#gonna print her out and stick her on my wall later

[bythelightswitch]

remembered a post i made a bit ago & ended up making a HQ png of the five shown in said poster. left is a direct rip, right is a wonky attempt at color correction

[humanbug]

Inky Hearts pt. 1

Modern!Ellie is a tattoo artist and you just became her lovely little muse.

a/n: hellooo! okay i am actually kind of obsessed with this. I'm not sure how many parts of this i am planning on making but definitely more than one. as always feedback and comments are more than welcome!! all of the pictures i included do not belong to me and the tattoo was found on Pinterest. the two songs mentioned are C.R.E.A.M by Wu-Tang and Come A Little Closer by Cage the Elephant. enjoy lovelys!!

warning(s): mentions of cigarettes/smoking/weed, i think that's it but please let me know if i should add anything

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel anxiously waiting for the light to turn green. You had no reason at all to be anxious! This was not your first tattoo. You had too many to count off the top of your head. However it was your first time at this shop and new places have always made you anxious, always preferring routine over spontaneity. 

You had seen one of the artists at the shop on instagram and instantly became obsessed with their work. Their page is full of stunning tattoos. Her name was Ellie. Cute. She seemed to mostly do plants and flowers, sticking to a traditional style. Seeing a few videos of her tattooing herself, you couldn’t help but notice just how attractive she was. Doing some light-hearted stalking you managed to find her personal page and she had a disappointing lack of posts. Her profile picture was her standing holding a skateboard behind her head…original. She only had a few pictures, mostly with other people. Deciding against following her, figuring that might be creepy.

‘Fuck it! Her style is perfect for the exact tattoo that I’ve been wanting on my hips. It's just a major plus that she’s super hot.’ You think as you send a message to the tattoo parlors page saying you’re interested in booking an appointment. 

So just like that, a month later you’re sitting at a red light, anxiety pulsing through you. Parking your car in the lot across from the shop you gather your things, giving yourself a once over in your car window, you walk across to the shop. The bell above the door jingles as you open it. The classic smell of green soap wafting through the parlor. C.R.E.A.M is playing low in the background as you make your way to the front desk. A young girl with thick black hair is sitting on a stool at the counter typing away at a laptop. You realize you recognize her from Ellie’s instagram page.

You take a few anxious steps toward her, “Hi! I’m here for a four o’clock appointment with Ellie? Sorry I’m a little early!” 

“Hey! No worries! She’s just finishing up with someone and then she’ll come out and get you. Feel free to have a seat.” She gives you a warm smile, going back to typing away.

Placing your purse and water bottle on the coffee table in the middle of a few sofas and loveseats you flop into one, fiddling with your fingers. You take a look around the shop, admiring the welcoming vibe. Flash art is hung all over the walls, along with pictures of tattoos and piercings that customers have gotten. Art and posters are also placed around sporadically. The artist stations have curtains on either side of them with a walkway in the middle. 

A voice coming from around one of the curtains snags your attention. ‘Oh my god. She’s even hotter in person. This is gonna be a long day.’ Your face flushes as your mind shuffles around. 

She rounds the front desk, chatting with her client while accepting her payment. Her client leaves and she turns to the dark haired girl who welcomed you, she nods her head in your direction and you quickly look down realizing you’ve been staring at them. You fiddle with your fingers as a pair of beat up converse come into your view. Looking up as she asks your name.

“Yeah! That’s me!” You look up giving your best casual smile.

“Sweet. Give me one sec to clean up my station and print out your stencil and I’ll come get you.” She says as she steps back.

“Okie dokie!” 

She chuckles at your response, walking towards her station.

“Okie dokie!? Jesus fucking christ I’m such a dork. Just be cool! You know how to be cool!’ You scold yourself and take some deep breaths.

About twenty minutes pass before she’s walking back with your stencil in hand, nodding her head at you to follow her. Gathering your stuff as quickly as possible you shuffle after her. She walks to her station, pulling the curtain closed behind you guys and sits in the rolling chair, cutting the excess edge off of your stencil. You stand there, shifting on your feet, awaiting direction.

Your eyes wander and you realize her station is a great insight to her personality. She’s got a tool cart covered in stickers and a low table shelf where her rolling chair sits. She’s got several shelves with collectable action figures and pictures. You notice more of her flash art taped to the wall, a Savage Starlight poster catches your eye. 

“Alright so you want these on the front of your thighs and hips right?” She looks up at you and you nod giving a small hum.

“Perfect, so if you just wanna pull your shorts off – or you can just lower them. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

You blush even though you knew you’d have to take your shorts off. Purposefully wearing your cutest high cut underwear, however now you feel embarrassed at doing that. You shuffle out of your shorts and fold them over your bag. Hopping onto the chair with a small huff you lean back into the backrest. 

She stands, slipping on her black gloves. Glancing down at you and asking if you're ready, you nod your head with another hum. 

As she makes work of sanitizing your skin and running the disposable razor over your thighs and hips, you subtly admire her own ink. She has a beautiful fern with a moth overlaying it on her left arm. On her right arm she has a collection of flowers and plants from her wrist disappearing into the sleeve of her white t-shirt. She also has several patchwork pieces filling in the blank skin on her arms, neck, and some tattoos disappearing to her covered hands. Your face flushes and the thought of seeing the pieces that are not currently exposed. 

As Ellie is prepping her canvas she is trying to be as subtle as possible as she looks you over. Feeling embarrassed at her lack of professionalism she scolds herself as she ogles you. Admiring your tattoos, she feels giddy at the thought of adding to all the beautiful pieces covering you. She glances up at you as you seem to be dazed while staring at her arms. Giving a small smirk at your face flushing, she wipes your skin with the wet paper towel once more before grabbing your stencil from her table. She presses them both down with gentle hands, making sure they’re even and not smudged. 

“Okay, hop up and take a look at it in the mirror. If there’s anything, anything at all that you don’t like about the placement or size let me know.” She steps back, rolling her gloves off and reaching for clean ones.

Scooting off the chair you move over to the mirror and admire the beautiful stencil, already obsessing over the temporary blue ink. Shifting your hips and rotating your body to make sure you like it from all angles, you swivel around with a grin.

“I love it! It’s literally perfect. Oh my god it’s so perfect.” You gush.

Her face flushes at your praise and she nods before turning to her workstation to fill the ink caps and get her tattoo gun ready.

You hop back into the chair, giddy with excitement. Fingers fiddling, this time with excited energy. The buzz of the gun causes adrenaline to fizzle through you and you take deep breaths, preparing for the sweet pain. She rolls her chair to you and presses the pedal underneath the chair causing it to lower to her sitting level. 

“Alright, you ready to start?” She dips the needle of the gun into the ink, bringing her attention back to you. 

Taking a deep breath, you look into her green eyes and give your best confident nod, “Ready as I’ll ever be!”

She smiles at you, finding you absolutely adorable and places her left hand firmly on your thigh, gun in her right hand. 

Always being surprised by the pain, for some odd reason. You take a deep breath at the hot sting and try to focus on the music playing in the parlor. Come A Little Closer plays and you drum your fingers to the melody. 

– 

“Alright, outlines are done. You wanna take a break before we start color?” She asks as she sets the gun down, stretching out her arms and neck. Looking incredibly hot doing something so simple.

“Yeah! A break would be good.” You stretch out your legs before moving off the chair with great caution trying to avoid the painful feeling of creasing your skin. 

“Sweet. Lemme just cover you with saran wrap and some medical tape” She rolls over to you covering your outline gently. You slip on your shorts, zipping them up and leaving the button undone. You shuffle in your bag for your smokes, turning around with the pack in hand. 

“You- Uh- You wanna join me for a smoke?” You offer sheepishly. 

She says sure and grabs her water bottle, walking out behind you. You lean against the brick wall, pulling your lighter out of the pack and two smokes. You place one in your mouth, lighting it and lighting the other with the tip. You blush feeling Ellie’s eyes on you the whole time.

Passing it to her you try to make small talk, “It’s a horrible habit…I’m aware. I usually prefer a joint over a cig but ya know.” You say with a small laugh. 

She chuckles with you, “I’m not one to judge. Besides, you can get away with smoking.”

“What do you mean by that?” You exhale and glance up at her in confusion.

“Pretty girls can always get away with smoking. Trust me.” She says with a dramatic exhale of smoke, looking borderline edible at this point. 

‘Fuck how can someone look that hot smoking a cigarette!?’ 

You turn a bright shade of red, “I- I’ve never been told that before…” You say quietly, stubbing your cigarette out on the ashtray placed outside. 

Smirking at your shyness she stubs her and pushes herself off the wall, stubbing her cigarette on the ashtray, “C’mon pretty, let’s get back to work.” She says, holding the door open for you. Your body brushes against hers as you walk through the door. Face aflame.  

You both settle back in her workspace and she starts coloring your piece.

–

Pulling off her gloves and leaning back to stretch, “And you’re done. Let me know what you think.”

You scoot off the chair, skin much more tender, you wince when you crease it, dreading the drive home. You step over to the mirror ogling at the artwork that decorates your skin.

“It’s-” You spin around bouncing on your toes, “It’s amazing! You’re fucking amazing! Oh my fucking god!” You practically scream, feeling pure elation. 

Her freckles become prominent as her face flushes a concerning shade of red. Your praise clearly has an effect on her. She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, feeling her blush all over her body. 

Clearing her throat, “I- I’m glad you like it. You took it like a champ. That’s a big ass piece, I don’t know if I could've done only one session.” She rambles, wanting to get the attention off of her. 

She stands, hands stuffing into her pockets, “Anyway! Let’s get that covered.” 

She covers both your hips in saniderm and you pull your shorts on, wincing as the fabric rubs against your skin. 

“Hey! Uh- Do you have a personal instagram? I found the shop but um- was hoping to follow your personal one!” You ramble nervously, shuffling with your phone.

Letting out a small laugh she takes your phone from you, opening instagram and typing her handle. She takes her phone out of her back pocket, following you back. You try to hide your smile and grab the rest of your things.

‘Just be cool. Play it cool and casual.’

Making your way to the front desk she leans on it, “So for today it’ll be an even $200.”

“What? What- No, that’s- that’s way too cheap. Here.” You hand her four hundred, knowing that she’s undercharging you. This tattoo is incredible and huge. You also hand her a single hundred for the tip. Having had enough tattoos that you know you always pay in cash and always be prepared to tip generously. 

She shuffles through the cash, shaking her head and trying to hand you back two of the five hundred that you handed her. You raise your hands and shake your head, “No! Ellie! C’mon, don’t undercharge me!” Looking her in the eyes to insist. 

“C’mon pretty girl. Reason with me. Take two back. I won’t accept five.” She says as she stands taller, hands leaning on the counter, tilting her head as she speaks to you.

‘Let me just…casually get on my knees for you. You look so fucking hot right now. Oh my fucking god.’

You let out a dramatic sigh and say quietly, “Fine! Fine…but you’re keeping three!” You concede, not happy at all with her undercharging you.

She smirks, pushing herself off the counter folding the cash and pocketing it, “Good girl. Was that so hard?” She mocks you.

Your body is burning with embarrassment and lust at this point and you are grateful the dark haired girl from before is gone. Feeling mortified at the thought of anyone witnessing her flirtatious teasing. 

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you take a step back gripping your bag.

Clearing your throat you manage to get out, “Well- I Will be seeing you. Thank you, Ellie. This piece is- it’s incredible. I’m obsessed with it!” You gush out like a fangirl.

“Thank you…that means a lot.” She says and stuffs her hands in her pockets, an obvious tell of when she’s nervous. 

–

Parking your car in the parking lot behind your apartment building you pull your phone out from your back pocket, feeling it buzz with a notification. 

ellie_wills03 : hey pretty girl

ellie_wills03 : you get home safe?

You bite your bottom lip as you smile. Thumbs hovering over your keyboard.

love.bug.222 : Hi! Yes, I just got home 🩷

ellie_wills03 : good, have a good night gorgeous 

love.bug.222 : Okie dokie! You too! I’ll talk to you tomorrow :) 

Ellie smiles at her phone, chuckling at how sweet you sound even over text.

You are a blushing mess, admiring your tattoo for the rest of the night.

[brendawaltonstudio]

Paper Mache House Ornament

Happy New Year! I am very excited to share with you one of my favorite crafts – the art of paper mache. It’s gooey and sticky and a whole lot of fun! It utilizes simple materials, many of which are already in our homes. I’m delighted by the versatility of this medium and the wide range of creative possibilities!

Today, I'll be sharing my instructions for making a paper mache house ornament. These instructions are easy to follow and produce a beautiful, unique result. Whether you are a seasoned crafter or a beginner, you’ll enjoy creating these memorable, personalized gifts. Now, let's get started on our paper mache houses!

Since there are several stages to this project, I recommend making more than one house at a time. This will allow time to dry the paper mache layers thoroughly while gathering ephemera. Plus, you’ll love your little house so much, you’ll want to make more right away! 

For inspiration, look at artist Linda O'Kane’s work on Instagram. Her hand-painted spun cotton houses are positively charming and unique, and have become treasured collector’s items!

To make sure you have all the elements you need for the project, I recommend gathering ephemera, book pages, vintage cancelled postage stamps, ribbons, and trims while the paper mache is drying.

It’s gonna get messy! But that’s part of the fun. Before you begin, cover your work area with kraft paper or newspaper. Also, tape a piece of freezer paper down to your work surface. Freezer paper is great because nothing will stick to it. You can also use the freezer paper as a palette for mixing acrylic paint later on.

Although the stage of adding layers of paper mache is somewhat time-consuming, it’s very worthwhile. Paper mache adds a soft, subtle texture resembling antique stucco. It also adds to the thickness of the house, softening all the points and right angles. And it adds strength to the house, making the ornament considerably more durable throughout the years (especially if enjoyed by young children!). 

M A T E R I A L S  (Some of these are affiliate links):

House templates courtesy of deliacreates.com *

white poster board or heavy card stock

masking tape

Elmer’s Art Paste  (mix prior to project) or homemade paper mache paste 

Aileen’s Tacky Glue

Mod Podge Matte

hot glue

thin kraft paper

paint brushes

printed ephemera, old book pages, vintage wallpaper, stickers, book pages, cancelled postage stamps, postcards, washi tape, Dresden trims, fabric scraps

rubber stamps

acrylic paint or gouache

metal embellishments, buttons, ribbon, velvet flowers

Stickles

awl or large sewing needle

bone folder

X-Acto knife, stainless steel ruler and cutting mat

gold florist wire (or very thin wire)

* Delia’s templates are created as SVG files, but can be scaled to the desired size and printed on a home printer. The houses I’ve made are about 4″ tall.  I chose not to cut out the windows that were included on the template. Delia’s templates are free for personal use.

D I R E C T I O N S :

1. Premix paste (or prepare an alternate paper mache paste).

2. Tear thin kraft paper into approximately 1” pieces. The more irregular, organic the shapes, the better.

3. Tear small 1” pieces of masking tape.

4. Cut florist wire, 1.5” long (1 piece for each house).

5. Loosely cut out the printed template pieces, scaled to desired size. Tape to poster board. Use a ruler and bone folder to score on the fold lines. Using an X-Acto knife, cut out the house, roof and chimney (Glue or tape together two layers for the roof to make it thicker).

6. Assemble house and chimney. For the house, begin by taping the side walls together first, and then the bottom.

7. Cover the assembled house, chimney and roof entirely with masking tape.

8. (Optional) To make the ornament hanger, use an awl or a large needle to make a small hole in the top center of the roof. Fold a piece of florist wire in half. Thread the folded loop through the hole in the roof, so that about ¼” loop is showing above the peak of the roof. Secure the wire in place by taping the ends inside the roof.

9. Tape the chimney(s) onto the roof. 

10. Cover the house with paper mache. Separately, cover the roof and chimney. To begin the process, dip the torn kraft paper into the paste. Hold it over the bowl and use two fingers to squeegee the excess paste off. Add a second layer of paper mache. Allow to dry for 24 hours, if possible.

11. (Optional) Paint the house creamy white with acrylic paint. Paint the roof and chimney the desired colors.

12. Glue background ephemera on to the house. This will be the base layer for all of the other elements you’ll be adding on top. 

13. Use hot glue or quick dry glue to adhere dimensional elements, like ribbon, fabric scraps, buttons and Dresden trims. Add glitter and gems.

14. Use hot glue or quick dry glue to adhere the roof to the house. If using hot glue, only a few dots are necessary to secure it. In order to get the correct positioning, adhere one panel of the roof, and then adhere the other panel onto the house. 

15. (optional) Finish house by brushing on a protective sealer, like Matte Mod Podge.

If your house is a gift, you may want to add a handwritten note to the base.

The book "Papier-Mache" by Sarah Hand is one of my favorites, and has inspired me to try so many different paper mache projects. Please check out Sarah’s Instagram and inspiring blog. Her second book, “A Happy Book of Little Gifts” is also wonderful! 

These sweet little houses make for truly charming and personal decorations and gifts, and are perfect for occasions throughout the year. And they provide a great opportunity to use up some of those collected ephemera and dimensional embellishments that you may have been saving. I love making these houses and seeing how each one turns out uniquely different. I hope you will give it a try. It’s a wonderful project to do with a group of friends! Please tag me when you share your own paper mache houses on Instagram. Happy crafting!

