#david also had fancy hair and a nice butt

[the-badger-mole]

Interesting to see people comparing Aang to David from Lilo and Stich. I mean, David was helpful and respectful of Nani. When she told him she wasn't looking for a relationship at the moment, he understood and backed off. No forced kisses, no violent, angry outbursts. He backed off gracefully and continued to accept their friendship for what it was. He was empathetic to both Nani and Lilo, who was struggling to find her place. And when he went to have fun with them, he considered what they wanted, not just his own idea of fun.

Meanwhile, Aang added to Katara's burden, but occasionally took her to ride the mail chutes in Omashu (which was actually pretty stupid. They could've gotten hurt. The postal workers would've had to deal with it. There would've been all this unnecessary paperwork). Just because Aang and David are both cheerful, it doesn't mean there's any comparison between them.

[bellafarella]

Fluff oh your jealous

Misc I think I just ripped my pants

Do your best bestie 😘

Thanks for prompting these bestie! <3

The sentences came from this post. This work has been added to my series: Shameless Sentence Prompts on AO3.

Fluff #5: “OH you’re jealous!”

**********************************************

You're my best friend

Ever since they moved into their apartment, Ian’s been making friends with others who live in the same building as them. Whether it’s at the gym or at the pool, he even made one in the laundry room, Ian is collecting new friends. Mickey’s happy that his husband has found other people to spend time with. What he doesn’t really like is being forced to also hang out with these people. There are just some he does not want to have to fake being nice to. The couple he met when they first got there and Mickey had what Ian now calls the pool tantrum like he’s fucking six years old and was told he had to stop playing in the pool. Mickey doesn’t remember their names but they definitely don’t care that they don’t see Mickey and only hang out with Ian. There’s also the lesbian couple that live right above them that Mickey doesn’t like either. They’re so boring, unlike any lesbian couple he’s ever seen - which is only Debbie and whatever girl of the week she’s seeing. They like to debate a lot and Mickey just can’t deal with it.

Tonight though, they’re having over this gay couple who live a few doors down. Ian met one of them by the pool - shocker - and has been hanging out with them quite a bit. They also like to garden so they go to the market together a lot and do yoga and all that boujee ass shit Mickey hates doing but does because Ian asks him to. Now Ian’s got a friend to do that with so Mickey agreed to a double date or whatever the fuck this is so that he could meet his husband’s new friend and his husband. Ian hasn’t met the husband yet either but he’s heard a lot about him from his friend and has filled Mickey in. Well, Mickey’s only half listening.

There’s a knock on the door so Ian calls from the kitchen, “Mick, get that please!”

Mickey groans as he gets up, taking his beer with him and chugging down the rest as he goes, leaving the empty can on the table. He opens the door and sees two guys. “Hey,” he nods his head to them. “Uh, come in.” He steps aside, letting them both in before closing the door.

“You must be Mickey! I’m David,” the tall, darked haired man says. “I’m the one who keeps stealing your husband away,” he adds with a laugh.

“Nice to meet you,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say and isn’t that what polite people do?

“And this is my husband, Patrick,” he says as he rubs the slightly shorter man’s broad shoulders. He has light brown hair that’s just starting to show is curly and he has these hazel eyes that look so soft.

Patrick smiles, offering his hand to Mickey. Mickey shakes it as Patrick says, “It’s nice to meet you, Mickey.”

“Yeah, you too,” he says, noticing how strong the man’s shake is.

Just then Ian comes out of the kitchen, no longer wearing that super girly apron Debbie bought them as a gag housewarming gift. He has a grin on as he makes his way over. “David!” he says walking over and hugging him. David squeezes back, eyes shutting, and his big hands rub at his back. He has four gold bands on his left hand. Fancy.

Ian gets introduced to Patrick and Mickey wanders off, taking his empty beer to the kitchen and tossing the can in the recycling. “Can I get anybody a drink?” he calls out.

“I brought a red!” David says as Mickey pokes his head out to look, seeing Patrick holding a bottle in his right hand. “Honey, go help Mickey,” he hears David tell his husband, again rubbing his shoulder. Patrick smiles at him, kisses his lips once before excusing himself and heading for the kitchen.

They nod at each other when he joins him in the kitchen. Mickey gets three glasses out for Patrick to pour them wine, as Mickey grabs another beer for himself. “Not a wine drinker?” Patrick asks, nodding to the can Mickey cracks open.

“Nah, not really,” he tells him.

“Me neither,” Patrick admits with a small chuckle.

Mickey opens the fridge and grabs another can. “Beer?” he asks him.

Patrick nods so he hands it to him. “Thanks,” Patrick says. He puts the can down, pours their husband’s a glass of wine and they each grab one and their own beers before rejoining.

David and Ian are already sitting on the sofa chatting and Ian throws his head back laughing. Mickey’s never seen Ian laugh like that in front of anyone but him and his family. He hands Ian the wine glass before sitting on the chair near him.

They do the obligatory small talk - how did you meet, how long have you been married, how long have you been together, what do you do for work. Stuff that they probably already know if Ian told David already but from their curious expressions and interest in their answers, it doesn’t seem like Ian’s gotten into much detail, not like they are now.

-

Ian made lasagna because apparently it’s Patrick’s favorite and always asks David to make it. It was really good. Ian and David go out on the balcony, leaving the screen door open only so that they could still hear them if need be. Mickey sits on the sofa with Patrick, scrolling through the channels. They both have fresh beers and Mickey finds a baseball game on so he puts that.

“You a fan?” Patrick asks, nodding to the screen.

Mickey shrugs. “Yeah, I mean I’ve never really kept up all that much. Didn’t really have a normal childhood but um, when Ian and I started dating or whatever, we used to sneak into games all the time. We were like seventeen - or well, I was, he was like fifteen or sixteen.”

Patrick has a soft smile on his face which reminds Mickey a lot of Ian, and that soft smile he gets sometimes when he looks at him. “That’s really sweet that you’ve been together for that long.”

“Had a lot of breakups and setbacks on the way,” Mickey tells him.

“But you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” Mickey smiles before rubbing at his mouth with his thumb. He clears his throat. “You a fan?”

“Oh huge fan. Used to play for my school’s team. Could have gone pro,” Patrick tells him.

“No shit,” Mickey says. “Why didn’t you?”

“Life,” he shrugs. “Responsibilities. Thoughts about what I should be instead of what I was.”

“I hear that,” Mickey says before knocking his can into Patrick’s.

-

Mickey likes Patrick. He’s not annoying. He likes sports but not obnoxiously so. He’s only come to terms with his sexuality late in life, something he can relate to. He likes math. He has a sense of humor. He likes beer. So far, this is one person in his building that he doesn’t hate.

Ian and David finally come back inside and Mickey’s laughing at Patrick’s reaction to a call made in the game. “Dude, you’re fuckin’ dramatic,” Mickey tells him.

“Pah!” Patrick makes an offended noise. “I definitely am not the dramatic one in my relationship.”

“Excuse me? What did I just walk into?” David asks, eyebrows drawn and mouth hard.

“Nothing,” Patrick tells him, pulling him down to him so he can kiss him on the lips.

David kisses him back and when he pulls away and stands back upright he says, “Mhm, sure.”

“What were you laughing about?” Ian asks as he sits in the chair next to Mickey, kicking at his foot lightly.

“Nothin’,” Mickey tells him and turns to wink at Patrick, making them both laugh and leaving their husbands confused.

“Okay, this isn’t fun for us,” David says, getting up. “More wine, Ian?”

“I’m gonna take a beer,” Ian says as he gets up, following David to the kitchen. They come back to join their husbands - Patrick now in the middle of the sofa in between David and Mickey, and Ian left to the chair next to Mickey’s side of the sofa.

Mickey finishes off his beer so he gets up, tosses it and grabs a new one before heading to their room to grab his smokes and lighter. “Either of you smoke?” he asks the new couple as he passes through the living room.

“No,” they both say.

Mickey shrugs. He’s about to light one when Ian says, “Let’s go outside for one, Mick,” getting up from his seat. “You guys don’t mind?”

“No, no, go for it,” David shoos them away so Ian and Mickey step outside on their balcony, closing the full door behind them so the smoke doesn’t go inside.

“Our fuckin’ house, could have let me smoke inside,” Mickey grumbles as he lights his smoke now, leaning against the railing and looking out over the pool.

“Would have been rude, Mick, they don’t smoke,” Ian sighs, coming next to him, close enough that their elbows are touching against the railing where they rest their arms.

“Whatever,” Mickey says through a lungful of smoke. “They’re cool,” he adds after a few quiet beats.

“Yeah?” Ian smiles, looking at his husband.

Mickey shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, Patrick is. I don’t know much about David,” he tells him.

“Ah,” Ian notes, nodding his head and turning back to face the pool again.

“What’s wrong?” Mickey asks after a minute.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not.”

“Are to. You got all quiet and you don’t usually unless you’re annoyed so just tell me what it is,” Mickey tells him. He knows Ian better than he knows himself most days.

“I don’t know - you just got like really chummy in there. I don’t know, it’s dumb,” Ian rushes to say.

“OH you’re jealous!” Mickey says, connecting the dots.

“What!?” Ian asks in that dramatic way he does. “Why would I be jealous? He’s married. We’re married.”

“You’re so jealous,” Mickey teases. He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray Ian bought so Mickey stops tossing cigarette butts out towards the pool and getting them in trouble.

“Mickey,” Ian warns.

“Are you jealous because I like him or because he likes me?”

“Both?” Ian asks with a small smile on his face.

“You’re an idiot,” Mickey laughs as Ian wraps his arms around Mickey’s shoulders and leans down, kissing him softly on the lips. Mickey holds onto Ian, pulling him in closer and sliding his tongue into his husbands mouth, showing him why he has no reason to be jealous.

There’s loud knocking on the door before it slides open. “Oh my God, we can totally leave if you two need to you know,” David says before he does some weird winking/blinking face.

Mickey knows he turns beet red, he can feel it. Ian laughs and tells David to fuck off for a second before turning back to Mickey. “Finishing this later,” he whispers. Ian winks at him before heading back inside. Mickey stays out there for another smoke, needing it after that.

-

Cuddled up and ready to pass the fuck out, Mickey lays on his back, naked, with Ian half on top of him. Mickey’s eyes are closed, waiting for sleep to come as he listens to Ian breathing, his soft, warm breath hitting his chest, and his gentle fingers tracing his name tattooed on Mickey’s chest.

“You asleep?” Ian whispers.

“Not yet,” he whispers back, turning his head slightly, Ian’s soft hair tickling his nose.

Ian lifts his head so that his chin is now digging into Mickey’s chest. He looks at him, barely any light illuminating his face, and says, “So you liked them right? Did we finally make couple friends that we can hang out with?”

Mickey chuckles softly, shaking Ian’s head since he’s still resting it on him. “They’re definitely better than anyone else you’ve made me meet but -”

Ian waits and when Mickey doesn’t continue he asks, “But what?”

Mickey sighs, shifting slightly. “I just don’t care about any of these people. I like when it’s just us.”

“Awww, Mick,” Ian coos, snuggling closer by shoving his face into his neck and kissing him all over.

“Okay, okay, okay, stop, Ian,” Mickey warns as he feels like he’s going to lose it soon, getting ticklish.

“That was so fuckin’ cute,” Ian says after he pulls back, giving Mickey some personal space.

“Not cute,” Mickey grumbles.

“You are. You want me all to yourself,” Ian says and even though Mickey can’t see it, he knows Ian has a huge fuckin’ grin on his face.

“Yeah so I actually like my husband and spending time with him, sue me,” Mickey says, making Ian laugh.

Ian tilts Mickey’s head towards him and kisses him softly. He only catches Mickey’s top lip but with some adjusting, they kiss sweetly and so filled with love. “I love you, Mickey. You’re my best friend and I love spending all my time with you,” he tells him softly.

“Okay well then I guess sometimes we can hang out with them again. Not every fuckin’ week though.”

“Deal,” Ian says before kissing his cheek loudly then getting back into position with his head on Mickey’s chest and fingers lightly tracing his tattoo.

Mickey holds him close, kissing the top of his head. “Night baby,” he whispers against his hair.

Ian kisses his chest, “Night baby.”

[vanchlo]

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes / Green Eyes 4

Read all 3 previous parts here! 

Blurb Synopsis: With final exams approaching, you find yourself coming to rely on Harry more, whether for help with teaching, emotional support, help packing your apartment, or to complain about your students wanting to set the two of you up together. The saying goes that ‘stress makes you stronger,’ and that will be the true test during this season in your lives, and relationship. 

Genre: Teacher Harry, soooooo much fluff, some angst, a little sad, and lots of romance.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 10k words, whoops

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Changes by David Bowie & Butterfly Boucher (click to listen; yes the Shrek version, YES FROM THIS VERY PART) 

I also wanted to thank my pals @sunflwrnarry​ and @bfharry​ who’ve helped me with this story with their support, ideas, and love for it. I love freaking out with you two over this story  ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 

*

As you bring your fist to the blue door, you suddenly pause. Thoughts dance inside of your head and tie themselves to your heart. Happiness comes over you in another wave as Harry’s voice interrupts the thoughts, his voice telling you that he loves you from earlier. A content sigh meets the air in front of you in a white cloud. You had forgotten how cold you were, but the playful barking coming from the other side of the door brings you back to reality. 

“C’min!” Harry replies once you knock. 

Slowly opening the door, the warmth of Harry’s house greets you, along with the musky cinnamon smell that accompanies it. What surprises you is the little bundle of golden fur barking at you, but with the cutest bark, you’ve ever heard. 

“Ya, you get ‘er, Gatsby! Go get mummy, go say hullo t’ her!” Harry giggles, and soon you are too as you fall to a crouch as he approaches you. With that tail dancing in the air, you only laugh harder as he slips and falls in front of you. “My goodness, yer a clutz li’l boy. ‘Bout third time ya’ve fallen down and we’ve only been home fer a few minutes, jus’ beat mummy by a tick.”

“Hi, bud. How was your ride home with daddy? What do you think of your new home?” you coo to the puppy, rubbing the top of his furry head. He continues to yip at you for a few seconds until his sniffer takes over. 

“I see how good o’ guard dog, you are, pup. Ya smell any food on ‘em and they’re yer friend,” Harry sighs with a titter, carding a hand through his hair when you glance over to him. 

“No, you’re a good guard dog, Gatsby. You just have to get used to mummy and daddy, don’t you?” you croon, rubbing both hands along his chubby face as he sniffs the air. “Come on, let’s go sit by daddy,” you suggest, unable to hide your laugh as you observe him struggling to walk on the hardwood floor. 

“Looks like I might need t’ get su’more rugs or else he’s gonna be fallin’ e’rywhere.”

“Yeah, it’ll be easier to clean up his accidents on the wood flooring, though,” you note aloud, sliding off your slushy winter boots onto the mat by the door. After hanging up your coat on one of the hooks, you turn right into Harry’s living room to take a seat by him on the long red rug. “Did you take him potty yet?”

“Ya, I did befo’ we went in tha school and afta, and a few minutes ‘go. He went befo’ we went in but not since. ‘m not too worried tho’, I knew when I got him that he’d be peein’ on e’rythin’,” Harry notes, his eyes stuck to the waddling furball. Quickly, they dart to you and his strong arms come around your middle, pulling you into him. “C’mere, love, and have a cuddle wit’ me.”

Gatsby turns and begins to bark at the both of you as Harry pulls you over to sit in his lap, the both of you laughing loudly. He tottles over and proceeds to sniff the both of you. 

“How does she smell, Gats’? Does mummy pass yer sniffer check?” he mumbles, against your cheek where his words tickle your skin. You contribute to the conversation with a laugh at the both of them, sinking into Harry’s arms. Contentment washes over you when your back meets his chest and you feel him press a kiss to your temple. 

“Come here, Gatsby!” you say, patting your lap excitedly. 

“Nah, he’s too busy sniffin’. I swear ‘s all he did when he was in me car, even tho’ I was holdin’ him tha whole time.”

“It sounds like you should’ve named him Scooby-Doo instead,” you remark, earning a soft laugh from Harry. You squirm when you feel his breath tickle your neck. Sighing, you relax against him, his arms resting on your soft tummy and sometimes rubbing his knuckles against it. 

“Perhaps,” he comments, the feeling of his smooth cheek against yours an absence now, his stubble already prickling your skin. “Fit right into me arms, tha both o’ you,” he continues, swaying the both of you back and forth in his arms now clad in a long-sleeved Rolling Stones crewneck. 

You hope he can see the smile adorning your face and being all the reply he needs. You’re uncertain the last time you felt this content and happy all rolled into one, but it’s hard to pinpoint because Harry always seems to have that effect on you. 

“Hope ‘s okay I named him, jus’ thought it was perfect when I saw him tha otha day,” he whispers against your temple, the cinnamon from his gum tiptoeing over your face. 

“Yeah of course, it is. I couldn’t imagine him being named anything else. I don’t know how you kept him a secret for a whole week, I would’ve squealed,” you say with a grin, backing up when the puppy gets brave and stands up, his front paws on Harry’s knee. You titter at the feeling of his feathery whiskers on your skin, the sound of his adamant sniffing, and the cold wetness of his nose on your chin. 

“Yeah, I dunno how I didn’t. There were so many times I almost told ya, but I jus’ wanted t’ surprise ya, bird.”

“I’m glad you did. Okay, Gatsby, you go and smell daddy now,” you relent, your hands coming around the chunky puppy. His tummy is warm against your palms and his whine fills your ears as you lift him up to set in your lap. 

“I dunno, I think he likes how ya smell betta. What, did ya eat sumthin’ on tha way here, a Twix or Bit-O-Honey, or sumthin’?” Harry murmurs, his smile felt on your temple. “We’re gonna hafta watch it, he’ll wanna get into e’rythin’.”

“Yeah, he must smell that Twix I found in my car,” you reply, squealing when you feel the puppy’s warm wet tongue on your cheek. 

“Sumbody already loves their mummy, I see,” Harry comments. “Ya, Gats’, le’ss give mummy all tha kisses!” he exclaims before pressing loud smooches all over your face too. 

