too common. Girls were talking about cute boys; boys were talking about cute girls. However, no one really made Phil feel the way that other people claimed they felt— Samantha from maths lent him a pencil once? That was kind of her. But he would only want to become friends with her and nothing more, he was sure.

A yelp of surprise escaped from him when he suddenly realised that the water had begun to pool around his feet amidst his musings, which formed a damp patch of grass that was well on its way to becoming a muddy puddle. Quickly, he ran to the side of the house to turn off the hose, and started to make his way back inside.

Before he crossed his driveway to head towards the small path that led to his front door, out of the corner of his eye he noticed something roll across the road.

  It was a piece of white chalk. The neighbor’s, to be more precise, who appeared to be outside as well. A rare occurrence it was: Phil had only seen them a handful of times before.

Tentatively, he took the chalk piece into his hand. Heading towards who was kneeled in the driveway next to his own, in front of a house with freshly trimmed grass and no garden, but did have a single weeping willow. As his steps drew him closer, more details about his neighbor, a somebody about his age, came into view.

And honestly? Phil couldn't help but be left dumbfounded.

The pretty boy in front of him had equally pretty hands. With those hands of slightly tanned skin he was creating art out of seemingly nowhere; slender fingers fabricated gentle strokes, images of flowers and stars, along with daisies and planets and angels amongst them stole Phil’s breath to allow for only awe to remain.

Phil was almost nervous to disturb him. If he did, it would be like catching a doe in a forest clearing— one moment peaceful, until a slight sound frightens them away. So because of that, he made sure to be careful.

His voice of “Um, this yours?” was a whisper full of gentleness that seemed mindful of the delicate flowers that the boy in front of him seemed to be growing out of the pavement.

Immediately, the boy looked up, revealing brown eyes that perfectly matched his brown curls. “Yes, thank you,” the boy replied quietly, carefully taking the chalk piece from his extended reach. His fingertips lightly grazed against Phil’s, which left Phil’s hands tingling.

In the three days that followed, Phil had fireworks tattooed upon his fingertips (and more often than not, from then on, one could catch him writing poetry on the front porch in an effort to catch a glimpse of the boy again).

<<>>

Dan throws a bag of McDonald’s on the library table, the sound of its impact resounding through the quiet studying of students. And if that’s not enough, he follows up with a loud, “Eat up babes, let's get to work!”

Laughing, Phil does an exaggerated fake gasp. “Dan! Watch your volume!” Reaching over the the table, he grabs the bag off the table, still noticeably hot. When he opens it, a little whiff of steam comes up, caressing his face. “Besides, why'd you buy this anyway?”

Dan shrugs, taking a chicken nugget and shoving it into his mouth. While he’s chewing he responds, “I’ve been noticing that you never have food when we work on school days, and we usually work during lunch. It's always just a drink and like, a bag of chips.”

Phil shrugs back, head tilting as his words trail off. “I just find eating to be a waste of time…”

Dan holds up his hand, cutting his words short as his voice trails off. “Don’t even give me that bullshit Phil, it’s because you’re always writing and you think you have no time for eating, so just eat a little bit or so help me.” He nudges the bag closer to Phil so that it hits Phil’s chest. Dan’s eyes shift to the side a little, and his voice becomes a bit demure. “Just… Take a break from that carpal tunnel catalyst, and dig in, alright?”

Phil opens the bag reluctantly and sighs, taking a bite of a french fry. His lips are pursed into a pout, for what Dan said was pretty much on the nose. He doesn’t mean to avoid eating, honest, it just… happens that way.

He smiles. The fact that Dan noticed and bought him food is such a sweet gesture, and the more Phil chews, the more Dan looks satisfied. Dan claps his hands together right as Phil swallows.

“Cool, now let’s get started.”

Today is final drafts day.

In order to proceed with the final production of their project they have to refine their drafts, and that is what today is dedicated to. For their work to not go to waste, everything has to be absolutely perfect (but to be fair, a poor outcome resulting from the two of them is actually quite doubtful).

“I’ve got these so far,” indicates Phil, pulling out various disheveled papers. They’ve got red ink that make it look like his writing went through a bloodbath, with elegantly chaotic black scrawls to match. He holds them out to Dan and is a bit sheepish about it, kinda embarrassed by how messy it is. “You can look through them right now if you want, but they’re not that great…”

Dan shakes his head, automatically dismissing Phil’s putdown of himself. “I doubt that, Phil. I absolutely doubt that.” He accepts Phil’s writing from Phil’s outstretched hand, and exchanges it with a few ripped out sheets of his own from his sketchbook, graphite smeared and all. “And here’s mine, they’re really sketchy and not as refined as they could be, but you should get the idea.”

When they’re looking over each other’s rough pieces, Phil’s fingers linger over the calculated strokes of Dan’s drawings, all while Dan is floored by Phil’s words.

Dan has never gotten the opportunity to see Phil’s work like this before. He’s taking in everything, soaking every word and descriptor in, and he makes sure he does not miss a single stanza. He never was someone with a way with words, that’s why he stuck with visual arts. But he is thankful that he was given the opportunity to read rawness such as this.

Then suddenly he notices a little something. A little bit that doesn’t seem to quite fit in with the rest catches his eye, a little snippet of a thing that was barely legible and had the last word cut off.

‘n ‘ol brunette has got that teasing grin skipping class and hands that have likely committed sin that ugly little shit messing with my h

When he reads it he snickers, and when he points to it and holds it up to Phil, he can’t keep his laughter in and he justs bursts into a giggling fit. “Aw, Phil,” his tone entirely both sing-songy and teasing, “Guess now I know that you think that I’m an ‘ugly little shit.’” Dan does a little pout. “Do you not think I’m cute?”

“Pfff! Please,” Phil sputters, realising what exactly Dan was pointing to. “Who says that’s about you?”

“I mean we could just address the ‘hands that have likely committed sin’ part…”

At the sound of that, Phil interjects quickly. “Fine, you’re adorable!” Barely processing the thought, Dan thinks, “Pbbt, so are you,” and Phil suddenly puts his index finger in front of Dan’s lips in a shhhing motion.

“What’s going on—”

“No no no, shush!” Phil holds a finger up, as if motioning “Hold on,” and Dan takes the hint and complies. Phil’s eyebrows are scrunched, clearly thinking.

“What?” Dan asks, after a few moments pass.

Phil takes both sets of their work from their respective spots and lays it upon the space in front of them, spread out but distinctly separate. He purses his lip, unsure at first then proceeding to rearranging a few. “Why don’t we… write about...” Phil picks up a sketch from Dan’s side and a page or two from his own. He hands the chosen ones to Dan, who takes it with a raised eyebrow. “This?”

Dan slowly nods, shifting through the papers and ultimately agreeing with the choices. He turns his body, his eyes looking up to meet Phil’s. “So that’s it? That’s our theme?”

Phil answers his question with an affirming hum, and when he starts explaining it just to clarify they find that they were on the same page all along. “It’ll be about humanity in its rawest form—”

“With earthy elements and other aspects of nature—”

“How we all have stories—”

“...and what makes a human human is emotion.”

Phil’s grin reaches from ear to ear. “Perfect.”

“Fuck yeah!” yells Dan, pounding a fist on the table. He holds up his palm for a high five, which Phil happily reciprocates.

When he hears a loud SHHH! come from behind him, Phil’s eyes widen, for it is most likely the librarian telling them to politely shut the hell up. He looks at Dan and silently scolds him, mouthing “Language!” to which Dan merely giggles, his laughs muffled as he tries to keep quiet.

“Fuck you,” Dan mouths back.

Phil rolls his eyes and smirks. His reply comes with a chuckle: “You wish.”

<<>>

Forget about Monopoly being end-all be-all relationship ruiner. With the way the game was currently going, Mario Kart should be the holder of that title.

“EAT MY ASS,” yells Dan. With every turn, he turns as well, because he insists it ‘helps me play better!’. His body rams into Phil’s side as he mimics the motion of the kart on the screen.

A breath leaves Phil’s lungs with an oof as Dan nearly knocks him to the floor. He automatically bursts into a laughing fit, pressing into the buttons of his controller even harder. “NEVER!!”

At this point they’re practically sitting on top of each other, and seem to have ignored the whole concept of sitting on the bed rather than the floor. Legs crossed, his knee touching his knee, the room is filled with giggles and playful banter as they keep jabbing each other in the side as they play.

When one shouts, and the other pouts— the game is officially over.

Dan crosses his arms, and presses his lips into a thin line. He withholds himself from bitterly throwing the control to the ground, but he does cross his arms. “Good game,” he mutters.

Shaking his head, Phil rolls his eyes at Dan’s dramatics. He gives Dan a pitiful pat on the back, and gives his reply all-too-knowingly. “Oh just let it out, we both know you’re a sore loser.”

A sharp inhale through the nose, and a slow exhale through the mouth.

Followed by a swift headbutt by Dan to Phil’s shoulder.

“OW!”

Dan jokingly starts to lightly punch Phil in the back, sides, and shoulders, shouting,  “YOU WERE THE ONE THAT HIT ME WITH A FUCKING SHELL AT THE END I THOUGHT WE WERE PLAYING RELATIVELY NICE!!” He pushes him down, Phil chuckling at Dan’s sad attempt to push him over (noodle arms are not that effective, Dan has learned). “I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

They land on the ground, the punching turning into tickling. Phil rolls around in an effort to avoid Dan’s attacks, but each attempt is futile, and instead his stomach hurts from the laughter and his face aches from the grin on his face that reaches from ear to ear. “See,” Phil laughs in between breaths, “What an incredibly sore loser you are.”

Dan finally sits back up, smug at Phil’s ‘defeat.’ “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” He holds a hand out to Phil, and they pull each other up so that they are both standing. “I still totally should have won though.”

At a suggestion to take a snack break, the two head downstairs towards Phil’s kitchen. They continue to chat, and as Phil moves towards the pantry, he makes a gesture for Dan to take a seat at the dining table.

When Phil turns around, he not only has various food in his hand, he has a smile on his face. He walks over to the table and sets a plate of cookies in front of Dan, making Dan look up from his phone and eagerly move to grab a cookie of his own.

“You know, where you're sitting right now, is where my mum told me about what tattoos were.”

With a mouth full, Dan manages a, “Really?” Phil nods, and Dan swallows the last bits down his throat. “Was it like, a serious talk?”

Phil is at the counter now, he has decidedly chosen to make hot chocolate for the both of them. He mulls over Dan’s question as he gets the hot chocolate mix out. “Hm, no? Not really. I was like five or something. How about you? When did your parents tell you?”

“Oh, uh…” Dan grimaces, suddenly feeling awkward. “They— they never really told me? I kind of just found out on my own. From classmates, and the internet, and stuff. They never brought it up, and I never really asked…”

“Oh.” For a moment, Phil stops moving. “So they didn’t even tell you where they come from?”

“What do you mean? No one knows where they come from. Isn’t there still no confirmation from scientists about their origins or whatever?”

“Yeah, but my mum told me.”

Phil hesitates a little, the tiniest bit embarrassed.

“She told me they came from love.”

Dan sputters, laughing, nearly choking on his food. Phil doesn’t say a word and continues to prepare the drinks. “No offense Phil,” Dan chuckles. “But really?”

“I know, I know. But at the same time, there’s no harm in believing in things like that, don’t you think?” Phil hands a mug to Dan, who takes it gratefully. They clink their mugs together and drink a bit at the same time. Phil laughs when Dan makes a face at how hot it is, and Dan rapidly starts blowing on the drink to decrease its intense heat.

“Love though? Quite doubtful.”

“Are you not a believer in love? How about you and Erin?” Phil takes another sip from his hot chocolate. When a little residue is left on his upper lip, his tongue easily leaves and licks it away in a moment. “How are you guys doing?”

Dan’s eyes don’t quite meet his, sounding distracted. “Oh we’re great.” When he looks back up at Phil, Phil’s expression is expectant, waiting. Dan quickly rushes to elaborate on his previous sentiment. “She’s lovely, and so sweet!  Every date I’ve been on with her has been amazing. She’s incredible. I like her a lot.”

Phil nods. “I’m glad.”

After that, he says nothing more.

He takes Dan’s now-empty mug from his hand, and washes it after his own. Dan’s eyebrows are scrunched in thought, he’s staring at his phone again, but he’s not really processing what’s on the screen at all.  

Phil finishes up rinsing their cups in the sink, and puts their mugs into the dishwasher. He dries off his hands with a hand towel. Once he’s all done, he asks Dan, “You wanna go back upstairs and keep playing?”

Dan’s phone vibrates.

from erin, to dan:

Hey babe! I’ll be finishing up work soon, you wanna come over?

Rather than unlocking his phone, he reads the message as it is on his lockscreen. He ignores it, and shoves the phone back into his pocket.

Dan smiles up at Phil. “Yeah. Let's go.”

Phil grins back, and as he leads them back to his bedroom, he has his hand on Dan’s back. The atmosphere is nice and easy. Uncomplicated.