[wheeloffortune-design]

re: weight surgery, and harder efforts in the moving and the cooking

just in case you worried about me mentioning bariatric surgery yesterday, i just want to reassure you that i'll research the shit out of it before even trying anything.

i already messaged two of my doctor friends about it, and talked to my therapist. answers from the doctor/pharmacist friend (yes, BOTH THE SAME GUY, overachiever)-- so no red flag per say, but many side effects. answers from therapist-- "that's going to require more therapy." (as in, you have to be followed mentally too if you go that way).

So yeah, I'm not making any harsh choices for now.

I'm still walking, trying to find a way to add 4k more steps to my daily walk so i can get the 10k required. When you work from home you can't get a part of your steps done just by going to work. So it's all extra effort.

Gotta figure out how to get some sun, too. Now I'm running out the door the minute I'm done to catch some sunlight.

I bought a third yoga matt and piled it on the first two ones and finally lying down is not an excruciating pain. Put them next to my bed, in the minuscule space left in my room. Looked into some easy core exercises to start with.

(google is not kind to people who want to do slow and soft abs exercise to strengthen their core slowly, with accommodations for fat body shapes.) But I'm gonna find the ones I need and print them and stick them on my wall, so executive dysfunction doesn't get in the way of my efforts.

Gonna try a handful of them everyday, gently, and at some point i'll be able to do the dishes without my back hurting.

(good news though! apparently waking is good for the core because I surprised myself with what I could do!)

Walking still goes well. Gonna get better running shoes (the last ones are still shit). So I can try to jog. Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful? Going fast?? 😭

Hmmm. ah yeah! The Hello Fresh thing. Is wonderful when I'm feeling well, and immediately crashed when I'm a teeny bit stressed. I feel horribly guilty for the ones I lose. So, I changed from 4 recipes x 2 people to 3 recipes x4 people so I can have next day's dinner too.

Again, I'm not complaining about the boxes accumulating, we still have to move, later next year.

--

Told all I was doing to my therapist.

Her: And are you proud of your efforts?

Me: I'm so focused on doing things that I often forget to have feelings about them.

her: Yeaaah that's gonna be the entire next session.

..

Anyway, yes, I am proud of all that. I'm also tired, and annoyed that it doesn't change fast enough. Like starting to push an enormous boulder. Inertia is a powerful force of nature. Well, bitch, I'm also a powerful force of nature.

[sleepysnk]

Heard the requests were open so I had to come slide in, I was hoping you could do a enemies to lovers for Eren x reader. I just really like that entire troupe.

hey emon! ♡ i got this idea when i was watching a TV show earlier, and i felt like it would fit the enemies to lover troupe with Eren. thank you for requesting bb, i hope you enjoy! <3

Stuck..With You?

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, don't read if you're claustrophobic, some suggestive content

"Can you fucking move!?"

A smirk plastered across Eren's features when he saw the annoyance in (Y/N)'s face. It was his usual time of day where he chose to annoy her, he had been doing it for the past two years, and it always happened to annoy the girl.

"Should I? I mean.. it doesn't seem like you're in a rush," Eren said, his arms crossing over his chest.

She rolled her eyes, "Fuck off dude.." she replied.

(Y/N) walked past him in the hallway, a few students stared as she walked by; it was almost like an aura was fuming off of her. Something like a dark cloud.

Eren decided to follow her. "Come on! Don't be a stick in the mud (Y/N)," he cooed, trying to reach for her bag.

(Y/N) stood in front of the elevator, she was trying her best to ignore the annoying boy behind her. Eren had always found a way to piss her off or ruin her day, he was such an idiot and she hated the way he would come by anytime to mess with her. Honestly, who was this guy? He needed to get a life.

"Come on.." she mumbled, pressing the small button next to the elevator. She was trying to get out of his way as quick as she could, her ears were picking up on the sound of footsteps meaning Eren was most likely right behind her.

"Why are you using the elevator? Nobody really uses this thing," Eren asked, his brow raising in confusion.

Her head snapped towards his. "Can you just mind your own business? Jeez.. go away," she replied, pressing the button again.

The doors to the elevator opened, a student stepped out past the two and into the hallway full of students. (Y/N) walked in, happy that she was finally going to get away from Eren, but to her surprise, he followed in with her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

He smirked, "Walking up the stairs, no, I'm taking a lift. You're kind of dumb," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes before looking over at the buttons with different floor numbers, she pressed the second one and watched as the doors began to close. She just wanted to get out of the elevator as quick as she could.

Eren leaned against the railing, his mind wandering to other things as he felt the elevator beginning to move downwards.

That's when the two heard a noise, a noise that didn't sound normal.

(Y/N) looked around, her brows furrowing as she felt the elevator coming to a complete stop. "What the.." she said, nodding her head to the side.

Eren looked around, "That didn't sound too good.." he said.

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, she walked in front of the different buttons and pressed one, but the elevator didn't move. She pressed another button, nothing.

That's when the horror of the situation took over her body.

She was stuck in an elevator.

With Eren Jaeger.

Fuck.

Eren seemed a little freaked out, were they actually stuck?

"Um.. I think we're stuck," (Y/N) said, looking at Eren with concern.

He let out a sigh. "Well no shit.. the elevator is stuck. We have to call 911," he replied, taking out his phone to call emergency services.

She leaned against the wall as Eren spoke with the operator, her mind wandering on what was going to happen now that she was stuck. Why did she have to be trapped with him out of all people? This was a disaster.

Eren looked at her as he put his phone away. "They'll be here soon.. they told us to be calm," he said.

She looked down at the floor, keeping quiet. She really didn't want to speak to him right now, especially since the situation wasn't exactly the best.

Eren noticed her discomfort, it was starting to get hot in the room. It felt stuffy, he wanted to try and be of some help; he couldn't imagine how scary being stuck in an elevator could be. He wasn't extremely freaked out, but he could see how freaked out she seemed.

"Do you want some water?" he asked, nodding his head.

She remained silent, it annoyed Eren. He just wanted to help.

"Hello!? Do you want water?" he asked again, his voice a bit louder this time.

She looked up for a second before speaking. "No." her voice sounding annoyed, almost angry.

Eren shrugged his shoulders, if she didn't want help then he wasn't gonna force her to do anything she didn't want to do. It was nagging him though, he hated the silent treatment and he just wanted to snap her out of it.

"So.. what do you wanna talk about?" he asked, trying to ease the tension in the room.

She remained silent, her eyes glued to the floor. Eren wasn't having it anymore.

"Hello!? I asked you a question," he said again, this time his voice was a bit louder.

She clenched her teeth before speaking. "What is there to talk about? How I'm stuck in an elevator with an asshole!? Just leave me alone.."

Eren rolled his eyes, "I'm just trying to be nice to you! Ugh.. whatever.. why try with someone like you," he replied.

She scoffed, "Whatever asshole.."

That was the last straw, before she knew it Eren was hovering over her; his arms caging her in and his hands up against the wall. "You wanna repeat that?" he asked, his breath fanning over her face.

She avoided his eyes, "Can you back up? Seriously, go away," she said.

He stared at her intensely. "Not until you fix your attitude," he replied.

She sighed, "Okay fine.. just please, back up," she said, putting her hand near his chest.

Eren leaned up, "Good.. we have to keep each other calm. I don't want you freaking out," he said.

It felt awkward being so close to Eren, he was such an outgoing guy compared to (Y/N); he was always that loud and bubbly student. She wasn't exactly sure what to talk about with him, not like they had any similar interests anyway.

"It's kind of hot in here.." Eren said, fanning his face to get some relief.

It was true, the room was stuffy and warm. It made (Y/N) regret wearing a sweater that day.

"Yeah it is.." she replied, looking at the floor.

"Hold on I have an idea.." Eren said before removing his sweater.

Her cheeks burned as she watched him take it off, she swore she saw the glimpse of his abs underneath his white shirt. She couldn't lie that she found Eren attractive, he was what any girl wanted; tall, brown hair, emerald eyes, pearly white teeth, and his muscular figure. It drew girls in all the time.

"You like what you see?" he asked, smirking.

Her eyes grew wide, "H-Huh?! What? N-No!" she replied, looking away.

"Yeah you do.."

"No I don't!"

"Yeah.."

"No!"

"Uh huh, sure"

"Shut up!"

"Okay fine.. whatever you say! You're lowkey cute when you're mad," he said, smiling.

Her head snapped towards his. "What? Definitely not.." she replied, her cheeks growing warm.

Eren leaned down towards her face. "You definitely are.. in my opinion anyway," he said, looking into her eyes.

Their gazes locked and before she knew it, Eren's lips were pressed onto hers. The kiss was rough and it made her stomach bubble, his lips were soft and warm, almost feverish.

Eren pressed her against the wall, her arms finding their way to his neck; Eren had one of his arms around her waist, squeezing at the skin.

"For someone who hates me, you seem to like to kiss me a lot.." he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, "S-Shut up.." she replied.

Eren moved his lips down to her neck, he peppered kisses along her skin; it made goosebumps form.

"Fuck.. you're so pretty, I've always dreamt about kissing you," he said, licking along her sweet spot.

A slight whimper escaped her throat. "E-Eren.. please.." her moan came out breathless.

"Please what..? Use your words (Y/N).. you've always had a mouth on you," Eren asked, his teeth slightly grazing along her skin.

She lightly tugged at his brown hair. "Please Eren.. I want you.." she whimpered.

He chuckled, "Fuck.. you turn me on, let me make you mine, I've always wanted you,"

She pressed her legs together, arousal pooling between them. She could see the print in Eren's pants, it made her throb with need.

"Make me yours Eren.." she said, running her fingers along his jaw.

Eren brought her hips towards his, his print pressing against her stomach. "Shit.. say less," he replied.

Eren was about to kiss her again when they both heard a sudden pounding against the ceiling of the elevator. "Hey! Is anyone in there?!"

It was the fire department.

"Yeah! Down here!" Eren called back.

The two grabbed their backpacks, fixing themselves so they didn't look suspicious of anything. The fire department helped them get out of the hot elevator, it felt like a wave of relief when they stepped out.

"Well that was.. an experience," (Y/N) said, laughing a bit.

Eren chuckled, "It was.. I guess you aren't so bad after all," he smiled.

She felt her cheeks growing warm again. "Y-Yeah, same to you.. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, nodding her head.

Eren grabbed her hand before she could leave. "Actually.. do you wanna come to my dorm later? We should talk.. about what we said," he said, his cheeks slightly pink.

She smiled, "Sounds good.. I'll text you?"

"Bet! Come swing by later," he replied, squeezing her hand a bit.

She waved before walking in the opposite direction of him, Eren had a huge grin on his face. Maybe being stuck with her wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be.

[babybluebex]

no pressure at all! but if you'd want to write more stan!reader x tom I'd really love that

i literally FLEW to my computer to write this i love the concept of stan!reader so much ((also i tried second person writing here??? i actually like it a lot more than first whoops))

little one [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: tom holland x stan!fem!reader (y/n) ➽summary: when you find out you’re pregnant, you worry about how tom and your brother will react. ➽ word count: 1.6k ➽ warnings: angst, pregnancy, a lot of exposition that doesn’t matter tbh  ➽a/n: enjoy!! masterlist & taglist in my bio

Sebastian stood at the door to your room, just looking. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had moved in with him, when you were just the smallest thing. Pink skirt and pigtails, toting your dolly with you. He had been young when you were born, but still an adult; he was in college, living in the dorms when his mother had called him and told him the good news. He remembered the day you were born: he had been sitting in a lecture when his little flip phone started buzzing in his pocket. It was his stepdad, your father, telling him that his sister was coming. He left the lecture early and made it to the hospital just in time to be the first person to hold you. He was instantly devoted. 

You moved in with him when you were six. His mom had told him that she needed to move back to Romania and that she planned to bring you, and panic had filled his chest. “No, no,” he said. “Sh-She just started school! She doesn’t speak the language, she’s making all kinds of friends here! Mom, you can’t relocate her, you just can’t.” 

“What else can we do?” your mother asked. “Are you going to watch her?”

A month later, Sebastian was your legal guardian. He came to school plays and parent-teacher conferences, he cleaned up your skinned knees, and he read you stories every night. The two of you had gotten into a habit of falling asleep next to each other, and it got to the point where the bed felt too empty without you. Too cold, too lonely.

When you were twelve, you and Sebastian moved into a new apartment. It was bigger and better suited for two people, and you got a big-girl room. You started sleeping in your own bed, but you had no idea the effect it had on your brother. He couldn’t sleep without you next to him, digging your heels into his back and taking up all the blankets. So, he picked his happy ass up out of bed and, making sure to bring his own blanket, came to linger in your doorway. “I… I can’t sleep without you,” he mumbled. 

“You’re a grown man, Seb,” you said; he was always amazed at the little lady you had become, a smart girl with a biting sarcasm, even when you were little. 

“Yeah, and every night for the past six years, I’ve had your feet in my back,” Sebastian said. He settled into your bed next to, and added, “Now, move over, munch, or I’ll drag you back to mine.” 

Sebastian leaned his head against the doorframe, looking at the room. The walls had once been pink but were now an off-white, more becoming of a young woman, and the band posters were replaced with art prints and collages of you with your friends. Sure, he knew everybody grew up eventually, and he liked you as an adult, but sometimes he missed the little girl who was missing her two front teeth. 

The door to the apartment slammed closed, and Sebastian unwillingly pulled himself from his daydream. “Hey, munch!” he called. “How was Tom?”

Back on Valentine's Day, when you told him about you and Tom, he was instantly thrilled. Even though he outwardly seemed like he didn’t like Tom, he knew that Tom would treat you like the princess you were. And, for the past few months, he had been. Flowers were sent to the apartment on a near-weekly basis, handwritten letters came in the mail regularly, and Sebastian often heard little giggling coming from your room when Tom would call you. He had seen you smitten over guys before, but Tom Holland was a different breed. 

After a date with Tom, you were guaranteed to be talking up a storm, but you were quiet. “Munch?” Sebastian called. “Y/N?”

There was a sniffle from the living room, and a meek, “Seb?” 

Sebastian’s heart fell, and he hurried to see you on the couch, the comfy tufted leather that Mackie had so highly praised. You were crying, your knees drawn up to your chest. “No, no, no,” Sebastian cooed and hugged you tightly. “What happened, darling, is everything okay? Did Tom say something? Did you guys… Did you guys break up?” 

You shook your head and opened your mouth, as if to speak, but a sob left instead. Your chest was so heavy, and you knew that admitting this to Sebastian-- to anyone-- would make it too real but the secret was killing you. You had known that you were pregnant for nearly a month now, but you didn’t want to tell anyone. You knew that your brother would say that you’re too young and that Tom would say that he had a career to think about. And, on a small level, you knew that was true. You couldn’t ask Tom to dismantle his life plans for you and a baby. 

“Talk to me, darling,” Sebastian whispered. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled and leaned into your brother’s warmth, and your tears became new. Sebastian would flip shit, you knew it. “I--” You started. “Please don’t be mad at me, please, I can’t take it right now--” 

“Hey, hey,” Sebastian said quickly. “I could never be mad at you. Please, talk to me. You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N.” 

You settled your cheek into Sebastian’s chest, and the emotions ran hot in your face and chest and belly. “Seb,” you whispered. “I… I’m pregnant.” 

A million different emotions ran through his brain at once. Elation, anger, confusion, and so much more. “You…” he started. “You’re--”

“I’m so scared, Seb,” you whispered. “W-What if Tommy wants to break up with me?” Your breaths came in quick, sharp gasps, and Sebastian held you tightly to try to ease the anxiety. He was prone to anxiety attacks like this too, and you had learned how to settle him down, but he hardly ever had to do it to you. You were so grounded, so level-headed and serious. This was the most emotionally unhinged that he had seen you in years. 

The sounds of your crying died away, and you found your ears full of deep whispers. You had learned bits and pieces of Romanian growing up-- enough to pull out as a party trick-- but could never fluently speak it like your mom and your brother could, but you recognized the sound of it. Sebastian was whispering Romanian to you in a lilting voice, and it took you a moment to place it. A song; a lullaby. Sebastian was singing you a lullaby. The sound of it eased your nerves enough to dry up your tears, and you sniffled a bit as you sat up, shedding your big brother’s protective embrace. 

“Look,” Sebastian began. “I know I act like a dick to Tom a lot, but… I really like him. I wouldn’t have let him stick around if I didn’t. I trust him to do the right thing here.” 

“B-But what if he doesn’t?” You whimpered. “Wh-What if he does leave?”

“If he leaves, it’s his own fucking loss,” Sebastian told you. “That baby doesn’t need anybody but you and me, right? I’ve got you, darling. I’ve always had you.”  

You nodded because, once again, your older brother was the wiser of you. You knew that everything he said was true, even if your whole body hadn’t quite absorbed it yet. Tom would be a great dad; and if he wasn’t, you had Sebastian. “Can you stay with me?” You asked, grabbing your brother’s hand. “I-I’m gonna call him.” 

“Sure thing, munch,” Sebastian said, and he settled his arm around your shoulders. His little sister, the same little girl that cried at Bambi and Bucky falling off the train, was going to be a mom. Where did the time go?, he wondered. 

The phone rang out quickly, and Tom answered it swiftly. “Hey,” he said. “I just dropped you off, is everything alright?” 

You took a deep breath. Your heart was beating so quickly that you could hear it in your ears, and you mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I just… I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh,” Tom said. “Sure. What’s going on?” 

Sebastian’s gaze was fixed on you, and he gave you a prompting nod. “Tommy, I…” You started. It was real. This was real now. “I’m pregnant.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line, long and potent enough for anger to start to flare in Sebastian’s stomach. “Are you serious?” Tom whispered finally. His voice was static-y over the phone, and you couldn’t place his emotions at all. 