“Oh no, attacked by kisses, whatever will I do?!” you shout, feeling the energetic puppy in your lap as you close your eyes, chuckling. You wouldn’t change this for the world, no siree. 

*

“Thanks for dinner, it was delicious,” you tell Harry as you set your dishes in the dishwasher. 

“Welcome, love. Would ya like some wine? I should finish off dis bottle already, ‘s gettin’ all flat,” Harry asks, the soft click of the fridge door opening following his words. 

“I don’t know, it’s getting kind of late and I have to drive home . . ,” you answer, conflict showing through in your words.

Your eyes follow Harry’s tall figure as he reaches an arm to a shelf in the cabinet, grabbing two long-stemmed wine glasses. A smile tickles at your lips when his shirt rides up a tad, and his fern tattoos adorning his hips say hi to you, as well as his happy trail you love so much. It amazes you the amount of restraint it takes to not reach over and touch his tummy. Ugh. 

“You could have as much wine as ya’d like and ya wouldn’t hafta drive home if ya stay tha night. Gatsby had wanted me t’ ask ya, anyways. I told him we could make it work - we’ll all pile togetha in me bed, and ya can borrow sum jammies o’ mine,” he hums, turning to face you as he sets down the two empty glasses. The bubbles rising within your chest only worsen when you see the smug look pulling his lips into a smile. “I mean, that’s if ya want t’ sleep ova.” 

The gurgling of the white wine filling a glass occupies the silence between the two of you. Words fleet you as you watch him fill one glass three-quarters of the way full, and when his eyes lift to you they brim with uncertainty and anxiety. 

“Bird?” he inquires softly, raising an eyebrow. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he bites on his lip. “Sorry, nevamind, maybe ‘s a bit early fer that still. Yer not movin’ in fer anotha’ month, so ‘s okay,” he finishes, trying to diffuse the situation with a soft laugh. 

You deliver your answer by grabbing the full wine glass and bringing it to your lips that part with a smile, “I’d love to stay over and steal your ‘jammies’,” you reply softly, the wine surprising your lips with its sweetness and chill. His face collapses into a blushing laugh as he shakes his head. 

“Birdy, you li’l shit,” he remarks, clucking his tongue as he pours the rest of the bottle into the second glass for himself. “Ya can’t scare me like that, thought I jus’ made a proper fool o’ meself.” 

“No, you could never make a fool of yourself in my eyes, Harry,” you mumble, setting down the wine glass on your short walk over to him. Your fingers soon find him, first on his backside where you cup his ass, earning another head shake from him.  

“Ya really fancy me bum, dontcha, love?” he snickers, setting down the bottle with a clud, twirling the metal cap back on quickly. He turns around to face you, but you leave your hand on his bum. 

“Mmmhmm, it’s quite nice,” you try to say seriously, but it comes out accompanied with a laugh. 

“So ‘s yers, y’know,” he winks, slapping your butt as he dips to plant a kiss on your lips. “We betta go find out what that li’l boy ‘s doin’ in there, prolly gettin’ into trouble.” 

“In a second,” you whisper, placing your hand on the back of his neck slowly. 

“Jus’ a second?” 

“Maybe more,” you shrug, feeling the wispy hairs on the back of his neck as the golden glints in his eyes come into focus. 

His rose lips spread into a smile, showing his straight teeth, and disappearing when your lips meet his in a kiss. The remnants of the chocolatey brownies you had for dessert linger on his lips. Wafts of dark smoke from when he started the fire in the fireplace titillate your senses, coming to be a favorite smell you associate with him. 

“You taste and smell so fucking good, like brownies at a bonfire,” you breathe against his lips, your eyes wandering to his that stare at you so adoringly you feel like you’ve already had five glasses of wine. 

“Look at tha potty mouth on you, can’t believe it sumtimes,” he smirks from above you, the smell of cocoa hitting your face. 

“Yeah well, you sure like to kiss it a lot.”

“I do, don’t I?” Harry coos, brushing the pad of his thumb along your lip, adding another theoretical glass of wine to the overflow of your senses. “I’d kiss it bloody all day long, if I could.” 

Your head fills with wishes similar to those as his lips caress yours, but you’re broken apart when you hear a whine from nearby. Parting, you both peer into the other room, finding Gatsby waiting in the doorway. You swear that he stares at the both of you while he lifts a leg and pees onto the dark wooden floor. 

“Well, so much fer that,” Harry giggles, stealing a kiss from your cheek before he lets go of you. “Where’d ya leave those baby wipes we were usin’, love?” 

*

Although Harry’s pajama bottoms swallow your entire bottom, legs, feet, and all, you can’t help but smile at them. The gentle smell of his laundry detergent reminds you of marshmallows for some reason, and you couldn’t be happier as it envelopes you. His Beatles shirt falls over your head and comes down to your thighs, but you’re not complaining. I think these are tha smallest ‘ve got, they should fit, he had murmured a mere minute before as he handed you the folded pile of clothes. Okay, Harry, if you insist, you think silently as you inspect your appearance with a dumbfounded smile. 

With a nervous grin, you set your outfit from today on a shelf in the cabinet and turn off the light. You can hear Harry talking to Gatsby as your socked feet pad down the hallway, easing your nerves quickly. Low and behold, once you push the door open, you find him sitting on Harry’s chest, looking like he’s getting a talking to. Sure enough he is, you find. 

“‘s time t’ go t’ bed now, so we’re all gonna sleep in dis bed. Please try not t’ pee on daddy’s sheets. Ya have a pillow t’ lay on down at tha end o’ tha bed, and yer bed’s on tha floor in tha corner. There’s one o’ those blue plastic sheets down fer ya t’ go pee too, alright? Understood?” he tells the puppy with a toothy smile, wagging a finger at him and twirling one of his floppy ears around another 

“Uh oh, somebody’s in trouble,” you joke, leaning against the doorframe. When Harry’s eyes carry over to you, you self consciously cross your arms over your chest not contained by a bra. “What?” you mumble, narrowing your eyes at him as he stares at you, that toothy grin only growing wider. 

“Nothing,” he confesses, looking back to Gatsby with reddening cheeks, stealing glances at you every now and then. 

“Harry,” you continue with emphasis, dashing around the bed to slide under the cream covers on the right side. “Hi, Gatsby,” you coo excitedly when his tail begins to wag frantically, pulling a giggle from your lips when he turns towards you, hitting Harry in the face. 

“Gosh, kid,” he manages, lifting the puppy up to pass him to you. You’re almost drowned in puppy kisses to the face, sending giggles from your lips. The puppy’s name flies into the air as you try to fight him off. “Guess he likes that taste o’ tha toothpaste.”

“I guess so,” you agree aloud, finally his attack of kisses ending. Soon, he forgets you and wanders around the bed sniffing. He finally lies down and curls up against Harry’s leg towards the end of the bed. 

“I sacrifice one o’ my pillows fer ya t’ lie on, and that’s where ya lay?” Harry huffs, but soon an adoring whine sounds behind his lips as he admires the puppy. “I guess we tired him out runnin’ laps downstairs.”

“Yeah, it’s about time. He has so much energy, I can’t believe it,” you murmur in agreement. When you look over to see the look on his face for the puppy, instead you find his eyes waiting on you. “What? Do I have toothpaste on my face?”

“No, but if ya did Gats’ woulda gott’it,” Harry hums, nevertheless brushing a thumb across your cheek with the sappiest smile you’ve seen him wear in a long time. “Ya jus’ look . . cuter than I thought ya’d look in me clothes, bird.”

“I’m swimming in them, how is that cute?” you ask, pulling on the front of the shirt as proof, eliciting a loud laugh from Harry. 

“‘m sorry, I thought they’d fit betta. But they look great on you, they really do. E’rythin’ does, and sumhow I love me jammies on ya best,” he remarks, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “Yer so beautiful, birdy. ‘m gonna go get ready fer bed too, befo’ I keep blabberin’.”

The smirk painted on his face looks much like the one you’re sure is consuming yours at his words. He folds back the covers and Gatsby moves over as Harry leaves the bed, but you grab hold of his hand at the last second. He turns to you with a questioning look, saying he has to go and brush his teeth. 

“I like it when you blabber, especially to me,” you share, pulling on his arm until he returns to lean over the bed, steadying himself with a hand on the mattress. 

“There’s n’body else ‘d ratha blab t’ than you, love, and ‘m guessin’ we’re in fer a long night with this li’l one,” he smiles, pecking you fast before his hand slips from yours and he leaves the room. 

Yawning, you slide back under the covers and pull them over your shoulders, savoring Harry’s smell they hold. Your head falls onto the satiny pillowcase as the top plush blanket a shade of sage caresses your cheek. A huff tickles at your ears and you find Gatsby’s made his way over to you and settles his head to fall on your calf, his large ears splaying out on the splash of green. Emails and texts on your phone occupy your time as you wait for Harry, listening to Gatsby’s adorable little sounds where he’s curled up beside you. Your sleepy hand finds his furry body, keeping you warm, and you tickle his fur as you turn your phone off to set on the table at your bedside. 

“Look at you two, snug as a bug in a rug, ‘d say,” Harry murmurs out of nowhere, appearing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. For a second, you think you need to do the same because you’re sure the image in front of you is a mirage of some sort. Harry scratches at his bare chest, a yawn leaving his lips while stretching his bare arms into the air. “Oh sorry, I neva sleep with a shirt on, I hope that’s okay. It doesn’t make ya feel weird, does it?” he questions, closing the bedroom door so Gatsby won’t wander around the house, as he said earlier. 

“N-No, it’s okay,” you mumble, trying not to stare as he pads across the room. The closer he gets, the more your heart freaks out in your chest, you’re sure of it. “I like it,” you confess, suddenly wishing you weren’t so good at this blurting out secrets thing. 

“Oh, d’ya now?” he smirks, shutting off the overhead light, leaving his lamp on to carry soft light on his side of the bed. You suffice a response with a shrug of your shoulders, cozying into the bed as he slips under the top sheet, pillowy comforter and blanket. 

“Yer sumthin’, aren’t ya, birdy?” he quips, flicking off his lamp, leaving the soft glow of a few night lights he installed about ten minutes ago for you and Gatsby, his guests. 

“Something special,” you tease with a snicker, hearing his breathy one in return, and soon finding his face lit by the glow. 

“That, ya are, love. My sumthin’ special,” he acknowledges, the squeak of the mattress following his words as he arrives at your side. “If ya need anythin’ tonight, ya can wake me, alright? Figure we might be up a few times with him, anyways.” 

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Welcome, bird, I hope ya have sweet dreams. ‘m glad ya stayed fer a sleepova, thank you,” he hums, a dimple falling into his cheek with his words, leading you to think if you had any they’d already be there in your cheeks. Sometimes you can’t believe your luck. 

“Of course,” you answer, leaning forward to place your lips atop his. He giggles into the kiss as your lips move together, the spearmint in his toothpaste forgotten as it tickles your own tongue too after he gave you a spare toothbrush. His hand comes to rest on your side and it feels peculiar with the absence of his rings, but you savor it and it’s warmth. 

His bottom lip remains between yours, pillowy soft and warm until you begin to hear Gatsby’s snores and your fingers have found the bravery to roam his chest. The cheekiness comes out in you when one wanders to his bum, giving it a good squeeze through the checkered fabric of his ‘jammies’ as he so adorably calls them. A muffled snicker slides into his mouth when the hand on your side drifts to your bottom with a soft slap. You’re grateful for his absence of a shirt, letting your fingers admire the slope of his back warm against your fingers that are cold from washing up. The little hairs all over his body are satiny smooth beneath your fingertips, just like his top lip that you take between yours, your hurried breaths filling the air. 

“‘Kay, bird, time t’ get sum sleep. We can snog in tha mornin’, ‘m beat afta t’day with school and runnin’ after this li’l boy,” Harry sighs after ending the kiss, mirroring your frown but much more dramatically. “Get sum sleep, ‘ll see ya in tha mornin’. We’ll all three go t’ tha shops t’ buy tha rest o’ his stuff and ingredients fer pizza t’morrow,” he yawns, leaving a kiss on your nose afterward. You nod in response and hastily lay a kiss on his cheek. Nervously, you pull away, afraid you’re pushing his buttons, but he just smiles and kisses you on the lips one last time. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” you whisper, arms diving back under the warm covers as you try to get comfortable without moving Gatsby. 

“Night, bird . . and Gatsby.”

“Goodnight, Gatsby,” you murmur, patting his small head softly, his snores continuing against your leg. 

“Oh, I see how it ‘s, yer already becomin’ a mumma’s boy,” Harry tuts, clucking his tongue as he squirms in the bed, finding his sweet spot. You drift off soon next to your two boys, counting down the days until you get to fall asleep with them by your side every night. 

*

Browsing YouTube, you scroll through the videos that appeared from your search request for haikus. Yawning, you rub at your eye as you pause your scrolling and inspect a video before playing it. It doesn’t get a chance to play very far when you’re interrupted by a voice. 

“Thanks fer tha lunch again, bird. Ya really do spoil me, I always forget t’ make one,” Harry hums, waltzing into your classroom holding the Rolling Stones lunchbox you had bought for him for Christmas last month. He sets it down on a clean corner of your desk, leaning across it to peck you on the cheek. 

“You’re welcome. Did you eat everything?” you ask, dragging it over and undoing the zippers. 

“Ya. I loved tha bagel sandwich you packed tha fixings fer, and tha soup was lovely,” he hums, leaning against your desk, crossing his arms over the soft yellow button-up covered in black flower designs. 

“No, you didn’t,” you disagree smiling, opening one of the small pockets to take out a box. 

“What, how’d I miss those? You musta hid ‘em from me!” Harry exclaims, taking the box of Chocolate Banana Pocky from your grasp. A cocky giggle of his fills the air as he opens the box and rips open the white bag. 

“Harry, you better not eat those all in one sitting!” you warn. He looks you in the eyes as he sticks four of them into his mouth and takes a bite, a smirk playing along his lips. “Harry Styles!” you proclaim, sitting forward and threatening to rip the box from his hand. He only giggles harder and takes another bite, the four pocky gone in a flash as he crunches on the rest of them loudly. 

Shaking your head, you watch him walk away, sticking three more between his rose lips. You sigh with a smile, unsure of just how many times you’ve seen him devour a box of them within an hour, or less. 

“What’s your full name?” you wonder aloud, looking away from the computer screen and to him where he stops in your doorway, turning around. 

“Well ‘m not gonna delight ya with that info afta ya jus’ yelled at me, now am I? ‘m sure ya jus’ wanna use it t’ yell at me su’more,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders as he shoves the rest of the half-eaten pocky into his mouth, winking. You can hear his chewing all the way from here. “And no, yer not gettin’ any o’ me pocky.”

*

The deep breaths just don’t stick, and soon you find yourself out of your chair and pacing your classroom. You busy yourself picking up forgotten pencils and papers on the floor, tidying the messy containers of books, and the disaster that is your desk. 

“Ya ready t’ go?” somebody sings from your doorway where a shuffling sound comes from as well. “Birdy?”

You don’t respond, unfreezing your hands from the sound of his voice. Instead, you flip over a copy of The Tempest and replace it in the bin right side up, because Harry would not allow that to be done to a Shakespeare. His shuffling of feet comes next, tapping along the floor and getting closer. A swallow is met with the lump in your throat, and you brush the back of your hand over your cheek, hoping they’re gone. 

“Hey, anybody home?” Harry laughs, arriving at your side and slinging an arm around your waist. “‘m ready t’ go, if you are, love. ‘m sure Gatsby ‘s waitin’ fer us at my place, all excited. He’s missed you, y’know,” he coos, pecking your cheek. 

“Yeah, sorry I-.”

“Hey, yer phone’s ringin’. Here, ‘ll grab it fer ya,” he volunteers, soon feeling his absence as his footsteps are drowned out by the loud ringtone. “It says ‘s yer mum.” Closing your eyes, you groan quietly or at least try to. Soon, he’s at your side again and places it in your hands where you hit decline. 

“What, why didn’t ya answer?” he questions, probably eyebrows knitted together in the cutest way possible, like he does. You don’t look though, so you’re not sure as you shove it into your pocket, busying your hands with the mess of books before you. Removing a copy of The Christmas Carol that was shoved into the front of another bin backward, you replace it to face forward now. “Birdy, what’s goin’ on?” he continues, a hand settling on your arm, but when you reach to grab another book his hand grabs it. It leaves your fingers to grace your chin, turning your head to look at him. 

“I just don’t want to talk to her right now,” you reply softly, hoping he won’t detect the spent tears that aren’t so invisible on your cheeks. 

“Oh,” he breathes, a dimple falling into his cheek when his mouth quirks into a confused expression under his layer of five-day-old stubble. “Y’know, ya’ve neva talked much ‘bout yer parents, ‘d like t’ meet ‘em. I mean we’re movin’ in togetha soon and ‘m sure they’d like t’ meet Gatsby. Ya met me sista fer tha first time tha otha day.”

This time you’re positive he doesn’t see the tear streaks or how they still cling to your eyelashes coated in mascara. Boys can sometimes be so ugh, you mutter to yourself amongst your thoughts. You knew this was coming the second she called, and well, months ago, but you had hoped you could’ve gotten by longer without it. 

“You don’t want to meet them,” is all you say as you turn away, his hand dropping from your chin now cold from the drought of his touch. You soon arrive back at your desk where you pick up a stack of worksheets from this week’s vocabulary words, looking for a paperclip to fasten them. 

“You can’t decide what I want and don’t want, bird. I don’t like that,” Harry responds, and you can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye. “I mean, ya met my parents already, why can’t I meet yours? I don’t undastand.” 

“I don’t want you to meet them,” you reply, setting the now fastened stack on one of the wire shelves of the little stackable organizer on your desk. You continue to avoid his gaze by gathering together another stack of today’s green root words quizzes. 

“I thought we weren’t keepin’ secrets, bird, but ya can come ova when yer ready t’ tell me. ‘m goin’ home, so take howeva much time ya need,” he grumbles with a loud exhale, almost slamming the door to your classroom on his way out. 