He makes a comment about how Dan is ‘totally going down’ again, but to be honest, Dan isn’t really listening.

Later at night, in his own room, Dan takes off his shirt before he goes to bed. He always sleeps shirtless (that is nothing new), but it’s different this time: for if he had looked in the reflection in the mirror behind him, he would have noticed that there were dandelions on his back exactly where Phil had touched before.

By the morning though, they are gone.

<<>>

phil: I remember you saying you had a test today, good luck! phil: The universe may test ya like this but I believe in ya

dan: oh shush go pay attention in class dan: but ty that’s v nice dan: u’re too good for me

<<>>

“Aw, they’re so cute together!”

These are the words that seem to be just about everywhere: in the comment section of various social media, in the giggles of the hallways, in the not-so-subtle gestures and points of the cafeteria crowd. They can't seem to go anywhere without encountering what seems to be a fan club around the two of them.

But don't get him wrong. Because there is nothing wrong in the first place.

Erin is a lovely girl, and they have been together for a while, three weeks almost four weeks now. And that is far longer than any previous girl of Dan’s. With a wild head of curls and an even wilder personality, she is a whole lot of fun, and he loves to admire the beautiful ink upon her arms. She has these beautiful gradients of rising suns around her arms along with clouds that often change in hue.

Each and every time she goes on her tiptoes and she wraps her arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips, he can’t help but be reminded of the idea of them, both in regards to the tattoos themselves and of him and Erin as a couple. Of all things though, he is reminded of Chris’ party especially.

Additionally, as if that isn’t enough, there are whispers of new ink starting to bud on her hands. Rumors that the new ink matches his own spread like wildflowers, even though so few have seen the hidden marigold to the extent that there are doubts of its existence. The possibility of Erin’s budding flowers being identical to his still makes his own blossom burn at the thought.

Because even though he did say that there was nothing wrong, there is an issue. And that issue is that nothing has happened to his own skin.

Besides the common flare ups of ink that happens to most people including himself, the only thing constant that he has is the single flower on the spot behind his ear, and that has been been on his skin for years.

Maybe he could— No. He couldn’t.

Could he?

It wouldn’t hurt —it couldn’t hurt— if nobody found out.

Besides, it couldn’t hurt to fake tattoos for a while, right?

He ignores the prickling of stars appearing on his ribcage, and takes some skin-safe ink to his own arms to mimic what Erin has on her own body. When the prickling starts going around his abdomen and begins to reach his shoulder blades, he still pays no heed to it.

He just continues on.

With each mark and movement of his nimble fingers, his stomach turns once more, even more so as he recalls the words that Phil mentioned before. What he said about honesty, about truth. This thing, what Dan is doing right now, he knows is the exact opposite of that.

He shakes his head in an attempt to shake the words off his mind. Phil has nothing to do with this. Phil has nothing to do with the state of Dan’s feelings for Erin. Why is he thinking of him at a time like this? For that matter, why is Dan doing it in the first place?

To be brief, he does not want to be rude. It’s not like Erin isn’t a nice girl anyway, so it’ll be fine. It will only be for a little while until those typical boy-girl feelings become stronger, because that’s how it works. That’s how it should work. And it will. There’s no reason to not reciprocate what Erin evidently feels for him. Naturally, it will all work out.

Yet if he were to take Phil’s words to heart right now and be honest, in reality, Dan was actually pushing certain feelings away.

Dan touches up the final details of clouds on his forearm, and presses his lips into a straight line, shoving the spiraling feelings that were welling up in his chest far deep into the ground below his feet.

If he were to be honest, he was actually just pushing certain feelings away… And with regards to other things, he was simply burying them further.

And covering them up.

<<>>

daniel james howell. flashback; age thirteen.

“...NOW AS A RESULT THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT IS CURRENTLY HOLDING DISCUSSIONS IN REGARDS TO THE POSSIBLE LEGALIZATION OF HOMOSEXUAL MARRIAGE. THERE IS NO FURTHER INFORMATION AT THE MOMENT, BUT RADICAL ADVOCATES FOR THE LGBT COMMUNITY ARE CURRENTLY LINED UP IN FRONT OF THE GOVERNMENT HALL—”

A harsh, snarky tch came from Dan’s father, his blatant irritation had jarringly interrupted the newscast that came from kitchen radio. In his hands the steak knife threatened to start shaking with his tight grip, his knuckles whitening to nearly match the teeth he was gritting in anger. “Those homosexuals,” he spat, while he slammed the table with his fist at the same time, “Those homosexuals need to get the fuck out of our country, or better yet off our planet, or I will BEAT THEIR ASSES!!”

His mother simply took a napkin to her lips and daintily dabbed at her mouth, taking a breath before she added input of her own. “Now honey, some of them may be nice,” her tone calm and even. With a voice tinged with what seemed like genuine concern she continued, “I just don’t understand, they can’t have children, so why even bother if they can simply choose a lovely lady or a strong man?” She reached across the table to squeeze her husband’s tense fist. “If anything dear, I think it’s just a trend.”

The entire “discussion” only progressed from there, all while Dan remained silent. His shoulders hunched in as if he was going to fall into himself, he ate his food with minimal noise whether it be chewing or cutting into it for a bite, merely taking everything, every comment— “It’ll blow over, for this it just sounds ridiculous”, retort— “Ridiculousness has wrongfully made it’s way to the law of the land!”, and remark— “To put it simply, the gays need to know their place”, in.

Eventually he asked if he could be excused (he was given permission by a grunt of acknowledgement from his father and a nod from his mother).

Dan’s room was his sanctuary. Constantly he would go there for escape, or to remain in solitude with his thoughts, and this was one of those times. From the back of his closet he revealed his unfinished painting, taking it from its resting spot and placing it upon the floor so that he could resume his work. The canvas was one that he left alone but kept coming back to—maybe he would finish it one day. A year or two had passed since his work on it began.

His paints were in his lower bedside drawer, and he took those out as well. Every movement was routine, a relaxing habit, and essentially his mind was a step ahead of his actions. But perhaps the ease of not thinking only gave way for other, bad thoughts to come.

The harsh tongue of his father as he spat out the words “those homosexuals” could not leave his ears and only further buried itself in his mind. The comment made his hair stand on end, even though he didn’t know precisely why. Dan knew that he couldn’t like boys. Liking boys was wrong. Boys like girls, and girls like boys. Nothing else. And why would Dan care about liking boys anyway? Dan liked girls.

why would he care why would he care why would he care—

His chest was heaving. He only snapped out of his train of thought when he realised his breathing had become erratic, his chest heaved and his hands were shaking and his heartbeat was far too rapid for it to be normal. At an attempt to relax he tried to breathe, he inhaled and exhaled in time as he closed his eyes.

Darkness came.

Darkness came, and colors followed. Shades of blue, green, and yellow. His painting was actually composed of only that particular color palette, a set of hues that seemed to be set in not only his subconscious but also within the motions of his brush. They reminded him of someone’s eyes, but no one he knew. They reminded him of the ocean, of waves he wasn’t used to.

They were always comforting. Those colors never failed to ease him.

Through his open window, he heard the neighbors’ garage open, and he opened his eyes. The sounds of their laughs made their way into his room, which made him smile a little. Those laughs eased him too. The family next door must have arrived home.

Within his own house, dinner had presumably ended. He could hear his parents’ footsteps in the hallway outside his bedroom door, their bickering anything but quiet. “I don’t want him drawing, I don’t want any of that sissy shit.”

That was his father.

“He is super talented and we should be supporting our son!”

And that was his mother.

He put on headphones to drown out it all, and dipped his brush into his paints. This time, he focused on blue. As his strokes hit the paper, shivers went up his spine as a tattoo of tree branches spread out across his back, and as its roots went down to his hips; the only signs of life that the tree’s branches held was the idea that it used to be budding once.

<<>>

In basic english, the poetry unit is coming to a close. For the past couple of days, the students have been presenting their favorite poetry pieces to the class, an assignment that the teacher thought would be a fit way to wrap up the unit.

“Dan, you’re up,” calls Mr. Lamansi.

Finally, now he can get this done. He is the last student that needs to present.

Although he isn’t nervous, his heart is pounding incessantly in his chest. He definitely has jitters, a finite flow of energy that is coursing through his veins and he can’t seem to calm it down, and everyone can definitely tell. Who couldn’t? His hands are trembling so much.

The amount of anxiousness in his body makes this whole ordeal feel like confessional.

Before he actually starts, he awkwardly coughs to clear his throat. “Um, I picked a part from that poem we read a long time ago? Walt Whitman’s Song of the Open Road?” Mr. Lamansi then nods and jots the title down, and makes a motion for Dan to begin.

When he makes an attempt at a taking a deep breath, he hears a whisper. Turning his head slightly he sees Erin, who makes a silly face at him, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing a little. Instead, he opts for a simple smile.

And then he (he couldn’t help himself) casts a glance at Phil, who's beaming at him, all warmth and encouragement and support. Dan’s small smile widens just the littlest bit more. What did Dan ever do to deserve a friend like him?

With that, his shoulders relax, and he breathes.

Swallowing his worry, Dan feels ready now.

“I will recruit for myself and you as I go; I will scatter myself among men and women as I go; I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them; Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me; Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me; Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me. Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.”

When he finishes, he does everything in his power to not completely rush back to his seat. He tries to keep it cool, but he can feel his face burning, and if anyone looked hard enough they could see little leaves and thorns popping up along his collarbone.

A couple seats away, Phil’s heart is swelling. For some reason he feels like this poem has an underlying importance to Dan, and if he were to reread the lines to himself perhaps he would even realise what its significance even was. For now though, that was something that Dan could keep all to himself. Phil is proud of him for standing in front of the whole class like that (Lord knows that Phil’s confidence in his own public speaking is quite mediocre at best).

Small moments like these only fuel Phil’s admiration for this boy, and this time he can't help but feel pride and a sense of wonder all at once.

In Dan’s pocket, Dan’s phone vibrates. Before sliding it out, Dan quickly glances at the teacher to check whether the coast is clear, and upon ensuring so, he reads the notification under his desk.

to dan, from phil:

You did so great!

The small gesture is so sweet, and although it isn't much, it makes Dan undeniably happy. He has this expression of light, a grin reaching from ear to ear. While he can't see it himself, he swears the marigold behind his ear is tingling for the bud of another golden flower.

As they are leaving class, Dan comes up to Phil’s side and puts a hand on his shoulder to catch Phil’s attention before Phil has the chance to head off in the other direction.

“So, see you later?”

Cheeks red, Phil replies shyly, “Yeah, see you.”

<<>>

Soft taps are hitting metal, and Phil knows that Dan doesn’t even need to look to see who it is. He already knows it’s Phil. When Dan shuts his locker and he pokes his head out, saying “Heyy!” with a huge grin and the cutest dimple, Phil can’t help but to match with a smile that’s equally as big.

If someone told Phil that he and Dan would be friends one day, he would doubt them. But right now, he’s chatting with his crush, they’re face to face, laughing and shining with ease and happiness. Phil is on top of the world.

But Dan reaching up to close his locker door placed Dan’s arm at Phil’s eye level, and for a moment, Phil saw Dan’s tattoos up close. When his hand eventually falls back to his side, Phil’s eyes linger over them for a moment more. He has forgotten something important, something more prominent than the dimple in Dan’s soft cheek that Phil adores. The tattoos are a reminder: Dan isn’t his.

The wings on any of the butterflies Phil has in his stomach rapidly frumple, suddenly shy and abashed, and his smile can’t help but falter a little.

<<>>

Even though they don’t have an audience or anything because everyone has already headed to class, when Erin is kissing him, he’s not really kissing back. At all. The hallways are pretty much empty and the only sounds that remain are her lips on him. But even then, he can’t focus on her. If anything he is much more interested in absentmindedly playing with her hair.

Erin pulls away from him, noticing his lack of enthusiasm. She places a kiss on the marigold behind his ear, a tender thing, but to him it just burns. “Love, what’s wrong?”

Dan only brushes the question off, the ringing of the first tardy warning bell easily makes it so he doesn’t have to answer much. “Nothing, I promise.”

The expression in Erin’s face shows that she doesn’t buy it. “Oh Dan,” her voice sympathetic, one hand rubbing the space on his back between his shoulder blades.“Let’s just ditch class and go to my house? I can make you feel better and get you out of this funk.” She ends that last sentence with a wink.

As gently as he can, he pushes Erin off of him, politely giving her a cordial smile. “Uh, maybe next time?” His eyes not-so-subtly look away from her, and he just scratches the back of his neck, with his shoulders hunched stiffly. He starts to open his mouth to say something, but abruptly, the second late bell rings this time. “Let’s just head to class, alright? We’re gonna be late.” From there, he attempts to make his leave.

Erin hastily grabs his arm before he can make it too far. Her grip is firm.

“What has been with you lately?”