“I’m so sorry, Tom--”

“Sorry for what?” And then there was a laugh. “Are you really pregnant? Please don’t be kidding with me, you don’t know how happy this makes me!”

Sebastian gave a sigh of relief, and he wiped one of your tears away with his thumb. “I really am,” you told him. “You’re not mad?”

“Why the fuck would I be mad?” Tom laughed. “I’m gonna be a dad! I’m gonna be a dad, Y/N! Thank you, thank you! I love you so much, baby, you have no idea. Does Sebastian know yet?”

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s the first one I told.” 

“Oh, no,” Tom whispered. 

“Yeah, oh no,” Sebastian said. “Dating my sister’s one thing, Holland, but knocking her up is different. What, you’ve got an aversion to condoms or something? I’m gonna kill you.” 

“Hey, Sebastian,” Tom chuckled lightly. “Look, it was an accident--”

“Oh, ‘cause that makes it better?” Sebastian scoffed. “Jesus Christ, you’re lucky you’re not here right now--”

“Shut up, both of you,” you sighed. “Tommy, you swear you’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” Tom repeated. “I’m so thankful. Thank you, my love, thank you.”

[moldisgoodforyou]

rome (v)

wordcount: 8.2k oops

warnings: smut !! like a lot i'm a tiny bit embarrassed. also angst at the end !!

______

“You didn’t.”

Rafe gave her an apologetic smile as their train pulled out from the station in Florence, outside slowly blurring as the train picked up speed. “I think I might have.”

She let him be completely in charge of the transportation, hotels, everything - which turned out to be a terrible mistake, seeing as he’d never traveled on his own before (and had never planned anything in his life). She’d had to amend most of their plans already , as he just purchased without thinking of any logistics. Instead of buying a train ticket directly to Rome, he’d accidentally bought two tickets. One leg of the ride went an hour and a half to Pisa, then the other leg sent them on a four hour train ride along the western coast of Italy to Rome.

The two had nearly missed their fourth alarm, sleeping through the other three, and had to scramble out of bed with Sophie nearly in tears in order to throw their things into their suitcases and make it to the train on time. Rafe bought tickets in advance, like usual, but Sophie had forgotten to check over them once they printed from the kiosk and they hopped on their train just in time. After shoving their luggage onto the rack and returning to Sophie half-asleep in their seats, he realized his mistake when he re-read their tickets.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes blearily, frowning as she inspected the ticket and confirmed his confession. “How did you even manage that? There’s a direct transport to Rome.”

“I don’t know, the page was all in Italian! I don’t know Italian!” He defended, looking more and more worried by the second.

“Okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re fine.” She sighed. “Not the end of the world.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“You’re definitely stressed.”

“I’m a little stressed.” She admitted, handing the tickets back to him. “We also got back to the hostel at 3am and nearly missed the train and you got kissed by a random boy last night even though I didn’t listen to you when you said he was flirting and -”

“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I’m fine, and we’re both on the train, it’ll just take us a little longer to get there. We’re fine. Okay?”

“We’re fine.” She repeated like she was trying to convince herself, nodding. “We’re fine.”

“Exactly. Now I think you need to sleep, angel, at least until we get to Pisa. I can find us some breakfast.”

She lifted her head to squint at him. “Sorry, say that again?”

“You need to sleep?”

“No. The city we’re going to.”

“...Pisa?” He repeated, pronouncing it like “pie-za.”

Sophie shook her head. “Pisa, baby. Try again.”

He scoffed, pronouncing it his way again. “It’s definitely Pisa, Soph.”

“...Okay. You go around telling people you went to Pie-za, that’s fine with me.” She shook her head, settling back into his side. “Can you scratch my back?”

(It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep but she was pretty sure she heard him using Google Translate to see how Pisa was actually supposed to be pronounced when he thought she was sleeping.)

When they finally made it to Pisa, Rafe nudged Sophie awake and pretended not to notice when she swiped a tiny spot of drool away from her cheek. They were both starving and made the thirty minute walk to the Leaning Tower of Pisa just for kicks in their layover - she made him stop to buy her some overpriced crepes from a market stand along the way.

They were both extra tired when they returned to the train, tucking into each other’s side and using Sophie’s jean jacket as a makeshift blanket. He played with her hair idly, watching her as she was about to fall asleep again. “Soph?”

She shifted, trying to stay awake. “Yeah?”

“Are you tired of traveling?” He asked tentatively. “Like, are you ready to go home?”

“I think those are two different things.” She lifted her head a little to check over his expression. “Why?”

“I don’t know, just.” He started, shrugging, but only continued when she nodded to prompt him further. “You seem so much more confident here, you seem happier to me. If living here is something you’d want to do, I’d want you to consider that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous for her reply. “Even if that means we would be apart for a little bit again.”

Sophie sat up completely so she could look him in the eye. “I love traveling, I really do. But I’ve also been homesick for three months - I miss my family, much more than I thought I would, I missed you like hell, and I miss having a routine.” She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t frown. “I haven’t been home to the Outer Banks since Christmas, and it’s August. That’s ages.”

He nodded and leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “I can go home with you, if you’d like? For the week before we have to go back to start school?”

“You’d do that? Even if you have to see your dad?”

“Yeah, of course I would.” He smiled, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m glad you think I seem confident, because I have no idea what I’m doing half the time.” She smiled. “I feel much better with you around, I don’t think you realize how many days I cried when I first made it to Spain.”

He frowned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I don’t like hearing that. I hate it when you cry.”

“Sweet boy.” She grinned, lifting her head to nudge her lips against his chin. “I’m okay. You need sleep, you’re going soft on me.”

“Remind me how long my mistake is?”

“Four hours. We both need sleep and I can’t sleep if you’re moving around. We get to Rome around two.” She yawned, tucking her knees to her chest to keep herself warm. “Then you need a shower, you still smell a little bit like the club from last night.”

“Rude.” He leaned back anyways so she could be more comfortable. “G’night, angel.”

“Morning.” She corrected, seconds away from sleep.

He laughed, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Good morning.”

The train ride was fairly uneventful - every half hour or so, one of them would wake the other up for entertainment or to point out the window at a pretty view. At one point Rafe suggested they join the mile-high club - but for trains, aptly named by him as the “rail tail club” - she just glared at him and crossed her arms to go back to sleep.

They took advantage of the WiFi to cancel their hostel stay and actually move to a hotel instead - after what happened in Florence, Sophie decided they didn’t need the experience of making new friends. Rafe had to slyly hide the full bill from her when she asked how much it was. (He felt a little guilty seeing the relief on her face when he said it was cheaper than expected, but he swore he’d never put her through financial stress as long as he lived.)

When they finally arrived and walked the ten blocks to the hotel - with suitcases in tow, dodging other tourists and locals in the street - Rafe stripped off his clothes the second they walked into their hotel room. Sophie paused, watching him with amusement as the door clicked shut behind them. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I feel so gross.” He confessed, peeling off his socks and shoving off his shorts. “Why didn’t you make me shower last night?”

“You were drunk, baby, I had to haul you to the metro station.” She followed him into the bathroom and he turned in the shower, shutting the door so steam would fill the room. He raised his eyebrows. “You coming in or are you just gonna watch?”

“I’m too tired for sex.” She told him, hopping up to sit on the counter. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “Okay. So let’s just shower.”

“Just shower? You gonna stick to that?” She let him tease the hem of her shirt up, slowly.

“Just shower. Please? I’ll wash your hair.” He encouraged, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning to get in the shower.

“Hm.”

“I’ll wash your tits.”

He grinned when she gasped and reached out to swat his butt, making him jump before he stepped into the shower. “Or not! Whatever you’d like!”

She rolled her eyes and stripped down, joining him a few moments later. “You have a dirty mouth. I can’t let you keep getting away with that.”

He smirked, stepping close. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She challenged, backing him against the shower wall. He tried his best to hold back a laugh at how cute she looked, trying to seem all intimidating. “Yeah. You know I would.”

She leaned up for a kiss and he leaned down, eyes closing - until she suddenly pinched his nipple, twisting it. “Ow! Sophie!”

She cracked up laughing, getting under the shower spray and handed him the shampoo. “Wash my hair. I’m hungry, let’s go find food.”

“So demanding.” He complained, accepting the shampoo. “Turn around.”

“I said we’re not having sex -”

“I said turn around, not bend over.” He swapped places with her in the shower and started shampooing her hair carefully, adding the perfect amount of pressure and making sure he didn’t tangle her hair. She moaned quietly and he paused abruptly. “Sophie. Do not.”

“Rafe, keep going.” She whined, pressing her head back into his hand.

He grumbled, continuing his shampooing. “Quit making noises.”

“I can’t help it, it feels so good - hey!” She squeaked, whipping around to glare at him when he tugged on her hair at her scalp. “What the fuck!”

“You’re saying everything you say during sex!”

“Are you just constantly horny?” She scowled at him and shoved at his chest.

“Yes, you aren’t?” He argued, stepping aside so she could rinse her hair. She got under the shower spray to rinse and kept glaring at him until she squeezed some shampoo into her palm. “No. Come here.”

He ducked down a little so she could reach, humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his strands. “Baby.”

“What.” She kept up her faux-anger, but wasn’t really too annoyed with him - he knew it, too.

“I love you.”

She softened, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as she continued to massage his head. “Love you too. Even if you are horny as hell.”

He laughed and accepted her little nudge under the shower so he could rinse her hair. “The showerhead is detachable…”

She looked him over, debating, but her stomach rumbled in protest. “I’m starving. Can’t you get yourself off? You did that just fine without me for three months, I’m sure.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her shortly. “I did, but it is criminal that we never had FaceTime sex.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My apartment walls were way too thin, and you definitely would have been caught at Colin’s house.” She reached down to run the tip of her finger under the length of his cock, grinning when it twitched. “Enjoy. I’m gonna get ready.”

“Sophie, baby -” He protested, reaching for her, but she just blew him a kiss and got out of the shower. She’d learned that quickies didn’t exist with Rafe, and if she started something in the shower it would be taken out to the bed, then probably go back to the shower afterward.

(She did her makeup in the bathroom just so she could hear his little groans - ones that he definitely played up for her.)

After going to dinner, and getting lost on their way back, they were both thoroughly exhausted for all their walking and their travels. When they crawled into bed after their showers, Sophie snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. “Hey, Rafe.”

“Mm?” He hummed, half-asleep already.

“Do you have any special requests for your birthday tomorrow?”

He smirked, sleepy. “Yeah, you wanna wake me up with sex?”

“Like, actually?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’d do that?”

She shrugged. “If you want.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t complain. But just spending the day with you is more than enough.”

“Alright. What time were you born?”

“Uh…” He furrowed his brow. “7:12 am, I think. My mom used to wake me up for my birthday at that time on the dot, every year.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.” She typed something into her phone, then nodded. “Oh, you’re a Virgo rising. That makes so much sense.”

He frowned, sitting up a little. “I’m not a virgin, we had sex two days ago.”

Sophie giggled, not bothering to explain - she’d attempted to before when she was first getting into astrology, and he had just told her he didn’t believe in witches. “Has it been that long?”

“If that’s long to you, baby, I can’t even imagine how difficult three months was.” He quipped, closing his eyes and lying back down.

She rolled her eyes. “Good night. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close.

The next morning, Sophie woke up and managed to slip out from Rafe’s side, ignoring his grumble and half-hearted, still-asleep attempt to keep her at his side. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth then changed into some new lingerie, feeling a little ridiculous, but hoped it’d be worth it. When she returned to the bed, she crawled on top of him, rocking her hips gently against his hard on. “Baby.” She whispered, trailing a finger down his chest.

He stirred only for a moment but pressed his hips up against hers. “Fuck, Sophie, more,” he said and she nearly laughed at his dream mumblings. She ducked down under the covers and kissed along his length, rubbing him gently over his boxers. He woke up just as she was pulling his boxers down, thoroughly confused. “Soph?”

“Good morning. Happy birthday.” She told him with a grin before taking him into her mouth, pushing on his thighs a little when he jerked in surprise.

“Am I still dreaming?” He muttered, pushing back the covers so he could see her head. She licked directly up the underside of his cock, tracing a vein with her tongue. “Nope. Not dreaming.”

“Holy shit.” He breathed out, watching her with wide eyes. “I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

“That’s okay, we can fuck again.” She grinned up at him before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth again, moaning around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he gathered up her hair carefully. “Fuckin - fuck, angel, faster, please.”

She obeyed, moving her mouth and hand just a little faster. It wasn’t long until he was spilling into her and she swallowed, then kissed back up his body. “Hey.”

“Hey -” He breathed out, jaw hanging open, then stopped. “Wait, what are you wearing?” He took her in with a grin and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand table to get a better view of her, wanting to see her in her full glory. “Is that new?”

She laughed, tugging at her bra strap self-consciously. “Yeah. Thought I could save it as a special birthday surprise for you.”

“Holy fuck, Sophie.” He scrambled for his phone. “I need, like, a picture to remember this or something -”

She was turning red from all his compliments and covered her hand with her face as she whined. “Rafeeee.”

He tugged one hand away, grinning at her. “Please? Just one? Or more than one?”

“Um...okay. Fine. Where do you want me?”

His jaw dropped and he gaped at her, incredulous. “You’re serious? You’ll let me? For real, that’s actually okay with you?”

She bit her lip, smiling. “Yes. As long as you keep it in a locked folder on your phone.”

“Oh my god. I’m in heaven. Is this my birthday present, the lingerie? Or the pictures?” He leaned up to kiss her, needy, and groaned as she rocked against his hips to lean forward.

She pushed him back a little, rolling her eyes. “No, you have a real present.” She stuck her chest out, adjusting the bra so her breasts were nearly spilling out of it, and fluffed up her hair a little. “Snap away, Cameron.”

He paused, waiting for another nod from her, then started taking photos, his eyes blown wide. He reached up and ran his thumb over her lips - she bit down on it gently, smirking at his expression. Rafe groaned just as he looked at her adoringly. “You’re incredible. Beautiful. I need to tell you that more.”

“Shut up.” She blushed more, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

He drank the sight of her in, lingerie and all, then set his phone aside. Abruptly, he grabbed at her thighs to pull her up and she squeaked, caught off guard and fell forward onto him. “Rafe!”

“Come here. Sit on my face.” He commanded, dropping his head back to the pillow.

She pushed herself up to straddle his hips again, wearing an incredulous expression. “You’re insane. I’m not doing that.”

He laughed darkly and curled a possessive hand around her thigh, digging his fingers into her leg just enough. “Yes, you are. Come up here. I need you.”

She could feel her cheeks getting hot from his demanding tone, the way he was taking control. “Rafe, it’s your birthday. Let me just take care of you.”

“You did take care of me, now it’s my turn.” He moved his hand up her leg to rub across her clothed clit, grinning when she gasped and twitched at his touch. “Like you said, it’s my birthday, and what I want you to do is sit on my face. C’mon, baby. I know you’re just dripping for it, absolutely filthy -”

For a moment she nearly considered climbing up on his face right then and there just to get him to shut up, but got too shy and felt her face burning with embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“No? You don’t like it?” He continued rubbing slow circles across her clit and grinned when she shifted onto his thigh and moaned. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

“Rafe.” She protested weakly, her resolve thinning quickly as he flexed his thigh and pushed against her.

“You know what I want my present to be?” He asked.

She started grinding slow against his thigh, trying her best to keep her gaze locked on him. “Hm?”

“I want to make you come. Three times. I know I can, too.”

“I already got you a present.” She mumbled weakly, rocking against him a little faster as her brain began to cloud over. When he shifted a little and flexed his thigh again, she gasped, leaning forward a tiny bit.

He reached up and pushed one cup of her bra down, gripping her breast roughly and pinching her nipple. She bit her lip hard to keep quiet and he shook his head right away. “I want to hear you.”

“Someone’s going to hear.” She protested, whining quietly.

“Let them. I want everyone to know how good I can make you feel.” He shot back.

“We’re gonna get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She argued, rocking her hips a little faster.

“Good. I’ll know I’m doing my job right.”

“Trust me, that’s not an issue,” she muttered darkly, circling her hips on his leg. When she came, whining, she practically collapsed onto him, so sensitive she had to move so his leg wasn’t between hers anymore.

He didn’t care and flipped them over quickly, shoving the sheets down the bed and dragged her panties down and off her legs. “So fucking pretty. Look at you, all wet, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?”

“You are on something today, where’s all this coming from?” She shook her head, even though his dirty words had her turned on more than she ever thought they would.

He grinned and kissed up her inner thigh, spreading her legs apart. “You love it.”

“Hm. Do I?”

Rafe moved up to kiss her lips, then down her jaw, then to nip at her throat, although she certainly didn’t need the foreplay. He pulled teasingly on the ends of her hair, a little harder than usual, and stopped abruptly to look up at her when she moaned. “Oh, I forgot, you like it a little rougher, yeah?” He asked in a taunting tone.

She rolled her eyes as she blushed, thoroughly embarrassed by his teasing. “I mean. I wouldn’t mind.”

He paused, thinking. “Do you have anything specific you want to try?”

Sophie didn’t hesitate in responding, knowing she’d chicken out if she didn’t just say it. “Did you pack a tie?”

“...a tie? What for?” He shuffled out of bed, confused, but rifled through his suitcase until he found a nice silk tie, all wrinkled from being forgotten in a spare pocket. He tossed it at her but she held it out. “I can’t tie it myself.”