Sinking into your chair, your hands rake through your hair as a defeated sigh joins the air. Another one falls after the next when you spot the neon blue Post-It note stuck to the underside of your desk, just at the edge where you would’ve spotted it, just like you have. The crack along your heart only grows deeper when you begin to read his messy chicken scratch, and all of the love that leaks from its words. 

Birdy, 

Gatsby wanted me to tell you that you are such a greatttttttt mummy already, and that he loves you soooooo much! His daddy loves you too ;) I’m looking forward to making homemade pasta together tonight, you always have the greatest ideas. My students asked me today when I’m going to ask you out on a date, soooo would you like to go out on a date with me this weekend, toooooo pack up your apartment to come and live with me? ;) I’m so excited to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night, bird. Only two more weeks! Fourteen more sleeps, it’s not like I’m counting or anything. 

I love you, so much

Harry xoxo

*

“C’min!” a voice drawls when you rap your fist against the door. The warm inviting scent of cinnamon greets you when you walk into Harry’s house an hour later, along with the growing puppy who scurries over to you. 

“Hi, bud,” you murmur with a smile, giving him a good petting as his tail sweeps along the floor. “Is daddy still crabby?” you ask him, closing the door behind you with your foot. 

After toeing off your boots and hanging up your coat, you peek into the kitchen where the smell of onion, garlic, and broccoli waft from. Harry stands at the stove in a shirt and sweatpants, rolling his bottom lip between his fingers. You don’t get much of a chance to figure out what mood he’s in, because Gatsby jumps up onto your lap, licking all over your face. 

You play with the puppy in the living room as Harry cooks in the kitchen until he announces the food is ready, homemade pasta night forgotten apparently. You eat together silently while watching TV, Gatsby begging at your feet. You thought that things were better now when compared to earlier, but for the rest of the night something was off between the two of you. You focused your attention on Gatsby who you swear has grown since the last time you saw him, if only a few days ago. Now, he fills your lap comfortably, and you’re sad to say goodbye to him when you leave early. You just couldn’t take the awkwardness floating in the air anymore, and left after a short peck from Harry. 

*

The next day, a Saturday, Harry showed up with Gatsby and a bunch of cardboard boxes to pack close to the last of your stuff. You tried to make it up to him by cooking him breakfast, which he loved, but you still felt it sticking to every moment that passed. You weren’t sure if you should bring it up or not, and at the same time you were waiting for him to bring it up, readying your defenses. Something was clearly bothering him or on his mind, and as you bubble wrapped things and packed them away, you were curious about why he kept looking at his phone. Then around one in the afternoon, after a few hours of packing, he stepped out to take a call. 

“What’s going on with daddy, Gats’?” you posed to the puppy who ignored you, albeit stealing a look at you, returning to the rawhide he’s been intent on destroying. You swallow nervously, glancing over to the hallway outside your bedroom where you can just make out his voice. Tearing your gaze from it, you try to busy yourself by gently placing the wrapped picture frame in the box, and picking up the next one. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly when Harry returns, shoving his phone into the back pocket of his blue jeans. 

“Ya, e’rythin’s fine,” he replies casually, pulling at the collar of his charcoal-colored henley shirt. 

“Okay,” you mumble quietly, wishing you could forget about packing and admire the way that shirt hugs him in all of the right places. That will have to wait for another day when he wears it, you agree silently, seeing that he’s not in the mood today for his buttons to be pushed. You don’t want to find out what happens when you push them when he’s in a bad mood. You try to forget about it as he helps you pack up some of the less necessary items in your bedroom, like summer clothes, novels, photo albums, CDs, DVDs, and more. 

*

As you stare at the barren shelves of your fridge, you make a mental note to go grocery shopping soon, something you’ve forgotten recently with finals approaching at school and packing. 

“Do you want to get takeaway or go out for lunch?” you call out to Harry, leaving the kitchen to find him sitting on the sofa in your living room. He’s staring at something intently on his phone, but when he hears your footsteps behind him, he quickly hides his phone in his pocket. 

“Takeaway’s fine,” he answers, clearing his throat, his nervous tic. 

“Harry, is something going on? You’ve been acting weird, like you’re hiding something,” you assert, walking around to face him. You’re unsure of what he’ll say as you’re unable to read his face, and you know that’s when it’s bad. 

“What, so yer tha only one who can keep secrets?” he retorts, his face screwed up in crude disbelief. You’re sure the same emotion painting yours is even worse as you feel the sting of his words. He sighs as you shake your head, beginning to walk away. “Bird, stop, ‘m sorry.” 

“What, Harry?” you ask, stopping your feet, but not turning around to face him. You hear him breathe in deeply among the squeaking of Gatsby’s toy he plays with on the couch beside Harry. 

“I was offa’d a teachin’ job t’day, a few hours north at that Wright Arts Academy, that’s who called me,” he announces solemnly. The only thing you’re grateful for in the moment is the fact that he can’t see the look on your face as you’re positive every breath just left your body. “They’re so focused on enrichin’ tha students in arts, ‘s great. ‘d be teachin’ classes like Mythology, a whole class on Shakespeare, Improv, Rhetoric, Intro to Sci-fi and Fantasy, and jus’ so many great English courses. Tha classes are smaller and so ya get t’ know yer students betta. ‘d get t’ teach ‘bout my favourite, Shakespeare, fer an entire semesta, bird! They’re offerin’ me more money, too . . ,” he continues, and you’re unsure of when you want him to stop, or if you wish he had never begun. Suddenly, you do a three-sixty when your thoughts are consumed by the happiness and excitement in his voice. 

“You should take it,” you say, spinning around to look at him. His eyes are stuck on a random part of the wall, but then he looks to you. 

“But ‘s three hours away, bird? ‘d hafta move away and we’re s’posed t’ move in togetha,” he counters, eyebrows falling and quickly you’re more confused than you were a moment ago. 

“You’ve always wanted to teach those kinds of classes, Harry, you’ve told me so yourself.” 

“But, birdy-.”

“Take the job, Harry, if it’s what you want,” you insist, trying to smile at him, but it doesn’t stay long when you see the look on his face. 

“I dunno if ‘s what I want, yet. I don’ wanna move away from you, I don’ wanna do long distance. Wait, do you? ‘s tha movin’ in with me too soon, are ya gettin’ cold feet?” 

“What are you talking about? Harry, no of course not. Where are you getting this from?” you reply, dumbfounded at the words coming out of his mouth. Apparently, you can only grow more confused. 

“Maybe it has sumthin’ t’ do with not wantin’ me t’ meet yer parents, I dunno, you tell me, bird. D’ya not wanna commit? Why would ya want me t’ take a job that would make us do long distance?” 

“I don’t know, Harry, maybe because I want you to be happy!” you exclaim, feeling telltale signs of incoming tears, and they fly faster than you thought they could have. “You’ve told me that you’ve always wanted to teach classes like those, because you enjoy those topics so much - myths in literature, science fiction and fantasy novels, and even though I don’t understand it, you love Shakespeare! You almost named Gatsby after Romeo or Duncan instead, you love his work so much. Of course, I don’t want you to move away, because things are so perfect right now having a job that means I get to work across the hall from my boyfriend. I can’t believe you think I’d want you to move away and do long distance. I would never- but I want you to be happy, and I’m not going to stop you from taking this job if it brought you that. I’m not going to be selfish and make you stay for my own happiness. A-and my parents are another story, I haven’t spoken to them in years. They’re just not good people. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t know how,” you finish, feeling grateful for that blurting talent of yours because sometimes you need it. Harry’s jaw almost hangs off its hinges as you stare back at him through blurry eyes, wishing the last few minutes hadn’t happened. Well, the last day. Quickly, the tears triple and you can’t stand him seeing you cry anymore because of the thoughts bashing against the walls of your head. 

“I’m going to go pick up lunch,” you say softly, defeat evident in your tone as you turn around. After grabbing your keys and coat, you stomp out to your car and start it. You wait for it to warm up as the cold air from the vents slowly turns warm, but really you only waste the time so you can spill your tears in silence. 

It takes all of your strength and willpower to not go back into your apartment and tell him not to leave, because you’re pretty sure it would break you. You can’t imagine a stranger teaching in Harry’s classroom, no shared kisses in the copier room and staff lounge, crossing the hall to ask him a question as soon as it pops into your head, and the fun you both have with your students trying to set the two of you up together albeit it being futile. The doubt of getting a job for yourself at this stupid Academy of Arts to join Harry only makes you feel worse, especially because of the memories your school holds for the both of you. 

Wiping your tears away, you try to take a deep breath that won’t come, and you pull the car away to leave him and hope that he won’t do the same to you. The tears left as you drove to go and pick up fast food, but they returned when Harry texted you while in the drive-thru to not get him anything because he was going home to think. Once you returned to the empty apartment, that’s all you could do was think, and it tore you apart. 

*

You had left Harry be for the rest of the weekend, although it was one of the hardest things you had done. You’d liken the effort to running a triathlon, although you’ve never done one of those, but you feel like you have the strength of a triathlete after giving him space. You relented and texted him once though, but just once. It was to ask for a picture of Gatsby who you missed, and he followed through, sending you a couple of pictures. They made you the happiest you’d been all weekend, even despite the tears that crept up when you saw Harry’s reflection in the mirror in one. Then his ringed hand holding Gatsby in another, a selfie of sorts with your favorite shirt of his on his torso. It all made you doubt your words the more, not wanting to have to suffice for only seeing him and Gatsby through pictures if he took the job. You were reminded of your reasoning for it all - wanting him to be happy, but it still gnawed away at you what that would mean if he moved. You tried not to let yourself get too carried away and at times you almost called him, but you weren’t sure who was the bad guy after your argument. You were the one who exploded on him, and you both kept secrets from the other, something you had recently agreed not to do. A promise that the both of you broke so soon. 

*

You had yet to see Harry the following Monday at school, even though you could hear the Cat Stevens album trickling from his classroom at seven-twenty in the morning. Somehow you avoided a run in on your way to the early morning staff meeting, and you didn’t mean to, but you were roped in to sit by a colleague. You found your first seconds of joy of the day when she showed you pictures of her growing baby, one Harry doted on and hogged during most of the staff Christmas party last month. You tried not to think of that while looking at the baby’s chunky thighs and rolls on her arms, and how much you wanted to tell him about it. The joy didn’t stay long when you spotted him taking a seat next to Julie, the visual arts teacher who has had a thing for him as long as you can remember. The pit in your stomach hardens at the sight of him, messy-haired and unshaven, and yet handsome as ever. Confliction carries your features when you spot him wearing the multi-colored Peter Max inspired pop-art button up you had bought him for Christmas. It all only gets worse when he senses your stare and meets your eyes, showing you the sadness hidden in them before you look back to the pictures of the baby. 

*

“Hey, teach! I have a question!” a tall brunette girl in your classroom whispers to you, glancing over to the librarian nervously. 

“Yes, Sabrina?” you reply, trying to ignore how some of the students call you that, but then again it’s some that you’re the closest to. 

“Um, Mr. Styles is just right over there, aren’t you going to go and talk to him?” she grins, playing with her ponytail, ignoring the computer in front of her. 

“Yeah, he’s looking extra cute today,” the girl beside her comments and you have to hold back your laughter. “But he was all glum when I had Creative Writing with him earlier, I don’t know what his deal is today.”

“Maybe he’d be happier if he had a girlfriend,” Sabrina comments wryly, raising her eyebrows at you. 

“Maybe I’d be happier if you two were doing your review for the final exam, and not trying to set me up with your teacher, when I can manage just fine on my own,” you comment firmly, trying to avert their attention back to their computer screens and review packet. 

“Hey, Mr. Styles, um Ms. Y/N needs some help with something about Shakespeare!” Sabrina calls to Harry two rows of computers to your right. 

“I don’t need help!” is all you say with a sigh, loud enough for him to hear, turning around the second you see his head of tousled curls lift where he’s leaning next to a student he helps. 

“He ignored you!” Sabrina’s friend exclaims in a whisper, inhaling dramatically along with Sabrina. “You’re not just going to let him ignore you, are you, Ms. Y/N?” 

“God, what you’d do to him, he’s usually all over you?” Sabrina sighs.

“Girls, please return to your work. I’m sure Mr. Styles is busy helping a student with their final review, which you’re supposed to be doing right now too. Finals are at the end of the week, we all need as much studying as we can get,” you calmly say although rather curtly, walking away when you see a student with their hand in the air. 

“I wish they’d just confess their love for each other already, they’re perfect for each other,” Sabrina grumbles, clicking her pen annoyingly. 

“Me too, then maybe they’d both stop being so crabby during finals week,” her friend notes aloud with an exasperated sigh. 

Usually you can take the teasing of your students wanting to set you up with Harry, but today you’re not in the mood for entertaining them or carrying a conversation about it. Today, it just hits a little too close to home, you realize silently as you lean against a wall to observe your class, the student no longer needing help. You steal a glance at Harry who stands up straight after helping a student, patting their shoulder with a smile. His attentiveness shines through when he moves on to another student, falling to his knees to get to eye level with him, giving them all of his attention. The way the shirt hugs his torso in every way only makes it all the worse, clinging to his biceps, the slope of his back, and his love handles you love so much before it disappears into the waist of his black slacks. 

“Ms. Y/N, are you okay?” Sabrina asks, her eyes on you when you look over to her. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got something in my eye,” you answer with a hard swallow, picking up your clipboard and checking your watch. You do anything to try and not think about Harry leaving, and how not only you would suffer, but his students. Also, just how much you’re dying to tell your students, hopefully one day soon, that you’ve been dating all along. Hopefully. 

*

Finals had been wreaking havoc on you and only causing more hell for the day you were having. Luckily, Harry had helped you with the majority of it in the recent weeks and even had given you some of his old tests. The anxiety still overwhelmed you at times wondering if you’re preparing your students enough, if the final review packet was too much or not enough, and if your students would be ready. Finals were going to be the death of you, you were sure, if Harry’s revelation about the job offer wouldn’t kill you before then. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, if he had sought it out and applied, or how it even came about. It drove you even more crazy as the tests neared, knowing that you’d be spending the rest of the week in your classroom from seven-thirty most likely until five pm every day, with him just across the hall.

You craved his voice and his touch, his hugs, and that laugh that could fix anything in seconds. That Monday and Tuesday you didn’t mean to ignore him, but when he walked into the staff room while you were in there, your feet found their way to the door quickly. You’re sure you could have left the bone you bought for Gatsby on his desk or bring it over to his house, but instead you left it in his mailbox with a note. 

Give this to Gatsby, please. Tell him it’s from Mummy xx

It stung when you found it in your mailbox later that day with a note from him. 

You can give it to him yourself the next time you come over :) xo

It was even automatic when you agreed to get lunch with Lola on Tuesday, even though that was the day you and Harry always went and got pizza together. During your prep hour that morning, you lingered in the staff room after he made his appearance. But when Julie the art teacher started to compliment how good he looked wearing the tie you bought for him with Fleetwood Mac song titles covering the fabric, it drove you up the wall. She didn’t stop there, and continued on about how nice he looked and how much she liked his returning beard, making you want to throw up onto your doughnut you had just warmed up. You dropped it into a trash bin in the hallway after deserting the scene, unable to endure her flirting with him and not being able to do anything about it. It pained you to not be able to tell her to stop because he’s your boyfriend, but you and Harry had agreed early on to not share your relationship with colleagues unless necessary. 

It was all becoming too much for you to handle, finals week and kind of fighting with Harry and thinking about him moving away. Too much too quickly. 

*

The hard copy of Creative Writing’s final exam sat in front of you that Tuesday afternoon. The sun already hides beyond the horizon outside the windows hugging the wall to the left of you. This has to be the second or third time you’ve printed a copy to look over, always finding something wrong with it, but this time you think maybe you’ve found a winner. The clicking of your pen meets your ears when you think you find a problem, but it’s whisked away when there’s another click. Your classroom door opens and in walks Harry, playing with the black-tie dotted with song titles of all different colors. 

“Hi,” he rasps, gently closing the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you return, eyes straying to the test in front of you. Your attempt to continue checking it is futile as goosebumps cover your skin and your heart hammers away. 

“Gatsby misses you.”

“I miss him too,” you reply, feeling the tears press at the back of your eyes with warmth, trying not to think about not seeing him for months at a time if Harry moved. 

“I declined tha job yestaday,” he announces gently, but the whiplash you feel from looking to him quickly almost hurts. His bubblegum lips sit in a taut and nervous line, hands bunched into fists in the pockets of his red slacks. They leave your view when the printed words on the test return in your eyes, growing hazy quickly. “Can ya say sumthin’, please, bird?”

“I hope you didn’t do it for me,” is all you say, hoping the true meaning comes out in your honest tone muddled by your waterworks. 

“‘Course I did it fer you. I did it fer us, and Gatsby. I did it coz ‘m ashamed it took me longa than ten minutes t’ figure out that no matta tha luxuries, that’s not my dream job. I already have my dream job, ‘s here teaching across tha hall from you, gettin’ t’ have ya botha me durin’ my prep hour, combine our classrooms t’ play Jeopardy, have our students harass us t’ go onn’a date already, and gettin’ t’ have a snog with you wheneva I want. I don’ care if I don’ get t’ teach all those bloody fancy classes and get paid mo’, coz I lose all o’ that here that already makes me so happy. ‘m sorry I didn’t realize it earlier,” Harry confesses, emotions wavering in his voice that he clears a few times, taking slow steps over to where you sit. 

“You know . . . ,” you begin, listening to the silence that takes your words and probably how much they’re killing him right now, especially when you leave you chair. “I think we’re going to have to tell our students sooner or later, because they’re driving me nuts. So are these tight outfits you keep wearing, they make it really hard not to attack you with kisses whenever I see you.”

A smile explodes on Harry’s lips, the first you’ve seen him wear in days, as you approach him. Your hands sing when they touch his chest, feeling the necklace under the fabric before they wrap around the buttery smooth fabric of his tie. 

“Y’know,” he begins sarcastically, a hand coming to his chin where he strokes his new beard, although not quite as majestic as it’s been before. What a little shit. “I think ya might be right on that one, but I like t’ watch ‘em squirm. ‘s been fun t’ hear ‘em get all frustrated ‘bout us not datin’ yet,” he giggles, his rings finding their home on your back once again. 