Despite sounding tender, she definitely comes off as confrontational. All the little things she has been noticing about him for the past few weeks begins to spill out of her one by one, in the form of pent up evidence supporting a suppressed argument.

“We’ve barely hung out, you rarely approach me first, and don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you hardly ever text me back anymore,” her voice cracks, just the slightest bit, but it is not vulnerability, it is only irritation. When she looks at him, she makes perfect, dead on eye contact, as if daring him to look away.

She starts getting louder. Her face is getting more red and more frustrated, the emotion further emphasised in her tone. “I thought I had it. I really did! I thought I was in one of the most important relationships of my life— here I thought I was different, and that I changed the ‘unattainable Dan Howell’…!” In a flash, it all shifts and she suddenly becomes a bit reserved. A bit meeker, wishful. Regretting and inhibited. Her voice is quieter. “…And that I found a really, really sweet guy.” She smiles the smallest bit, but her eyes are dull.

Her fingers start fiddling with the ends of her hair, and she looks down at her feet. “Instead, you just seem disinterested.”

“Look Erin, it’s not you it’s me—”

At that, her glare rises up once more, red lines suddenly appearing in wings at the ends of her eyes, further emphasizing her vexation. “Stop.” Her index finger threateningly pokes his chest with nearly every word that she says. “Don’t you even dare give me that load of bull. shit. I had to have done something.”

“You didn’t do anything, I promise,” Dan tries to reassure her, but he can tell that in the same way she didn’t believe him when he said was fine earlier, she absolutely does not believe him right now.

“Dan, don’t lie to me,” Erin huffs. She then furrows her eyebrows and kinda tilts her head and frowns, but it’s not directed at him, not really, and Dan knows that it means she’s thinking. When the corners of her mouth turn up a little and she shakes her head and laughs to herself, that is when he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to react. And he certainly does not anticipate the words that would then exit from her lips.

“I bet it’s that boy. It’s that boy, isn’t it?”

Dan bites his lip, his words are caught in his throat, and for some reason he can’t make himself reply.

A moment passes. One that lasts a beat too long for it to be salvaged.

“Oh.” Her voice and face suddenly falls and softens. It’s evident that she did not expect her ‘revelation’ to actually ring true. “Oh, Dan. I’m right aren’t I?”

Dan’s brows raise and his eyes widen, his hands waving frantically in an effort to convince her of the truth. “No!! No no, no way. We’re just friends, plus, I think that you’ve forgotten that I’m straight.”

Erin sighs. “But straight boys don’t look at other boys —well, just a single boy in your case— like you have, Dan. It makes sense now that I think about it, and honestly why didn’t I see it before, and I don’t care about the whole ‘gay thing’ if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She turns away and opens her locker, packing a few things into her bag, then slides one strap on her shoulder. “Love is love, and who am I to deny that?” Instead of then moving her body to face him, she bites her cheek. Her head tilts to the side a bit as she looks down. “I just hate that I had to find out like this.”

“Erin, I’m telling you!! We’re just friends!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” she waves, brushing him off. She doesn’t move, hand still on the locker door. She only turns her head so that he can look at her when she makes her point. “But baby, it’s obvious. And if you still can’t see it, then maybe you should stop and take a good look at what you’re missing.”

“You’ve got it all wrong—”

“Look…” Erin lets out a low exhale and lets her eyelids fall over her eyes, slamming the locker hard enough to both make the sound echo off the walls of the now empty halls. To her relief, it also  effectively shuts Dan up. She sounds tired. “I’m gonna head home alright? I don’t really feel like being here anymore. You can go back to class.”

After beginning to walk off, she stops after only taking a few steps.

Her back remains as the only thing facing towards him.

“Dan?”

He hesitates before responding. “Yeah?”

Before she speaks, she takes a second to articulate what exactly she wants to say. Even though it’s not a goodbye, it sure as hell feels like one.

It’s like a final admission.

“You… You were a good time. Even if you ignore me after this, since we’ll just be classmates, say hi once in awhile, yeah? And consider who’s important to you. Really, really consider it,” she then angles her body a bit to look over her shoulder, so that their eyes may meet one last time. Her lips tilt upwards a little bit at the corners, but even that is twinged with a hint of sadness. “That Phil boy… He really does make you smile.”

<<>>

They’re walking home, and the warm tones of the sky perfectly complement the warmth of the caramel macchiatos in their hands. Phil had treated them to the delicious drinks once school was over, despite Dan’s protests, and the late afternoon sun showed that they definitely ended up spending a little bit more time at the coffee shop than originally expected.

Oh well. Becoming lost in a sea of conversation of topics they could no longer remember gave them a much needed break from thinking about anything —or anyone— at all.

When they reach Dan’s house, Dan fumbles for the key and unlocks the door. Noticing that is Phil hesitating at the welcome mat still, Dan laughs. “C’mon,” he invites Phil in warmly, as he starts removing his shoes and places it next to the front door after closing it. Dan motions for Phil to do the same. “Let’s get started.”

Tonight is the night they finish their project. With only visuals remaining, and their use of a different type of surface for their piece, they only have the next several hours to complete it.

Dan grabs blankets for them to sit on and he tells Phil where to find the paints they need, and together they make their way towards the backyard. With perfect weather accompanied by a lovely sky, it is no wonder as to why it is their work space of choice this evening.

Outside, the air is quiet. The only noises come from the soft hum of suburbia and the chirping of crickets. “I work here often,” Dan says, his voice casual and not as loud as it normally would be.

Phil nods. “I understand why. It’s peaceful out here.”

They start setting up, picking a clear spot in the grass. Dan tosses the blankets to the ground and they both slide their backpacks off their shoulders, and Dan leans down to take the supplies they need out of his bag. As he is getting situated, Phil asks if he should get ready now. Although Dan just passively gives him a “Yeah, yeah,” he can’t seem to resist looking up when Phil turns around to slip off his shirt.

Phil isn’t the most fit person in the world, but he is certainly a bit toned, and the movement of his shoulder blades and back do something to the heart beating in Dan’s chest. The first thing he notices even before that though, are the daisies that seem to go all across Phil’s shoulders. They are admittedly quite hard to miss. That too, gives Dan this tingling feeling that starts in his chest and spreads through his arms. He can’t put a name to it, but it’s just that the flowers seem so endearing. Because oh, how lovely is that?

When Phil turns and faces Dan again, he catches Dan looking at him. Quickly, Dan looks away, but by then it’s too late, and Phil is standing there flustered, hints of pink coming off like paint splatters and freckles on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.

Suddenly self-conscious, Phil shifts the moment’s attention to something else when he quickly moves to pick up one of the many blankets that Dan brought outside. When he hands one end of the blanket to Dan, Dan takes it with a sheepish smile.

For a split second, their fingers graze each other’s, before parting so that they may set the blanket down upon the grass together. After they put the blanket on the ground, Phil rubs his fingers together. A reaction, he can’t help it: last time there were fireworks, after all.

And even though his hands show no ink this time when he checks, by God does it feel like the moment was electrically charged.

“So, where do you want me?” asks Phil, the question effectively gently breaking the comfortable silence.

Dan laugh cuts through the thick air between them. “Pff, Phil,” He teases, “You know that anywhere is fine as long as we’re together.”

Phil shoves him playfully in response, making Dan grin, and the pink in Phil’s cheeks becomes just the tiniest bit redder. “Oh, shut up!”

“Lie down on your stomach here,” Dan gestures to a certain spot right by Phil’s feet, “Just relax okay?”

Phil follows Dan’s orders, and underneath him, he can feel the rustling of the grass. He rests his head on his arms, closing his eyes, his voice muffled by his mouth being covered. “Don't worry about me. I trust you.”

Dan chuckles. “I would hope so.”

The scenery around them seems unreal. The setting sun’s light gently lays a golden cast upon everything in the backyard, as if graced by Midas’ touch. Flowers and plants of every color grow here: a personal rainbow, a trove of jewels. Even the grass is a true to life representation of ‘the grass is greener on the side,’ for Phil knows that the grass on his side of the fence is wild and unkempt.

The atmosphere of it all is airy and seraphic.

Dan awkwardly squats down while muttering an apology, for in order to begin the actual painting process, he doesn’t really have any other option besides straddling Phil’s back. Of course he could just sit down next to Phil…  But then he would have to work sideways, and that would simply not be optimal.

He shifts in an attempt to make himself as comfortable as he can, and he makes sure that Phil is okay too.

Next to Dan lies the sketches of what he wants to achieve for the piece. Their idea is to demonstrate and illustrate what the definition of humanity, with an emphasis on the relationship between man and earth. The execution of Dan’s vision involves painting upon Phil’s back, sort of as a way to mimic the concept of tattoos and tell the story of man.

It is now time to work.

Underneath him, Phil’s skin is clear, pale, and soft. Like a blank canvas would, it invites him to have his way with it, a call to let his hands take over his mind. When Dan does any kind of art, he doesn’t like thinking at all due to its hinderance on creative flow. He takes a deep inhale, counting the seconds that pass as oxygen comes in, and lets a deep exhale pass his lips.

His fingers lightly trace the flowers upon Phil’s back, taking in the detail of each and every one of them. The intricacy of it all is so pretty, and almost delicate.

Finally, Dan starts.

The coldness of the paint makes Phil shiver.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Phil laughs awkwardly, “It’s cold, that’s all.”

Dan can’t help but laugh a little too. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I’m gonna need a steady surface though so…”

“What should I do?”

“Hmm…” Dan starts, trying to think. He makes a long, broad stroke with his brush. “Maybe you can like, I don’t know. This might sound dumb. But maybe you could recite some poetry to me?” Dan dips his brush into the water, cleaning it off so that he could change colors. “It’ll distract you from the cold. It can be from the project, your own stuff, whatever. Tell me anything on your mind.”

Phil thinks it over, taking about a minute to contemplate over what he wants to share.

While he thinks, the sun finally finishes setting, and the moon eagerly moves to replace it. No longer is the sky burning ablaze with oranges, vermillions, and magentas; instead it’s all dark. Only a star or two glimmers. Everything is void except for the light of the moon that only seems to shine on them two alone.

“Yeah okay,” he agrees. “Alright.”

Another breath. “This is one of mine,” Phil adds.

Then a beginning.

“in a field of forget-me-nots, he’d try to forget them a lot the one who made his heart bloom from freckles that were like seeds, and smiles like sunshowers: pulling handfuls of grass out of the ground beneath him and picking petals of any flower he touched, choruses of ‘like me’ and ‘like me not’ in a golden air

there was something about them, who with hands made soul out of oxygen of every color and texture and medium who made his knees shake and his cheeks redder

Dan’s breath hitches. Phil continues, seemingly not noticing, and Dan shakes his head to shake the ridiculous thoughts out of his mind.

So what if the story seems to tell of a boy in love with an artist? It doesn’t mean anything.

“for although they was a mere windowpane away, their red threads seemed to be nothing more than fishing lines leading them to a separate sea and him to an empty shore

The brush in Dan’s hand has completely stopped moving. His arms have goosebumps, and although he can see that Phil has goosebumps across his skin too, Dan is sure that his own are not from the brisk air.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s reading too much into it. Maybe it’s not even about him.

But is it too strange to say that Dan doesn’t seem to mind at all?

Before, Dan wished that Phil could see what he’s making while he was making it, but he is very thankful that Phil can’t see him right now. His free hand reaches to cup the side of his face, and under his palm he can feel the heat radiating off his skin. Although he can’t see it on himself, his suspicions are basically confirmed, and he has a good guess as to what is there.

Because at this moment, only visible by the moonlight, Dan has a fierce blush— a coalescence of roses and carnations on his neck that reach and bloom upon the apples of his cheeks (along with a few freckled stars).

More stars that could be seen in the night sky, to be precise. Side-by-side a whole garden that rivals the one that is blossoming around them.

“so from the coastline, he would admire them —this caramel boy— and he would watch the boy pull in the many fish of the sea as for he, he would merely sit writing words in the stand with a tidal wave heart that consumed him and stole the air from his lungs”

The chill of the night is starting to set in, but he feels like he’s on fire.

<<>>

They finish incredibly late. The idea of time is lost to them, and honestly they can’t tell the difference between the the evening’s final hours and the earliest hours of the next day.

Phil fell asleep towards the end, and Dan finds it endearing. The rise and fall of Phil’s back, along with the faint sounds of his breathing, are the only things keeping Dan company in this standstill of a night.

“Wake up,” Dan murmurs. He nudges Phil gently. “Get up, Phil.”

Begrudgingly, Phil sits up. He yawns and ruffles his hair, and as Dan begins packing up the supplies, Dan makes sure to keep a watchful eye on Phil to make sure that he doesn’t ruin the painting. Ultimately, he tells Phil to sit on his hands to ensure that no excessive movement leads to crackling in the piece.

Once Dan has returned everything inside, he comes back out to see that Phil is still sitting there, and the sight makes Dan chuckle a little. Phil has his eyes closed, clearly he dozed off despite sitting up; how he managed to do it, Dan doesn’t know.