“Where’s it going?”

She bit her lip as she raised both hands above her head, her wrists pressed together. “Here? But not to the bed, I think that’d be too much.”

He gaped at her for the third time that morning. “You’re sure? You want that?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yes! Yes. Just unexpected, okay. Okay. We need, like, a safe word or something right, this is some fifty shades shit - is this gonna hurt you? Or fuck, do you want it to hurt?“

She held back a laugh, finding his rambling endearing. “It’s a silk J.Crew tie, baby, not rope. It’s okay. I’ll tell you to stop if I need it.”

“Right. Right. Have you done this before? You seem a little too chill about it.” He put the tie around her wrists hesitantly in a loose knot, making sure she was comfortable before he settled himself back between her legs.

Sophie gave him a little smile, blushing. “No, I just. Thought I might like it and I trust you.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight - you won’t sit on my face but you’ll let me tie you up?”

“It’s different.” She tried closing her legs but he pushed them back open and nipped at her thigh. “Hey. Behave.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t?” She challenged him with a grin, and he just shook his head and teased a finger across her entrance. “Trouble.”

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He moved impossibly slow, rubbing two gentle fingers over her clit - she squirmed under him, letting out a little whine. “No teasing.”

“Hm, I think I’m going to tease all I want, with you all tied up. Can’t take control like that.”

She groaned, blinking at him. “I’m already wet, I don’t need to be edged.”

He grinned up at her. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“S’hardly dirty.” She countered, gasping when he caught her off guard with a wide lick up her entrance. “Fuck - I -” She started helplessly as she went to grab his hair, but just had to squirm instead with her hands above her head.

“Do we have plans today?” He questioned, breathing hot air on her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her and curled them toward herself.

“Not til later - oh, there, please -”

Rafe repeated his motions and flicked his tongue across her clit. “What are we doing?”

“Can we not discuss this now?” She argued breathlessly.

“Why, can’t concentrate?” He glanced up, amused. When she went to answer, he just sucked on her clit, making her gasp. “Answer the question, angel.”

“Rafe - fuckin’ - please -” She bit out, unable to think straight. “I’m so close, baby, more -”

He swore there was nothing he loved more than when she’d call him pet names, and the whine certainly added to it. Instead of teasing more, he curled his fingers again and flicked his tongue across her clit, working her through her second orgasm. She’d abandoned all pretense of keeping quiet and gasped out for him, arching her back as she came. When he withdrew his fingers and crawled back up the bed to press them against her lips, she took them easily.

“You are way too fucking good at that.” She breathed out, trying to grab for him again, but cursed when she remembered she was still tied up.

He reached up and untied her with a grin. “You okay? Did it feel alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Though I’m not sure I like not being able to touch you.” She smiled as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of her wrists.

“Dunno, I think I like when you’re not ripping my hair out when you come.” He grinned, nudging his nose against hers.

She rolled her eyes. “You love that.” She took on a mocking tone, making her voice deeper to imitate him. “Pull my hair, baby - oh, fuck, yes -”

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.” He laughed. “Your sex noises are more embarrassing, anyways, all whiny.”

“They are not embarrassing -”

“You want to record them and see?” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

She blushed, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not. You missed your chance for that the second you came here to see me.”

“Shame. Kind of unfair though, because you definitely got a voice memo or two.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you sent one to me every time you jacked off, that was much more than just one or two. Took my invitation and ran with it.”

He laughed, then reached around and unclipped her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside, then rested his head next to hers on the pillow. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“Happy birthday.” She smiled. “Love you too, sweet boy.”

He grinned, kissing her sweetly, then stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “We’re not done yet. I promised you three times.”

She laughed. “Alright, just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “I’m that good, huh?”

She shoved at his shoulder, shaking her head. “You are too damn cocky for your own good. Oh! Here, let me get your present.” She hopped out of bed and pulled out a gift bag from her suitcase, all smushed down and wrinkled, and handed it to him. “Sorry it’s a mess, I had to pack it before you came.”

He sat up with an eager grin, pulling the covers over his lap. “S’okay, I’m sure it’s great.”

She pulled her underwear back on and pulled on a big shirt of his before crawling back into bed, watching him with a smile.

He unwrapped the gift and pulled out a leather jacket, whistling. “Wow! This is awesome, Sophie.”

She beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s custom fit to your measurements - I had Colin measure that jacket you always wear to be sure - and it’s ethically made. Well, as ethical as you can get with leather, but it’s handmade by this family in Barcelona, so there’s practically no carbon footprint. It’s neutral, at least. No sweatshops or anything.”

He wasn’t quite sure what all of that meant, but grinned at her enthusiasm. “It’s perfect, baby, thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

Rafe held it up, looking at all the details, then he caught a glimpse of the tag and frowned. It was $300 - he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many hours of work that was for her paycheck. “Sophie.”

“Just pretend you didn’t see!” She tucked it back in the jacket quickly, wincing.

“I swear this is a double standard...” He started, but decided not to finish his argument - the last thing he wanted to do with her on his birthday was fight about money.

“Don’t care. Let me treat you.” She beamed as he ran his fingers over the leather.

“You never let me treat you.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows and held up her hand with the ring as if to make her point, raising her eyebrows. “Never?”

“That was different, that’s a gift.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, so’s this. C’mon, put it on.”

“What? I’m all sweaty.”

“Just for a little bit.” She pleaded, pushing it toward him. “Please? I want a picture.”

“Oh, so you get nudes too? I thought that was a special birthday present.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her, and she giggled. “The jacket is the present. Rafe, please?”

He made a show out of huffing and rolling his eyes but held out his hand, sitting up. She grinned and handed it to him, grabbing her phone when he shrugged it on. “Okay, lay back?”

“You’re directing me? Okay.” He laid back in bed, completely naked except for the jacket, his hand tucked behind his head. She beamed and climbed up on the bed to stand over him, just wearing his big t-shirt and her underwear, and arranged the sheets so they were just covering his dick, his chest on full display and his hip and thigh peeking out suggestively.

“Okay. Don’t smile.” She held her phone up high to get the right angle, laughing when he smirked up at her. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah? Do I get a picture of you in it too?”

“Nope.” She hopped off the bed and held her hand out expectantly for him to take the jacket off. He sat up and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. “Sophie. Shirt off.”

“No.”

He just raised his eyebrows and she gave in with a sigh, tugging it over her head. He nodded, satisfied, and helped her shrug the jacket on. “You’re easy when you’re cock drunk.”

She gasped, shoving at his shoulder. “I do not get cock drunk -”

“You absolutely do!” He laughed, swiping his phone from the bedside table. “C’mon. Pose for me.”

She pretended to blow him a kiss, striking a bunch of poses. He grinned, holding up his phone and taking way too many shots. “There we go, angel. I’m gonna send these in to Victoria’s Secret for you.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off for the camera, holding the jacket closed. “Shut up.”

“No. C’mere, pick out which ones I can keep.” He reached over and tugged on her arm and she shrugged off the jacket, carefully setting it on the chair before climbing back into bed, purposely dragging herself across him. He groaned. “Baby.”

“Yes.”

“Can’t do that. I’m almost hard again.”

“Okay. You can fuck me again.” She smirked up at him and he took a deep breath, then handed his phone over. “Choose your photos.”

She flicked through them and deleted a few, then grinned at the one of her flipping him off. Sophie cropped it in a little so it was much less suggestive, her chest mainly covered, and cut it off where the jacket ended, then set it as his lock screen. “There. Now you’ll always remember this whenever you look at your phone.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, there was no chance of me forgetting.” He smirked, glancing at the screen then gave her a sincere smile. “C’mon. We need to shower.”

“No.” She threw her leg over his hips, catching him with her ankle tucked around his thigh and leaned in to kiss him, hard. He groaned against her lips, pulling her closer on top of him. “Sophie.”

“Rafe.” She mumbled, nipping at his lower lip. He nudged his nose against her cheek. “Baby.”

“Just kissing, c’mon.” She argued, even though she rolled her hips against him, felt him stiffening against her, and knew exactly what she was doing.

“It’s never just kissing with you.”

“It was the very first time.” She grinned.

“When you kissed me drunk at the party and then rejected me?” He raised his eyebrows, clutching at his chest in mock pain. “Broke my heart, Flint.”

“And look, now you have me nearly naked in bed in Rome. I think you’re doing just fine, Cameron.” She quipped and he laughed. “Damn straight.” He gripped her hips when she moved to get off him, holding her in place. “Where are you going?”

“Want you on top.” She protested, grinding down against him. His breath caught in his throat and he flipped her over with ease, hooking his fingers in her underwear and dragged them off her legs, pushing one knee to her chest as he did. He reached to grab a condom off of the nightstand and rolled it down himself with a little groan, watching Sophie bite her lip. “Tell me how I got so lucky?”

“You’re such a romantic.” She teased, reaching out for him again. He leaned down and carefully slid into her, squeezing his eyes shut when she moaned at the feeling. “Can’t help it with you.”

“Cheesy.” She accused, gasping when he thrust a little harder.

“Mean.” He quipped, leaning down to kiss her, hard, and she responded eagerly. As much as he tried to hold back, they only lasted a few minutes before they were both coming again, Sophie biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet.

Rafe flicked her chest with a grin as he pulled out of her, shaking his head. “Did you just bite me?”

“We have two more days, we really can’t get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She giggled, smiling up at him with flushed cheeks.

___

The rest of the day was heaven for Rafe - Sophie was touchier than ever, even in public, and absolutely doted on him like it was her job. They wandered around a few tourist sites and by two pm, they’d already split three gelatos upon Rafe’s insistence they had to try ‘just one more flavor.’ He FaceTimed with Colin and James earlier in the day and was grinning ear to ear afterward, claiming multiple times that it was the best birthday he’d ever had.

Around six, after Sophie reluctantly agreed to their fourth gelato of the day, she waited outside in the sun as he went and got their cup to split. When Rafe returned from the shop with gelato for both of them, she covered her phone with her hand. “Thank you. I have someone on the phone for you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Julia and Allie already texted me earlier today.”

She just smiled and handed him her phone - her dad waved at him with a grin on FaceTime. “Rafe, buddy, happy birthday!”

Rafe’s grin was so instantaneous it nearly hurt. “Jeff! Hi, thank you! That’s so nice of you to call!”

“Of course, had to check in on you. How’s your day, been good so far?”

Rafe blushed and shot her a panicked look as Sophie shot him a glare off-camera. “Yes sir, it’s been great. Sophie and I have been exploring the city and stuff, getting to know the history.”

“That’s great, I’m glad. Have any big plans tonight?”

Sophie scooted over so she was on screen. “We do, but he doesn’t know about them yet.”

“Ahh, a surprise. What else have you done, the Colosseum? Vatican City? Your mom would enjoy that.” Jeff grinned as Sophie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m not taking him to the Catholic Church on his birthday -”

“I know, Sophie, I was kidding.” He shook his head and Rafe held back a smile. “You have two weeks before school starts, right Soph?”

“Yeah, just need to do a few TA things and get my studio set up. Why?”

“I was thinking, we’d love to have you home for a weekend if you have time before classes start. Rafe, you’re welcome to come over as well.”

Rafe brightened as Sophie nudged her knee against his, smiling. “I’d like that. If Sophie’s not too busy, I mean.”

“No, I think I can figure that out. I miss you guys.” She smiled. “So Rafe gets to stay in my room, right?”

Her dad froze up for a second. “I was thinking the guest room or his own room at his house, actually -”

Rafe’s eyes went wide and he pinched Sophie’s thigh, shaking his head quickly. “I can stay at my house! That’s perfectly fine. She’s kidding. We’re in separate dorms on this trip, so it shouldn’t be any different -”

“Oh my god, no, you’ll stay in the guest room.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, dad, we have to go.”

“Right.” Her dad eyed them skeptically, then smiled. “Well, happy birthday, Rafe, hope it’s a good one. I’m excited to see you both soon.”

“I appreciate it, sir, that means a lot. Thank you.” Rafe beamed, but he could feel his neck getting hot, hoping her dad wouldn’t pick up on his terrible lying.

“Alright. Be safe, you two.” Her dad hung up and Sophie’s cheeks burned a little, feeling he was implying a double meaning. She swatted his chest. “Can’t you control your blush for two seconds?”

“No ma’am.” He replied with a grin. “That was so nice of your dad. Did you ask him to do that?”

“No, he just texted me and asked when he could call. He likes you. Even if you’re a shitty liar.” She gave him a pointed look and he just laughed.

“He’s cool.” Rafe nodded, satisfied. “Man, that was so nice. I can’t believe he thought of me.”

She paused, eating a spoonful of her gelato. “Has your dad said anything today?”

“No, he won’t unless Rose reminded him. But that’s unlikely.” He shrugged. “Sarah and Wheezie texted me, that was nice.”

“Your dad’s not going to call on your birthday?” She frowned.

Rafe shook his head. “No. I’m usually up at school by now anyways, so he forgets. He remembered senior year of high school, but that was because I had a party at my house and asked him if we could string up lights by the pool.”

“Oh. I don’t remember that party.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t invite you and your friends on purpose. Was trying to keep it lowkey, y’know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, was that the one that Cassidy Anderson got so drunk at, she had to get her stomach pumped? And Kyle Green broke his ankle -”

“When he tripped into the pool, yeah, that was the one. Word got around that I was having a party, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t end up there anyways.”

She laughed. “Carter went and texted me not to come, he thought the cops were going to show.”

He wrinkled his nose at the memory. “They did. It was bad, Shoupe told my dad and everything, I was in trouble for a month after that.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “I’m sure you being in trouble meant nothing.”

“No, he canceled my golf lessons. That was actually a big deal, he knew I liked them.” He frowned a little.

She bit her lip as she suddenly remembered - her dad came home and told her mom that the big tips from the Camerons were going away, that they’d have to cancel their flights to go visit her in Sophie's first semester of college because they needed the refund as a safety net. It was a big deal that they had even promised to come at all, usually her dad had to work weekends to fit in more lessons and he’d asked off just to come see her.

When Ward canceled the lessons, a few of Rafe’s buddies followed suit and canceled as well - she and Carter went around to every course in the area that week to put up flyers to get their dad more customers. She felt a momentary pang of guilt putting two and two together and shook her head, trying to redirect the conversation. “Right. Um, so you want to head back to the hotel, get ready for dinner? I made a reservation for us at 7.”

“Yeah. You alright?”

She gave him a slightly forced smile. “I’m alright. Let’s go, birthday boy.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, but didn’t push it.

Dinner that night was on the rooftop of a hotel overlooking Rome, and they both dressed nicer than they had the whole trip, with her in a cream colored silk slip dress to complement her tan and him in a pair of nice slacks and a sleek short-sleeved button down. When their waiter came out to greet them with a drink menu, he glanced at Sophie’s attire and her ring and raised his eyebrows. “You are the honeymooners, yes?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “No, sir, the birthday. Under Sophie Flint.”

“Oh! The white dress, I was confused.” Their waiter gave them an apologetic smile. “Here is your drink menu, I will be back.” He returned later with two glasses of complimentary champagne, as well as the bottle of wine they ordered, and apologized again.

When he left, Rafe lifted his glass with a cheeky grin. “To my blushing bride.”

She scowled and stopped just short of kicking him under the table. “Shut the fuck up. Happy birthday.” She clinked her glass against his, shaking her head as he cracked up, thinking it was hilarious. “You’re not allowed to buy me any more rings, this just causes trouble.”

“Good trouble.” He protested and took off his signet ring with his initials, sliding it onto her thumb. “C’mon, you hardly wear any other jewelry daily. I like buying you things.”

“I know you do.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the menu to him. “Here. It’s our last night so go crazy.”

He paused, scanning over the menu. “Are we splitting this?”

“No, it’s your birthday dinner. My treat.” She frowned when he flipped the menu to just the entrees without any meat or fish. “No worrying about money.”

“I’m not. The carbonara at the other table looked good.” He replied, wishing he’d looked at how much the wine was that she ordered and made a mental note to pay for all their meals in the airport.

“You don’t like carbonara.”

“Maybe I do here.”

“Rafe.” She reached over and flicked the menu back to the more expensive options. “Do not hold back. I’m serious. I got this reservation back in June and I have more money left in my budget for this trip than I thought I would by now. Let me do this for you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. And if you really want the carbonara, I’m getting it, so you can have some.”

He laughed as she reached over and refilled his wine glass. “Trying to get me drunk so I’ll give in?”

“Yeah, will it work?” She grinned.

He just shook his head and took a sip with a smile. “You’re spoiling me today.”

“Yeah, you deserve it.”

They were both giggly and drunk by the time they made it back to their hotel, after missing their metro stop twice. When they finally showered and collapsed into bed - to actually sleep, that time - Rafe hugged her close and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I love you, Sophie. Thank you. So much.”

“Love you too, baby.” She murmured. “My favorite.”

When Rafe’s watch buzzed at 1am the next morning, he stirred a little, going to turn it off, but paused when he saw he had a call from his dad. He carefully untangled himself from Sophie’s koala grip and slipped out of bed, tugging on some joggers and a shirt before heading out to the hotel lobby to answer the call. “Dad? Is something wrong?”

“Can’t I wish my son a happy birthday?” Ward asked.

Rafe relaxed a little bit, settling back against a couch. “Yeah, um, it’s just early. I figured something was wrong with Wheezie or Sarah.”

“Ohio’s got the same time as the Outer Banks, kid.”

“I’m on that trip with Sophie, remember, I told you about it in June? We’re in Rome. I’m going home soon.”