“Little do they know, huh?”

“Oh yes, very li’l,” he chuckles, the dimples falling into his cheeks under his patchy facial hair that you love so much. Quickly, they disappear and his cheeks flatten from their prior roundness. “‘m sorry y’know, so sorry, birdy. I was a proper asshole t’ ya, I feel terrible ‘bout it.”

The tears signal their return when his head falls and you spot one escape and fall down his cheek. You catch it with your thumb before it can get very far and lift his chin up to have him look at you. You thought your heart couldn’t hurt after everything he had said moments ago, but it wrenches inside of your chest at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, tears falling from them. 

“Harry, please don’t cry. It’s okay, we all make mistakes. I just want you to know that I am committed to you, so much so that I can’t wait to move in with you . . and Gatsby.”

“I know, ‘m sorry I ever doubted it, I dunno why I did. ‘m committed too, coz I love ya so much, birdy. I love you,” he weeps, shaky words hitting the air that you pass when you pull him into your arms. “I didn’t know I could miss ya so much ova jus’ four days,” he continues, his hot tears meeting your neck as his beard leaves tickles after brushing it. Your heart breaks even further at the feeling of his chest trembling with a sob against yours.

“I know, Harry, me too,” you coo, raking your fingers through his hair as he holds onto you, his face hiding in your neck. 

“Plus, I couldn’t take tha job coz ‘m not gonna be one o’ those shit parents who makes Gatsby spend a different weekend at each parent’s house. Also I miss you makin’ me lunches, I neva rememba,” he cries against your skin, his subsequent giggle gracing your ears. He’s the first to pull away and your heart aches a little harder at the tears painting his face, ones you try to make quick work of. 

“Good, I don’t think I’d have the heart to tell him, so it’d have to be you.”

“‘Fair is foul and foul is fair’,” he pouts dramatically, quoting a certain William, the pad of your thumb swiping below his left eye, feeling his feathery eyelashes against your skin. “Guess we’ll hafta stay togetha then,” he sighs sarcastically, pursing his lips that soon sing out a bubbly laugh still adorned with the remnants of tears. 

“Oh, I’m sure our students would harass us to get back together if that were ever to happen,” you giggle, adoring his wispy dark eyelashes that clump together with wet tears, his murky green eyes peeking up at you beneath them. 

“Ya, they’re gettin’ ratha rowdy ‘bout that, aren’t they?” he notes aloud, clucking his tongue as if disappointed then sniffling. Your thumb wanders to his forehead to smooth out the crease that’s formed between his eyebrows, pulling his eyes to yours. “‘d love t’ tell ‘em but ‘s fun t’ watch ‘em go crazy right now, but sumday, ya.” 

“Yeah, we have to make it fun first,” you agree, catching the last tear with your finger, hands wandering to his tie the same dark color of his button-up. 

“Right, you are,” he hums, eyes darting to your lips as you slowly yank on the tie, bringing him closer. “I knew I hadd’a smart birdy.”

His smile dissolves against your lips that surround his in the sweetest kiss containing the unsaid words and forgotten kisses from the last few days. Sorry’s pass between your lips as his warm rings press into the small of your back, the tie caught between your hands until you let go, certain he’s not going anywhere anymore. His lips sputter a laugh against yours when both of your hands come to caress his lovely bum that you squeeze greedily. 

“Watch those naughty finga’s o’ yers now,” he warns through hooded eyes, the bitter smell of black coffee dancing across your face. 

“Or what?” you reply with a shrug, the both of you feeling your fingers slowly dive underneath the tight fabric of his pants. 

“Or yer gonna catch me without any briefs on one o’ these times,” he replies, trying to keep a straight face until the words leave his mouth that soon pecks yours. 

“Oooo, I’d like to see that happen,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at him until he collapses into laughter above you. 

“I dunno what ‘ll do with ya, bird, with a potty mouth like that.”

“Well, you can’t dump me now, we have a son together,” you shrug dramatically, mouth pressed into a fake line as you watch his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Very true, altho’ a crappy joke there. I guess I might hafta kiss that potty mouth outta ya.”

“I’d like to see you try, Mr. Styles,” you counter, happy to see the tears have abated from the both of you, hoping you don’t find them again for months and months. 

“Oh, would you, Ms. Y/N? ‘ll take that bet, and if I win it, ya hafta come ova and make Gatsby and I dinna t’night. And have wine with me and stay tha night, gotta get su’more practice befo’ ya move in with me soon,” Harry continues, a smug expression donning his features. 

“Deal,” you say, squealing when his hands come under your bottom and lift you up to sit you on a nearby desk. The words on your lips disappear when he plants his lips on yours hastily, hands drifting along your waist. “You better get it all out before our field trip next week.”

“‘The lady doth protest too much, me thinks,’” Harry replies, quoting Shakespeare with a funny look on his face, replacing his lips on top of yours. Your tongue scoops up and into his mouth that he parts for you, tasting the Bit-O-Honey he just had that you’re sure his pockets are full of if you checked. You giggle into his mouth when your hands brush against his thighs, sure enough feeling the hard candies in his pockets on your way to explore his bum again. 

“‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep,’” you recite as your nose draws a line across his cheek moments later, leaving him silent. A smile curls upon his cheeks at the sound, astonishment playing with his features. 

“Our students are right, we really should be t’getha, birdy. I love me a Shakespeare girl. ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ but I think ours ‘s doin’ pretty well, if I do say so meself.” 

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 18B

Half an hour later, cleaned up and dressed nicely, Miles strolled down the stairs, Alex in tow. “Why do you keep walking behind me?” he wondered.

Alex smirked. He still couldn't shrug that feeling of happiness. Not that he wanted to. It clung to him like a second skin. “I like the view from here.”

Miles tossed him a dirty grin over his shoulder. “Careful, or our friends might figure out that you fancy me a bit.”

“Let them, I don’t care.” Alex couldn’t imagine not having Miles, and the harder he tried to stay away from him, the less he succeeded. The more he tried to reason with himself that giving into Miles was a horrible idea, the less his heart paid attention.

And he felt his arguments slipping away from him. How could he say that they wouldn’t find time for each other when it was so easy lately to find time for each other? How could he reason with restlessness when he only ever felt it in the absence of Miles? How could he claim to be selfish in the presence of a partner when Miles’ presence made him anything but that?

What if Taylor had it wrong? What if he could make it work? If he hadn’t ruined Miles’ life by now, didn’t that mean that maybe he might not ruin it at all?

“You okay?”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“Got quiet there all of sudden.”

“Oh…just…thinking.”

Miles fell in step next to him, slung his arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. “Stop doing that. Thinking. It’s not good for you.”

“Oh really?” chuckled Alex.

“It’s a party. We’re here to notthink,” he explained to him.

Zack, Matt and a few others were sitting near the pool and waiving at them. Miles led Alex there. “Should we decide on a codeword before we sit down?”

“Codeword for what?” asked Alex, confused.

Leaning in, brushing his lips against Alex’s ear, Miles whispered, “For when you need me so badly that it’s tearing you apart. A codeword that lets me know that I need to follow you and do something about your state.”

Alex struggled for air. He was trapped in a weird mixture of amusement and arousal and as he was laughing, he couldn’t help but pinch Miles’ butt. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“It’s why you love me,” quipped Miles.

The words came out so fast and so naturally that it startled them both. Alex could tell by the look in Miles’ eyes. “It’s true,” admitted Alex after a beat. Their eyes locked, until the calls and whistles from their friends became too loud to ignore.

“Well, what did we miss?” asked Alex as he sat down next to Miles.

“Nothing much,” said Matt, placing two full bottles of beer in front of them. “David was telling us about his upcoming wedding. Big party across the pond.”

The David in question sat a few seats down the large table. “Huge thing. Can’t wait to see you all,” he said. “Sure you can’t make it, Miles?”

“We already locked down the gigs in eastern Europe. I’ll fly out and celebrate with you later this year. Promise.”

“Do that,” agreed David and the two of them got lost in a discussion about some band they’d heard. Some others joined in as well. Alex, meanwhile, enjoyed just sitting there. He’d never felt the need to talk much. He rather liked listening to stories.

He also liked that Miles had his arm still slung over his shoulder and was absentmindedly playing with a strand of hair at the back of his head. It was innocent, really, but also not. It was full of intimacy. It was a gesture that let everyone know that Miles had that certain special privilege that allowed him to touch Alex in public, that allowed him to venture into his personal space and get comfortable there. It was a touch that let every know that Alex was his and Alex very much loved being Miles’. He also enjoyed having the same privileges and so he reached out, placed his arm over Miles’ shoulder and lightly ran his fingers through his friend’s hair. To know that he was allowed to do that, to just touch him whenever he felt like it, was giving him a strange sense of accomplishment, like he must have done something right to deserve that. Miles flashed him a brief but bright smile before returning to his conversation.

Matt leaned over towards Alex. “So that thing that I saw, whatever that was, does it mean that you and he are a thing now?”

“It means,” said Alex, “that we forgot to lock the door, which won't happen again!” He checked and found everyone else still locked in a discussion. He lowered his voice. “And no, we're not. He and I…” How was he supposed to define something that defied all common definitions? “We're just friends, only…not just friends.”

Matt nodded towards the poolside and Alex got up and followed him there. “You know he wants to be with you, right? I care for the both of you. I want my friends to be happy.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm for my love life,” snickered Alex, “but he, too, believes that—”

“He believes that's what you want,” interrupted Matt. “And he's as scared as you are…”

Alex rolled his eyes but as he listened to Matt’s ramblings, his attention was drawn back to Miles. He was still in the midst of an avid discussion with their friends, but every now and then his eyes strayed towards him. Not for long, just a second or two, until he caught himself and looked away again. His friend’s fingers, however, remained fixed in one place – the neck of his beer bottle. And his thumb and index finger were slowly, gently, absentmindedly travelling up and down the damp glass. He was jerking off the damn bottle and didn’t even realize it! Alex couldn’t stop staring. He really shouldn’t have laughed at Miles’ suggestion of a codeword!

“Stop drooling!” Matt snorted. “For two people who are so worried that sex might destroy their friendship, you're awfully eager to get it on!”

Alex was dumbstruck. He wanted to object, to call Matt out for his words, but the guy had spoken the truth. And he hated being confronted by the truth, especially when it was a truth he refused to acknowledge! “We're not— That's not…no?!”

“Speechless?” Matt scoffed. “Figures.”

“Out of all the people, you're the one who should understand why I'm scared! You and Bri were friends before you got together. And now you're divorced. If you hadn't gotten together, you'd still be friends!”

Matt shot him a harsh glare. “Listen up, Al! I love you dearly, but you're a fucking idiot! I would do it all over again, exactly the same way, If I could. Even knowing how it will end. I wouldn't want to miss a single memory I made with her. We didn't succeed and that hurt. I moved on and I'm happy again. But while it was good, it was incredible. So no, I don't understand.”

Alex looked away, ashamed. “I'm sorry I said that. It was bad. It's just…she's no longer in your life. And if Miles and I were to mess it up, he'd no longer be in my life.”

“You don't know that, Alex. Think about it, you kind of messed it up already. And he's still there!” Matt gave his shoulder a playful punch.

Well, not that playful. Alex winced. “OW!”

“Oh, toughen up! You're such wuss lately!”

Alex punched Matt's shoulder and when he winced in pain, Alex raised his eyebrow pointedly. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“Fine, I take it back!” Matt chuckled. “Let's grab some food. Before you tempt me into throwing a real punch.”

“Think you can deck me?” Alex grinned as they made their way to the large BBQ grill. “Try, I dare you, Helders!”

“Someday, Turner. Someday.”

It was well into the night when Alex found Miles on one of the oversized loungers by the pool, gazing up into the clear night's sky.

“One of us always ends up doing that.”

Miles turned to smile at him. “Want to watch the stars with me?”

Alex got onto the lounger and climbed behind Miles, who in return got comfortable between Alex's legs. Leaning back, he rested his head against Alex's chin and tugged Alex's arms around his torso. Alex was only too happy to accommodate him.

After a while of silently watching the firmament, Alex posed a question he'd been wrecking his mind about for days now. “How about a new couch?”

“You don't like your old one anymore?” Miles dipped his head backwards, trying to meet Alex's eyes. “Do you ever even sit on it?”

“Maybe,” suggested Alex, “if I liked it more, I would sit on it more often. I could watch TV on it. Or…nap.” What else did one do on a couch?

“Make out on it?” grinned Miles.

“But you're never around to make out with,” countered Alex. The thought of making out with anyone else never even crossed his mind. “I think you should visit me more. At least once a month. And I could visit you once a month. That way we would see each other at least twice a month.” A grin lit Alex's face. “And if we agree to meet a third time at whatever random place you and I might be at any given moment, we would see each other at least three times a month.” And if we moved in together, a voice whispered faintly, we'd see each other much more often than that. But Alex didn't dare to say that out loud. They weren't together! Where did that thought even come from?!

Miles shifted, tried to get a closer look at Alex. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I'm just saying that…” Alex wasn't sure what he was trying to say. “We should see each other more often, is what I'm trying to say, I guess.”

Miles nodded as his attention returned to the stars. “I'd like to see you more often.”

A smile settled comfortably on Alex's face and he began to run his fingers lightly up and down the back of Miles' hands. “It's been two years and ten months since the last time we've done this.”

“The night I kissed you,” remembered Miles. ”So much has happened since then.”

Alex nodded. He felt his friend slightly stiffening in his arms. “You're okay?”

“I'm going to ask you something.” Miles began to fidget. “But you need to be honest with me. Even if it hurts my feelings. It's one of those times where I can tell when you lie.”

Alex covered Miles' hands with his and linked their fingers reassuringly, steadying them. “I promise.”

Miles took a deep breath. “Was there ever a moment when you regretted that I kissed you? Your life would be much different if hadn't done that. You could still be with Taylor right now.”

Alex caught Miles’ eyes as he tugged him further into his arms. “When you kissed me, you showed me that there was an entire world out there that I had never even glimpsed at. Your lips introduced me to a whole new universe. You took away the limits of my life and made it endlessly more exciting. If there is one thing I regret, then it's not kissing you back that night.” He dipped his head forward, gently kissed Miles and beamed at him. “I'll be forever grateful that you kissed me.”

Miles smiled at him so bright, so full of emotion and happiness that Alex’s heart beat faster and it brought back another memory of that night. He smirked. “Did you know that your kiss lasted five heartbeats?”

“What?” Miles turned slightly, adjusted in Alex's strong arms. His eyes crinkled in amusement and something else, something Alex couldn't define. Was this how love looked like in somebody else's eyes? “You counted them?”

“I did. I couldn't possibly not. My heart was beating so loud in that moment. But I don't know if it was beating fast or slow. I lost all sense for time. Afterwards, as I tried to sort my thoughts, you leaned back and whispered that you'd fantasized about doing that for a while now.”

Miles' eyes went wide. “So that's what that line was about! I don't remember whispering anything to you.”

Alex wasn’t surprised. “Well, you promptly fell asleep and left me sitting there, counting the stars, trying to make sense of it all!”

“Did you make sense of it?”

“Never did,” admitted Alex. “I still don't know why you did it.”

“I couldn't not do it,” Miles said. “Sometimes I think I was meant to kiss you that night.” He frowned as he rolled on his stomach, facing Alex as he laid on top of him. “My fantasy was kissing you. I know you said you’ve fantasized about me, but you never gave me any details! What, precisely, did you imagine when you let your mind run free?”

“Oh, wouldn't you like to know?” Alex laughed. He brushed a strand of hair from Miles' forehead. “At that point, when I wrote the song? I had very virtuous fantasies about you and me, about chaste little kisses in shadowy corners. Nothing dirty.” He placed a lingering kiss on Miles' lips.

Miles turned back around with a smile, getting cozy between Alex's legs again. As he snuggled his head back against the side of Alex's face, he resumed watching the stars. “And later?”

“Later?” Alex nuzzled Miles' cheek, craving the sensation of his slight stubble as it lightly scratched the tip of his nose. “You mean, did my fantasies dip their toes into the dirty pond? Well, there's one I rather like,” he hushed, trailing one hand down the front of Miles' abdomen, “want to know about it?” He felt Miles nod shakily. Alex traced the outlines of Miles' pecks through his shirt. “You're on stage, playing a song, standing in front of the mic. It's a hot day and you're covered in sweat. Everyone's loving your show. And I'm watching from the side of the stage. Until I can't take it anymore.” Miles was growing restless and Alex felt spurred on. “I walk out and stand in front of you but you're forever the professional performer and ignore me. So, I drop to my knees and undo your zipper. I take you out and find you hard and leaking and I swallow you completely, right there, on stage, in front of thousands of people. And I suck you off so hard…” Alex dug his hands into Miles' hips as he squirmed in his arms. He nipped at his neck, then sucked hard on his skin, leaving a mark. “Dirty enough for you? I got more,” he offered, his voice thick and raw.

Miles grabbed his hand, entwined their fingers and placed it on top of his erection. Alex grinned victoriously. “This has turned you on, baby!” Alex pushed their joined hands down, rubbed Miles' cock through his jeans. He tried to get his own bit of friction by pushing himself against the back of Miles' butt, grinding. Their movements turned frantic, urgent, until—

“This looks like fun,” said a female voice, towering above Alex and Miles and disrupting them in the most unwelcoming of moments. “Mind if me and my friend join in?”

Blinking, trying to make sense of the voice and groaning irately at being disturbed, Alex looked up and glared. “I don't share. Get fucking lost!”

He heard Miles chuckling. “We forgot that it's that kind of party,” Miles reminded him in a bout of laughter. “Should have brought that door sign with us.”

Alex groaned, giving up on grinding and stroking, instead resuming to cuddle. “Maybe we should keep the sexual acts behind closed doors, at least for the duration of this party!”

Miles succumbed to laughter.

As Alex watched Miles’ laughter die down and his focus for the stars return, something occurred to him. Something he needed an answer for. Right away. “Miles?”

“Hm?”

“Do we share?”

“What?” Miles looked up over his shoulder, giving Alex the strangest look.