He first lifts up Phil’s right thigh, then Phil’s left, sliding his hands out from under his legs. He keeps his hold on Phil’s palms and pulls Phil up so that he can stand, then picks up the last blanket that is left on the ground so that he can sling it over his shoulder.

With Phil’s hand in his, Dan carefully guides him inside, to a seat right beside a window.

“Dan…” Phil is still incredibly sleepy, his voice groggy. “Dan, what… What are we doing…?”

“It’s okay, I’ll handle it. You’re alright,” He assures him. “I’ve got you.”

Dan proceeds to sit Phil up in a chair. He makes sure to be gentle. Phil’s eyes keep going back and forth between either being open or closed, his eyelids eventually settling for the middle ground of being drowsily half-open; his body is simply too sluggish for him to stay completely awake. He is doing his best, though.

While Dan does have a soft yellow light lit up so that he can properly operate the camera, he had picked this spot next to the window so that the light of the moon could hit the piece just right.

What a good choice that is.

He snaps a couple photos. He takes some shots that are up close, in addition to others that showcase the big picture. The ones that are closer show all the detail; they show every single one of the strokes and the way the colors seamlessly blend into one another. Those are his favorite, for they caught what the eye wouldn’t normally catch.

The paint doesn’t completely hide the imperfections of the skin and Dan loves it. Humans aren’t perfect, and it only further emphasizes their project’s theme, but it also makes the piece uniquely Phil as much as it is uniquely Dan’s.

Click. And that one’s nice too.

This photo frames everything perfectly, it is one of the far-away shots: showing how Dan’s depiction of a skeleton matches exactly where Phil’s own bones would be. Amongst the rungs of Phil’s ribcage, Dan weaved an entire garden of flowers, blossoms come in azure, olive, and honey, and all of the other related shades.

Where the veins would run through, instead of being where the blood would run its course, it is red thread intertwined with vines, and it even leads all the way through Phil’s arms and hands. Where there is empty space, Dan filled it with a mix of daisies and stars, along with the colors of a midnight sky, the sky’s colors are a contrast almost as striking as Phil’s hair to his pale skin.

It isn’t a physical manifestation of the poem Phil recited to him, no. But if Dan said that he didn’t think about doing that, he would be lying. Dan ended up completely disregarding his original drafts and ended up giving into what his hands and mind seemed to want to do, and this was it, a portrayal that was a likeness to the relationship between nature and man, with a subtle hint at man’s idea of a red thread fate (perhaps Phil’s poem had more of an impact than he originally thought). And it turned into something lovely, he thinks. He hopes.

It almost resembles how Phil makes him feel inside.

How Phil seems to make everything bloom in color.

Softly, he taps Phil on the shoulder. “C’mon, wake up, Philly,” Dan whispers. “You did great.”

Phil rubs his eyes. They’re fully open now. “Oh hi Dan…” he replies, “I know I’ve been awake, but I think I can actually think… Coherently now.”

Dan smiles. “Don’t worry about it.” He holds a hand out to Phil, to which Phil accepts, and he pulls Phil up so he can stand. “I handled it. It all turned out fantastically.”

Phil stretches, and yawns. Then his eyes widen, face suddenly full of worry. “Wait, what time is it?? I never told my mom what time we’d finish—”

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Dan suggests. Phil looks at him and tilts his head, thinking it over. “It’s so late anyway, and my parents won’t mind, they’re out on a business trip anyway.”

Phil nods, “Okay. Alright, I’ll just let my mom know.”

Then they go to the bathroom upstairs, and Phil follows. While they are walking, Phil sends a quick message to his mom: I’m still at Dan’s, just right next door. Staying the night. I would’ve told you sooner but I fell asleep. Love you ❤❤

Upon reaching the bathroom, Dan gets a hand towel from the closet, and runs the towel under the sink. Out of nowhere, Phil laughs, and Dan turns to look at him, eyebrow raised, perplexed and wanting an explanation.

When all Phil says is, “Heh, Howell with a towel,” Dan smacks Phil in the shoulder playfully and can’t help but laugh too.

Dan then adds a bit of soap so that it will wash better. Before he starts to clean the painting off, Phil sees the piece in the mirror and loves it. “You’re so talented,” he whispers, and Dan’s ears flush with pink, he’s positively bashful. “It really is a shame that we have to wash it off.”

“Yeah,” is all Dan can reply. “It is.”

He finally starts washing Phil’s back, watching the colors smear together into something incomprehensible. Abruptly, Dan hesitates, really taking in the situation. “This isn’t weird, right?” he asks.

Phil doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you’re just helping me. I wouldn’t be able to do it properly myself.”

Dan can’t seem to argue with that, and so he finishes. When he’s done, he tells Phil to wait a moment. About a minute or two passes by, and Phil is humming to pass the time, and when Dan returns, he tosses Phil the clothes of his that he grabbed. Then he shows Phil how to use the shower.

“So those clothes are just some of mine that you can borrow,” Dan finishes. “My room is just across the hall when you’re done.”

Dan’s hand is on the door handle already when Phil stops him. “Oh wait, hold on! Before you go…” Phil pulls him back to the counter, and takes a new towel from where he saw Dan take one from earlier.

He does just as Dan did, and runs the towelette under water with a bit of soap, and he cups Dan’s cheek with his hand. He dabs at Dan’s cheek gently, cleaning up paint that had somehow made it’s way to Dan’s chin and other miscellaneous parts of his face.

“I didn’t know you had freckles,” Phil whispers, continuing to tenderly clean Dan up. “I love them.”

The comment automatically makes Dan flustered. His cheeks threaten to flare up, as they usually do at words like that, but he wills every atom to his body to refrain from doing so in that moment. He can only hope that it works out like that, though.

He barely manages to utter the two words. “Th-thank you.”

Eventually Phil finishes, and Dan subsequently leaves and retreats to his room. He uploads the photos from the camera to his laptop while he waits for Phil to shower. Once they are uploaded, he is pleased to see that they did indeed turn out as great as he thought. He starts editing, retouching them a bit here and there, just overall playing with the exposure and sharpness of them.

Fifteen minutes go by, and he’s still editing. That’s when Phil comes in, having lightly knocked on the door before entering, with his hair damp and Dan’s t-shirt and pajama pants on. In response to the opening of the door, Dan spins in his chair to watch as Phil comes in.

And there is just something about Phil in Dan’s clothes that makes him look so incredibly cute, that Dan has no other option but to smile.

Phil walks over to look at the photos that Dan has pulled up on his laptop. He asks if he can see the others, and Dan turns back to the screen to watch Phil scroll through the rest of them.

“Oh, Dan…” Stunned by the photographs, Phil is breathless. The lighting is spectacular, and the attention to detail is amazing, and none of it goes unnoticed.  “These are beautiful.”

He says some more things, but to be honest, Dan stopped listening. He’s just looking at Phil instead. That is, until Phil turns his face too.

Their faces are so near.

And their lips are so, so close.

Phil pulls away though, and Dan feels strangely empty. But why does he feel like that? he asks himself. He instantly shakes off the thought, getting up from his seat and heading to the closet to grab some pajamas. “You can just sleep on the bed Phil,” he states simply, “I’ll just take a quick shower.”

In the shower however, the thought of Phil can’t seem to escape him. Yet again, he pushes it away.

Nothing happened, and besides, it’s just Phil, he thinks, but it’s like he’s reassuring himself.

Nothing more.

When Dan is done, he heads back to the room, in far comfier clothes. As he opens the bedroom door, Phil cracks an eye half-open at the sound. Dan walks over to the bed, leaning down so he is looking at Phil at eye level.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Phil yawns, and pulls the covers up a little. His eyebrows scrunch up, and his eyes squint a little, questioning. “You have curly hair?”

Dan grimaces, a bit embarrassed. “Mmm, yeah. I always straighten it though.”

Phil reaches over, taking a curl in between his two fingers. “It’s like a little pig tail,” he giggles, “Why do you keep getting more and more damn adorable, whenever I learn more about you?”

This time, Dan doesn’t even acknowledge the comment, except for the playful hint of the corners of his lips turning up. He then stands up straight, and heads towards his desk. “I’m gonna edit a little more before I hit the sack. Good night you little shit.”

“Goodnight,” Phil calls.

Dan is editing for another twenty minutes more before he decides that it is time for him to finally sleep. He makes his way over to the bed, and he would lie down, but Phil is in the middle, looking cozily wrapped up in the black-and-white duvet.

Dan smiles softly. As he adjusts the covers so that it covers Phil’s feet, followed by tucking him in a little more, he mutters and laughs under his breath, “And I am the one that looks more and more adorable? Has he even seen himself?”

When he’s all done, he takes one of the extra pillows on the bed and tosses it to the ground. He then goes out and grabs one of the last clean blankets, and tosses that to the ground as well.

He doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor tonight.

<<>>

phil: We definitely did great on that project! :D

dan: hECK yeah i hope they grade us soon

phil: alhfdlhls What if I told you that they did already??

dan: W H A T dan: but they usually take ages??

phil: It’s been a couple days materino phil: Plus like, my teacher told me that she graded ours first sooo,, phil: In THEORy it should be up by now! ;P

dan: omgomgomg i just checked and it’s uP

phil: And??

dan: WE GOT AN A

phil: YAY!! All thanks to your amazing art!!

dan: pbbbt your writing is the loveliest thing ever don’t even come for me dan: like shakespeare who?? i don’t know her

phil: Oh shush asdfgjjhg phil: That’s so sweet I hate you

dan: nooooo don’t hate me

phil: Don’t worry Danny boy phil: I don’t think I ever could.

<<>>

The rain outside is dreadfully heavy, and Dan is late. Usually, that wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but he had been doing so well with being on time these past few weeks. Since there is no point to alarms if they don’t even work as they should, alarm clocks are dead to Dan now.

When he runs in, he looks so scattered. Sleeves are three-fourths rolled up, creating a look that lies somewhere between rushed and on purpose, and to add to that his hair is frizzy, he has mismatching socks (well, one is black and the other is dark grey, but still). A white umbrella that has baby pink ribbons all over it completes the whole ensemble.

Honestly? A fashion icon.

Phil sees him on the way to his second period class, and he has to cover his mouth to keep from giggling at the sight of Dan looking completely frazzled from the rain. One little laugh does escape him though, but he can’t help it: what is likely Dan’s little sister’s umbrella makes Dan look cute as heck.

Yet when Phil begins to lightly run towards him to give a quick hi, something doesn’t seem right.

Dan’s tattoos seem… Blurry?

At first glance, the ink seems to be what Phil expects it to be. That being, what Phil knows to be on Erin’s own arms: grey, stormy clouds. Yet at the same time— it seems to have changed?

Phil is just standing in place now, stopped in his tracks, a fair distance away from him still. He isn’t looking up close, the exposed skin on Dan’s forearms show it all. The texture is off and that the colors are melding together in an unnatural way, and overall it is just wrong.

Phil continues to stand by and watch.

Dan rolls up his sleeves more, revealing his whole arm. When he reaches into his locker, he takes out a variety of art supplies, of various mediums and hues and purposes, and begins to mess around a bit with the tattoos. As if he’s touching up.

Why would he need to…? Oh.

They’re fake. The tattoos are fake. And scratch what Phil said earlier— they are not blurry. They are smeared.

Dan finishes his work relatively quickly, and by that time, Phil has already begun heading to class, asking himself whether or not the scene he just watched unfold in front of him was real. Whether the sight of Dan amending the ink on his skin was true, or if it was a sleep-deprived induced dream. Yet no matter what he tells himself, he can’t deny what he saw.

Eventually Dan looks up and sees Phil’s distant figure. When he lets out an, “Oh hey! Phil!”, a moment passes that seems like a reluctance to greet Dan back. But Phil turns around, because that’s the kind of person he is, and he waves. Dan swears that it seems a bit stiff, though.

After that, Phil doesn’t acknowledge anything else.

He simply bites his bottom lip and keeps walking.

<<>>

(2) missed calls from Danny Boy.

<<>>

“Hey Phil! Let’s head to the library for lunch?”

Phil forces a smile. “Maybe another time, Dan? I have to… uh, go to a teacher.”

<<>>

You missed (5) Skype Video Calls from Daniel Howell.

<<>>

dan: hey why rnt you replying to me? dan: phil, did i do something?          ✓ read 9:22 PM

<<>>

Rumors are spreading all across campus. The hallways are littered with whispers and gossip of the school’s proclaimed ‘It Couple,’ and even teachers are chatting about it in the teachers’ lounge. Everyone seems to be aware that Dan and Erin had a falling out, but to be fair, it wasn’t necessarily hard to guess. No one needed to hear it from the source.

It is evident from how they no longer walk together, sit together, or talk to one another. Even more apparent, Erin’s arms no longer displayed the sunrises that everyone believed (she, included) to represent new beginnings and the birth of something new. Instead, it is now rain. It is stormy clouds on a setting horizon, the sunset for the sunrise, to match the end to the beginning.