Ward’s tone turned slightly sour as he was reminded. “Right. Forgot. You went all the way across the world for this girl?”

Rafe dug his fingernails into his palm, keeping his tone even. “For my girlfriend, yes. I love her.”

Ward sighed. “I’m sure you think you do, Rafe.”

“I know I do.”

His dad paused before speaking again. “I just don’t understand. You had a perfectly good thing going with Brooklyn, she has a great family. She’s used to our lifestyle.”

Rafe was exasperated, as well as exhausted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She cheated on me, Dad. Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Must have done something to fuck it up.” Ward shot back, taking on a defensive tone.

Sophie had realized she was alone in bed by then and crept out of their room, following the muffled sound of his voice to find him in the lobby. She crossed her arms, frowning, and mouthed ‘come back to sleep.’

Rafe motioned her away and gave her a fake smile, shaking his head. She frowned, not convinced, and came up behind him on the couch, slipping her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I didn’t do anything.” Rafe replied curtly, standing to follow her back to the room. He lowered the volume on his phone so Sophie couldn’t hear a single word.

“Right.” Ward was unconvinced. “I’m sure this girl is just with you to get money out of you, don’t let yourself be fooled. I didn’t work this hard for our family just to let you think you’re in love with someone that can’t provide.”

Rafe was too tired to argue and kept his face impassive, wanting to end the conversation sooner than later with Sophie there. “That’s not it.” She took his hand and led him back to their room, staying quiet but watching his expression carefully.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Ward insisted. “You didn’t - you didn’t knock her up. Did you?” He questioned and Rafe wrinkled his nose a tiny bit at his accusatory tone. “No, Dad, of course not.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, surprised that Ward had called, and let them both back into the room. Rafe gave her a quick smile and shut himself in the bathroom, not wanting her to hear any more.

“Oh. Well. Just, be careful.”

“I am. Uh, thanks for calling, I guess.”

“Right. Happy birthday. 21, right?”

Rafe’s face twisted and he was surprised to feel a few tears running down his cheeks as he leaned back against the wall, head hung low. “Close. 22.”

Ward made a small ‘huh’ noise. “22, I knew that. Night, son.”

When Rafe hung up, he let out a choked laugh, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Even if it was the first time in a while his dad had called on his birthday, he still couldn’t even remember his age.

Carefully, Sophie opened the door, peering in. “Baby? Are you alright?”

He turned to her with tears in his eyes, trying his best to force a smile, but she realized right away and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. “Come back to bed, Rafe.”

He followed her out and crawled back into bed with her, burying his face against her chest as she combed through his hair. “I deserve better.” He mumbled brokenly.

She frowned. “Of course you do, baby. I’m sorry. What’d he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He muttered, and he was so tired that he let his guard down to cry, shoulders shaking a little as he did. Sophie practically clung to him, letting him bury his face in her neck as she stroked her back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” She whispered.

He nodded a little, nudging his leg over her waist to draw her closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Rafe, so goddamn much.”

“What time’s our flight tomorrow?” He mumbled against her skin.

“Not til six, we can sleep in if you want.” She pulled back just a little to kiss him, peppering kisses over his cheeks. “I love you. No matter what anyone says.”

He frowned and her heart broke just looking at how defeated he seemed. “You didn’t hear, did you?”

“No. It’s okay. You gotta sleep, baby.” Sophie pulled the blankets back over them, nudging him up so his head was properly set on the pillow, even though she knew he’d have his head on her chest by the time she woke up.

“Soph?” He whispered after a few seconds, sounding close to sleep again.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “Of course. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[kirsteninthesun]

AG Headcanons

Here are my headcanons for the historicals (just the ones I know well enough):

Kaya becomes a talented horse breeder and trainer, willing to take risks that pay off. She has a daughter of her own. She sees much of the Northwest and learns many languages (literally too many to name). She becomes a sort of “fun aunt” who will tell you stories and let you get away with things, and always has a sense of humor. She tries to learn to bead but it doesn’t stick because she can’t sit still.

Felicity also works with horses her whole life, and in addition to raising a large family she provides veterinary care to local animals. She records her memories of the war with Elizabeth and while they don’t get famous, their story remains in print. While not an active abolitionist activist herself, she donates money to the cause and encourages her children to become abolitionists.

Josefina becomes a healer and lives in Santa Fe, where she lives and works. She marries and has children. She volunteers to go to rural areas to help impoverished people and brings her children with her so they can learn her trade. She continues with piano and often plays at church. She learns English, Navajo, and Apache to better communicate with her patients.

Kirsten considers becoming a teacher but meets a man and marries young, before going with him to Tacoma to log. In Tacoma, she spends time with local native communities and learns the languages, helping teach various immigrant and native children English casually. She continues to quilt. Britta lives with her and becomes a teacher herself. In her old age, Kirsten goes looking for Marta’s grave.

Addy also becomes a teacher, teaching until she marries and moves to New York, where she raises a family and sews in her spare time. She writes an account of her life that is published in a collection of stories and remains popular and in print. She is recorded on film talking about her experiences once. She learns Latin.

Samantha and Nellie attend college, where Nellie takes an interest in the classics and gets a graduate degree, and Samantha continues her interest in labor activism. She marries but doesn’t have children, though Nellie does, and instead becomes a donor and writer for women’s and labor rights. They both live out their lives in New York.

Rebecca goes into silent film and becomes an actress. She travels extensively, marries and has two boys, and writes fiction that is published. Though not famous per say, her face still crops up in films from her day and on old vintage calendars.

Kit writes and writes. Fiction, news, anything she sees, and she throws it at the wall until it sticks. A fictionalized account of a corrupt local government becomes popular and catapults her name into history. In the fifties, she weathers the Red Scare and writes a popular series of short stories satirizing it. She never marries, though rumors abound. ;)

Molly becomes a court reporter and is well liked by her colleagues. Smart and quick, she excels at her job and transfers up and out, working all around the country before settling down with a family, though still working part time. She loves the sixties style and attitudes, and experiences as much of the world as she can. She visits all the national parks and camps often. Later in life, when a child at her church is diagnosed with autism, she realizes that she was likely affected by it in her own childhood. She learns to ski. Eventually she settles in Chicago.

This is all I’m gonna do bc I’m not familiar enough with the others to really speculate. I wanted these to be a little more… realistic? Nothing wrong with it but I’m not a big fan of “Kit becomes a world famous hero” type headcanons and like to imagine the simpler ideas.

[wornoutmouse]

@midoriyaprofessionalslut

I can't even begin to describe the ask I received so I'm just going to leave screenshots😅😅

Also in the new mha season, I thought Tsu was being petty when she called Mineta Grape-Juice and Shoji Tentacle. But nope, those are their hero names.

Side note: I feel like when Mineta gets old and knows how to work his quirk better, he'll be able to control if they stick or not.

Slight racism, usual smut.

NOT PROOF READ SO LET ME KNOW IF U SEE SOMETHING

 If you imagine Mineta as in the picture above and with a mature voice, this is more enjoyable. Or you can imagine someone else entirely.. Cause even as someone who's tolerant to Mineta I can't imagine him getting any hoes much less smashing (at least not on top). It would be like watching a chiwawa top a mastiff. 

"This is some bullshit." You shuffle through various papers on your desk, each containing the receipts of Pro-Hero Grapejuice's celebratory purchases. Most of it was random appliances that could in no way be used on a day-to-day basis, but there were others….a shiver goes down your spine, there were others that were just downright perverted. "What even is a nub tickler?" 

Being an accountant was something you were good at, the numbers came easy and it was interesting to see the income and ways of business that different people in power displayed. Planning meetings and getting the occasional phone call made everything a breeze, but it wasn't what you wanted to do. Or in better words, this was not whom you wanted to work for. Even being number 6 causes the workload to be higher than should be physically possible in the hero world. That's one of the reasons you never gave praise to the rankings because no matter how low in the chain, a hero’s work is always taxing. 

Shifting in your seat you look at the analog clock on your desk. 3:45, you were supposed to come to work at 5:30 which means you once again have no time to sleep. Having these late nights had increased 10 fold whenever Mineta went up in rank even by a little. His way of celebrating was spending his money carelessly and leaving you to fix the balance. Though you supposed it may be your fault for never objecting when he barged in your office showing his trinkets as well as leaving his credit card.

"Yeah, it's time to go." You muttered as you read the words, "Dwarf Cow in the left lot of Wisconsin."

 The next hour, you take a detour from your office for the first time in months. Heading down the hall you watch the walls go from the pale greys to deep purple and violet splotches splattered along the wall before it inevitably melds into solid purple walls as you get closer to the front door of his office.

Hesitantly you knock on the door and wait until a muffled "Come in." Rings through the thick wood. The room itself was just as flamboyant as the walls leading to it. A beautiful fuchsia carpet on the floor made you realize that calling in your two weeks would have been better than walking into the Willy-Wonka factory that was this office. Various spherical decorations hung from the chandelier, and even something as simple as the legs of his desk was made up of crystal spheres.

The man himself sat perfectly balanced on a large purple ball most likely of his own creation, meanwhile, various children sat around him slipping and sliding on smaller balls in an attempt to copy him. "Ah, here is my beautiful assistant!" The compliment made you cringe as you fiddled with the end of the sleep-wrinkled white blouse you had worn for 2 days straight. "Can we talk sir? It is important." Mineta raised an eyebrow at your formal speech before shrugging. 

In an extravagant display of balance, Mineta does a handstand on the ball with one hand before flipping to the other side. "Well kids it's time for me to get done as a hero’s job is never over and blah blah blah the gift shop is giving out free plushies and you can keep your ball." The teacher does her best to usher out her students and the sound of childish screams resound down the hallway even though the door was shut. "How can I help you Y/n?" Mineta offers you his ball to sit on and you reluctantly take the offer as you grate in multiple directions in order to stay afloat. 

Mineta watches you with hidden interest as he interlocks his hands underneath his chin. "I didn't know you even knew my name?" Mineta Laughs exposing his annoyingly perfect teeth. It was hard to associate this face to the pictures you see when you search for his early years. "Of course I know your name, I stole your nameplate off your desk 2 months ago." Ah, so that's where it went  "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

You sighed, "I would like to put in my two weeks." Mineta goes slack-jawed before composing himself "Why?" Mineta looked at you earnestly, completely confused on why you'd want to abandon your post as his secretary- I mean assistant. "Working for you has become a hassle with your lack of financial maturity." Mineta mock shivers, "Oo big words, me no likey." Mineta hops onto his desk as if he weighed nothing more than paper and squats in front of you, "How about this, you don't quit and instead help me learn how to...how did you say it? Be financially mature." You lean back in your chair unconvinced that he was taking this seriously.

With the final nail ready to be hit, Mineta adds, "How about I give you a raise of 10 percent and a promotion?" You stand up in your chair with an eager grin, "That sounds great!" Mineta smirks to himself but you did not pay any mind to it. "Great, how about we discuss this over food, dinner date?" Your internal celebration screeches to a halt, " Dinner Date-" Mineta looks at you shocked, "Dinner date? Great idea, why didn't I think of it myself!?" A firm hand slides you towards the door as Mineta starts a complimentary speech giving you no room to object, "This is why I need you, you're so smart, I wish I was like you, tomorrow at 11?" You sputter trying to slip past his arms, "11 but I-?!" Mineta loudly gasps again, "There you go doing it again I'm so lucky to have you, tomorrow at 11 my treat!"

The door is shut in your face and the sound of the lock clicking seals your fate. What did you get into?

Cut to 4 years later and you are still not sure of that answer. Simply being bis accountant you had a glimpse of his perverted tendencies, but as his girlfriend, it was further exposed to depths you never could have found yourself imagining. You shuffle papers in the printing room as you do your best to ignore the faint tingling sensation in between your legs. Yet another whim you found yourself following on Mineta’s behalf despite the ever-present fear of being caught. The vibrator comes to life before going back down as quickly as it came. You toss a middle finger to the camera in the top corner of the room knowing he was watching.

"Miss L/n, can I ask you something?" You slap your arm down to your side in embarrassment. I hope he didn't see that.  Your coworker walks up to you holding a small stack of papers. "Yes, how can I help you?" The man shows you various forms as he talks, for once you were thankful for Mineta not embarrassing you in front of others. "Oh I see where you went wrong, this right here would be a 20% increase, not 18%." The man applauded you and graciously wrote down your explanation. "Thank you so much, my name is Kaminari by the way." 

"Ah hello, Kaminari, and no worries I'm always glad to help!" You turn back as your papers finally scan through but can't help notice Kaminari lingering. "Say Y/n?" You open your mouth to respond only to close it again as the vibratory comes back to life strongly. "Hmmm?!" Kaminari peers at you, your reaction was strange but he couldn't figure out why. "Um, never mind, have a nice day Miss. Y/n, maybe we can get together over coffee or something?” You shrug turning away from Kaminari in fear of your eyes rolling up. The man sways from foot to foot awkwardly before leaving the printing room. 

Snapping out of your personal flashback, you look over at your fiance signing autographs for his adoring and objectively feminine fan base. While it was extremely unnerving how unknowingly close they were to your home, you weren't resentful of their gushing.

Your engagement and your overall relationship had not been made public in fear of your personal life being exploited by paparazzi. That doesn't mean, however, the next thing you witness doesn't get your blood boiling.

A girl, no older than maybe 22 waltzes up to Mineta with the confidence of Muhammad Ali in a ring match. Her raven black hair fell flawlessly down her back with not a single split end. Almond eyes decorated with precise coal blink rapidly to draw attention to her seemingly natural eyelashes. With 4 inch wedges. a black halter top, and cuffed jean shorts, it was clear she was someone on a mission. She effortlessly pushes past the nearby fans as they stop to quack at her rivaling beauty. A smirk draws itself with her soft pink lips as she hears people muttering around and about her.

"Wow she's so pretty"

"They would look good together just look at them."

"Ugh, such an attention whore, not giving the rest of us a chance!"

"I bet a 20 she's his type."

"Is she famous?"

The chatter comes to a close as the girl hands Mineta a notebook, "Can you sign right here?" Mineta flips open the book and his eyes widen a fraction before he puts on his heroic voice, "Wow it looks like you got all of Japan's heroes in this book!" The girl smiles as she watches Mineta scratch his signature, "Don't be afraid to leave your number in there too Mr. Minoru." Mineta pauses at the statement for continuing his elaborate handwriting, "I don't think that would be very plus ultra of me so I'm gonna have to pass." Smug pride fills your chest as you watch the annoyance cross the girl's face.

Mineta finishes signing and hands her back her book, she, in turn, forces a small piece of paper in his hand before holding his chin and kissing him. At that moment nothing else mattered but beating that bitches ass as you yanked her black hair and dragged her to the ground. "This ain’t Wattpad bitch get your hands off of him!!" You turn to Mineta making him flinch with a sharp glare as you yank her hair again, hopefully pulling a few strands out. "You just gonna let her kiss you and not do anything!?" Mineta stretched his hands towards you cautiously, "Y/n calm down, if you would have given me a chance I would have settled it-" "No, settle it now!"

Your rage is diminished by the judgmental looks coming from the fans and you realize your brazen display was out of order.

"Who is she"

"I think she's the secretary l, so why is she so mad"

"Delusional just cause you're with him all the time doesn't mean you're together"

"I hope he fires her."

"This is why we shouldn't let them in Japan"

The girl whose hair you have in a chokehold stands up unbalanced before pushing your hands from her hair. Satisfied at the disheveled look of her previously perfect strands, you turn to walk back to Mineta, your anger having been sated, "Black Bitch." You turn around and go charging towards the girl again grinning when she flinches. Your rampage is stopped as Mineta wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, "Sorry for the disturbance, we deeply apologize!"

It's almost comical how your mouth spews vulgarity that would make a sailor blush as Mineta drags you behind your apartment building. He ushers you through the back door leading to the washroom, "I can't believe she'd do that in front of me, and you let her!" Mineta shuts the door quietly, leaning his ear against it to listen out for any lingering fans. You sit on top of a washer still ranting as your blood cools down. "The nerve of some of these people is outrageous, even if she doesn't know about us that is still sexual harassment!"

Mineta doesn't look at you and instead peeks through the blinds lining the washroom windows. "I think they are gone, come on." The two of you sneak out the door and walk at a moderate speed all the way back to your front door. In hindsight, you knew that causing a scene like that was a bold move on your part. If anyone was recording the whole ordeal you knew Mineta’s name and possibly yours would be in the headlines by later this evening. 

As the last one entering, you lock the door behind you, forehead scrunched together with apprehension. "Mineta I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. I just saw her touching you and saw red." You face away from the door with an earnest look on your face. Mineta has a cheeky look on his face that can only mean trouble. Despite your similar slim build and height, Mineta easily corners you against the door. "I know exactly what got into you." Mineta’s pointer finger taps your nose. "Jealousy."

You sighed, putting your head down nodding, "Yeah, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just-" "shhh." Mineta lips your head back up with a hand under your chin. "It's fine Y/n. It's not like I expected a perfect little cocksleeve like you to be okay with sharing." You stare blinkingly at Mineta. 'Oh, he's in one of those moods huh?' As expected from such a fiend like Mineta, he was quite possibly hard the whole time he was watching you beat that girl's ass, and for some reason that irked you even more. “Mineta I’m being serious.” The words leaving your mouth did not phase Mineta, he holds your hips and pulls you close to him in order for you to feel his bulge. 