“I mean, I know I don't want to share. But I can't speak for you, can I?” Alex struggled to find the words for what he was trying to ask. Well, he knew what he wanted to ask, but that would require defining them. Which, as was obvious, was a bit complicated.

“Are you asking me if we're exclusive?”

“Well…” Alex rolled his eyes. “We're not a 'we' in the average sense of the word 'we', are we?”

“You're confusing me.”

Alex grunted. “I'm confusing myself! Are we exclusive?” He blurted again. Impatient. “This thing…whatever the fuck it is, is it just us?”

Miles' squinty look of perplexity made room for a slow smile. “Al, whatever the fuck it is, it is just us. No sharing. No one else. Just you and me.”

Alex wrapped his arms possessively around Miles and nodded. “Good. I'm happy we cleared that up.”

“Me too,” grinned Miles. “Remind me to cancel my other dates for the week!”

Alex bit down on Miles' neck. “Not funny!”

“I think it's very funny.” Miles wiggled deeper into Alex's arms. “But you can rest easy. I'm all yours.” Taking Alex's hand and bringing it to his lips, Miles kissed the back of it.

Forever? Asked that faint voice in the back of Alex's head. He pushed that thought away, once again. Instead, he watched Miles as his attention got lost in the sky.

“Still trying to arrange the stars into a song?” He'd come to find that Miles enjoyed watching the night's sky even more than he himself did, which was remarkable.

“I'm trying to catch their tune,” spoke Miles and took one of Alex's hands in his. He lifted it up, aligned their index fingers and pointed at a star. “See it? It's twinkling. All the stars are. But sometimes you have to look a long time to catch it.” His cheek rubbed against Alex's. “I think the stars are listening to a silent melody and dancing along to the tune. One day I'll figure out what it sounds like,” he said and pecked Alex's cheek.

“Go on a date with me.”

Miles sat up, stunned. He turned, looked at Alex in shock. “What?”

“Tuesday night, when you're in Paris, go on a date with me.” Alex leaned up as well. He placed his hand on Miles' face, cupping it gently. Even though his question had visibly startled him, Miles leaned into his touch as though it was the most natural thing in the world. And it brought a moment of calm to him. But as Miles remained silent, Alex got nervous again. His voice turned quiet. “Say yes, Miles. Please.”

“If I do…” Miles swallowed hard, his words were unsteady. “What if I like it? What if we like it? What if we want to go on another date?” He sounded as shaken as Alex. “What then?”

Alex took a trembling breath. He was startled by his own words. “Then we go on another date.”

Miles' voice got even more jittery. “What if we like that, too?”

He knew what Miles was asking and reached for his hand, squeezing it. Feeling him return the gesture, Alex got a little braver. He dared to smile. And touched Miles' nose with the tip of his own. “What if we can make it work, Miles? What if we won't mess it up?”

Miles pressed his forehead against Alex's, sounding breathless and full of emotion. “Do you really want to try?”

“It's all I want!” Alex kissed him. “I can't be without you anymore!” Another kiss.

He hadn't meant to ask him that. Hadn't planned on asking him out. But as he was holding onto Miles and listening to his musings about stars and silent songs, he'd realized that no matter how hard he would try, he'd never be able to let go of him again.

He couldn't imagine a day where he wouldn't want to feel his lips, taste his kiss, listen to his thoughts and get lost in his shiny big eyes when he smiled. And all of sudden, it didn't matter anymore that he was scared and nervous and unsure how to actually do it all – this whole happily-ever-after thing was new to him, after all. The only thing that mattered was knowing that Miles would be there with him, all the way, right down to the very end.

And if the end should ever arrive, they'd manage that together as well. They would remain friends forever. There was no longer a shred of doubt in Alex's mind. For he had finally understood. Love wasn't about succeeding or failing. It was about seeing the other one smile. And making Miles smile was something Alex could easily do for the rest of his life.

“I need to hear it, Miles. Say yes,” Alex pleaded again. “Tuesday night. Dinner and a movie. You and me.”

When Miles gave him his big, happy smile, Alex felt the floor beneath him disappear. And when Miles finally said yes, Alex felt like he was flying for the first time in his life.

Spoiler Part 19:

“I want you,” rasped Alex, leaning in to nibble on Miles’ earlobe. “Right here.” One hand fisted Miles’ tie. “On the muddy ground. In the rain.” 

[stahlop]

Must Love Dogs (4/?)

It’s Chapter 4 and time for the first date! This is based very much on my first date with my husband, read the notes below for all the details. Thank you @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta.  You are the best!

Chapter 1 2 3

Also on Ao3

Chapter 4

Killian arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes before the start of the date.  He hadn’t meant to get there so early, but he’d been nervous after getting dressed in jeans and a blue plaid flannel, and had been pacing around his apartment for half an hour before finally just getting in his Jeep and heading over to where he was to meet Emma.

He had suggested The Boathouse for their date. It was a restaurant with a great view of the harbor. It also had an amazing outdoor patio and the weather was still nice enough that they could eat out there without overheating or shivering from cold.

He got himself seated out on the patio and he could also see the parking lot from his table. He scrutinized every car that drove into the lot hoping that it was Emma, but after 10 minutes she still had not arrived. He really hoped he was not being stood up.

Killian had taken a chance by asking her out for that night. He knew it wasn’t exactly good form, giving a woman only three hours to get ready, but he really wanted to meet her face to face. He thought the anticipation would kill him if he had to wait until tomorrow to meet her.

An older model, yellow Volkswagen Beetle drove into the lot. He could hear the screeching of metal on metal coming from its engine. He truly hoped that wasn’t Emma’s car. He didn’t fancy driving around someday in what seemed like a death trap. The Beetle found a parking place and a beautiful, blonde goddess emerged from the car. He guessed he would be driving around in that metal death trap.

She walked across the parking lot into the restaurant. She was wearing skinny jeans and brown calf-length boots with some sort of green top that was covered by a red leather jacket. Her blonde hair hung in shiny, loose waves down her figure. She looked even better in person.

“Emma?” he asked getting up from where he’d been sitting. She walked over and gave him a shy smile. “You look stunning.”  He walked over to her seat and pulled out the chair for her.

“Such a gentleman.” Emma said smiling again, but not as shy as before. She sat in the seat and removed her jacket, placing it on the back of the seat. She was wearing a wrap-around green top that showed off her curves perfectly, but didn’t reveal too much cleavage.

“I’m always a gentleman.” Killian replied going back to his side of the table and taking a seat. “That’s quite a vessel you captain there,” he said, referring to her car. Emma blushed.

“I know. It was the first car I ever bought with my own money and I just can’t bear to get rid of her.” She glanced down at the menu almost as if she were embarrassed.

‘Hey,” Killian said grabbing her hand, “there’s nothing wrong with holding on to things with pleasant memories. I just haven’t seen one of those in awhile.” He smiled, hoping to make her feel more secure. “And,” he added, ‘my friend Robin happens to be a mechanic for foreign-made cars, and I know he’ll give a friend discount.” 

“Well, I may just have to keep you around just for that.” She smirked and then looked back down at her menu.

“Yes, maybe you should.” Killian replied, looking at his own menu as well.

Killian didn’t know when he’d been on a more entertaining date. Emma regaled him with tales of outrageous bail jumpers that she’d had to arrest.

“I found him dangling from his girlfriend’s apartment fire escape, butt-naked, except for his shoes, trying to make a run for it. And it was January!”

Killian told some comical tales about life in the Royal Navy.

“My commanding officer during basic training was only about 66 inches tall and had to stand on a box just to yell in most of our faces. My friend Will and I just couldn’t keep a straight face the first time he did it and both of us busted up laughing. After we had to clean the latrines with toothbrushes, we learned to hold in our laughter.”

They compared stories about their dogs.

“Ditie likes to wake me up by putting her face right into mine.  Nothing like dog breath to wake a person up.” Emma laughed.

“Jolly likes to sleep in my bed with me.  I tried to deter it, but she kept giving me a sad face and I finally gave in. And she hogs the covers.” Killian said laughing.

Emma told him about the previous bad online dates she had that prompted her to adopt Aphrodite.

“He really claimed getting kicked in the balls was more painful than childbirth? What a wanker!” He marveled at the amount of bad dates she’d been on. Could those idiots not see what was right in front of them?

Killian told her how he’d forgotten he had even set up an account on the MustLoveDogs website.

“I almost moved it to my spam folder. I’d joined the site in an inebriated state about a year ago. You were the first woman to even respond.” He said smiling again and taking the last bite of his dinner.

“I find that hard to believe. Your profile was pretty amazing.” Emma said. She exuded confidence now. She had started out a little reserved (he couldn’t blame her after hearing those stories), but she was in her element now. Eating and talking with abandon. “I actually tried to model my profile after yours,” she gave a small smile, and god how he loved that smile already, “so we’d seem more in sync.” She blushed a little, although Killian barely saw it as night had fallen and the patio was only lit by fairy lights.

The patio had been awfully full and between the boats on the harbor and the cars in the parking lot, they had moved closer to each other to not miss a word the other said. The waitress came and removed their plates and they both asked for a wine refill as they weren’t ready to part yet.

“Tell me, Emma,” he began as he took a sip of the fresh glass of wine the server had brought to them, “how did you end up in Boston? You said you moved around a lot.” He suspected he knew the answer. She hadn’t said she was a military brat when he spoke of his service.

“Um,” she started, tracing the rim of her wine glass, “I was in the foster system. Abandoned as a baby, no idea who my parents were, or are, and don’t care.” She said it nonchalantly, as if it hadn’t affected her her entire life, but as if it were something that had just happened to her. “So,  I was in a variety of places. Found in Maine and lived in Minnesota, Washington, Arizona, and Florida before I came to Boston, where I aged out of the system.” Emma took a long sip of her wine.

“Hey,” he said, taking her hands in his, “I’m sorry. Not for what happened in your past, but for all those people who were too idiotic to see what they had in front of them.  But I get it. Wounds that are made when we’re young tend to linger.” He pressed a kiss to the knuckles of her hands.

“Thank you, Killian.” Emma said removing her hands from his and dabbing her napkin under her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to get so heavy. Tragic backstories aren’t usually first date material.” She put the napkin back down on the table and resumed holding his hands.

“Do you want to get out of here? This place will be closing soon and I know a great bar where we can hang out for a little while longer if you’re amenable.” Killian waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Sure,” Emma smiled, “I’d like that.”

EKEKEK

Emma couldn’t believe how great the date was going. Usually she was annoyed or pissed with her date after half an hour, but she was utterly fascinated with Killian. Even after she’d told him about her past he didn’t judge her, only gave words of encouragement. He was funny, a good listener, a good conversationalist, and drop dead sexy (that flannel he was wearing matched his blue eyes perfectly), plus he had a dog, could he be any more perfect?

Killian had suggested going to a bar that was not too far away. One they could walk to without problem. Emma didn’t want the date to end, so when he’d suggest going to The Rabbit Hole, she was game. She’d seen the bar before but had never actually gone in.

They talked the whole way to the bar. Emma told him about Ruby and Dorothy and Mary Margaret and David. 

“Mary Margaret found the website for me,” Emma admitted. “I never would have gone looking for something like that on my own.

Killian told her about Robin and Will and his brother, Liam.

“Robin and Will might as well be my brothers too. They can be wild, but they’re the best mates anyone could have. Got me out of a right bunch of trouble in my younger days. Liam practically raised me. My dad left early on and my mum got sick when I was in secondary school. Liam put off university until after she died and I went into the Navy,” he said somberly. Emma stroked her thumb over his hand that she was already holding.

They made their way to the bar entrance. Killian was surprised there was a cover as bands didn’t usually play on Friday nights.

“It’s the Lost Boys. They came in to play a surprise acoustic set tonight,” the bouncer told them. The Lost Boys were a local alternative band that had a few big hits on the radio. Emma’s eyes lit up. She’d always wanted to see them. Plus, Ruby had dated their bass player back in the day, before they were known.

Killian paid the cover and they went in. The bar was only semi-crowded. The show had not been advertised until the day of and only on their Facebook page, according to the bouncer. Also, they were at the end of their set. They had, maybe, only three songs left. 

Killian went to the bar to get them some drinks, rum and coke for her, straight rum for him. She found a high top table for them to place their drinks on. When Killian returned they started to dance to the music. It wasn’t that easy to dance to alternative rock music, it mostly consisted of jerky movements coming from Killian and a bit of swaying from Emma. She looked over at him and laughed. He seemed so free, like he didn’t have a care in the world. That’s what she wanted, a man who wasn’t afraid to dance like no one was watching, even if he was terrible at it. He had the goofiest grin on his face and he was enjoying himself. And so was she.

The set ended after a few more songs. Emma went to go talk to the bass player for a moment (they’d met once or twice when he and Ruby were dating), and then went back to Killian who was finishing up his drink.

“Sorry,” she said, “Graham dated Ruby once upon a time, so I just had to say hi.” She finished what remained of her drink as well, which was basically watered down rum and coke by that point. 

“No worries.” Killian said smiling, “I had a fantastic time, Emma. Shall we walk back to our cars now?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Emma said, grabbing her jacket off the table and slipping it on.

They walked out into the cool night air. It felt amazing after dancing in the bar. The walk back went too fast for Emma’s taste, even though it took a good twenty minutes. The brisk air helped clear both their heads from the slight buzzes they had from the last drinks at the bar. They were both silent as they reached the parking lot, their vehicles the only ones left since the restaurant had closed an hour or so ago.They stopped in front of Emma’s car. She turned toward him and blurted out, “Go out with me again.”

“I’d love to.” Killian smiled, “How about you bring Ditie over to my place and I’ll make dinner. I can even invite Will and his lovely girlfriend, Belle, over and they can amuse you with embarrassing stories from the past few years.”

“Ok.” Emma said breathlessly.

“Great!” Killian said, kissing her hand. “Until tomorrow then.” She opened the door to her car and got in and watched him walk to the only other car on the lot, his Jeep. Then she started her car and headed home.

Emma slept well and had pleasant dreams of Killian that night.

End Notes: My future husband drove into the parking lot in a wood paneled station wagon and I just remembered thinking, 'please don't let that be my date's car.' But it worked so perfectly with Emma's bug, I had to switch roles there. We did go to a restaurant called The Boathouse, but it was in Tempe, AZ, in July, so we were sweltering. And we did end up going to a bar and catching the end of the acoustic show for the local Phoenix, alternative rock band, Authority Zero. And my best friend was a radio DJ for the one alt rock station (RIP 103.9 The Edge), so I went and talked to them after their set. And yes, there was no kiss on the first date.

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged when other chapters post.

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious

[specialagentlokitty]

David Rossi x Teen!reader - home

Part four

“10:32am tsk shouldn’t you be in school?”

You smirk at the voice and flipped the person off.

“I don’t know Jay, I could say the same for you.”

The boy chuckled and sat with you on top of the bins. He lit up a cigarette and smirked. 

“Happy birthday kid.” He smiled holding out a present.

You took it gently and slowly opened it, no way.. it was a small silver ring, just big enough to fit on your pinkie.

“Where did you..?”

“You fosters tossed it out a few days ago.”

You tensed up a little bit but pushed them back a bit. You could always count on Jay. Jay and yourself had been inseparable since being put into foster care at the age of six, they always made sure you two were in the same area otherwise you’d run no matter how far to each other.

“Talk is you got taken by cops?”

“Nah, I got taken by fancy cops dude.”

“Ooo details girl!” He yelled.

“I worry for you man, anyways. So I was just minding my own business right? Chilling up by the shopping center when all of a sudden these dude in suits surrounded me. Saying they be FBI and went to arrest me. This one dude real tall and well built goes to cuff me so I ran, he tackles me and I punch him. Then they put me in a car and I nearly made it crash and this dude called Rossi took me in.”

Jay whistled running a hand through his blond hair, his bright blue eyes shining with mischief.

“Rossi like the Rossi? David Rossi?”

“Yeah bro.”

“Damn dude he’s famous yo-“ “(Y/N)!”

Jay peered around you and you looked to the side, how the hell..? Damn they were good. It was the female agent with two others.

“Rossi, we’ve found her. She’s with someone else, Garcia is sending you location now..”

*ROSSI POV*

“Rossi, we’ve found her. She’s with someone else, Garcia is sending you location now..” Dereks voice came through his ear piece.

Hotch swung the SUV in a U-turn as Rossi held the phone on speaker.

“Oh! Her records come in.. oh.. oh my..-“ “Garcia?” He asked.

“Her parents died in a car crash when she was six. She was out in the system. She was bounced from three homes till she met a boy her age called Jay. The pair got along well so everyone kept them close. At age 8 she was put into another home. She was admitted to the hospital repeatedly in the space of 6 months for different broken bones and injuries. She was then taken from that home and she bounced all over the place until a few months ago where she was put in the care of Mr and Mrs Ridden. She was a runaway, violent, has a record for arsonal, vandalism, battery, trespassing, hitting a cop, shop lifting.”

“What about her hospital records?” He asked anger boiling up.

“Hold on... ah! Broken wrist, broken leg, apparently she fell down the stairs and split her head. Uhm.. she was admitted with stab wounds multiple, she said it was a fight she was 11 at the time. Age twelve she was admitting after passing out in school she was under weight. Age 15 she was admitted again, she had been beaten badly. Then in the past few months she been admitted for broken ribs and other bones, passing out, she got into a fight at school where she had a fractured rib, she was suspended. She was also admitted with omg! She was shot!”

“Okay okay Garcia, it’s okay clam down, try find more on her parents it may help. Send us a picture.” Hotch ordered and Rossi hung up.

“She’s a strong kid.”

“Aaron, maybe that’s why she’s running. She doesn’t want to get hurt. Have Garcia Kew it on the low for now” Hotch nodded and called Garcia as they jumped out the car.

*YOUR POV*

You stared them down. Why can’t the leave you alone?

“(Y/N), Rossi is looking for you..” the woman walked a bit closer.

“Jj..” “Reid it’s okay.”

You smirked, now you knew their names too. Derek, Jj and Reid. Nice.

“I don’t give a shit.” You shrugged.