Even the flowers she had, the precious flowers that convinced even the doubters of her and Dan’s love (if you could call it that), are wilting.

There are claims being made; there are those who are attesting to seeing Dan leave parties early with people on his arm while he has his hand on their waist, as he leads them out the door and to his car. Some said it was Dan whose neck and chest was splattered with purple from what the night had entailed, others said it was his company who adorned the marks. People told of the moans that would come from bathrooms, bedrooms, and even in one instance, a closet, where sounds of ecstasy made passerbys envious and left his partner of the night a pleasured mess.

Amongst all of Dan’s hookups, there is one thing they all have in common: they are all boys.

And that common fact makes Phil’s heart go from skipping a beat at even the mention of Dan’s name to sinking six feet below the floor.

Girls? That he can handle. He can handle it because he is used to it, he has been used to it for years. But Dan being with boys puts Phil on an even playing field— Phil isn't different from any of those boys. He has gone from watching on the sidelines to being an average player on the losing team.

When it comes down to it, these are the truths: he is in love with someone who, until the project, hadn't spared him a glance for years. He is in love with someone who —he was sure of it— had tattoos that were ingenuine and painted on. He is in love with someone who is known for playing the game, for having issues with commitment, for being someone who picked up people then dropped them like flies.

He is in love with someone who lies.

And so now Phil sits on his front porch, writing, restraining himself from going beyond the brink of tears. For someone who treasures honesty, the truth hurts. No matter how much he tries to hold himself back, two or three droplets still manage to escape, smudging some of the words that were written out of a mix of anger, disappointment, and emptiness.

They were words written by a heart who lost the game, a game rigged by a player of the most gut-wrenching emotion.

<<>>

skin of freckled honey and a body of clouds, sweet and soft— in the same way that only thoughts could fabricate the idea of how your lips taste. fabrication does not compare to the reality of it all though and no one ever warned me, for although tattoos of roses don't have thorns blood pours from the prick in my fingertips because i picked you - p.l.

<<>>

Everything is white noise. His surroundings are a blur and his head is pulsing intensely from the conglomeration of far too much alcohol and far too loud music. He can barely feel himself existing within his own body. The bustle of people dancing around him, the sounds of the DJ and the people singing and screaming at the top of their lungs, and the scent of sweat and booze: it’s all much more than he wants in that moment.

But to be fair, he does not really know exactly what it is he wants.

Whoever he is kissing is much more into it than he is, for he isn’t into it at all. He’s barely there, just a shell of a kiss upon the person’s lips. A disappointment for anyone sober to be honest.

Yet the other one couldn’t care less.

“S-so do you wanna, like,” the boy, probably two years younger than him, stammers as they separate for a breath, “Take this somewhere else?”

Numbly, Dan nods. No harm in going along with it, right? “Y-yeah. Yeah, okay.”

On the drive to Dan’s house, the boy (Justin? Jake? Josh? Oh forget it, just calling him J will be easier) is texting rapidly. The entire drive is silent except for those keyboard clicks and the nervous tapping of J’s foot, and from the light of J’s phone screen, Dan can see that J is sporting a huge grin on his face. Dan doesn’t even have to see the texts to know what they are about.

If he were to guess, it would be J bragging to his friends about how he is getting to sleep with The Great Dan Howell™ and how “OMG HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT.” Or you know, another statement that is equally as dumb.

It makes Dan feel sick.

When they actually arrive, things escalate from Dan leading J into his home with his hand on the small of J’s back, to rapidly making out on the couch. The way J kisses him is incredibly zealous. Dan tries his best to match his passion, but his efforts fall short. It’s just different, for Dan’s kisses are intense in a different manner; his lips press against J’s lips and skin in a way that is almost forceful, as if trying to forget about something.

But regardless of how fervent they both currently are, it all stops the moment the boy reaches to unbutton Dan’s jeans.

Immediately, Dan breaks away.

The boy, Jared, Jace, whatever his name is, looks confused. He leans in in an attempt to just restart where they left off, but Dan only shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says quietly, pushing him off. “I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”

He gets up, and the younger one awkwardly follows, the way the boy carries himself shows that he is definitely disappointed. When they reach the front door, the boy takes a second to send a quick message, letting his friend know that he needs a ride, knowing what Dan will say next.

“Go home,” Dan tells him, his voice gentle as he opens the door. “You’re sweet, but go home. Please.” A nod from the other passes as a silent “Alright then, goodbye,” and Dan knows that he’ll never see the boy again. When Dan shuts the door and locks it, he runs his hand through his fringe, letting out a groan that comes from deep within his chest.

He makes his way upstairs eventually. When he gets there, he sits upon the edge of the foot of his bed, elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. His knuckles are white when he forms a fist, fiercely punching the bed once. And that’s the point where he just yells.

Dan yells so loud that it genuinely scratches his throat, it is of such volume that it bounces off the walls of the empty house.

Next, he just allows himself to fall onto the bed. His body sprawls out in the center, amongst all of his sheets that should seem familiar, yet somehow don’t smell like home at all. His eyes are squeezed shut. One hand reaches up to rub his one eye, the other arm rests in place and remains outstretched.

After some time, breaking the quiet, a soft gravelly whisper finally leaves his lips. “Dang, she might’ve been right all along…”

<<>>

chris: i heard from pj that u + phil aren’t on the best of terms right now chris: you okay mate?

<<>>

daniel james howell. flashback; age sixteen.

from chris, to dan (and 63 others):

party tonight. my house (u should know the address, lmk if you need it tho) until whenever u wanna leave ! gon be lit be there or be square lads

He only had a little bit of time before Vanessa —well, because she insists he actually calls her Van— arrived. Chris Kendall was having the party of the summer to celebrate the end of the school year and the beginning of vacation because his parents were out of town, and he and Van agreed that they would go together.

As a casual thing of course, nothing serious.

The party started in about half an hour. Black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and a shirt he knew he looked good in was the look of choice for the night. He nearly chose to leave his hair in waves, but after he ran his fingers through his fringe he ultimately decided against it. His hair looked stupid if it was anything but straight.

Right when he was straightening the last curl, the doorbell rang. How perfectly timed, and even their arrival at the party was perfect too: not too early and not too late. As soon as they got there, they were greeted by the mob of people who were bumping along to the music. While they gave quick greetings to their friends, they quickly made their way into the center, amongst all those who were dancing like it was the night of their lives.

Van had her hands on his chest, her moves sensual and easy. She’s dancing with him, and Dan doesn’t hate it, because any onlooker could tell that she was very attractive. She’s pretty, and admittedly they have had fun together before, but Dan had realised for a while that he hadn’t been actively interested in her for quite some time.

But who was he to decline her company when they should be having fun?

“Let’s go grab some drinks,” Van commented, as she took his hand to drag them both out of the cluster of partying bodies. Even before she reached the drinks table, people started to hand her drinks as if they knew exactly what she wanted. She grabbed two, nudged Dan with her elbow, then held out the one cup out to him. “Drink some, Dan!”

Dan made a face, unsure. “I dunno, I don’t usually drink much…”

She gave an ‘ol pbbbt and a playful eyeroll that clearly meant that she didn’t want no for an answer. Van gestured towards the cup in her hand once more, and with her eyebrows raised up at him, she follows up with a plead. “C’mon! Take a fuckin’ sip babe.”

Giving in, he took the drink from her, downing it all in a matter of gulps. Van laughs, and they went right back into partying.

However, whether he realised it or not, one sip had quickly turned into multiple sips. And sips turned into finishing the cup, and one finished cup turned until multiple finished cups, and then he completely lost count. He’s completely, he thought as he hiccuped, he’s completely —as his friends would say— tabled.

If he’s honest, he had no idea how much time had passed. He just knew that he was currently all over the place, dancing one moment, chatting the next, then suddenly beer pong or something after that. When the music got softer, that’s when his drunk high started to diminish too, and that’s when he started to get tired.

He terribly needed a bed.

It was at this time that he started to head towards the stairs (anything after that however, he couldn’t recall for the life of him).

<<>>

Why is Phil doing this?

Dan knows he’s not imagining it. Dan can feel Phil distancing himself away from him more and more with each passing day, and he just wants to know why. It’s not just ignored texts, Phil won’t even glance at him. And that’s what really hurts about it all.

At lunch, he goes to “their” spot in the library, but Phil isn’t there. He brings food and everything, but even if he waits, Phil never shows. As a matter of fact, he isn’t in the library at all. To add more salt to the wound, when Dan goes to the cafeteria to check out the lunch table where PJ, Chris, and Louise sit at, Phil isn’t with them either.

Even when it is time for class, Dan is determined. He shows up first rather than last in an effort to try and sit by him. Dan will get him this time he’s sure, because he knows that Phil likes having time to himself in the beginning of class. Dan knows Phil. Dan is positive that he is right in this notion —there is no way he wouldn’t be— and when Phil walks in through that door, Dan will just talk to him and everything will be normal again.

But as if he’s aware of Dan’s plan, Phil ends up arriving last. Every time.

<<>>

“Please Chris!” his tone is embarrassingly pleading, but Dan doesn’t care. Anyone could be listening in on their conversation as they’re strolling the halls, but Dan doesn’t care about that either, he just grabs Chris’ arm and begins shaking it violently as he keeps begging (these are clearly some great persuasive tactics he’s using, perhaps he should consider becoming a lawyer).

“Pleaaaseee!! Talk to your cute boyfriend for me!”

Chris stops in his tracks, nearly making Dan stumble. He stares at Dan dead in the eyes. “Okay first of all, only I can call him cute, back off. And second,” he says the last parts slowly as he takes a couple tentative steps forward. “I don’t think it would be smart. If anything, you can talk to my cute boyfriend yourself.”

Dan lets go of Chris’ arm, letting out a small reluctant exhale. “Okay. Fine.”

It takes a while. Dan has to wait until the afternoon finally comes to an end in order to talk to PJ, and even then, it takes a good chunk of time to convince him. Dan’s proposition is for PJ to somehow provide Dan with an opportunity to talk to Phil.

At first, PJ declines. Right away.

But then he manages to go from “Oh, I don’t know Dan…” to “Alright, okay,” after a little over an hour of persuading. After Dan explained the circumstances, and with a bit of begging, PJ changed his mind. He makes it clear that he’s not the most supportive of Dan right now due to Phil’s current state, but that he is appreciative of the fact that he did make Phil so happy before.

And above all, there is one thing that PJ can’t deny, and that is that Phil deserves closure. If anything.

PJ looks away from Dan, not able to directly meet his eyes. He scratches the back of his neck, before turning to face him once more, voice firm. “He’ll meet you in room 109, alright? Tomorrow, fifteen minutes after school ends. I’ll tell them there’s a meeting for a club he’s in or something. But if you miss it… That’s on you. This is the only chance you’re getting.”

<<>>

The clock on the classroom wall shows that seven minutes have passed since their supposed meet-up time. Not that he was counting or anything. Understandably, Dan can’t help but to feel on edge, for what if PJ changed his mind?

What if Phil never comes?

Out of nowhere, words start coming from the other side of the door. “Yeah, this is the room. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Thanks for letting me know about this meeting Peej.” That one is Phil. That’s definitely him. “You’re a great friend.”

The door then opens with a flourish. Phil closes it behind him.

Dan coughs, making Phil turn around. He does a small wave and says meekly, “Hey, Phil.”

Phil’s eyes widen and the color drains from his face. “Oh no. Oh no no no…”

“Phil, please listen to me—”

“But I don’t even want to talk to you…” Phil’s firmly points out. He is looking all around the classroom, at every place and every thing except for Dan. Annoyed, he mutters, “I knew that something was up when PJ said there was a meeting for a new writing program. It just seemed sudden, and I never heard anyone talking about it or anything…”

“Phil, please talk to me?”

“And why should I?”

“Please.”

Instead of responding right away, Phil walks over to Dan, and gets all up his face. He nearly spits at him, and to be honest, he kind of wants to. Inked images of flames are flickering from his bottom of his neck, threatening to reach his chin. He entire demeanor is radiating with bitterness. “Don’t you get it? Can’t you take a hint?” He crosses his arms. “You’re with her, and I’m a total idiot, and you can just live your happy lie. Ignorance is bliss, right?”

“What are you even saying, I don’t understand…” Dan’s voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Brashly, Phil grabs Dan’s arm, hastily rolling up the sleeves. His lips are pressed into a straight line as he takes out his water bottle from in his backpack. Proceeding to pour a bit of water onto Dan’s forearm, he then takes his hand and rubs across Dan’s skin.

The ink smears, as Phil expected.

A sharp intake of breath comes from Dan. His eyes widen, and suddenly it’s like something has lodged itself in his lungs. Frantically, he waves his hands, crying, “Phil, whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t believe it! There’s more to the story, I promise you…” Phil doesn’t respond, he simply twists the bottle cap closed and slips the water bottle back into his bag. “Can we just talk? We need to talk, Phil!”