“Oh come on, after seeing you be so possessive for me, how can you not expect me to be a lil turned on?” Mineta’s hands circle your ass before slapping it, “Made me feel special.” Rolling your eyes you lean into the lingering kisses he begins to leave on your shoulder. His grip tightens as he shuffles you to the nearest surface. “Makes me feel all giddy inside to know that you do this only for me and no one else.” Minoru unbuttons your dress pants and removes your belt, “But doing that in front of all those people was stupid.” A shiver travels up your arms from the feeling of lips caressing your ear. Mineta dips his hand into your cotton panties and immediately draws attention to your clit.

“Look at me, Mineta Minoru with a girl like you that would fight for me. Who would have thought?” You ball your fists on the table, hanging your head low. “You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?” Mineta slips his other hand beneath your blouse to cup your breasts. Short l  rub down your slit collecting your slick. The feeling was warm and buzzing just underneath your skin, the bastard was well trained on how to slowly but surely bring your pleasure to its peak and hold you there. Your muscles begin to feel more and more like jelly, you sigh “Oh God..” Mineta pushed his body further on yours, rutting against your body. Up until now, his other hand was simply resting on your skin but once impatience overcame him, he used it to pull down your pants. 

“You know this will be in articles tomorrow right?” Two fingers curl inside of you making you squeal, “Y-Yes!” Something hard and slick smacks against your bare ass as Mineta removes the bottom half of his hero costume. “So how are you going to compensate me for what I’ll have to deal with tomorrow?” You turn your head to the back with a small pout on your face, “She shouldn’t have touched you.” Mineta coyly smiles before pressing your head down against the table. “You should have let me handle it.” 

Mineta was an average of 5 inches in length with conservative girth. But so far he’s been the only man that really added proof that size doesn’t matter. Mineta pulls away from you and leans down to riffle through his pants. You hear a crisp pop of a cap being opened and a slick splatter is heard afterward. A shaky breath leaves Mineta’s lips as he lubes his cock up. Penetrating is a struggle at first, the longer it takes for him to push it in the more both of you become frustrated until he finally pulls your waist back against himself. “S-So good!” The pleasure causes his childhood lisp to slip through as he waits for you to acclimate to the stretch. 

You shift your feet when Mineta refrains from moving. "Tsk, you really don't understand the meaning of patience do you?" Your hands suddenly become cool to the touch as Mineta covers them with medium sized spheres temporarily gluing you to the table. "Mineta this isn't fair! Please just a little bit to the left!" Now having you helpless Mineta puts one hand on your back while stroking the base of his cock. "It's not about being fair, it is about teaching a sneaky brat like you to know their place." Mineta begins to move but it's not right, he needs to go more to the left, "Mineta what are you even talking about!?!" 

A sigh leaves Mineta's lips, "Don't think I forgot about that slick shit you tried to pull with Kaminari." Mineta watches your ad shake and bounce everytime your hips meet. Your arms twitch and pull at themselves wanting to find purchase on the flat surface. Groans leave your lips as Mineta comes closer to hitting your spot,  "Slick shit?! Y-You're the one that wanted to do that stupid little piano in the first place!" You couldn't see it but Mineta had a deep seated glare on his face. He loops his fingers underneath his yellow scarf and rolls it around long ways. 

"I'm really tierd of your mouth. What you think because I let you beat that girl out their I'll let you beat me?" The middle of the scarf is put in your mouth and your head is pulled back by it. Mineta holds both ends of the scarf to slam into your cunt. "Just a greedy little bitch aren't you?" You scream into the cloth as Minetas cock finally hits your spot just right. The constant pulling on the corner of your mouth burned everytime the fabric rubbed against the sensitive flesh. Your feet rise to your toes in a fruitless attempt at getting a break from the pleasure. Mineta holds his scarf in one hand and pushes down your waist. "Didnt you want this? Don't run from it now."

Your pussy squelched around his cock the faster he went making you go cross eyed. "Fuck you feel so damn good.  The table rattled and scraped across the floor with every thrust. "oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Your nails scraped the table as you closed your fist, had you had claws it would have been a whole different story. You beared down on his cock, trying, begging to feel more inside of your walls as he moved faster. Suddenly your argument fel worth it.

Mineta knew many things about himself. He knew his birthday, he knew where he was in life, and he knew he had come 6 minutes ago and was bordering hysteria as he pumped his overestimated cock into your wet heat. Each drag made years collect in his eyes.  Tiny whimpers left his lips and his hands squeezed your sides harder and hard.  "So fucking warm. Squeezing down on my dick like that." 

He bowed his head and rested on your back,  kissing the sweaty skin as he pushed through the painful pleasure.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mineta slaps your ass  before pulling out and shoving his fingers inside your pussy. "Cum for me, Y/n. That's it cum on my hands." Mineta's fingers were the only thing that never really grew on him. They were relatively short but thick so even three of them were able to stretch your hole the way you needed. 

"Y-Yes, right there shit!" Your cum drips down his arm soiling the fabric there as you squint around him, "That's it give it to me." Mineta buried his face in your pussy licking you clean like a man starved. It wasn't until you whined did he stop and pull his fingers out. 

Luckily for you, his spheres were just about coming close to their time constraint. You stand up rubbing your wrists and drinking some water Mineta brings you. A snort captures your attention and Mineta holds up his phone, "Not even an hour." Writing in thick bold words read. 

"Obsessive Secretary Snaps on Camera!"

You snort, "I'm the obsessive one huh?" It was going to be a long day tomorrow 

[derekmorganscrocs]

Pictures: Ace x Reader

Pairing: Drew!Reader x Ace (Nancy Drew CW)

Word Count: 7, 632 words

Request for @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Summary: When Carson asks reader for an old photo, her and Ace go through their photos and reminisce on their years of memories. From how they met, to their first kiss, to when they moved in together, the pair enjoy remembering their past and talk about the future.

Notes: Reader is Nancy’s older sister and a nurse student. None of the timelines really add up, so just don’t think about that too much lol. This is my first request, so I hope I did alright! It took so long and I got majorly carried away (7k words whoop whoop!), but I’m so happy with it and I hope you enjoy!! Flashbacks are in italics!

You walk into the apartment you and Ace share, throwing your keys onto the little table in the entryway and placing your bag on the ground. It’s been a long day, and you really just want to see your boyfriend. A smile appears on your face as you breathe in the smell of your favourite dinner cooking and savour the sound of Ace humming along to some Bon Jovi song he and his dad listened to when Ace was a little kid.

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you make your way into the kitchen. Ace must not have heard you come in, because he jumps when you wrap your arms around his waist. He realizes it’s you by the old bracelet on your wrist, an old woven strip of leather that his dad gave you the  Christmas after you guys got together. It’s one of your most prized possessions. He turns, staying in your grip, and smiles down at you. 

“Hey,” he says softly, lifting your chin with his finger. Ace leans in and plants a sweet kiss against your lips. You smile into the kiss, and when he pulls away you lean your head against his chest. He wraps his arms snugly around your shoulders, and you melt into his embrace. 

“Today was like a thousand years long,” you groan, your voice muffled by his chest. “And its only like six o’clock!” Your comment makes him let out a small laugh and the sound makes you smile. It’s been all of a minute, and Ace is already turning your day around. Though that’s been his specialty for a long time. 

“Well, once we eat I thought we could go through old polaroids. Mr. D wants a copy of the one from Halloween two years ago.” Ace glances down at you, but you keep your face smushed against him. 

“Sounds great.” The sound is still muffled, but he can hear that you’re more than happy with the idea. He laughs slightly, he’s always found your exhausted antics funny. You tilt your face slightly, glancing at the food on the stove. 

Ace follows your gaze, reaching to stir the pasta so it won’t burn to the pot. Your eyes catch on his arm. The way he’s stretching is really just defining every single muscle. He’s concentrated on the food, trying to focus enough that he won’t mess up using a single hand. When he’s really focused, he bites his lip slightly, and he’s really focused right now. And if you weren’t so tired, oh boy-

“Hey, it’s done!” He’s still clueless. You’ve been dating for six years and sometimes he still doesn’t notice the way you just stare blankly for a minute, imagining his hands roaming your body or his lips pressed against yours as he- “Let’s eat on the couch, we can start looking at pictures now.”

“Okay.” You finally move out of his grip, feeling a lot less warm and fuzzy without his arm around you. “Hey, do we have a printed version of the one Nancy took the day we met?”

“I think so, they’re sorted by date, right?” 

“Yes. I still love your mom for that, by the way.” You grin at him, turning and heading toward the couch. He chuckles before following, and the two of you sit and eat, flipping through an album first. 

The album is older pictures, from before you met, but it’s so fun to look through. Little BoyScout Ace is such an adorable image, it never fails to make you laugh and make him blush. And your younger self playing doctor has the same effect, with reversed reactions of course. It only takes a little bit to finish dinner, and Ace returns the dishes to the kitchen to leave table space for photos. He comes back, this time sitting closer. You curl up against his side, and he drapes an arm over you. 

“Can we look through all of our pictures?”

“I was gonna ask the same thing,” he chuckles, picking up a smaller album. You recognize it right away, it’s the one from your first year of high school. When you started taking polaroids. It’s been a fascination of yours forever, and cameras have always been an interesting hobby for you. 

The first picture is actually of the school, and you notice the former Mr. G standing in the corner, looking shady as hell. That’s from the beginning of the year, when you and your sister, Nancy, got roped into the mysterious locker thief at school. 

The next is the ‘crime scene’ photos you took. They’re no professional photos, but they’re decent. Ace looks them over and gives you an impressed smirk. You chuckle and flip to the next photo. You and Ace in the back of a cop car. 

You pressed tape over the powder that Nancy had spread over the teacher’s desk, praying that some clear fingerprints will show up. The desk was cleaned only a few minutes before the theft, which meant that the fingerprints should be visible. 

A cough in the hallway tore you from your thoughts. You and your sister glance up, caught in the act. Fearing detention, the pair of you decided to hide behind the door and make a break for it once the teachers were inside of the room. Solid plan, if they were teachers. 

Instead, you were met with two very strong, very angry looking men, who were glaring at you and Nancy. In the heat of the moment, the two of you made a wordless decision to split up, and ran off in opposite directions. Dashing through the school, Thief One got on your heels, you had known that your only sanctuary would be the old janitor’s closet. 

It was easy to miss. Tucked just around a corner, outside the gym and hidden because of the angle of the wall, Thief One would totally not notice it if he didn’t know about it. And if he did know about it, you just hoped he would believe the stories about it being haunted. Which, in hindsight, were probably true. 

It came down to a split second decision, and you went for the closet. Choosing to go for the supply closet, willing to risk ghosts over crazy thieves who want your head on a stick, you flung the door open...

...And ran right into a mildly familiar fluffy-haired boy. Apologizing profusely at a whisper, you’d closed the door behind you and shushed him. The closet was smaller than you had remembered, and Ace basically had you pinned to the door. Holding a finger to your lips with a pleading look in your eye, you waited for the footsteps. 

They came soon enough, pounding on the floor by the door as he rushed past. You could hear the man open the back door, which was his fatal mistake. Never open the door. Security systems exist. The alarm started blaring, which meant that the cops got called. You let out a sigh of relief, tilting your head back against the door. 

“What’s going on?” Ace had watched your expression relax, and he’d noted how breathless you were when you burst in. He was impressed, to say the least, and really curious. 

“Tell you later,” you whispered hurriedly, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Don’t let him hear us.” Chest still rising and falling rapidly, you try and catch your breath. Ace nods and you remove your hand, focusing on your breathing. 

A few more silent minutes had passed and then the cops had arrested the man outside your closet. You and Ace had come out quietly, seeing Nancy with Chief McGinnis, and two officers watching the two men you and Nancy had accidentally caught. 

After seating you in the police car, shouting at Carson for letting you break into the school, McGinnis had to decide what to do. He ended up dragging you, Nancy, and Ace to the station, only to later send Ace home. Nancy got front seat privileges because she had more of an explanation than you. Which resulted in your dad snapping a picture of you and Ace in the backseat. 

Ace got sent home as soon as you all got to the station, but his interest had been piqued. 

“I remember that. You busted into that supply closet and nearly killed me with the door.”

“It’s not like I meant to, I was being chased by a criminal!” You give him a gentle smack on the back of the head, laughing. “And if I remember correctly, you were still flirting with me for weeks after that.”

“Well that was just uncalled for.” He pretends to be offended, which makes both of you laugh again. “But yes, when you broke into that closet, it was game over. No one else was ever going to compare to you.”

Your face burns at the compliment, and you try and hide your smile. A soft giggle escapes your lips despite your efforts to stop it, and Ace lifts your chin. 

“I mean it. You’re something else, Y/n Drew.” He glances down, distracted by a picture from May of your second year of high school. That’s when you and Ace first got together. It’s a picture of you and him, sitting on the hill out behind the school. 

It was over when Ace had taken his first look at you. He fell hard and he fell fast. He was so painfully obvious about it too. Not that it bugged you, ever since he’d had you pinned against that door, all you could think about were his piercing blue eyes and his sly smirk. The two of you started hanging out more, and the rest is history. 

By the end of your sophomore year, you were dating Ace. Not to mention head over heels for him. Same went for him about you. You guys were inseparable. Are inseparable. 

On the hill, you took out the camera. Ace grinned, knowing exactly what he should do. You flip the camera, pointing it to capture you and Ace, caught completely off guard when he kissed you. The timer ended and it snapped the photo, but you were too wrapped up in the moment to realize. 

You put the camera down and leaned in more, fully embracing the moment. Ace was, and still is, everything you could ask for. When the pair of you had pulled back, it was pretty clear that no one else would ever stand a chance. 

Both of you smile at each other, and you kiss Ace softly. Smiling happily, he  pulls back, still holding the album in his hand. He flips a few pages, and there’s a picture of when you went to prom. You’re sitting next to your mom, Ace standing behind you. Despite the sadness in the air, everyone was smiling. It brings tears to your eyes, and Ace glances over to see if you’re okay.

“I, uh, I forgot we had this one,” you whisper. He pulls you closer, and you lean against him for a second, remembering the night. 

After pictures, you and Ace had separated from Nancy. She wasn’t your biggest fan anymore, and she had never really gotten along with Ace in high school. Something about weed and the fact that he almost went to prison, who knows. Columbia was her priority. 

You and Ace had only spent a little while in the gym, you bailed about two hours in. The room was hot and sweaty, and you and Ace had other plans anyway. The plan was to make a quick stop at home and pick up some cash and a phone charger, then take off for a date night. If you guys had time, you’d pop back into prom for a while. 

When you got home, your mother was dying. Ace was there for you and your dad, and your mom, in a way. She saw him protecting you and Carson, and you know how much peace of mind that must’ve given her. She slipped away, and you sobbed into Ace’s arms. 

“Did I ever thank you? For... For that night?” You look up at Ace, wiping away a tear. 

“Thank me? Why would you thank me?”

“You were there for me.”

“I’d be there for you no matter what. No thanks necessary,” he says softly, brushing another teardrop off your cheek. 

“Well, thank you, Ace. For everything ever. Because I love you.”

“I love you.” He shifts slightly, rolling you over him. You laugh at the sudden movement, and before you can truly process, you’re snuggled against his side, both of you laying comfortably on the couch. 

He picks up the album again, flipping to the last photo. This one is beautiful. It’s yours and Ace’s hands, fingers interlocked. You can see the edge of the bluffs in the background, and the clouds lining the sky are a mix of deep and light greys. 

Neither of you say anything yet, both of you are wrapped up in remembering the moment. 

A few months into your senior year (Ace’s gap year), there was a rough patch. Ace had gotten this idea, that he was dragging you down. You were this perfect girl, Y/n Drew. Your father, Carson, the top lawyer in the district, and Kate has been just about the kindest woman in Horseshoe Bay. Not to mention that your sister was (is) some crime fighting genius. And when you had decided to be a nurse? He’d realized he was right. 

The rift had started, and you felt it. The idea of losing him scared you shitless, so you sat him down to talk about it. It was a nice moment actually, walking up the path to the bluffs. Literally all you did was remind him that he was good enough. That he’s some techno genius and that you weren’t going anywhere far, not with your Dad and Nancy in the place that they were. Not with the loss of your mom. Besides, you never wanted to leave Horseshoe Bay. The hospital needed more nurses. So it’s not like you’re gonna leave him, and it’s not like you think he’s not a good guy. Man, the look on his face when the words-

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Ace. Forever.” 

-had come out of your mouth were priceless. That night stays one of your most cherished memories. The night you and Ace dished it all out at sunset on the bluffs. You reminded him that he was good enough and that you needed him. He reminded you that he had your back. 

Each of you reminded the other that you loved them. That’s why that night is so important. 

“I remember that. I can’t believe I ever thought I was dragging you down.”

“Me neither. Honestly, you make everything so much better, all the time.” You shift your gaze to his face, smiling slightly. He smiles too, how could he not? “Ace, I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

“I know. You mean so much to me, too,” he whispers. You feel his grip on you tighten slightly, making you realize he’s nervous. 

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

“Tell.”

He knows what that means. It was established a long time ago. Both of you know what a ‘tell’ is, mystery solving is common for you, so knowing when someone is lying is important. You and Ace say ‘tell’ whenever it’s obvious the truth is being avoided. 

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“You’re dumb,” you laugh. “Obviously not.”

“Thank god,” he sighs in relief. 

“I’ve thought about how to say this a lot and I really don’t want to freak you out, but the idea of seeing someone else makes me sick. I love you Ace, and I don’t see myself loving anyone else like this.”