Jay flicked his lit cigarette butt at her and jumped of the bin. He steadied you as you jumped down as well.

“He’s really worried, we just want to help.” Reid urged.

You flipped him off. You could tell they were loosing their patience, that’s what you were aiming for. You wanted to make them mad.

“Kid we don’t have time..” agent derek warned.

“Sure you don’t mr Derek but I do.”

“Ooo that’s Derek!? He’s pretty hot!” Jay grinned.

You spotted JJ and Reid trying not to laugh and Derek looked lost for words. Jay wordlessly took your hand in his, you guys started to run down the ally together.

The three FBI agents called you name as you ran into the busy street. Taking a left you guys ran, you and Jay worked together like one mind in sync. He knew when you wanted to run right, you knew when he wanted to turn left.

That’s when you found yourself running straight into the FBI agents.

“You can’t run!” Reid shouted.

“Watch me jackass!”

The pair of you skidded to a halt, Jay moving protectively in front of you something that didn’t go unnoticed by the group. Local officers surrounded you.

You glanced up at Jay with scared eyes, not again.. he backed up taking you with him. When you both colided with a chest.

“(Y/N)..?”

“Rossi..” you mumbled.

Jay quickly pulled you away from the older agent and held you closely.

“Let go of her son.” Rossi warned.

“No! You won’t take her!”

“Why can’t we take her?” Hotchner asked.

“Because, I need her. You suits can’t take her again. I’ve got to protect her.” He snarled.

“Jay..” You hissed.

He looked at you and you seen tears in his eyes. That’s when you spotted a cop trying to grab him, you spun Jay behind you and kicked the cop in the gut.

“Stay away!” You roared.

Rossi held up his hands in surrender and begun to walk towards you. A soft smile on his face, he slowly reached out.

“If you come in with us, we won’t separate you.”

When Rossi came close enough you seen Jay go to attack him but before he could hit the agent you place a hand on his chest, guns cocked and Rossi raised his hands in denfense. Jay gave you a questioning look.

“Don’t hit him..” you mumbled.

“(Y/N)?”

“Jay.. please.. don’t he.. you can’t hit him..”

He watched as you shook. Trying to contain your emotions.

Damn it.. you cursed in your head. Why can’t you do anything to this guy? Why was he so special? When you looked into his eyes you see something you hadn’t seen for a while.. not since your parents died. He was just another suit, doing his job. He’d soon leave you like all the others.

But will he? He seems to care. You can’t hurt agent rossi because you’ve taken a liking to him. A voice in the back of your head laughed.

You clenched your jaw together and scowled towards the agent.

“God damnit.” You cursed.

You put your hands up above your head. This caused Rossi to laugh. You rose an eyebrow and cautiously he grabbed your hands despite Jays growl of warning he lowered your hands.

“I’m not going to arrest you. I just have one question...” he trailed off.

His eyes flashed with pain.

“Why?” He asked holding your hands gently.

You took a deep shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Rossi and Jay froze at that moment, each holding his own pain at your words. Thankful that the others weren’t close enough. Rossi cowed he’d deal with anyone who ever hurt you and Jay vowed never to leave you on your own

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ MORE SHIT I HEARD AT COLLEGE ※

a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard at college, continued; these are all from my second semester of sophomore year. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.! more ‘shit i heard/said’ starters!

"Please clap for me.”

“I’m gonna be playing Spanish Sims.”

“Why do they need my middle fucking initial?”

“Just support me as a friend!”

“I don’t care if you think I’m being whiny as fuck, because I probably am, but still.”

“Scandal: professors are people.”

“We’re fucking men here, we have full-sized Rice Krispy Treats.”

“I ate a lot of yogurt, I had great digestive health.”

“There’s a shoe in the kitchen...?”

“I don’t really eat meat, but I’d fuck with some Chick-Fil-A.”

“I could write a whole thesis on how men ain’t shit.”

“I actually started an illegal gambling ring, once.”

“You called me a raging bitch yesterday, so...”

“I’m so lazy, I don’t want to do anything -- ooh! fidget spinner!”

“What the fuck do I look like, Cracker Barrel?”

“Fix my flatbread motherfucking pizzas!”

“Did I tell you the bread story?”

“These fancy rats don’t like crust on their bread.”

“I said that’s not gonna happen again, and it happened two more times.”

“He’s seducing this nice lady.”

“My sheets are still pink. Will anyone know why? The answer is no.”

“Why would you lick a Bible?”

“If it makes you feel better, I won’t kill you and bring you back to life.”

“I don’t cuddle my box of tampons on the beach with my white dress and my white bikini.”

“Now I know where to hide my dead body.”

“I was a bigger fan than you, sorry to break it to you, suck my ass.”

“His hair looks like french fries.”

“Not my salad bar.”

“Wow, that’s not very delicious, it tastes like sand.”

“I have simultaneously the best and worst idea ever.”

“This man’s dick just won the Super Bowl.”

“Wait, don’t laugh yet.”

“Groutfits are the future of this generation, don’t at me.”

“It smells like poots in here.”

“I just had this horrifying vision of dropping my Chipotle.”

“I didn’t want lettuce, I wanted guacamole...! I mixed them up in my head... now I’m pissed.”

“I’ve just been here for a really long time.”

“You think I want his hand up my butt right now?”

“Queso doesn’t belong, even though queso always belongs.”

“I thought I got a 100 but I got a 33.”

“I wonder if the ice is slippery.”

“The only ticket I’ve ever gotten was from a bicycle cop.”

“Muffin men stay there for muffin conventions.”

“I just paid a stranger $10 to paint my tits, happy Mardi Gras.”

“I cut my finger on a chainsaw, but it’s fine.”

“You’re so optimistic, and I’m, like, dying.”

“Get off of that zebra, young woman.”

“My parents didn’t let me watch the Teletubbies because they thought I’d be brainwashed.”

“Did you just say swag? You just imploded your whole argument.”

“He’s perfect in every way, he loves the Lord, except the Lord is Satan.”

“I have a problem with authority.”

“I don’t make these rules. Nuns make these rules.”

“The only things in that town were a movie theater and a pecan store, and we’d already been to the pecan store.”

“Be right back, I have to go fight a war. Should only take a few hours, though.”

“If you put purple on anything smelly, it’s lavender.”

“I can’t see, you can’t hear, and what can’t Jess do...? Math.”

“Are you shitting me? They called at 10 o’clock to say the dog has diarrhea?”

“I’m gonna punch a child.”

“I’m stressed, I’m stressed, I’m so fucking stressed (hell yeah).”

“Who the fuck is in Mountain Time? Utah? Dakota, North and South?”

“She’s a certified side hoe.”

“There’s no crying in the club. Fortunately for me, this is not the club.”

“I asked the void to rate me on a scale of one to ten.”

“Oh, no... don’t defile the fruit...”

“Did you just call a hospital a medical salon?”

“That sad moment when you’re bleeding to death and you can’t eat peanut butter crackers.”

“They called me the flea, I ran so fast.”

“Today, instead of carrying a plastic fork with my Lysol, it’s a napkin. We’ve changed secondary weapons.”

“I injured myself snapping too violently.”

“Son of a fuck cracker.”

“Don’t be alarmed, but has anyone seen my gun?”

“My whole life, I’ve always thought that those orange strips in salad was cheese. Turns out, it’s been carrots this whole time.”

“Jesus is one, he’s two.”

“Science is dead now. No more science.”

“I mean, you could also, theoretically, have sex in the woods.”

“I just wanna make movies and cry.”

“Hi, I’m depressed, but my name is David.”

“I thought there was one... turns out that there’s five.”

“My name is Kathy, I’m a pissed off soccer mom, why is my child not starting? I paid all this money.”

“We could all bring cardboard cutouts of ourselves, and it wouldn’t be the same.”

“I’m five. Six on a good day.”

“I can’t catch a break -- everything just breaks.”

“I strive to be the best-smelling person people know.”

“I did a push-up yesterday.”

“Not to be dramatic, but I’d rather die than walk across campus.”

“Y’all look like scary-ass nuns.”

“Wait, that’s not in Hamlet.”

“Our lord and savior is Nicolas Cage, fuckers. Get it right.”

“It’s always tracksuit weather.”

“I owe you either an Icee or my firstborn, whichever you’d prefer.”

“Okay, Black Panther characters, let’s see. We’ve got T’Challa. We’ve got... bad T’Challa.”

“Without sororities, the glitter industry would’ve been dead years ago.”

“Honeymoon is just a nicer way to say fuckfest.”

“Oh my god, someone wants my drugs.”

“I was driving here to take this exam, and a car accident happened right in front of me and almost hit me, and I almost wanted it to hit me so I didn’t have to take this exam.”

“He has the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 1)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. words: 2.3k chapter: 1/? rating: t  genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn

a/n: shoutout to @auroraphilealis for helping me edit and inspiring me to finally write this fic i’ve had in my head for a year<3 [[ao3]]

“Triple espresso, one sugar. To go.”

“Sure that will be – oh. You’re Dan Howell.”

Dan’s head snapped up to meet the barista’s eyes. His unfamiliar, gorgeous eyes. “And you’re new.”

“Er, yeah. How’d you know that though?”

“I come here almost daily. I live nearby, plus it’s the only place slow enough that I rarely get recognized.” Please don’t be a crazy fan.

“Seems like the kind of thing my coworkers could have warned me about.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Warned? That bad of a surprise, huh?”

The barista’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean it would have been nice to have a heads up so I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not like I don’t like your music or anything – I actually really enjoyed the new single you released last week and–”

“Relax,” Dan’s eyes flickered down to the cute new worker’s name tag, “Phil, I’m just kidding.”

“Oh. Good. Um…” Phil seemed to remember he was at work and had a job to do. “That will be three pound fifty.”

Dan dug his wallet out of his pocket and embarrassedly remembered he was wearing old joggers and a hoodie. What a great outfit to meet a cute guy in.

Dan shuffled down the counter, trailing Phil as he started making his coffee. The sudden appearance of a new (attractive) employee woke him up better than any triple espresso ever could.

“So, Phil, what brings you to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop?”

Phil’s head shot up, as if he was surprised that Dan was continuing to talk with him. “Oh, you know, the usual. I just moved to London and needed a job to help pay the rent.”

“Welcome to London. Where did you move from?”

“Thanks! I just got here from Manchester last week.” Phil slid Dan’s coffee across the counter, a few drops splashing over the edge. However, instead of Dan grabbing his coffee and leaving, he leaned forward, rested his arms on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew he should be going — he had a plenty long to do list today — but he couldn’t resist learning a bit more about Phil.

It’s just because he’s new and I come here every day. It’d be weird not to chat.

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. All he knew about the girl who was normally working during the weekday mornings — Emma? Emily? — was that she was Irish, and that was based solely off her accent. The guy who worked on the weekends — Jake, maybe? — was incapable of putting his phone down for more than thirty seconds and smoked like a chimney.

But Phil’s new. It’d be rude not to be friendly.

“How are you liking London so far?”

“It seems like a cool city, from what I’ve seen of it. Between unpacking and working, I haven’t really had a lot of time to explore yet.”

“There’s definitely plenty to explore. What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Um, I’m a bit of a nerd, to be honest.”

Dan chuckled and wondered just how much ‘a bit’ was. If Phil was anything like him, ‘a bit’ was code for ‘completely and utterly’. “I feel you there. Have you been to the Sherlock museum?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “No! I want to so badly though. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”

“It totally is. I swear I think I had to be dragged away the first time I went. They were literally closing when I finally left.”

Phil leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ll definitely have to check it out. My friend promised to go on the Doctor Who tour with me on my next day off, so it will have to be after that though.”

“I’ve been meaning to go on that! No one in my life likes it enough to go on a two and a half hour tour with me, though, and I hate doing stuff like that alone.”

Phil nodded along like he perfectly understood what Dan was complaining about. “I know what you mean, there were so many nerdy things I wanted to do when I was living in Manchester but none of my friends there were interested in going with me.”

“That sucks. It’s good that you’ve got someone here who’ll go with you.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to study Phil’s features a bit more closely over the brim of his cup. His eyes were a striking combination of blue, green, and yellow and his jet black hair was carefully arranged in a short, borderline-outdated, emo fringe that Dan would have done anything to replicate just last year. One the whole, Cute Coffee Boy looked much more put together than Dan did. To be fair, he probably didn’t roll out of bed twenty minutes ago. “Okay, so, important question. Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, obviously David Tennant was great. He was both cute and played a great character. But I also kind of have a soft spot for Christopher Eccleston? He was the first person I ever saw playing the Doctor and who got me into the show, so he’ll always have a place in my heart.”

“I feel that way about David Tennant! I didn’t give in and start watching until he started — obviously I went back and caught up after watching like two episodes. Are you all caught up? I’ve been dying to talk about —”

Dan was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

Both he and Phil glanced down at his phone, which laying face up on the counter. “Louise <3” was on the caller ID. Dan shot Phil an apologetic smile and held up a finger as he answered, trying to express his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Hi Lou.”

“Daniel James Howell, I’ve been in your apartment for 20 minutes where are you?” Dan’s face fell in shame.

Oh shit. Louise. THAT’S what I was supposed to be doing.

“Er, I’m downstairs. At the coffee shop.”

“Of course you are. Get your butt up here. And bring me a coffee since I had to wait on your bum.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be there in 10.” Dan turned to Phil. “Looks like I need a venti iced soy latte with two and a half pumps of vanilla, double whip cream, and cocoa powder on top.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Complicated drink.”

“Complicated drink, complicated girl. I’ll take a few shots of baileys in my coffee if you’ve got any back there. I have a feeling I’m about to get yelled at for being late.”

“Ha. Ha. So you’ve got to go meet your… girlfriend?”

Dan blushed. “NO! God no! I mean – that came out harsh. Louise and I would be a train wreck. She’s my best friend. And my manager.”

Dan averted his eyes, staring into his coffee rather than at Cute Coffee Boy. The silence that fell in the coffee shop while Phil made Louise’s drink felt awkward to Dan and he really, really hoped Phil didn’t feel it too.

Unable to come up with anything to say, now that their conversation had been interrupted by Louise, Dan fiddled on his phone, liking a few tweets here and there. Both too soon and not soon enough, Phil passed him Louise’s and suddenly he had no legitimate reason for loitering. Phil handed him his receipt with a chipper “have a nice day!” and Dan awkwardly dropped his change in the tip char.

Despite having his slowly cooling coffee and Louise’s slowly melting drink, Dan was tempted to stay, to keep talking to this interesting and adorable new barista, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew Louise would be furious if he wasn’t back in his apartment in the next five minutes, and even more so, he knew talking to a cute boy wasn’t something he was allowed to do at this moment in time.

So rather than staying and talking and just melting in the presence of this beautiful human, Dan grabbed Louise’s fancy ass drink and his own dark and bitter espresso and turned to leave. But before he could even turn around, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“I’ll see you again soon? Raincheck on that Doctor Whol conversation?”

Phil smiled and raised one hand in a stilted wave of sorts. “I’ll be here!”

Dan couldn’t tell if Phil’s response was customer service friendly, or trying to keep my fanboy in check friendly, or I actually want to see you again friendly.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Dan cared.

Dan trudged back into his lobby, nodding hello at the doorman, Mark. Trying not to dump out his drinks, he stuck his key into the elevator and pressed 7, nearly spilling his drinks anyway when the elevator started opening.

When the elevator doors opened to his apartment, Dan was immediately bombarded by Louise, who was apparently waiting in the entryway.

“Dan! I know I told you we were meeting to go over some of this publicity stuff today, where did you go?”

In response, Dan shoved her too sweet coffee into her hands, kicked his worn converse off, and walked passed her into the living room.

Louise followed him into the room, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You’re being weird, what happened?”

Dan sighed, figuring there was no use keeping anything from Louise.

“Well, you know Beans and Grind?”

Louise held up her cup, which clearly had the coffee shop’s name stamped on it. “No, no dear, never heard of it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” He took a sip of his drink, slightly stalling in hopes that Louise would bring up whatever business matters she wanted to cover.

She didn’t. She patiently drank her coffee and stared at Dan over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to continue.

“Ugh, fine Louise. There’s this new barista.”

To her credit, Louise was first and foremost always an amazing friend; she never told Dan off too severely for being reckless or stupid or making poor decisions. So rather than pointing out the millions of reasons why this discussion could lead somewhere bad, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Tell me everything. Girl? Boy? Non-binary? I want all of the details.”

“His names Phil.” Dan paused, waiting for Louise to say something. What, he wasn’t sure, but he was positive she’d have something to say on the matter. When twenty seconds went by and Louise was still silently staring at him, waiting for more, Dan finally continued.

“He’s new, he just moved to London, he was surprisingly not fan-like once he got passed the initial ‘there’s a famous singer in my coffee shop’, and is apparently a massive nerd. I didn’t get the chance to learn too much else about him though, because somebody called demanding my presence.”

“Well, if I’d known you were making the acquaintance of a cute, new boy, maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“It was just friendly, Louise.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, Dan knew he didn’t believe them.

Fuck.

Morning coffee and gossip with Louise eventually turned into productive work time with Louise, which after a few hours turned into wine and more gossip with Louise. It was nearing 9 o’clock when the elevator let out a loud ding, indicating that someone had entered the apartment. Given Dan’s allowed visitors list, it could really only be one person.

High heels click clacked on the hardwood floor but the footsteps passed the lounge and continued further down the hallway.

“Really, Dan, this is still happening?” Dan threw a slightly startled, slightly admonishing look in Louise’s direction.

A shrill voice called loudly from the kitchen. “Ugh, Danny! I had such a bad day at work and of course you didn’t come take me out for lunch like I texted you to. Did you have your phone on, like, do not disturb or something?”

Rather than responding to the accusation, Dan turned and whispered to Louise. “Quiet or she’ll hear. Be nice, I really don’t want to fight tonight.”

The voice from the kitchen continued whining. “The girl at work was being, like, so annoying. She doesn’t understand that it’s, like, literally her job to do my errands and stuff. I mean, like—”

Louise continued talking, slightly drowning out the high-pitched complaining from the other room. “Right, unlike every single other night you’ve seen each other this month.”