Phil’s voice is hard and stilted. He doesn’t acknowledge what Dan is saying, not really, but his words speak directly to him. “Dan, if anything, you have to understand this: the project is done, so there is no logical reason for us to talk anymore—”

This is where Dan attempts to shut Phil up. Hurriedly, he had leaned in to close the space between them, with the aim for a chaste kiss on the lips. Just so Phil would stop talking and calm down. That kind of thing works in the movies, right?

But Dan misses.

He misses because Phil turned his face, so that instead of his lips, Dan would hit his cheek instead. A futile attempt overall. When they return to simple eye contact, Phil is anything but pleased. Dan grimaces. He’s worried now.

“Art students,” begins Phil bitterly, “are the worst.” He moves his head so his fringe is out of his face, and all of his focus is on Dan. He shakes his head, a forced chuckle almost escaping his lips.

“Just so you know,” Phil’s eyes are like steel. Unbearing, unyielding, a disclosure with resolve. His words are steady. “I was pretty damn close to falling in love with you.”

Dan’s expression has become a mess of emotion, his voice laced with a desperate want for Phil to stay. Yet Phil is already for the door. “Well I’m pretty damn sure—”

Phil cuts him off one last time, his fingers lingering on the door handle. His face turns so that Dan can see his profile, but can’t see his expression. To be fair, he doesn’t need to, for the impenetrable accusing, disappointed tone of his voice is undeniable.

“Do you tell that to everyone you sleep with?”

<<>>

philip michael lester. flashback; age fifteen.

Apparently this party was supposed to be a big one. More so than usual anyway, and that was why James had forced him to go— and that was why he was here. People seemed to be filling up the house to its brim, and the scent of sweat and alcohol blended into what Phil guessed to be whatever Nirvana imagined teen spirit would smell like. When Phil and James arrived, they were greeted with the same chorus of “heyyy!”s that all the other houseguests probably had to endure.

They had only stepped through the entrance moments ago when James had nudged him in the side with his elbow. “I’m just gonna go and mingle, yeah?”

Phil just passively nodded him off in reply, and turned around to head towards the living room. Before he makes his leave, James patted him on the back with a brief, “‘Kay mate, I’ll be back in a minute.” Phil rolls his eyes, because he highly doubts that. Yeah, yeah. That’s what he said every time.

An hour and a half passed on by. To elaborate, an hour and a half was how long it took for Phil to finally look up from his phone, get up from his spot on the couch, and go to the kitchen for a change of pace, and maybe a drink perhaps. His journey to the kitchen was mildly ruined however, when he realised James had been preoccupied —and was still preoccupied— with making out with someone in the hallway.

Phil simply pursed his lips, blatantly ignored it, and headed towards the drinks. Despite being close, the two were never actually close. As evidenced, that guy was never really a good friend anyway.

Life sucks sometimes, you know? Phil grabbed the nearest drinkable-looking liquid. but before he could pour himself anything, he was stopped. Someone else was offering a red solo cup to him.

“Are you looking for something harsh, or you just want to let loose?” The person says.

“Let loose,” Phil affirmed, with a shrug. “I just want to have less of a crappy time to be honest.”

“Well then here you go mate,” he replied, as he handed him the drink. “I’m PJ by the way.”

The conversation took off from there. Introductions were made, and so were jokes and banter; overall they were having fun getting to know one another. PJ was a film-video major, and was studying directing, writing, and special effects. It turned out that they both attended the nearby arts academy, and that they were in the same lunch period. Numbers were exchanged, and agreements to hang out were arranged.

It seemed like a friendship was to start. One already far better than the one with James.

“It’s been great talking to you Phil,” PJ grinned as the conversation came to a close, patting Phil on the shoulder. “I gotta make my way out though! The party host is a past friend of mine, and I just wanna see if I can give a cheeky hello.” With that, he turned and headed off with a little salute.

“See you!”

And with that, the night went on. The party dwindled down, and as early morning approached, people transitioned from either quietly chatting or leaving, to being completely knocked out or sleeping. The sleeping ones included Phil amongst them, who had succumbed to that heavy-eyed feeling on the stairs. It was one of the only places left that was free: his peers littered the couches, the floors, and the hallways. Along with all of these people, there were cups, half-eaten pizzas, and a whole lot of other trash that were haphazardly left upon every surface and within every possible nook and cranny of the house.

The music that had previously been blasting loud enough to vibrate the whole block had now been turned down to a lower volume, presumably by someone who did so out of the courtesy of others. A simple light pulse could be felt through the floor, and it stood as the only sound left to resonate through the house.

Well, except for the footsteps of one person. A person who, in their completely hammered state, had decided that he wanted to sleep in the comfort of a bed, and was thus attempting to trudge their way to a bedroom. That was before they tripped on Phil.  

Who was on the stairs.

Blocking his way.

Phil’s eyes kinda squinted and fluttered open, eyebrows furrowed as he half-woke up from the sound of whoever fell near him. Once he realised that someone was helplessly lying face down upon the steps, he made the effort to help them up. Even though he himself did stumble a couple of times.

He placed an arm around the person’s shoulder, and the other did the same back at him. In their matching hazy, sleepy states, they made their way to the bedroom together, nearly tripping on more than one occasion as they attempted to hold each other up on the way up the staircase.

A couple fumbles, and they were finally at the top.

“Are we nearly there?” The guy asked, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah,” Phil replied quietly, as he pushed open the first door he came across. “Yeah, nearly.”

When he opened the door, it was easy to tell that it was probably the master bedroom, for it had a bed fit for kings. The duvet looked silky to the touch, and the pillows looked fluffed to homey perfection. It just seemed so, so inviting.

The music from downstairs could still be fairly heard from where they were. The boy Phil was holding onto sorta hummed along and tried to spin them around the room in a dazed dance.

A laughably graceful spin, an uncoordinated dip. “Mmmm, mmm mm mmm…”

It all quickly went downhill though. Expectedly, rather than dancing, they instead clumsily fell onto the bed, the covers being as soft as they looked. Phil giggled as they fell down.

One person on one side, and the other person next to them. They laid down together, back to back, not touching and ready to fall asleep. Phil’s eyes began to close once more. Both of their breathing patterns were becoming slow and even.

Rustling all of a sudden came from the other side of the bed, the shifting of sheets were followed by a genuine, dazed slur of question. The guy spoke at a volume that hardly goes above a hummingbird’s whisper. “Hey, doyouthinkit’sstrangethat… I don’t know. That society is simply made, made up of concepts that are in… inherently real and. And not real?”

Reluctantly, Phil turned on his side to face him so he could reply. He yawned, and shrugged. His voice is gravelly. “I don’t know. Maybe. Some people see marriage as just being a piece of paper.”

The stranger nodded, seemingly accepting his answer. “That’s, that’s true...” He paused for a moment, taking a second to think before he voiced his next thought. “Hmmmm, next question: why are we here?” His voice was more stable now, despite all the alcohol in his system. Probably because he was more awake due to holding a conversation.

“If this is an existential question, that’s too much thinking.” Phil’s face scrunched up as he attempted once more at a better response, but inevitably gave up. A mostly-tired tipsy brain is only capable of so much at two am. “It’s too early for that, mate. Sorry. But if you’re asking for why I’m at this party? Then it’s because,” Phil moved his body so he could be more comfortable, resting his head on his arm. “Well, my friend forced me to come.”

The other one’s body mirrored Phil’s, moving in the bed as he did in order to better situate himself. He replied with a nonchalant shake of his head. “I did mean it as existentia-whatever, but eh, you’re right. Too much thinking. I’m here because of a friend too.”

Somehow, they began to talk about everything. And by everything, it meant just that: worries, fears, existential thoughts, random animal facts. They became so relaxed yet so awake, because if they closed their eyes they would miss these fleeting moments of an almost trance-like unreality. There were no holds barred. Everything left was raw.

After a while, there was a lull. It’s either that or they have fallen into a comfortable silence, Phil truly didn’t know. They were both still lying face to face —but also not really looking at each other— in an absentminded stupor. The stillness was broken when the guy reached over, almost as if he wanted to play with Phil’s hair. He hummed and muttered, “You kinda look like my neighbor, you know?” Phil’s eyebrows only raise slightly in response, like a silent question of “Oh really?”

Dan pursed his lips with an mmhm, decidedly rubbing the black locks in between his fingers and brushing Phil’s fringe out of his face. “You are the prettiest boy I have ever seen, you know...”

After hearing those words, Phil took the other’s hand into his, away from playing with his hair. He brought their hands down to rest in between the both of them, fingers interlocked. Chrysanthemums quickly bloomed on the boy’s face in a blush, which then faded as fast as they appeared. “And that is you, to I,” said Phil.

The boy laughed, the flowers reappeared on his cheeks for several moments fiercer and brighter than before, right before they faded again once more, slowly this time. A soft rosy patch of red on the apples of his cheeks was all that was left behind upon his flushed face. “What are you, a poet?” he jokes.

“Maybe,” Phil smiled.

Whoever made the first move after that moment wasn’t relevant. It was just that at one point they were no longer at an arms’ length away from each other, but yet they somehow had moved closer to one another. Close enough for Phil to see that this pretty boy had the prettiest eyelashes and the softest brunette hair, and for the other to see his three favorite colors within Phil’s eyes. They were simply lying down amongst shared bedsheets face-to-face, alcohol on their breath; two boys with no care in the world.

Phil moved forward just the slightest bit more, letting go of the guy’s hand to move and kiss him behind the ear first, where a tattoo of a marigold immediately began to bloom. Then Phil continued and left soft kisses down the male’s neck.

In response the boy sighed with the quietest ah, nearly moaning from the slightest touch. With the utmost tenderness, he ran his hands across Phil’s shoulders and down Phil’s arms, letting one hand rest on Phil’s waist before he leaned in and gave him a peck of a kiss, making the both of them smile.

“Your touch is so gentle,” Phil says to him. Echoing the other’s words from earlier, Phil continued in a teasing tone, “What are you, an artist?”

The boy only winked, with a hint of a knowing smirk. “Maybe.”

That portion of humanity’s daily twenty-four hours in which the ongoing evening merged with the early day, and when the stars met the morning sunrise, was not only comprised of only the physical world that night, but also of the whispers of yes between strangers and the unspoken confessions between two people who had somehow already met. Perhaps through a past life, or unknowingly, a connection even closer than that.

Because even acquaintances can be something more.

In the morning, it’s skin against skin, amid silken bedsheets and marks from the night before. Their legs were entangled with one another— leaving daisies around Phil’s ankles, while the boy’s arms around him left daisies upon Phil’s shoulders.

When Phil awoke, sunlight had only begun to trickle in. Reluctantly he moved to break away from the guy’s hold, careful to not wake him up, and groggily, Phil grabbed for his phone that was on top of the nightstand.

Four missed calls. Seven texts. His mother must be worried sick.

from mom, to phil:

Where are you Philip???!!!! I’ve called you so many times!! I trust you to be alright, but please contact me to ease your old mother’s heart. Come home as soon as you can, dear. Call me.

Phil sat up on the edge of the bed. Cellphone in hand, he immediately dialed for his mother. As it rang, he began to shuffle around the room to pick up his clothes off of the floor. Pants here, shirt there. Boxers somewhere. The phone rang five times, to which afterwards it then went to voicemail, accompanied by the traditional “Please leave your name after the beep!”. While he struggled to put his jeans on, Phil pinned the phone in the nook between his shoulder and ear.

“Yeah, mom? Sorry I didn’t answer or come home right away, I fell asleep at the party from last night. I’ll be heading there now. Don’t worry, I’ll take a taxi or uber or something.” A quick message and then he hung up, it was just a sign to let her know he was okay. Finally, he slipped his shirt on over his head.

Before he left, he took one last glance at the boy in the bed. It was only at this point does he realise exactly what happened last night. He wasn’t a stranger at all, in fact Phil knew him, he knew him much more than he would like to admit.

The boy was Dan. Dan, the one Phil admired from afar, the one he wrote about in secret.

Phil bit his lip, feeling a twinge of something twist his insides. It’s a mix of guilt and some other emotion. His stomach did not contain butterflies, oh no; right now his ribcage swelled with bumblebees. Stabbing the inside of his chest, filling his lungs so he couldn’t breathe.

But perhaps that was only fitting. Because that couldn’t stop him from confessing the fact that this sight of Dan left Phil a bit breathless.

A state that left Dan looking so vulnerable, while at the same time, looking so damn gorgeous.

Leaning down, Phil’s fingers grazed Dan’s forehead so that he may push those adorable curls aside, and his lips left a light kiss on Dan’s forehead, just above the space between his eyebrows. A farewell that would have to suffice, for after that Phil went back home.

When Dan awoke, he woke up to strewn sheets and duvet, and a slight tingling of where someone had left their mark— literally. There was a small red heart where Phil unknowingly kissed him, along with even smaller ones splattered along his hairline. When he touched them, they gave him a pleasant feeling, but at the same time he was just confused.