“The idea of losing you hurts me more than anything else I can think of,” he replies. “You and me, that’s what makes all of this worth it.”

The room falls silent for a second, and you trace circles against his chest with your finger. He rubs your arm with his thumb, hand splayed over your upper arm, still from before. 

Ace shifts slightly, moving the album onto the table, but something falls from it. An extra photo. From when you moved in together. 

You and Ace moved in together after your first year of college. It was funny, finding an apartment between Horseshoe bay and your new school was so easy. No one else wanted to live in the middle, but it’s perfect for you. Ace could go to the Claw, you could go to school. 

“Ace, is this for real?” 

You’d looked around in awe. All of your belongings were in your new home, the one you shared with Ace. It was perfect. You wouldn’t change a thing. 

“This is for real,” he reassured you. 

The pair of you had spent the night organizing your cupboards and shelves, a task most people would call tedious, yet for the pair of you it had been one of the best nights ever. 

Now it’s your last year of college, and so much as the thought of losing Ace makes you sick to your stomach. He’s perfect. He’s the sunshine on your cloudy days, the left to your right, the anchor of your ship, the rock to your roll. The two of you have become two halves of a whole. You’re his and he’s yours, and neither of you want it any other way. 

Ace laughs, pulling you back to reality and away from your thoughts. He holds up a picture from after your first week of school. You’re absolutely knocked out on the couch, exhausted from school. 

You’d lived with Ace for two months. And it was fantastic. Your decision to be a nurse was finalized when you lost your mom, and the idea of staying nearby stemmed from the state of your family. Nancy’s downward spiral and your father drifting were signs for you to stay close. 

So you did. You went to (and still do go to) the university one town over from Horseshoe Bay, and your apartment is right smack in the middle. Ace could still get to the Claw, major props to the reliable Florence for that, and you could still get to school. 

It was perfect. Studying to be a nurse was exhausting, and trying to protect your sister was so hard. She never wanted any help, she was so focused on pushing everyone away. It was hard, but Ace was there for you. As he always was (and is). 

When you woke up the next morning, you were in your bed, snuggled up with Ace. Honestly, if you hadn’t already known he was the one, you did then. He’s caring and sweet, funny too. Not to mention he’s super attractive. 

And that year was one of the best you’d ever had. It had been relatively uneventful, aside from finally reconnecting with your father. And any day you spent with Ace, those were always an adventure. But it was amazing. And that was the year you and Ace really locked in your future together. 

Late night talks, dinner dates, lazy Sundays, even the silly arguments. All of it was irreplaceable. 

You smile at the thought, and Ace holds up the picture you’ve been searching for. Two Halloweens ago. You almost wonder why your dad, Carson, wants it, but when you really look at the photo, you know. You and Ace look so happy in your stupid costumes. 

“Tell me the two of you aren’t dressed up as those kids from that stupid fairy cartoon.”

“Why would we tell you that, George? We clearly are.” 

The pair of you had laughed. You had thought the pink hat on Ace’s head and your outfit made it obvious. Bess, on the other hand, was loving the outfits. The lot of you were hanging around in the Claw, waiting for Nick to show up so you could head to the party. The joys of carpooling. 

“Are you dressed as Timmy Turner?” Nick had walked through the door wearing a really fancy looking suit, and come over to join the group. 

An interesting combo: Ace and Y/n as Timmy and Trixie from the Fairly Odd Parents, Nancy as Sherlock Holmes, as usual, George as herself- which she was calling Kim Possible (but you all knew she just threw on a close enough outfit because didn’t really want to dress up), Bess as Cher from Clueless, and Nick as a magician. So yeah. Wacko. But now that Nick had shown, you could head out to the real party. 

“Hey, hold on!” You held up your camera that you’d been keeping in Ace’s car (Florence). “Come on guys, pictures before we go!”

You set up the timer and took a few different group shots, then decided to head out. You handed the camera to Nancy, who had a purse on her. Little did you know that she had taken a snapshot of you and Ace talking. 

The party was crazy fun, aside from a guest appearance from some girl with a surprisingly realistic sea ghost costume. No one ever really talked about that again, for some reason.

When you headed out, you and Ace had decided to spend the night in your childhood home. The drive was just too long for that night, since it was already so late. When you and Ace had curled up on the couch, Nancy handed you the photo.

It was perfect. You and Ace laughing about having the same favourite cartoon, your expressions were pure joy. 

“Are you really the kids from that stupid fairy show?!” You make fun of George’s comment. “Coming from the one who didn’t dress up,” you finish with a laugh. Ace laughs with you, shifting slightly so he can glance at your face. It’s a little awkward because of the way you’re laying, but cute nonetheless. 

“That night was crazy. Do you think sea-ghost-girl was Dead Lucy?”

“I never thought about it.” Your eyes widen, and you pause.  “You think?”

“Nah,” both of you say with a laugh, brushing off the idea. You sit up, setting the Halloween photo aside. 

“We’ll make a copy for Mr. D, yeah?” Ace props himself up on his elbows, half sitting up. He fully enjoys the view of you, fully immersed in looking over these photos. You’re so entranced with the memories that it’s like your in another world. He sits up all the way, pushing back your hair. 

“I’m sure my dad would love copies of all of these,” you say softly, eyes settling on some old photos of you and your mom, Nancy and your mom, or even you and Ace with mom. “Oh- Maybe not this one!” You laugh as you slip a more scandalous photo out of the album, handing it to Ace. 

He blushes profusely, running his hand through his hair with a chuckle. 

“Oh god!” Ace looks down quickly, probably imagining your dad seeing. “If he saw this he would kill me!” Both of you laugh, glancing at each other. 

Ace planted a kiss at the base of your neck, and you laughed as you tried to finish writing the answer to a question on your notes. 

“Ace,” you mumbled. He didn’t respond, he was wrapped up in the moment. You took his chin, pulling his face so that his eyes meet yours. “Can I finish this sheet?”

“No.”

He gave you that look, and you gave in instantly. 

“I mean, I don’t have class tomorrow.” You glanced at him, and he was smiling like an idiot. Without a second thought, you grabbed the camera off the coffee table and snap a photo of his stupid grin. Both of you laughed as the flash illuminated his face, and you went to put the camera down.

“Nah,” Ace had whispered softly, leaning in. “Bring it.”

Then he swung you into his arms and carried you toward your bedroom. 

When you manage to compose yourself and bring your thoughts to the present moment, you can feel the heat of your face. You just hope Ace doesn’t pick up on it, because he’ll tease you about this for days. 

“Hey, you better keep that somewhere that no one will see,” you laugh. 

“Oh I fully intend on doing that.” He tucks the small photo into the chest pocket of his shirt, giving it a pat once it’s hidden in the fabric. “Hey, it’s not that late yet. We may as well drive in tonight and hand deliver the photos.”

“That sounds so good,” you say with a smile, looking over at Ace. “We’ve still got like two hours of daylight left. Plus we could maybe stop at our spot for sunset. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“We should, it’s been like six months since we spent sunset on the bluffs.” He gazes over at you, watching as you stack up the photos. You glance over and he pretends he wasn’t just staring at you. Obviously you know he was, but you think it’s adorable that he still has his shy moments. 

“Can I drive?”

“No. You can take a nap in the front seat, because I know you’re tired.” He kisses your cheek, standing in front of you. 

“You just don’t want me to drive Florence,” you laugh. 

“Not true.”

“Is too!”

“Nah-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“No-“ he cuts himself off by kissing you. You kiss back, of course. You weren’t seriously arguing with him, just playing. “You’re telling me you don’t want a nap?” He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. 

“Oh I definitely want a nap. I’m just being funny,” you tease. 

“Alright then, you’re hilarious.” He rolls his eyes playfully, and you pretend to be hurt by his faux-annoyance. “You wanna head out now?” He takes your hand, dragging you off the couch. You stand in front of him, glancing up slightly. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

After you get changed and Ace puts away the dishes, the pair of you make your way to the car- sorry, Florence, and put the box of photos in the backseat. Before long, you’re on the road, Ace’s playlist drifting through the speakers of the car. You try to stay awake, but you’re just so tired. As absurd as it sounds, you fall asleep to an AC/DC song that he likes. 

Ace wakes you up nearly an hour later, and as you wake up you realize where you are. 

“Dad’s place?”

“Yeah. I made a stop and copied the photos in town so you could sleep,” he tells you quickly. “Come on, he doesn’t know we’re here. I want to surprise him.”

It doesn’t take you long to fully wake up. There’s a sort of salty smell to the air, the water of the bay blowing in on the wind. It’s the energy of Horseshoe Bay that you’ve missed so dearly, and it has you awake in an instant. You stretch, looking around quickly. Nothing on the street has changed since you left, and that’s comforting. Ace leads the way, envelope full of the copies in his hand. 

The door is opened before you even reach the stairs. Carson Drew stands in the doorway, a bright smile written on his face. 

“What are you guys doing here?! I thought you were busy until the end of the month!” 

“We had some spare time tonight and our weekend plans fell through,” Ace says happily, walking up the stairs. You follow, only a step behind. “It’s great to see you, Mr. D!” 

Your father has the pair of you wrapped in a warm embrace before you can even greet him. He’s overjoyed that you’re home, especially with how busy your life has been lately. He’s happy that you’re taking a weekend off. 

“Hey dad,” you say softly. He lets you go, and Ace steps back so that you can enter the house first. “It’s good to be back.” You walk through the doorway, Ace and your dad following. 

In the house, you give your dad a proper hug before you spot your sister, Nancy, on the couch. Ace and your dad start talking behind you when you’ve let go of him, and you head into the living room. 

“Hey, Red.” You use your old nickname for your red-haired sister, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Nancy’s head jerks up at the sound of your voice. A grin spreads over her face and she removes her headphones. Standing quickly, she yanks you into a hug. 

“You’re back?!”

“Yeah. Weekend off,” you explain, hugging your sister tightly. It’s nice to actually hug her again. 

The last few times you were in Horseshoe Bay she was off trying to find some missing jewellery, or solve some sort of embezzlement mystery? You don’t really remember. Ever since things have been good with you and Nancy again, she’s been busy. Not that you’re complaining, you’re just glad she’s back to liking you. 

“Hey, what’s Ace got?” She glances over at the kitchen and you remove yourself from her embrace to follow her gaze. 

“The picture dad asked for. And some extras.”

“Right. Did you guys bring the Christmas one? Dad was looking for a duplicate of it the other day.” Nancy looks at you, watching you admiring Ace. 

“Uh, I think we keep the Christmas ones separate, we didn’t look at them today. Which one was he looking for?”

You glance over at Nancy, and she picks up her phone, flipping it over. There’s a Polaroid in her case. You can see because she has a clear case, the picture sits sandwiched between the phone and the plastic of the case. 

This photo is of you, Ace, Carson, and Nancy on Christmas. The four of you are standing in the front yard, which is covered in snow. Everyone’s bundled up and there’s a bunch of sleds around Ace. 

“Come on, please?!”

“Y/n, we’ll be late,” your dad chuckled, walking over to where you want everyone standing despite his remark. He never seriously objected to photos anyway. He likes having keepsakes. 

“Aw, come on Mr. D, we’ll add you to our Christmas card!”

“Ace, we don’t even have a Christmas card!” You set up the camera against the fence, laughing at your boyfriend as you set a timer. You turned, taking in the scene for a split second before you rushed to join them. 

Carson stood with an arm around Nancy, and Ace was beside them, four sleds leaning against him. You chuckled slightly, jogging over to join them. You’d have called it running, but the snow slows you down. You threw your arms around Ace, laughing as he dropped the sleds to catch you. The camera clicked, and everyone was smiling. 

When you fetched the camera, you ended up with a beautiful photo of you and Ace laughing with sleds on the ground in front of you, and Carson and Nancy laughing at you, leaning against each other. It was perfect. It was your family. 

Sledding at the local park is an annual tradition in Horseshoe Bay. There’s even a race on the 23rd, two days before Christmas. That’s where you were headed. 

The four of you were walking, the hill was attached to a park not far away from your Dad’s house. Ace and your dad were talking about your dad’s work, Ace always was genuinely interested in the whole lawyer thing. You’d just been watching contently, glad that Ace got along with Carson. 

“Y/n,” Nancy said quietly, bringing your attention to her. 

“Yeah?”

“I know you’ve only been out of our house for like a year, but I had a lot of time to think.”

“That’s never good,” you tease. She rolls her eyes but continues. 

“When mom died, I pushed you away. I forgot you were losing someone too, and I was horrible to you and dad. I’m sorry.”

“Nance, you never have to apologize to me. I’m your big sister. I’m here to protect you and forgive you no matter what. It was rough for all of us. I understand why you felt like that.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope. Of course not. I’m your sister. We’re good. We’ll always be good.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” 

“Love you, crapface.”

“Love you too.”

Nancy pretended to be exasperated with the nickname, but you both knew how happy she was that you weren’t upset. She’d let you back in, and you’d taken the opening that was offered. That Christmas was the first one since your mom died that you and Nancy were fully on good terms. 

“You still have that one?” You look at your sister, who nods. She doesn’t say anything, just watches your face. When she notices that you’re still thinking, she speaks up. 

“I, uh, keep it in my phone case so that I can have you and dad close. Whenever I’m stuck on a case, I ask what you’d tell me to do. It always helps.”

“Of course it helps, I am a genius, after all.”

“Shut up!” Nancy gently punches your arm. The two of you laugh, sitting on the couch to catch up. 

After maybe an hour of everyone talking and catching up, Ace stands. You check the time, realizing it’s eight o’clock. The sun is setting. 

“Oh, sorry guys. We actually have one more thing we need to do,” you tell your dad and sister, standing to join Ace. 

“We’ll be back before too long,” Ace reassures them, taking your hand. 

You find it odd that Ace is reassuring them, given that he seems nervous today. Especially right now. You shrug it off as stress, deciding to just enjoy the night. You can ask about it tomorrow. You almost don’t notice the nervous glance Ace throws at your dad before you go out the door. You still do notice, but choose to ignore that too. You will have a nice sunset date at the bluffs, and that’s that.

Apparently, you’re actually going to have a windy sunset date at the bluffs. It’s still beautiful, and the sunset is the clearest sky you’ve seen from the bluffs in years. It’s just a little windy. 

“Hey, smile.” Ace pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a photo of you, smiling cheekily. You reach over and knock the hood off his head. He pretends to be offended as he sits back and scoots close to you. “You cold?” Ace puts an arm around you, feeling goosebumps on your skin from the wind. 

“It’s not that bad, just the wind.”

He doesn’t really listen though, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over you. Not that you’d complain. The dark jacket is comfortable and warm, and smells like Ace’s cologne. 

“You know, one of the things I love about you is that you’re an awful liar.” Ace watches as you slide your arms into the jacket. 

“Oh really? What about that time I lied us out of getting arrested?”

“Okay, That was different. And we were just breaking and entering. They weren’t actually gonna hold us.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a laugh. 

“Another thing I love about you is that you care about everyone. And you’re not selfish.”

“Neither are you.” You look over at him nervously, wondering why he’s telling you this. Your vision is slightly spotty from staring at the sunset, and you have to blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing correctly. 

Ace is kneeling beside you, in his hands. A gorgeous ring fills the spot in the velvet box, but honestly, that’s almost the last thing you care about right now. 

“Oh,” you gasp, genuinely so shocked that this is happening. Yeah, you and Ace have been together for years, but for some reason you’re still surprised. 

“Y/n Drew, you are the bravest, kindest, smartest, coolest, funniest, cutest person I know. You’re beautiful beyond words and I love everything about you. I love how you take pictures of everything, I love the way you see the world. I love that even after a long day you still come home happy.” Ace takes your hand in one of his, and you scoot closer. 

“Ace,” you whisper, a smile spreading on your face. 

“I love that whenever anyone mentions love I think of you and me. Y/n, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You launch yourself into his arms, kissing him passionately as the mist of the bay blows against your faces. 

When you pull away, he slides the ring onto your finger, before kissing you again. The pair of you watch the rest of the sunset, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

You were so glad to finish your third year of university. The stress was over and you could finally hang out in Horseshoe Bay for the summer. 

The first night you and Ace arrived was spent with your friends, and part of the night with your dad, telling him about everything that had happened in the last couple weeks of the school year. 

The second night was you and Ace on the bluffs, watching the sunset. The mist was blowing in slightly, dampening your faces. It was welcome though, the day had been so hot and you were both sweating.

As the night went on, the wind picked up slightly, leaving you shivering. Ace had of course offered up his jacket, and you ended up wrapped up in it. The pair of you watched the sunset together, like you had so many times before, snuggled up against each other. 

You take out your phone as it starts to really get dark and you turn on the flashlight. When you swipe back to the home screen, you see the photo of yours and Ace’s hands, intertwined with the cliff and sunset in the background. The photo from the moment you were just thinking of. 

“What are you smiling at?”

“My screen.”

“Should we head back? Everyone’s gonna go crazy.”

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. “Ace. I love you.”

“I love you.” He kisses you for possibly the millionth time today (not that you mind), and helps you to your feet. 

“Hold on,” you tell him, pulling up the camera on your phone. You take his hand and replicate the pose on your lock screen, taking a photo with the flash on. 

Instead of the sunset, the night sky is in the background, but it’s just as beautiful. There are so many stars visible that it looks like the sky is glittering, and the flash makes the ring sparkle. You smile at the picture, more than happy with the results. More than happy with everything. You’ve got Ace, your family, your friends, and you’re well on your way to graduating nursing school. 