“— and, like, the woman doing my nails didn’t even believe that I knew you. As if she hadn’t seen us together in the media or anything. I actually had to, like, show her my lockscreen to make her believe. When she finally got the fucking picture, she was much nicer and gave me a free—”

Dan and Louise had both mostly tuned out the diatribe against the woman from work, the manicurist, and whoever else was being complained about.

“Louise.” Dan sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to be nice, don’t provoke her, don’t lecture me.

“Fine, I’ll be polite. That still doesn’t mean I approve of you continuing this…whatever thisis.” Louise loosely gestured to the hallway toward the voice in the other room, which was still rambling at an ear-splitting pitch.

Somewhat resigned, Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

Just as the words left Dan’s mouth, the visitor waltzed into the living room, preceded only slightly by the tell-tale click clack of stilettos. She was wearing a tight red dress with a plunging neckline and her nails were painted to match perfectly. Her hair was styled in big, loose curls that Dan was sure probably took some hair stylist ages to achieve — and probably left a hefty charge on his account, too. The woman was sipping a bottle of Perrier she’d already taken from Dan’s fridge, leaving a thick stain of dark red lipstick around the mouth of the bottle. A bit belatedly, Dan jumped off the couch and crossed the room to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrap his arm loosely around her waist.

“Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

[[next chapter]]

[iminclinedtowriting]

Love Yourself (Chapter 1)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan's life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he's got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He's currently lacking inspiration, he's rather lonely, and he's stuck in a rut. Dan's been going to the same coffee shop for years. It's quiet, it's quaint, it's near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that's he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. words: 2.3k chapter: 1/? genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn a/n: shoutout to @snowbunnylester for helping me edit and inspiring me <3  [[ao3]]

“Triple espresso, one sugar. To go.”

“Sure that will be – oh. You’re Dan Howell.”

Dan’s head snapped up to meet the barista’s eyes. His unfamiliar, gorgeous eyes. “And you’re new.”

“Er, yeah. How’d you know that though?”

“I come here almost daily. I live nearby, plus it’s the only place slow enough that I rarely get recognized.” Please don’t be a crazy fan.

“Seems like the kind of thing my coworkers could have warned me about.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Warned? That bad of a surprise, huh?”

The barista’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean it would have been nice to have a heads up so I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not like I don’t like your music or anything – I actually really enjoyed the new single you released last week and–”

“Relax,” Dan’s eyes flickered down to the cute new worker’s name tag, “Phil, I’m just kidding.”

“Oh. Good. Um…” Phil seemed to remember he was at work and had a job to do. “That will be three pound fifty.”

Dan dug his wallet out of his pocket and embarrassedly remembered he was wearing old joggers and a hoodie. What a great outfit to meet a cute guy in.

Dan shuffled down the counter, trailing Phil as he started making his coffee. The sudden appearance of a new (attractive) employee woke him up better than any triple espresso ever could.

“So, Phil, what brings you to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop?”

Phil’s head shot up, as if he was surprised that Dan was continuing to talk with him. “Oh, you know, the usual. I just moved to London and needed a job to help pay the rent.”

“Welcome to London. Where did you move from?”

“Thanks! I just got here from Manchester last week.” Phil slid Dan’s coffee across the counter, a few drops splashing over the edge. However, instead of Dan grabbing his coffee and leaving, he leaned forward, rested his arms on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew he should be going — he had a plenty long to do list today — but he couldn’t resist learning a bit more about Phil.

It’s just because he’s new and I come here every day. It’d be weird not to chat.

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. All he knew about the girl who was normally working during the weekday mornings — Emma? Emily? — was that she was Irish, and that was based solely off her accent. The guy who worked on the weekends — Jake, maybe? — was incapable of putting his phone down for more than thirty seconds and smoked like a chimney.

But Phil’s new. It’d be rude not to be friendly.

“How are you liking London so far?”

“It seems like a cool city, from what I’ve seen of it. Between unpacking and working, I haven’t really had a lot of time to explore yet.”

“There’s definitely plenty to explore. What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Um, I’m a bit of a nerd, to be honest.”

Dan chuckled and wondered just how much ‘a bit’ was. If Phil was anything like him, ‘a bit’ was code for ‘completely and utterly’. “I feel you there. Have you been to the Sherlock museum?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “No! I want to so badly though. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”

“It totally is. I swear I think I had to be dragged away the first time I went. They were literally closing when I finally left.”

Phil leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ll definitely have to check it out. My roommate promised to go on the Doctor Who tour with me on my next day off, so it will have to be after that though.”

“I’ve been meaning to go on that! No one in my life likes it enough to go on a two and a half hour tour with me, though, and I hate doing stuff like that alone.”

Phil nodded along like he perfectly understood what Dan was complaining about. “I know what you mean, there were so many nerdy things I wanted to do when I was living in Manchester but none of my friends there were interested in going with me.”

“That sucks. It’s good that you’ve got someone here who’ll go with you.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to study Phil’s features a bit more closely over the brim of his cup. His eyes were a striking combination of blue, green, and yellow and his jet black hair was carefully arranged in a short, borderline-outdated, emo fringe that Dan would have done anything to replicate just last year. One the whole, Cute Coffee Boy looked much more put together than Dan did. To be fair, he probably didn’t roll out of bed twenty minutes ago. “Okay, so, important question. Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, obviously David Tennant was great. He was both cute and played a great character. But I also kind of have a soft spot for Christopher Eccleston? He was the first person I ever saw playing the Doctor and who got me into the show, so he’ll always have a place in my heart.”

“I feel that way about David Tennant! I didn’t give in and start watching until he started — obviously I went back and caught up after watching like two episodes. Are you all caught up? I’ve been dying to talk about —”

Dan was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

Both he and Phil glanced down at his phone, which laying face up on the counter. “Louise <3” was on the caller ID. Dan shot Phil an apologetic smile and held up a finger as he answered, trying to express his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Hi Lou.”

“Daniel James Howell, I’ve been in your apartment for 20 minutes where are you?” Dan’s face fell in shame.

Oh shit. Louise. THAT’S what I was supposed to be doing.

“Er, I’m downstairs. At the coffee shop.”

“Of course you are. Get your butt up here. And bring me a coffee since I had to wait on your bum.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be there in 10.” Dan turned to Phil. “Looks like I need a venti iced soy latte with two and a half pumps of vanilla, double whip cream, and cocoa powder on top.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Complicated drink.”

“Complicated drink, complicated girl. I’ll take a few shots of baileys in my coffee if you’ve got any back there. I have a feeling I’m about to get yelled at for being late.”

“Ha. Ha. So you’ve got to go meet your… girlfriend?”

Dan blushed. “NO! God no! I mean – that came out harsh. Louise and I would be a train wreck. She’s my best friend. And my manager.”

Dan averted his eyes, staring into his coffee rather than at Cute Coffee Boy. The silence that fell in the coffee shop while Phil made Louise’s drink felt awkward to Dan and he really, really hoped Phil didn’t feel it too.

Unable to come up with anything to say, now that their conversation had been interrupted by Louise, Dan fiddled on his phone, liking a few tweets here and there. Both too soon and not soon enough, Phil passed him Louise’s and suddenly he had no legitimate reason for loitering. Phil handed him his receipt with a chipper “have a nice day!” and Dan awkwardly dropped his change in the tip char.

Despite having his slowly cooling coffee and Louise’s slowly melting drink, Dan was tempted to stay, to keep talking to this interesting and adorable new barista, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew Louise would be furious if he wasn’t back in his apartment in the next five minutes, and even more so, he knew talking to a cute boy wasn’t something he was allowed to do at this moment in time.

So rather than staying and talking and just melting in the presence of this beautiful human, Dan grabbed Louise’s fancy ass drink and his own dark and bitter espresso and turned to leave. But before he could even turn around, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“I’ll see you again soon? Raincheck on that Doctor Whol conversation?”

Phil smiled and raised one hand in a stilted wave of sorts. “I’ll be here!”

Dan couldn’t tell if Phil’s response was customer service friendly, or trying to keep my fanboy in check friendly, or I actually want to see you again friendly.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Dan cared.

Dan trudged back into his lobby, nodding hello at the doorman, Mark. Trying not to dump out his drinks, he stuck his key into the elevator and pressed 7, nearly spilling his drinks anyway when the elevator started opening.

When the elevator doors opened to his apartment, Dan was immediately bombarded by Louise, who was apparently waiting in the entryway.

“Dan! I know I told you we were meeting to go over some of this publicity stuff today, where did you go?”

In response, Dan shoved her too sweet coffee into her hands, kicked his worn converse off, and walked passed her into the living room.

Louise followed him into the room, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You’re being weird, what happened?”

Dan sighed, figuring there was no use keeping anything from Louise.

“Well, you know Beans and Grind?”

Louise held up her cup, which clearly had the coffee shop’s name stamped on it. “No, no dear, never heard of it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” He took a sip of his drink, slightly stalling in hopes that Louise would bring up whatever business matters she wanted to cover.

She didn't. She patiently drank her coffee and stared at Dan over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to continue.

“Ugh, fine Louise. There’s this new barista.”

To her credit, Louise was first and foremost always an amazing friend; she never told Dan off too severely for being reckless or stupid or making poor decisions. So rather than pointing out the millions of reasons why this discussion could lead somewhere bad, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Tell me everything. Girl? Boy? Non-binary? I want all of the details.”

“His names Phil.” Dan paused, waiting for Louise to say something. What, he wasn’t sure, but he was positive she’d have something to say on the matter. When twenty seconds went by and Louise was still silently staring at him, waiting for more, Dan finally continued.

“He’s new, he just moved to London, he was surprisingly not fan-like once he got passed the initial ‘there’s a famous singer in my coffee shop’, and is apparently a massive nerd. I didn’t get the chance to learn too much else about him though, because somebody called demanding my presence.”

“Well, if I’d known you were making the acquaintance of a cute, new boy, maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“It was just friendly, Louise.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, Dan knew he didn’t believe them.

Fuck.

Morning coffee and gossip with Louise eventually turned into productive work time with Louise, which after a few hours turned into wine and more gossip with Louise. It was nearing 9 o’clock when the elevator let out a loud ding, indicating that someone had entered the apartment. Given Dan’s allowed visitors list, it could really only be one person.

High heels click clacked on the hardwood floor but the footsteps passed the lounge and continued further down the hallway.

“Really, Dan, this is still happening?” Dan threw a slightly startled, slightly admonishing look in Louise’s direction.

A shrill voice called loudly from the kitchen. “Ugh, Danny! I had such a bad day at work and of course you didn’t come take me out for lunch like I texted you to. Did you have your phone on, like, do not disturb or something?”

Rather than responding to the accusation, Dan turned and whispered to Louise. “Quiet or she’ll hear. Be nice, I really don’t want to fight tonight.”

The voice from the kitchen continued whining. “The girl at work was being, like, so annoying. She doesn’t understand that it’s, like, literally her job to do my errands and stuff. I mean, like—”

Louise continued talking, slightly drowning out the high-pitched complaining from the other room. “Right, unlike every single other night you’ve seen each other this month.”

“— and, like, the woman doing my nails didn’t even believe that I knew you. As if she hadn’t seen us together in the media or anything. I actually had to, like, show her my lockscreen to make her believe. When she finally got the fucking picture, she was much nicer and gave me a free—”

Dan and Louise had both mostly tuned out the diatribe against the woman from work, the manicurist, and whoever else was being complained about.

“Louise.” Dan sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to be nice, don’t provoke her, don’t lecture me.

“Fine, I’ll be polite. That still doesn’t mean I approve of you continuing this...whatever this is.” Louise loosely gestured to the hallway toward the voice in the other room, which was still rambling at an ear-splitting pitch.

Somewhat resigned, Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

Just as the words left Dan’s mouth, the visitor waltzed into the living room, preceded only slightly by the tell-tale click clack of stilettos. She was wearing a tight red dress with a plunging neckline and her nails were painted to match perfectly. Her hair was styled in big, loose curls that Dan was sure probably took some hair stylist ages to achieve — and probably left a hefty charge on his account, too. The woman was sipping a bottle of Perrier she’d already taken from Dan’s fridge, leaving a thick stain of dark red lipstick around the mouth of the bottle. A bit belatedly, Dan jumped off the couch and crossed the room to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrap his arm loosely around her waist.

“Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

[tavarillasgalen]

2017

The year of recovery.

Another year of doing things I’d always wanted to, right from the very start. My first New Year’s party. I rung in 2017 with my first New Year’s kiss. I went to see the ice castles. I officially dropped out of my sorority. I got out of a toxic living situation and moved into my own studio apartment and got my first taste of truly living alone. I quite like it. I got to really experiment in the kitchen for the first time and came up with some dishes I love. I got to decorate, a bit, grocery shop, all of that. It was a dimly lit apartment, but it was a space all mine. 

I went to the Vagina Monologues at Westmini and performed in the one at the U. I conquered my fear of my roommate and didn’t let her presence keep me from performing. And I was good. I was really good.

My boyfriend and I celebrated 1 year of being together and Valentine’s by going out to a fancy restaurant. The bf and I went to the ballet and got insanely good seats. $100 seats for the student price of $15? yes please. We went on a little picnic and then to Benihana for his 21st. We went to the Holi festival. We celebrated his first publication. We went to a Cold War Kids concert. We went to an art show he had pieces in. We went to another art show a mutual friend have pieces in.We went to the Tulip Festival. We went to an underground hotspring at the Homestead Crater with some Westminster friends and all got dinner at Red Rock after. We went out a few times with his friends. We went to my first Pride. We went to a baseball game and mercilessly made fun of the teams the whole time. I celebrated Eid with his family and their Bosnian Muslim community. We went to the Red Butte Gardens. We went paddleboarding/kayaking for the first time. We went to the State Fair and got the ice cream that makes you look like a dragon. We went to see bell hooks talk at UVU and then later to a MUSE concert. We went axe-throwing (he kicked my ass). We went to Antelope Island and got caught in the middle of a giant herd of bison. We went to a Halloween party hosted by the couple who’s wedding we went to last year. So many cute little dates all throughout the year - to the aquarium, to park city, to the mountains, to stargaze, etc. So many movie nights and cuddles and making food together (our lava cakes tho... so bomb). Hanging out while he did research over the summer. When I lived on my own, I texted him whenever I didn’t feel safe, and he’d come right over and just be with me. Seeing Christmas lights. Ice-skating. Him spending more time with my family, building a gingerbread town. 

I went blonde for a few months. The girl who did it first messed up and my roots were white and there was a band of darker blonde, but the salon fixed it for free. I’d always wanted to go blonde, so that was cool.

I started auditioning again, and I got a part in a commercial for a concert for the deaf and hard of hearing! A few months later, I got my first paid role in a workout series. I met with an agency, and whereas the agent told everyone else there for acting to “email me a reel, and I’ll get back to you”, she took one look at my resume and was like “this is impressive, I’ll email you about callbacks.” I went to callbacks, and they said they’d sign me if I cleared my skin, went back to my natural hair color, and brushed up a bit with some acting classes. 

I went down the southern Utah six times this year. Once with my dad and michael. Once with the whole family. Once with my dad and johnny. Once with my mom and my younger brothers. Once with my bf. Once with everyone except for mom and david. Mostly, we stuck around Snow Canyon and the outskirts of Zion. But with my dad and Johnny, we also hit up Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef. With my bf, we had a romantic bath, and spontaneously went to the Grand Canyon. 

I turned 21, and I have a whole other post about that experience lol. But it’s nice to be able to go to bars and order cocktails when I go out to eat. Amaretto is def my fav. 

I went to the lantern festival and it was as magical as that scene in Tangled made it look.

I went to Pennsylvania with my mom to visit family. We stayed in the house she grew up in, visited with family, got ice cream from my cousin’s work. Had cocktails and talked on the porch. Went out with my cousins and their friends. Went on a coal mine tour. Lots of home-cooked meals and just casually hanging out. Walking around Scranton, my mom reminiscing on her childhood. It was really lovely. 

I did a video shoot with Bella - basically a “day in the life at the stable”. She did so great with the cameras, I was impressed!

I got my tubes tied, and my boyfriend was such a support through it all. Driving me to surgery, taking care of me after, taking me to get acai bowls and play games, helping me around. Being there for me too when my parents found out and were furious. 

I’ve gotten close with Bella again. Moving back in with my parents definitely helped, because then I could see her everyday. It’s still a process, but it’s so much better than it was. Hanging out with her in the pasture. Riding for fun. Just sitting with her in her stall. I feel like I’m still somewhat scared of her after the kicking incident, but I’m slowly getting over that. I love her. I truly do. I am so grateful to have her in my life. She has been so sweet and saucy. And I feel like a good rider most of the time. I’m very grateful for things slowly going back to how they were in this regard; getting my relationship with my horse back.

Classes spring semester were again, a struggle. I just barely passed some and failed others. Mental health things, you know. Hard to pass a class when you can hardly ever go to class. Summer semester, I started off strong, but ended up dropping all my classes and taking the summer off, per my dad’s suggestion. Fall semester, I did all online, and I was able to keep up, for the most part. I passed all my classes and finally got taken off probation and put back into good-standing. For the first time since being at the U, my semester gpa was above a 2.0.

I attempted therapy multiple times, found one I liked, but the commute was 4 hours rt, so I quit fast. I recently found another, and so far, it’s alright. It’s progress, you know? Progress is important. 

I did a summer internship with the Start By Believing campaign in Salt Lake. Such an incredible experience; I felt like I was actually making a difference, and so amazing to be working alongside like-minded and determined people. 

I lost ten pounds, and have reached a point with my body where I don’t feel absolutely terrible if I overeat. I’m only 15 lbs away from my goal weight, something I can easily achieve through working out regularly and eating healthfully. Here’s to that in 2018.

I learned soooooo much about makeup, skin care, and hair care. I started investing in high end makeup. I started actually cleansing my face and exfoliating and moisturizing and all of that. I started using hair oils and the like. I can’t believe I didn’t do all of this before, especially with my dry skin and hair, but now, skin care is one of my favorite things. Sephora’s quickly become my favorite store. My hair is actually soft and silky all the time.