On Monday, when he went back for the last day of school, he hid the hearts under his fringe. If anyone were to catch a glance at them, he’d say they were freckles.

The matching redness of his cheeks and his glance towards the floor alluded to otherwise, though. And the way he picked at his shirt collar that hid a hickey or two showed that he was a bit unsure as to where exactly they came from.

<<>>

It has been almost three weeks since he first started avoiding Dan. At first it wasn’t on purpose at all, it was simply a reaction. He felt like he couldn’t help it— he just didn’t want to be around Dan for a while. Being around Dan felt like a confrontation.

But now, Phil is well aware that he has been purposefully distancing himself from him. From ignoring Dan’s texts and calls, taking a different route to classes, and turning the other cheek when Dan attempts to catch his attention. He has been doing it all.

And each and every time he does it, it hurts him. The feeling of contrition makes his insides wrench.

A new tattoo appeared on his thigh a while ago. It’s a clock. Every time he avoids Dan’s persistence, another crack appears on the clockface.

Needless to say, the clock is very close to being completely shattered.

People say that time heals all wounds, and at this point, Phil is praying that the saying rings true. The very idea of disingenuity tears him apart, because if something is built on falsehoods, does it even have any true worth? The answer is no, it doesn’t.

If he were to consider the amount of time he has spent on Dan, Phil has worn his heart on his sleeves for years. Dan was never his, but yet Phil feels like he lost him.

So much of himself, more than he’ll ever want to admit, has gone into this boy. It’s too much. Putting more of himself into someone who does not seem to value him to nearly the same extent is exhausting, and ultimately emotionally draining. Letting it continue on isn’t right.

This is the right choice. Phil is making the right decision, for he is considering every element of the bigger picture. So what if he didn’t hear Dan out back then? That he didn’t listen to what Dan had to say? He’s sure that Dan will just try to cover up his tracks, and move on. He’s sure that Dan’s just that kind of guy, the one who sees everything as temporary, ultimately forgetting about Phil in a matter of months. Dan will just be dishonest because it benefits him somehow. Phil is positive about that.

Because more than anything, Phil doesn’t want to be in love with a liar. And that’s what Dan is.

He needs to put everything behind him.

Phil needs to end it all tonight.

<<>>

pj: Are u sure

phil: I’m sure.

pj: Alright. I let her know. She says you can be the last performer so you should be ready by then

At the last moment, Phil took into consideration what PJ told him about the slam poetry night, and he asked PJ to let the teacher know that he wanted to participate in the school-run event taking place at the local cafe.

Phil decides to do it because such a great number of his poems are about this boy. PJ was right about Dan being his muse; Phil would write stanzas upon stanzas based on him in messy scrawls in the margins of his school notes and frantic jots on his hand.

If he mentioned eyes, the color would always be brown. If he wanted to create a particular atmosphere, it would almost always be one of warmth. And if they were about love…  Phil wrote from experience, because that was an emotion he was all too familiar with.

That is why this performance tonight needs to happen. He needs to get all of this pent up emotion out of his heart and into the world, rather than keeping his feelings restrained to the confines of himself, wishful thinking, and paper.

Phil glances at where the current poet is standing. Whoever is at the microphone right now is doing great, and it is only making him more anxious. The audience is clearly affixed to their words, eating it all up, and clearly enjoying the show.

Remember, tonight is not about the actual performance, Phil whispers to himself.

His palms are laying flat against the table in front of him; an abundance of the poems he has written are scattered all over the surface. There are scribbles in various pen colors and the worn papers are even ripped in some places. Any onlooker could see that these pieces were nothing but the tangible forms of pure amour.

After tonight, the burn he feels in his chest at the thought of him will stop, and the ashes of discarded literature will be its only remains.

Itwillstopitwillstopitwillallstop.

A vibration sends a tremor through the table when his phone screen lights up.

from dan, to phil:

where are you?

Phil picks up his device and shuts it off. Although it could be said that this night was about Dan, it is mostly about Phil, it is about Phil’s feelings, it is about Phil putting it all behind himself. He needs this.

Because it’s justified, right?

Two taps are hitting on his shoulder. It’s PJ, who actually ended up becoming a spur-of-the-moment volunteer to manage the behind-the-scenes for tonight. He leans in to whisper to Phil. “You’re on in a minute or two.” And almost as if he could sense Phil’s worrying, he continues and reassures him with, “You’ve got this, you’ll be great. I believe in you.” PJ clasps his hand on Phil’s shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. At that, he corners of Phil’s lips turn up slightly. He really is grateful for having a friend like him.

“Thank you.”

The supposed minute or two passes by quickly, and soon enough they are introducing Phil’s name. “The final poet of the night,” is what they say. Phil takes a deep breath and goes under the spotlight, the cool metal of the microphone in his hand is doing its best to calm him. He holds onto it tightly. With the spotlight in his eyes, and the cafe lights dimmed, he can’t see the audience at all.

Perhaps that’s for the best. For more reasons than one.

Because right when Phil opens his mouth to begin, someone quietly enters into the cafe. Despite the fact that the slight little twinkling of bells signaled his entrance, no one pays any heed to him.

He chooses to sit in the back.

And Phil notices nothing at all.

“brown is all sorts of golden, in the sense it gives as much warmth as a gentle sun…”

After a few poems, some cafe patrons swear that they see a shadow move from the back of the cafe to the front, as if to listen to the poet better.

“...for although tattoos of roses don't have thorns, blood pours from the prick in my fingertips because i picked you”

With every line, with every poem, with every eloquent sentence having their origins rooted in enclosed secrets, each word that leaves his lungs also lifts a small weight off of his shoulders and manages to carry it over to listening ears. Everything is on the line tonight. Every emotion is on Phil’s sleeve, not just his heart, and every person in the room is hanging on to each otherworldly wordy confession that falls from his lips. And speaking of confessions, Phil’s biggest one is coming up. He wrote it last night, so it’s fairly new.

His final poem. About everything.

Including the night from two years ago.

“young days are of bubbles and bubble gum little girls are so kind, they are so soft that little boys can’t help but fall for them with their small smiles and neat handwriting from tentative hands for a crush and descend

however, i never took the plunge for i saw a boy who was softer: with a subtle cotton candy blush who grew daisies from concrete and carnations on flushed cheeks

a mirage, admiration from afar became inkstained fingertips and etched scrawls on every surface imaginable

(he had freckles that were far more than just constellations, they were made of stardust)

adolescent times; time stopped for one drunken night when only the moonlight was sober, an evening full of whispers and kisses and care that faded when faced with the sun

artists are known to create somethings out of nothings with elements derived from the earth, they turn strokes into paintings clay into sculptures a-and unspoken promises—”

He coughs, his voice caught up in his throat.

“and unspoken promises into h-hope”

Phil’s voice is wavering. His eyes aren’t on the audience anymore. Instead, he’s staring at the floor.

Hands shaking.

“poets are known to write about tragedies and this is no exception there is red on those hands: is it from the words of my pen, your paint on my skin? or perhaps from the thorns from the flowers that bloomed, with your smile that could make the heart grow fonder

perhaps he truly loved her but his smile could tempt a lover

and my dear, even the lawfully good fall into temptation.”

He’s out of breath now. By the end, he was just rushing to get the last few words out, and he was straining his throat. His eyelashes are wet, he can feel them, and he knows that he’s probably on the brink of crying.

Phil bites the inside of his cheek. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t know what will come next. He stays standing there for a moment more, doing a small nod and awkward bow. Barely registering the trickling of applause, his shoulders curl in and he crosses his arms, one hand reaching to rub the place where the all too familiar daisies bloomed.

Would they still be there?

When Phil steps out of the light, it is an unexpected sight. Dan is there, right in front of him: one of Dan’s hands is all tremors while the other is reaching up to his face, desperately wiping away his salty tears. Dan’s hair, in those beautiful curls Phil loves, are in disarray; Dan’s lip trembles; Dan’s eyes are red and looking up at him through wet eyelashes that match his own. It is a state of vulnerability that only God should see. And seeing that? That is the breaking point.

A truth revealed. Barely louder than a bumblebee’s hum, that Phil almost misses it, but good thing that he happened to be great at reading lips.

“I love you,” Dan whispers.

Now that is true the breaking point. At that moment, Phil breaks into sobs, and they both reach out to one another to each other into a bone-crushing hug. “A conversation between us is long overdue,” one of them mumbles into the other’s neck, and the other one just nods, unable to respond with words.

They’re in tears.

<<>>

“I wrote poems about you, you know. Mostly on my front porch. I would never see you, but I always hoped that I would catch a glimpse of you.”

“I would paint in my backyard, among all the plants. I loved painting roses in watercolor, they were my favorite, but so many paintings of mine were made with three particular hues: blue, green, and yellow. My favorite colors. And they just so happen to be the colors of your eyes.”

<<>>

Out on a sidewalk curb, two boys sit with a cup of local coffee. “It’s good to support local businesses,” one says, “and Starbucks is overrated.”

“Yeah I know, you’ve told me,” the other replies. “I remember everything you tell me.”

He puts his head on the other boy’s shoulder. The other boy lifts his hand to gently wipe away the tear stains on the boy’s cheek with his thumb, while the boy softly places a kiss on the other one’s  neck.

<<>>

You have (1) voice mail from Philly-delphia.

“I’m sorry for distancing myself from you. Call me back? Let’s meetup and talk. Bye bye.”  

<<>>

“I’m sorry for not telling you the whole truth. But please know that I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t even being honest to myself. I don’t think I have been honest to myself for a long time now.”

“Dan, it was immature for me to assume. To be frank? Out of line. It was stupid for me to be upset over what you were doing with your own life. What you do isn’t my choice, and I shouldn’t have been so personally affected by it.”

“We’re our own people, of course. I know you know that. And besides, I get where you were coming from.”

“What do you mea—”

“If I lost you, I probably wouldn’t be thinking rationally either.”

A pause.

“...I shouldn’t have acted like you were mine, when you weren’t mine to own.”

“A fair point. And you’re completely right. But I think you’ve had me since the beginning, Phil Lester. I feel like I’ve finally found something that I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

<<>>

dan: let’s take it slow?

phil: That sounds perfect.

<<>>

For centuries, humanity has held art to the highest of esteems. Early neanderthals began it all with their coarse hands, withdrawing dirt from the earth below their feet to leave marks upon rugged stone walls that conveyed the beginnings of history. In the millenniums that followed, a sort of elitism has formed around the most talented ones who have managed to make a name for themselves. The names of these creators are commonplace in many households amongst the nations; buildings are erected with the mere purpose of showcasing such artistic creation.

Perhaps it is for that reason that the phenomenon in which ink would envelop one’s skin was thus regarded as a wonder, rather than as an alarming fright.

Despite seeming harmless, precaution took place of course: scientists all over the globe have dedicated themselves to research the peculiar tattoos. Theories ranging from genetic mutations related to the brain’s creative processes to shifts in the earth’s overall physical environment resulting in a strange seismic change have arisen, but nothing about their origins have been confirmed as of yet. For that matter, nothing has been confirmed as to how exactly they appear either.

There are two people though, who have it all figured out. No matter how many times you ask them, they will always give the same answer: if anything, they appear out of love, they’ll tell you that.

They have graduated now. They are at a graduation party right now actually, and their time at their high school art academy has finally come to an end. Blood, sweat, and tears have been spilled all over the canvases and films and publications and music at that institution, and now every student can only rely on hope that their work does not go to waste as they move on to pursue the rest of their future.

But for now, that kind of worrying does not exist.

There are no drinks this time around. Okay, maybe one or two, and perhaps they are a little tipsy as well, but they are definitely not drunk. They are, however, definitely on a bed again.

Dan and Phil are lying together on a bed again.

Phil throws a question into the air between them. “You know, this is how we met?” Although the words come out in a way that sounds like a rhetorical question, Dan nods.

“I wish I remembered more,” admits Dan. Phil squeezes his hand, and this time, it’s Dan’s turn to ask a question. “Do you regret it?”

Phil thinks for a moment. “I regret how it happened. So in that way, I do, a bit. Maybe even a little more than a bit. Even though I remember that night, the details of it all are hazy, and we weren’t really in the best state of mind.” Dan curls into Phil’s chest, looking up at him as he listens to him speak. Phil affectionately looks back at him. “But then again? I don’t regret that it took place. In some ways, I feel like that night was our starting point.”

With Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist, they are only a breath apart from one another. “And now we’re here,” whispers Dan. His lips pepper a few soft kisses upon Phil’s skin.

Phil echoes Dan’s words with a fond smile, placing a kiss on top of Dan’s head. He absentmindedly runs a hand through the brunette’s waves, Dan finally confident enough to adorn the curls after all those years.

“Yeah, and now we’re here.”

When Dan then comments on how far they’ve come and Phil marvels at how much they’ve grown, it is to be noted that their growth is not just a growth of spirit, or of themselves as people. It’s also evidenced, it’s also proven that is, by their skin.

The single marigold behind Dan’s ear is now a small gathering of flowers. Its stem winds down his neck, its petals and leaves falling to meet the leaves of the tree that grows on his back. The tree on his back is grand, absolutely lovely and absolutely bountiful. Its signs of life are held within every branch, and where the roots end on his hips, are a freckling of small hearts. According to Phil, it is because it thrives off love (“that’s so cheesy,” dan always says. laughing, phil always replies, “it’s supposed to be cheesy!”).

In the meantime, Phil has a whole garden on his shoulders, with flowers of every hue and type. If he ever took the time to search up the meanings, they would not only mean love, but forever, and admiration, and warmth, and together. Upon his ankles are the cutest little succulents and cacti, pretty little plants that are hard to kill. They remind him to remain grounded, and who it is that helps him do so, a representation of how hard it would be to forget the one who is such a big part of his life.

They are kissing slowly now, every touch between them is an embodiment of care and devotion that would put the bond between the moon and tides to shame. Nothing else exists around them. The future is unknown, but as said before, worries don’t exist here.

Because if they are being honest, they are ready for anything.

<<>>

“Mon enfant! I give you my hand! I give you my love, more precious than money, I give you myself, before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?” - Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road

(and also, those would happen to be the same lines that dan would propose to phil with a couple of years later.)

[babbbyygurlll]

denied (2) | jungkook

member: jungkook

genre: fluff? angst? smut? i really don’t know

POV (point of view): jungkook pov until the end, then reader pov

- summary: She liked him and he didn’t like her. He was everything she wanted and she was everything he didn’t ask for. He was the only person she had eyes for and she didn’t even exist in his mind. However, this wasn’t the beginning for the two

note: hEYYY GUYS i’m back with part two of denied!! sorry for the delay i just went back to school and i have had 3 assessments due this week so i was very busy. thanks for so many likes on the first, i wasn’t expecting like 66 people to like it, that would be 65 more people than i expected. I would also like to mention before you read this, i have this in an Australian context. I am basing this off of my experience at a high school so i use “canteen” which is like a cafeteria? but yeah since i’m aussie its just easier to do this and also the reason for the area code in front of her phone number. Nothing important actually happens in this chapter, but don’t worry actual y/n x jungkook interactions should happen in the next chapter. aNYWAYS THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT AND ENJOY CHAPTER 2

+61 4568821: aye papiiiii

+61 4568821: did you miss me ?

+61 4568821: you were so harsh yesterday kook

+61 4568821: you lucky I have thicc skin

+61 4568821: almost as thicc as those thighs of yours

+61 4568821: maybe even that dick-

You: Jesus christ

You: I thought I blocked you

+61 4568821: lol dad

+61 4568821: I changed my numberrrrrrr

+61 4568821: my old one had a zero at the end

+61 4568821: now it's a one

+61 4568821: im like those bad infections you can’t get rid of

+61 4568821: im sure you have a lot of experiences with stuff like that ;)

You: You are kidding me

+61 4568821: iM mAKING A JOKE KOOKIE

+61 4568821: im not trying to offend my papi

+61 4568821: tbh I would still hit it even if you had an infection

+61 4568821: unless you have vagina warts

+61 4568821:

tHAT SHIT IS NASTY

+61 4568821: my pussy is a new concrete road not some bumpy brick path

You: How can I have vagina warts if I have a dick?

+61 4568821: man I wasn’t planning on giving a biology lesson so early in the morning

+61 4568821: but vagina warts are also known as genital warts kook

+61 4568821: and genitals include penises

+61 4568821: so it is very possible

+61 4568821: I have an educational question

+61 4568821: are boobs genitals?

You: anyways

You: Do you have a good explanation

You: For texting me

You: At 6:34 in the morning

+61 4568821: ahhhhh

+61 4568821: I have a really good reason

+61 4568821: okay okay here it goes

+61 4568821: its amazing

+61 4568821: so i wanted to tell you there is a bake sale happening at school this morning

+61 4568821: so you should go early

+61 4568821: to have some breakfast

+61 4568821: :)

You: Is that it?

+61 4568821: also

+61 4568821: to try out

+61 4568821: my new phone number

+61 4568821: :)

You: okay

You: Im gonna block you now

+61 4568821: wHATTTTTTTT

+61 4568821: man jungkook you and that block button are very intimate

+61 4568821: wHY YOU BLOCKING ME AGAIN

You: Cause you messaged me again

+61 4568821: whats so wrong with that

You: I don’t know who you are

You: And im not one to talk to strangers

+61 4568821: im not a stranger

+61 4568821: if anything im a nicer

You: Also you make jokes like that

+61 4568821: mY JOKES ARE FUNNY

You: not really

+61 4568821: wow kook

+61 4568821: that really hurt

+61 4568821: my body is in pain

+61 4568821: wait that's my period

+61 4568821: wELL YOU ARE MAKING IT WORSE

You: I will leave then

+61 4568821: but but

+61 4568821: you are my medicine ☹

you: you don't need medicine for you period

+61 4568821: dang he got me on that one

+61 4568821: you are my aspirin <3

You: I need to get ready

You: Change your number as many times as you want

You: I will still block you

+61 4568821: okay I have a grand idea

+61 4568821: how about you go to that bake sale

+61 4568821: and buy some breakfast

+61 4568821: and I will stop bugging you

You: You serious?

+61 4568821: as serious as herpes

You: Fine whatever

You: Leave me alone after that

+61 4568821: OKAY KOOKIE

+61 4568821: p.s the sweet bread is the best

+61 4568821: SEE YOU AT SCHOOL

+61 4568821: wait don't see me

+61 4568821: I will see you

+61 4568821: but you won’t see me

+61 4568821: hopefully

+61 4568821: dONT GO LOOKING FOR ME BOY

+61 4568821: bye bye kookie <3

You: I told you to stop calling me that

+61 4568821: okay okay

+61 4568821: bYE BYE PAPIIII

You were smiling alongside your friends, with your binder in one hand and a sweet bread in the other. A smile was spread across your face as you and your friends continue to walk to school. It was a cold summer day, you were wearing your school uniform that reached just above your knees along with your ugly ass school blazer. It may be ugly, but you were freezing so you choose to look ugly and warm for that day only. Your heavy backpack weighed down your shoulders, it was filled with schoolbooks you barely look at and packets of snacks for when you get hungry in class. You had your hair out which was an inconvenience for you as it kept on getting in the way when you tried to take a bite from the sweet bread. You were currently still in your morning daze as your eyes began to droop whilst walking. Unfortunately you were disturbed when you heard a loud pitchy voice.

“Oh yeah y/n, why didn't you want to come to the mall with us yesterday? We were going shopping for Bella’s birthday party.” One of your friends, Anna asked you whilst shaking your shoulders.

“ahh you see, my mum said I had to look after Aaron after school so yeah I had that. I need to get a present for ___ though.” You retort back to your friend, ignoring her shaking whilst continuing to snack on your bread. You smile to yourself when recalling the events of yesterday and even this morning, when you were lying on your bed with a chocolate bar in your mouth as you kept on messaging jungkook daddy and papi.

“Why are you smiling to yourself y/n? You look like a pervert when you smile like that” Anna snarks at you in disgust before you hit her chest with your binder.

“Ouch y/n!” She screeches loud enough to bust your ears. Her face was scrunched in pain but instantly stopped to look at you. “Wait did you say Aaron?” She questioned with bright eyes, you already knowing where this is going. “Yes I did” You said as you all stopped at the stoplight.

“oh my god! Aaron is so cute, I wish I had a baby brother” Your friend continues to whine whilst stopping her feet like a baby. You smile to yourself again as your friend takes the bait. “Why have a baby brother when you already are one?” You comment at her with a blank face, but your statement causes her to slap your arm. Your other friends begin to giggle and laugh with their hands covering their face, like how any high school girl laughs. The stoplight turns green and you start walking across the street. “Don’t be so mean y/n! My cup size is larger than yours, I wouldn’t call me a boy with that cutting board you call a chest!” Your friend rebuts before stomping in front of you murmuring something along the lines I’m not a little boy. You finally reach the path walk and you see Anna marching away like a little troll with that big ass backpack. The rest of your friends continue to laugh their heads off, but you just get lost in your thoughts and then pulls your dress away from your chest to take a peak at your boobs. “They aren’t that small” you whisper to yourself before removing your hand from your dress and shove another bite of the sweet bread into your mouth.

Jungkook was just a small crush, or at least that's what you say to yourself. You like Jungkook but you wouldn't say you love him. You barely knew the dude and only had a few interactions before the text message incident yesterday. The whole Jungkook situation only started a few months ago. You were walking to the canteen with a huge grin on your face as you went to go buy your third snack today. You had two sandwiches today so you were craving something sweet. Banana bread crossed your mind and it wasn’t a bad idea, so you take out the exact change you needed for a slice of banana bread in the palm of your hand. Your smile takes over your entire face when you skip past the canteen doors into the humid slightly – smelly canteen, and as soon as you enter you lock eyes with where the banana bread usually are. Your soul almost left your body when you take notice that there is only one banana bread left in the brown basket. Your feet start moving before your mind even notices the tall male figure walking towards the basket. You push through crowds of people as they wait in line, you hear yelling and screams in your direction but you were only thinking of yourself in this moment.

The worried expression on your face begins to disappear when you are a metre away from your banana bread. But when you start to lean towards the basket, a large hand moves in front of yours and quickly grabs the bread so fast your eyes didn't even notice until you reach out to grab nothing. Your eyes pop out of your head and a loud gasp leaves your lips. A hand is on your chest as you stare into the man’s back. You were left dumbfounded, as your precious baby was snatched before your eyes. Your body was motionless as the man stood in front of you waiting to pay for your banana bread. Your body couldn’t react to the man whose back was currently facing you, but in your mind you were burning his head with your laser eyes. The boy awkwardly looks over his shoulder to see a small brunette girl in a slouching position, squinting her eyes towards him with her hands in front of her in a grabbing motion. When you realises he was looking at you and that wasn’t your imagination you stand straight and suspiciously starts whistling whilst playing with your feet. It took you a minute to notice the boy’s very handsome features. His jawline, his eyes, his shoulders. You were always a fan of broad shoulders and a muscular chest and this boy had both of those. You could also say his chest is better than yours, but his chest wouldn’t look good in a pink lacy bra so yours ultimately wins.

“Do you want something?” he asks with his eyebrows squished together.

“Well” you drag on and scratch the top of your head. “ Since you asked” you say before stopping and using your index finger to point to the banana bread in his hand. “I want that” You flash him a big warm smile, hoping to appeal to the stranger’s soft side. He fully turns around to look down at you then look at the banana bread in his hand. “This?” He says whilst waving the bread in your face. “Yes please” you hold your hands together and start to bat your eyelashes. He looks at you oddly for a minute and then grabs your hand. Your body jumps at the instant contact, before you could ask him what he is doing he places the banana bread in the palm of your hand and walks off.

“ Take it. If it causes this much trouble, its not worth it.” He murmurs as he brushes shoulders with you and exits the canteen. You look towards the exit and tilt your head in confusion.

“What did he say?” You ask yourself, as you try to remember what he said. “Excuse me, you are delaying the line” A loud voice yells in your direction, you turn around to see the canteen lady yelling at you. You run forward and show your banana bread to the women. You hand her the two dollars and fifty cents in fifty cent coins and slowly walk out of the canteen. The court yard is filled with students, but your eyes try to find the same tall figure that was in the canteen moments ago. You unwrap the banana bread as you scan the yard, but the same tall figure wasn’t to be seen. You start to walk away from the canteen and go back to your friends. The banana bread was being shoved into your mouth and you took a large bite, still thinking about that mysterious handsome boy.

Then and even now, you didn’t even notice that you have met that boy before. In fact you were quite familiar with the stranger, and he did appear in your past quite often.

“Y/n!!” Anna wailed once again, seeing her wave her hands in the distance. You were standing in place by the cross walk but you could see all of your friends a far distance away from you. You were daydreaming and they didn’t even notice you stopped walking until now.

“Come on y/n!” Anna yells for the hundredth time. Waves of laughter leave your mouth and you start travelling towards her. Before you could make a step you fell a small vibration coming from your back pocket. You reach behind you and squint your eyes towards your phone screen, if you weren’t smiling before you sure would be smiling now.

New Text Message Jungkookie <3: You weren’t wrong about the sweet bread

An unexpected warmth spreads through your body and even hues of red appear on your cheeks. You shove your phone back into your pocket and start attempting to run towards Anna, which is more like waddling with that heavy backpack. As you sprint towards Anna, you shove piece of sweet bread into your mouth. You giggle to yourself when you realise Jungkook is eating the same food you are right now and tasting the same flavours you are right now, but if anything you are glad you got to repay him for the Banana Bread.