I went on accutane, and it’s finally starting to clear my skin! The only side effect I’ve experienced has been the extreme dryness everyone does. 

After moving back in with my family in July, my relationships with all of them have increasingly gotten better. It’s good. So good. I really regret having grown so distant over the course of college, but I’m doing my best to mend things. Thanksgiving was good; Christmas was even better. I feel like I got everyone great gifts. And I’m grateful things are better. 

I started regaining interest in things I used to love. Reading for fun. Drawing. Writing. I’ve stopped caring so much about what other people think of me. I’ve started caring more about my health. I feel like I’ve made real steps towards recovery and self-betterment this year. I’ve stopped being so tolerant of not being treated as well as I deserve. I’ve started forcing myself to do things, because I know I’ll regret it later if I don’t. I feel like I’ve made real progress as a person this year. Here’s to more of that in 2018. 

[firefistlaw]

Who is nice butt and fancy hair guy? (I literally don't remember the guys name. He was a fire dancer and Nami thought he had a nice butt and fancy hair) ALSO WHO IS THE SANDWICH MAKING EXPERIMENT (625? I think his number is 625.)

Do you mean David Kawena? Aka sexy sexy surf brown nice hottie dude?

I’d say David is… Mihawk lol

And Reuben, aka Experiment 625is SNOJI

[popdelton2]

newsies modern au for anon

ohh my god okay i went into desktop web mode on my phone to do this and get a read more because i am DEDICATED to simultaneously spilling my guts AND not making anyone read two hours and two years of newsies headcanons so here it is this took me literally five hours to answer despite having a seven page document for reference also thank you i love you for this

EDIT: I HAD TO USE A SIDEBLOG SO I COULD LINK TO THIS POST AND AVOID BOMBARDING MY FOLLOWERS? THIS SITE! IS! ASS!

GOD OKAY i do not know how old this ask is because the tumblr app is ASS and didn’t give me ANY notification that i got a message but yes i love you thank you absolutely i’ll tell you about my newsies modern au i’ve been vibrating out of my skin to tell someone about this it’s nothing and everything at the same time i have 6 pages of headcanons and no real plot! because of who i am as a person!

anyway some of my personal favorite parts (of many):

- background: honestly it mostly focuses on jack and katherine and david and crutchie because Main Squad Best Squad i love all my dancing newsboys but there’s only so much you can do when there’s 800 of them with minimal character development. everyone is in that same 17-19 age range i think they’re supposed to be in the original movie/show (i think they’re younger in 92 actually but whatever) except les and sarah who are 12(almost) and 20, respectively. (jack’s 19, kat and david are 18, crutchie’s 17). with that said:

- almost everything’s gay. because i said so. jack “girls are nice, once or twice” kelly? straight? no. we stan a social justice bicon. he falls in love with kat but he is still bi as hell thanks. (kat is also bi. david and crutchie are both gay)

- david and katherine are BEST friends. david got a scholarship to the same fancy private boarding school kat attended so they’ve known each other since like seventh grade. they started a newspaper because the school didn’t have one and Kat was The Journalist Girl. bill and darcy round out their og boarding school squad, and there’s Some Stories to be told about the adventures of Boarding School Squad.

- speaking of adventures, jack and crutchie and the newsies. jack and crutchie met and subsequently adopted most of the newsies in high school except race who they met in middle school. just take a second and imagine a large group of high school boys. okay now that you’re done recoiling in horror they’re actually fairly well organized respectable boys, they just get rowdy sometimes.

- speaking of adopting newsies, medda is jack and crutchie’s mom. like actually, she adopted them for realsies. she taught drama at the high school so jack and crutchie and the newsies are Well Versed in the art of Theatre™️

- as are david and kat, mostly because kat had a crush on their drama teacher at school and low key forced to boys to go out for every show with her

- jack’s a slut for feelings (among other things). he’s the kind of bi who falls in love and is ready to propose the second a cute person looks at him. one time he tripped up the stairs while carrying paints for a set and ruined his shirt all because someone cute told him hi and smiled at him. he’s a disaster.

- jack graduated first with a couple of the older newsies and fucked off to santa fe for a while for art school and to like find himself and what not. he eventually wound up dropping out, and moving back to new york when crutchie graduated to move them both to an apartment closer to crutchie’s college.

- it’s an apartment au. of course it is. we’ve met me. when is it NOT an apartment au.

- everyone meets when katherine and david move into the same apartment building jack and crutchie and a number of other newsies live in. shenanigans Ensue, especially when jack “if i flirt loud enough they’ll think i have confidence” kelly realizes the cute new girl wants nothing to do with him which is Extremely his type.

- i’m just gonna copy paste this next part straight from the doc. “Jack goes mega heart eyes for Katherine immediately upon meeting her, is too busy being stupid for her to notice Crutchie and David falling in love. Crutchie and David fall in love so super hard like w o w there’s definitely at least one scene where all four of them are in the elevator and Kat and Jack are Loud Flirting and Crutchie and David catch each other’s eyes and do those soft lovestruck smiles boys do when they’re crushing hard it’s REAL GAY”

- also copy pasted: “Jack is fucking SMITTEN with Katherine even after they get together, he sends her cutesy memes on Snapchat and his lock screen is a picture of her and he gets kind of sulky if he goes too long without kissing her. Jack “his password is also Katherine?” Kelly. (Kat is equally smitten but much more low-key about it. She has a tendency to just like, pet his face and kiss his forehead and whatnot. they’re both very tactile it’s a lot of little touches and leaning on each other and being in each other’s space. They're in Love™. It's Gross.)” which honestly minus the modern tech parts is just canon.

- i can’t handle how over the moon they are for each other save me from this hell. that part in once and for all when she puts her hand on his chest and he grabs it and rubs his thumb over her fingers? uh bye i’m ascending. but this is about au not canon, so i digress.

- joe is still a Newspaper man except a lot of his Newspaper Man Stuff is online now? he’s leading the wave in anti-millennial editorials, and Jack, a millennial working at least two jobs, is Fed Up.

- that’s...most of the plot/backstory/major things i have so far, so here is some smaller more random tidbits to wrap this up:

- jack doesn’t meet kat and david until they move into the building, BUT he does know sarah from working part time at the same café as her. small world.

- jack is: a slut for lip products, he has soft and kissable lips at all time; the karaoke king, he owns at least one item of clothing proclaiming this; scared of spiders; can not dance. he’s so bad at dancing i can’t even make a grammatically correct statement about it.

- kat and david and bill and darcy all speak french. kat and david have a Lot of Feelings about A Lot of Things and routinely bring them up to each other just for the enjoyment of watching the other get Very Passionate about Whatever Thing (the victorian era? the romanovs? amelia earhart? censorship? linguistics? angel hair pasta? all of the above)

- jack and david are the mom and dad friends respectively. jack adamantly denies being the mom friend but he cares about everyone like they’re his own kids and he somehow has whatever anyone needs? And also he touches and hugs everyone all the time he’s a very comforting presence. once david warms up to everyone he becomes the kind of pushy dad friend who smacks you on the butt and loves to say “I told you so” and makes you get out of bed during a depression spell because he CARES about you or WHATEVER and it's GOOD FOR YOU or WHATEVER.

- Jack and David are the dad and mom friends but aren't dating because they're dating Kat and Crutchie who are feisty troublemakers under those sweet innocent exteriors (which is why they get away with so much because they’re cute and charming and smile like sunshine. Jack claims thats bullshit because he is cute and charming and smiles like sunshine also and he has never gotten away with ANYTHING in his LIFE but that's just cause he was raised by Medda who is Immune to the Jack Kelly Charm)

- david is useless re: pop culture. multiple people have multiple times shouted “LEARN A THING. WATCH A SHOW.” at him because he knows fucking encyclopedic facts about like, fuckin rattlesnakes and shit, and can quote multiple bill wurtz videos start to finish from memory, but fucking don't ask him about movies or anything because just. blank stares.

- The Forever argument at David and Kat’s apartment is is the room too hot or too cold? David thinks it is ALWAYS too cold and Kat thinks it is ALWAYS too hot and both are willing to die on that hill.

- the newsies have a sin tin, and the rules for paying the sin tin are convoluted as hell and involve a complicated voting system. the most frequent payers of the sin tin are jack and race who are tied, and crutchie has never had to pay because he is pure of heart and learned how to charm people from jack.

- les is a born con man in the best way, and david and sarah and katherine are all constantly shutting down get rich quick schemes that would probably work because les you’re an infant, stay in school and get a job in finance like the rest of the con men.

- Spot Conlon Is An Asshole, And Racetrack Higgins Is In Love With Him.

god okay that’s. a lot. most of it, not all of it. i made a few things more concise than they are in my official doc and left out a few of the much more nonsensical/just for mandy things but it’s been, uh, two years and i kind of just add a few things every week and haven’t put any effort at ALL into organizing it or giving it any plot. it’s just gonna live as a bunch of scattered shenanigans headcanons and six lines of fic forever, which is probably for the best.

[kfarritor]

I am Water  (Thanks INT100)

          Have you ever thought about your purpose in life? Are you fulfilling it already or have you not even gotten to it yet? Do you really have a certain purpose in life or just a certain role? I like to believe my purpose in life is to be a caring daughter, wise sister, true friend, unconditionally loving wife and mother, respectful citizen, hardworking employee, and faithful follower of God; the list could go on and on. I think to myself, are those really purposes or are they more roles? Are those things I aspire to be or perhaps I am already those? Perhaps they are based on my actions, motives, or both. Maybe they are hopes and dreams that I will eventually reach, or maybe I won’t. Possibly those are roles that each have certain purposes within each of them. I’m not sure who decides to say that they are roles or purposes, but I’ll let you be the judge.

           David Foster Wallace described that a Liberal Arts education provides students with the idea of “how to think.” A Liberal Arts education gives you a choice of what to think about and leads you to be less arrogant by not just seeing one side. Most people believe that they are the absolute center of the universe, which isn’t the case at all. Yes, there are things happening to the left of you, the right of you, under you, over you, behind you, in front of you; everywhere. That is the case, but that is the case for everyone on this planet so it doesn’t make you the absolute center of the universe. His main idea is to have people turn off that “default setting” we all have. Perhaps, not thinking about the obvious of what is right in front of you, but why that certain something is right in front of you.    

Have you ever looked up at the sky, seeing the millions of stars and the bright moon and realized how small you really are? Have you ever wondered who else is looking up at the same sky we all share at the same time as you? I always wonder what if I have met that person before, maybe I will meet them tomorrow or in ten years, maybe it’s my future husband, or maybe the future president. This may sound like an obscure idea, but it runs through my mind quite a bit. I think this is one way my “default setting” is being turned off. I don’t just think that I’m looking up at a bunch of stars and a giant planet that looks like cheese, but I’m looking at something that I share with millions of people, species, and the unknown. Thinking of the people that are looking up at the sky at the same time as me, I always wonder how their day was compared to mine. Maybe they are looking up at the sky because they just experienced the worst day of their life so they are searching for answers, maybe they just had the best day of their life and they are looking up at the sky in awe, or perhaps they are looking up to see a shooting star to give them some sort of hope they are looking for. When I look up at the sky, I always feel centered. Saying “centered” may be the wrong terminology, especially towards Foster’s ideas but it’s the only way I can put it into words. When I look up at the sky, I feel that I am exactly where I am supposed to be at that moment in time. Sometimes I think that I’m not doing anything right and wondering where I made the wrong choice to lead me to where I am at that moment in time, but the starry filled sky reminds me that I’m okay.

           The idea of the night sky didn’t just come from me. Living in Alliance, Nebraska there wasn’t and still isn’t much to do for a high schooler. Go to the movies, weekly sporting events, ice cream dates at Dairy Queen, “cruising the Butte” (Box Butte is the main road in Alliance), secretly drinking, or hanging out at a friend’s house. Throughout high school, my best friends and I were good at finding and making our own fun. We loved going to the movies, getting ice cream, driving around and jamming to our favorite classic rock hits and teenage girl anthems, but we weren’t much into drinking due to being the “good girls” and participating in sports all year round. One of our favorite things to do was driving to the world famous Carhenge in my best friend’s 1998 gold Honda Accord that had a sunroof. Usually on the way out to Carhenge, one of us would reenact the famous Perks of Being a Wallflower scene where one of us would pop our head out the sunroof with our arms wide open, our hair flying back from the wind of the highway, while playing David Bowie’s famous song, “Heroes” to act out the famous movie scene perfectly. Once we parked out at Carhenge, we would open the sunroof and all lay down in the tiny car and look up at the sky. As naïve teen girls would do, we talked about boys, gossip around school, homework, what was going through our minds, dreams, the “what if’s,” and how great we had it. To this day, we still have the rarest teenage girl friendship in the world, six girls that came from either the public middle school or the private Catholic school that became best friends from freshman basketball. To this day, we have always gotten along; no fights, and consumed by only love and laughter. When we looked up at the stars we always wondered who else was looking up at the sky; maybe it was our parents wondering what we were up to, someone we saw in an airport three years ago, or maybe the future love of our lives. It wasn’t the typical conversation you’d think six teenage girls would be having, but it happened every time we went out there.

           Back to purpose, I think about a famous quote by Linda Hogan introduced to me during J-Term, “Walking. I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.” That quote always makes me think that I have some sort of purpose and I’m meant to be here. I have come to the conclusion that being a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother, employee, citizen, follower of God are not just my purposes in life, but that there is purpose within each of those roles. It is not just “I am a daughter” or “I am a mother.” I am a loving daughter whose purpose is to show the world how great of a job my parents did raising me by my character and hopefully seeing themselves within me. As a wise sister, my purpose is to provide an example for my forever little brother through my actions and choices and also providing him with advice and wisdom throughout our entire lives. My purpose as a true friend is to be an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on, a wall to protect, and maybe a laugh once in a while. I haven’t played the role as a wife yet, but I believe my purpose is to give someone the love that they deserve by giving my entire heart and soul to them and show how much they mean to me and the entire world. Another role I’m not sure of is how to be an unconditionally loving mother, my purpose as a mother will be to remind my child everyday how much I love them, raise someone who sees the world in a different way, who is my own creation, and hopefully makes the world a better place. As an employee, I am to work hard by putting my whole heart into the job by loving what I do and not just striving for money and power. As a citizen, my role is not just to be “here” but to look out for the better of the entire world, being informed, and not believing the world revolves around me. Finally, being a follower of God is not just me believing in God, but showing God and the people of this world that somewhere that there is a higher power. It does not have to be “God,” but believe that there is something that is providing us with opportunities, love, happiness, fellowship, and has brought us where we are at this moment in time.

           During Foster’s lecture he talked about daily life and routine, saying that we all get lost in the everyday shuffle. Again that’s when I think about my purpose. I know throughout my life that I am going to be lost in the routine. Even today I get lost in the routine; it’s an easy thing to get lost in. I am so afraid that once I consume more and more responsibilities and roles that I will just keep getting lost in the “usual.” I don’t want to waste my life away by being stuck in traffic of the same SUV’s or dodging metal shopping carts in narrow grocery store isles like Foster described. I realize that I have to do those things to essentially survive, but I want to always remember why I am doing those things. In ten or fifteen years when I’m stuck in five o’clock traffic, I don’t want to be upset that I’m in traffic. I want to think of the reason of why I am stuck in traffic; I could be stuck in traffic from heading home because I was at my job that I love and I have to provide for my family or maybe I’m stuck in traffic because I’m taking my future son to soccer practice because that is the biggest priority in his seven-year old brain. I know for a fact that there are going to be days that I am going to wonder “why me, why did I get stuck in this damn traffic?” but I hope to God that most days I see the deep meaning of why I am stuck in traffic or whatever hideous situation I think I’m stuck in. I will forever strive to think as the situations as something sacred instead of looking at them like they are some sort of hell.              

           In life, I want to continue to find things that set my soul on fire; big and little. I don’t want to be unconscious throughout my life by being drowned in the daily routine. I want to still continue to be the person that finds the good in everything. I want to still be the person that is okay with not being noticed after doing something noble or continue to think that embracing life does not mean jumping off cliffs or kissing strangers. Every person has their definition of what “living” is. No person’s life is better than others, but I believe whatever you’re doing should have purpose and that somewhere in the midst you’re loving it. I will be the first to admit that I do love the finer things in life; I love nice clothes, going on big vacations, and anything fancy, but I absolutely love the little things. I know for a fact not every day something miraculous is going to happen and set that spark. You have to live for those little moments and appreciate them. It is our duties as humans to find the beauty within life. Life is far too short to sit back and complain about how unexciting it is. I live for little moments like the feeling of discovering a new song; it gives me butterflies. I love when a song chooses you and you know that song is going to figuratively becoming one of your closest friends in life, it’s going to live in your car, in your headphones, or stuck in your head forever. I love the moment of being reunited. I love the hugging, the bringing together, and the end of missing someone. I had no idea how much you could miss someone until going to college, and that feeling of not missing someone anymore is just indescribable. I love Octobers, have you ever loved a certain month so much? As L.M. Montgomery would say, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” I couldn’t agree more, the month is full of warmth, coolness, falling leaves, warm sunsets, hot drinks, flannel shirts, and American football. I almost feel that the month is full of endings, but also beginnings. Something odd, but I have a deep liking for being in a foreign place. I almost feel that the unknown feeling slaps you awake. You feel your senses awake and suddenly you are alert to everything once again. What about the pain you get in your stomach while laughing so hard? It hurts so bad, but you love the pain. Why I love this feeling so much, I have no idea. My list could go on and on.  

           In this world, we are the movers, the shakers, the seers, the music makers, the dreamers, the believers, and so on. The world we live in is so full of infinite beauty and miraculous things and it is our job to see them. There is no end to adventure and discovery, unless your eyes are closed shut, everyone must keep their eyes open at the world. The beauty of living is that we each get to pick what matters to us and what doesn’t. I just hope that each person doesn’t look at the total obvious of what is in front of them, but looks a little deeper into the “water” and turns off that default setting that we are all each guilty of having. I pray that every day that each person goes out into the world, knows they have some certain purpose in each role they play, and embraces their life no matter what is thrown their way. Living is such a beautiful gift that we are all given and we must embrace it as much as we can.