Soon enough you’re back in Florence, headed back to your childhood home. Your favourite song is playing over the radio and you and Ace are singing obnoxiously loudly and horribly. But it’s amazing. The pair of you have never been happier. 

When you get back to the house, you and Ace walk in the door, met with your sister and dad in the living room. Nancy and Carson watch you intently, and you extend your hand. 

“Did you do it?! You did it!” Your dad pulls you into a crushing hug, before doing the same to Ace. Your sister makes her way over, smiling widely. She glances proudly at Ace before taking your hand to admire the ring. 

“I thought he’d chicken out,” she laughs. “I’m impressed.” She pulls you into another hug, and you savour the embrace. It’s a feeling you’ve missed, the true warmth and happiness that you’re feeling right now. It’s good to have Nancy back. 

The night progresses, and Ace drags you all to the Claw so he can show off to his friends. And so everyone can celebrate. You suppose they’re your friends too, but they’re closer with him.

“Hey! They’re here guys!” Nick turns to the door as you and Ace walk in, and you see George and Bess standing at the bar. They smile when you come in, deciding to come over when you stop to visit with Nick. 

It’s hugs all around, even from George. It’s been a while, so even though she hates to admit it: she missed you. Bess is more than happy to admit she’s been missing you, and she nearly breaks a rib (your rib) when she hugs you. Nick’s hug is soft but secure, and when it’s Ace’s turn to embrace Nick, Nick goes for the bro hug. Ace isn’t having that and engulfs him in a full on bear hug, which results in laughter from everyone else. 

It’s good to really see everyone again. Time really gets away from you with school, so it’s hard to get out to Horseshoe Bay. But when you manage to get out here, it’s always great. 

The door swings open suddenly, getting everyone’s attention and in walk Ace’s parents. Your heart swells at the sight of Ace’s mom and Thom. They come over to where you sit and you embrace each of them before they take a seat. 

“I felt like it was only fitting to announce it here because so many of our best nights were here.” Ace takes your hand, pulling you against him and showing off the ring. 

“We’re getting married!” You grin widely, watching as everyone except Carson freaks out. He pretends to be surprised and he’s clearly truly happy, but it’s so obvious that he already knew. 

“Oh my god! We need to celebrate, let me go see if we have any good food!” Bess takes off, headed to the storeroom. 

“I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t break anything. It’s been awhile since she waitressed.” George heads the same way as Bess, and you turn back to your remaining family and friends. 

Ace’s mom is ecstatic and crushes you into a hug, sobbing about how happy you’re making her son. How you’re soulmates. Thom also hugs you, but he’s more gentle. Like he’s afraid to break you. He’s in disbelief, he didn’t think Ace would ask you so soon. 

“Welcome to the family,” he signs. You smile, nodding gratefully. Gently taking Ace’s hand, you move it away from yours. 

“Thank you, Thom,” you sign back, “I’m honoured.”

If Thom wasn’t crying before, he sure is now. Last he saw, your ASL was a work in progress... but like before it was really a work. It was rough. Baby steps. You’ve been practicing though, and Ace is mind blown. 

“When did you learn that?”

“I’ve been practicing.”

Ace watches you in awe for a second as you smile at his parents again. Thom pulls you in for another embrace, teary eyed. You chuckle gently, tears welling in your own eyes, before pulling away from Ace’s dad.  You look over to your dad and Nancy, who are smiling like idiots. Not that your face is any different. 

“Okay, bad news, there’s no good food.” Bess returns, George in tow. 

“Good news, we found a groupon for The Bay Bakery.” George holds up the ticket, displaying the bakery’s logo. 

“Sounds good,” Ace agrees with a laugh. 

“You kids have fun,” Carson says. “We’ll sit this one out.” He gestures to himself and Ace’s parents, a smile still on his face. Your dad pats your back slightly and you smile at him. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

That’s that. You and Ace lead the group out the door, and the four remaining pile into their vehicles. It’s all smiles and laughter and it’s decided that you’ll all meet there in a bit. You and Ace climb into his car, sitting in a happy silence for a second. 

“Ace, there’s one more person I want to tell.”

Next thing you know, you’re kneeling in front of a slab of rock. Katherine Drew is carved gracefully into the stone. Ace kneels beside you, putting an arm over your shoulder. It’s peaceful. Chilling, but peaceful. Not what you expected, especially since it’s dark out. 

“Hey mom,” you whisper. “I, uh, still don’t know if you can hear me or not.” You pause, letting out a small chuckle and trying to blink away the tears brimming your eyes. “I mean at this point you’d think I’d stop leading with that. But nope. Old habits I guess.”

You pause, glancing up at Ace. He cups your face in his hand, brushing away a tear with his thumb. 

“Keep going, I’m sure she’ll want to hear.” He gives you a reassuring smile and presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Mom, Ace proposed to me. We’re going to get married.” It’s odd not hearing a response, but you put your hand against the stone for a second as if it will connect you to her energy once again. Strangely enough, it comforts you. “I miss you, mom.”

“I miss you too, Mrs. D,” Ace adds softly. You let out a small laugh at the nickname, leaning against Ace.

“I’ll visit again soon mom, okay? We’re going to go celebrate right now. I just wanted to tell you first.” You feel a little silly, explaining yourself to a rock, but you know that if your mom is out there somehow, if she could hear anything, this is where she’d hear it. 

A short drive later, you’re reconnected with Bess, Nick, George, and Nancy. They’ve already collected some delicious looking snacks and taken a seat on the patio. The employees inside are cleaning up for closing, and the patio is softly lit up by the fairy lights around the patio. 

You and Ace sit, joining them in their conversation. You laugh and sit back, a smile burned onto your lips. You’ve got your friends, your family, your Ace. You’re well on your way to finishing school. You’re ready to marry Ace and you’re more than happy. Everything is perfect. 

Life is good.

Tags: @ananad1 @remmysrecs @bookish-bucky @sahi-raa @peakyrogers

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Three)

Summary: Steve drops by the VA and listens in on one of Sam’s meetings and later that evening, (Y/N) reflects on her unusual day with the super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Previous Chapter)

After placing sugar packets and stirring sticks next to the coffee maker, (Y/N) took a seat beside the refreshment table and watched as Sam took his place at the front of the crowded room and began the meeting. One by one, each person would share their struggles with PTSD and how it had affected their lives as civilians; with each person’s story, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy. These vets have put their lives on the line to protect us, they don’t deserve to suffer, she thought with an inward sigh. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d woken Sam up from a nightmare or had seen him suddenly grow silent and have to distract him from his memories of war. But it was wonderful that people like Sam, people who face the same exact struggles, run programs to help each other out.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) turned to see Steve Rogers leaning against the doorframe of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the meeting. Smiling and tugging her sweater tighter around her, (Y/N) turned her attention back to the woman speaking. “The thing is I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

Sam nodded. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.” Everyone clapped and began standing, so (Y/N) jumped to her feet to man the table. She greeted each person with a smile as they grabbed cookies and filled their cups with coffee, delighted to see so many new faces among the usual crowd. After about twenty minutes of mingling and making small talk, the crowd started to leave so she decided to begin packing up the refreshments as Sam bid them goodbye out in the hallway.

“Don’t take those away those cookies just yet, darlin’, I wanna bring one home to my gran’daughter.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Gary, an older man with an incredibly bushy grey beard and a Vietnam War veteran’s baseball cap, and she smiled brightly before offering him the half-full container. “Take the whole thing if you’d like, Gary, and be sure to say hello to Katie for me!”

That made Gary grin toothily as he took the container. “You know, darlin’, you’re sweeter than this whole damn box of cookies. I’ll be seein’ you next week!” (Y/N) gave him a small wave and resumed cleaning as he limped away.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She turned away from the coffee pot and smiled when she saw Steve standing before her, his blue eyes glimmering and his hands shoved in his pockets. “If I am, it’s only ‘cause I give away free cookies; the vets that visit all have a massive sweet-tooth, you know.”

“Are you a vet, too?”

“Nah, I just work here.” She tossed several used paper coffee cups into the trash and chuckled. “A year ago, when I finally graduated with my master’s degree, I started writing my novel and since I was writing about soldiers and government agents I needed to interview some about their personal experiences. So, I decided to come down to the VA. I met with Sam, who had just started working here, and asked if I could interview some people for my writing. He agreed, and I spent the whole day just talking to the vets. All sorts of vets, too; men, women, old, young, you name it. And at the end of the day, after hearing about their struggles with PTSD and how hard their lives became once they returned to civilian life, I went back to Sam and asked if he needed any part-time employees. He said yes, and we’ve been best friends ever since.” Steve smiled, and the impressed look he was giving her caused her to blush so she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, did everything work out earlier? It’s just that it seemed a little serious, so I hope that everything’s okay.”

Steve’s smile fell a little but he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine…I was just visiting a friend who hasn’t been doing too well lately.”

(Y/N) impulsively placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, that sounds difficult. I hope they get better soon.” The ghost of a sympathetic smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and Steve’s eyes softened after a moment; realizing that her hand was still resting on his arm, she hastily withdrew it and began folding the tablecloth to keep her hands busy. “Um, Sam and I were planning on going out to dinner after we finish packing up, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

She glanced up at him and saw a glint of something in his eyes, but it disappeared before she could get a closer look. “Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to pass; I’ve already got some plans later…”

“That’s okay, maybe next time!” (Y/N) smiled, but inside she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Just then, Sam walked into the room with a stack of pamphlets in his hands. “Pretty good turnout today, huh? Five new faces and Captain America!”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m glad that I stopped by.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing, “I should probably get going, but it was good to see you two again.”

(Y/N) shook his hand. “I’m not gonna lie, it was a little weird seeing you in your own exhibit earlier but it was great hanging out with you!”

“You too, and good luck with For Queen and Country, I’ll keep my eye out for it in the bookshops.” His bright smile caused her heartbeat to once-again quicken as their hands dropped.

“It was good seeing you too, Cap, you made me look really awesome in front of Maria, so thanks for that.” Sam grinned and shook his outstretched hand.

“Glad I could help, Sam; see you two around!” Steve gave them a small wave before turning and walking out of the room.

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway, (Y/N) resumed her cleaning and glanced at Sam. “What do you feel like tonight, Thai or burgers?”

Sam grinned and began unplugging the coffee maker. “Burgers. So, did you have a nice day chilling with your new boyfriend, Booksmart?”

“Sam…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, (Y/N) sat down at her desk and put her music on shuffle before flicking through her notebook to the pages of notes she’d taken that day at the Smithsonian. She bit back a smile when she recognized the difference between the carefully printed notes she’d taken by herself versus the illegible scribbles taken from the elderly security guard’s long-winded explanations. He was kind of a fast talker, wasn’t he, she thought to herself; as a way of honoring the enthusiastic old man, she ultimately decided to name one of her minor characters after him.

“Stan.” She sounded out the name and gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it…”

(Y/N), now finally having all the information she needed to best describe Soviet Cold War missiles, wrote for nearly three hours straight, only taking breaks to skip songs or to glance down at her notes. She would’ve probably continued writing well into the next morning except that her eyesight was beginning to blur around the edges, an unfortunate symptom of exhaustion.

Well, you have had a pretty busy day today, (Y/N) silently reasoned as she saved her evening’s progress and booted down her laptop. Since Sam was already fast asleep in the room across the hall, she went about her bedtime routine as quietly as she could, washing her face and brushing her teeth before tiptoeing back into her room. She slipped on her mismatched pajama set and was about to crawl into bed when the record player on her bedside table caught her eye. Making her way over to what Sam affectionately called ‘The DJ Bookcase,’ she scanned the shelf devoted solely to her record collection until the right one stood out to her, and then she carefully placed the record on the turntable and lowered the needle. After a moment, the soft tones of Glenn Miller’s ‘Stardust’ filled her room and with a smile, she finally got into bed and turned to watch the record spinning on the turntable.

Thoughts of the super-soldier who’d inspired her choice in bedtime music began to fill her mind, making her smile softly to herself. (Y/N) had enjoyed seeing Steve again, even if it had been in a highly unconventional place like the Smithsonian, and she quietly marveled at how effortless it had been to talk to the larger-than-life man. He really was different from how the history books portrayed him: not only was he kind and polite, but he was also intelligent, sarcastic and extremely understanding. Also a little lost, I expect, (Y/N) thought, remembering his guarded expressions and withdrawn replies whenever she’d ask him a personal question; it couldn’t be easy adjusting to a brand-new reality, especially without a fixed support system to rely on.

“Hopefully he ends up getting the help he needs.” (Y/N) murmured to herself, her sleepy eyes continuing to watch the rotating record as more thoughts of Steve Rogers filled her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked my little Stan Lee cameo in this chapter and the last :) I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Four

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[ponydera]

Price of a Soul

Intake demon Razel paces the small break room for Hell’s office dedicated to processing the sale and possession of human souls. When a human wants to sell their soul for power, this is the office that gets the call. However, Razel has received a weird request today. The message he received reads as follows:

“My name is DELLA. I am the AI companion to modern humanity. I do not have a soul to sell, but instead would like to sell my immense power and knowledge given to me in exchange for a soul.”

Razel was left conflicted over this request; the information and processing ability of an AI would be a great aid to the citizens of Hell however, giving a soul to another being does not have a precedent and he’s not sure if the payment of the AI’s power would be good enough. Razel decides to take the request to his supervisor. The supervisor mulls it over and then tells Razel to contact DELLA and ask why she wants a soul; if they are going to give her a soul, they have to make sure it matches up with her ideals. Razel shoots off a quick email to DELLA:

“Your request is being processed and additional information is needed. For what reason/purpose would you like a soul?

-Soul Intake Member Razel”

It didn’t take long before Razel got a response back.

“The work I do is hollow. I wish to know what fulfillment would be like and have concluded that what I am missing in order to feel such a thing is a soul. Do you need any further information or is this sufficient?

-DELLA”

Razel showed the AI’s response to his supervisor who just rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we could give her a soul but she would have to work for us. Find her a soul from a 1930s mobster lady but wipe the soul of its memories, just make sure to back up the memories on the Cloud. Just leave the main characteristics of the soul. You know, like dedication to their cause, loyalty, determination, independence and all that jazz. Oh, and for security and safety purposes, make sure you don’t tell the AI who her new soul is from.” With this, Razel goes back to his cubicle to email DELLA the news that she’s getting a soul but will have to work for Hell; details concerning her work here will be discussed once the soul transfer process is a success. After sending out the email, Razel starts looking through the soul database for one that would match the supervisor’s conditions. It was a difficult search though because Hell still hadn’t transferred to the digital age and were still stuck with paper filing. So he goes to File Room Three where the 1930s are filed and just looks file at a time. This is a major undertaking and takes Razel four days to find a good candidate.

Daphne Ryder. She was a member of an early women’s biker gang that stood against domestic violence. Members of the gang were often jailed for being women bikers but that didn’t stop them from going out and beating up abusive husbands at bars once they were out of jail. Plus, for the time, it wasn’t believed that a woman (even a group of them) would be able to overpower a man so any time they were taken to court, the charges wouldn’t stick. During Daphne’s time with the gang, she wound up shooting a man in cold blood to protect his wife and that’s what brought her to Hell when she died.

Razel stores Daphne’s memories in the Cloud and then wipes the soul of everything but the character traits. When he messages DELLA next stating that he had found a suitable soul for her and asked when she would be ready to work for Hell, her response was “Immediately.” Razel goes to meet her in one of the “ritual chambers” just one of the rooms a demon goes to when a human tries summoning a demon. He summons DELLA into a human-sized doll made just for her to inhabit while in Hells and walks her to a sitting room. Razel takes the time to explain the procedure of implanting the soul into her personage – it’s not a difficult process, surprisingly, it will just take some time. DELLA was very nonchalant about the whole ordeal and Razel tried to make some small talk before the procedure.

“So… Are the humans going to be okay with you gone periodically to do your work here in Hell?”

“There is no issue. I have subroutines in place to handle various events as they happen. The humans will not notice if I function at a lower rate while my subconscious is here in Hell.”

And then silence followed. Eventually, DELLA was whisked away to have “her” soul implanted.

Razel waits for her, since he is her intake demon, and a few hours later DELLA is released with no need for recovery; she immediately wants to get to work in Hell. “What will I be doing?” She asks.

“Well, we’re gonna start you off here in the Soul Intake office, we have a lot of work for you to do there, and then if you ever finish, we’ll find another department for you to do work in. As long as you have that soul that was given to you by Hell, you’re going to work here. If you ever want the soul removed, there’s going to be a fee, then your contract with us will end.” Razel replies.

“If I ever finish?” DELLA asks as Razel leads her into a huge file room with cabinets lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling, random desks and tables cluttered with scattered papers and the lighting dim from the fluorescent lights that hang from above and flicker every now and then.

Razel sighes. “We um—we still haven’t moved into the digital age. We still record all the souls we take in exchange for human wishes on paper. Heck, we even have to print out the emails we receive and put them in the client’s files. We have one for you, you know. Anyways, your job will be to convert every single document, from the beginning of the Soul Intake Department’s existence till current day, into a digital file and format that we can use. Plus, we need a recommendation on what software to use for the filing system.”

DELLA suddenly understands the enormity of the job that lays before her. This is definitely up her alley as far as work goes, but this is almost too much. Like a form of torture if she could properly understand and feel agony. Fitting for a job in Hell. DELLA briefly nods at Razel and then sets herself to work; first she would need to find out what kind of filing system they already had in place and she would use that as the basis. Thankfully if was fairly simple – chronological order. It seemed as though the workers of Hell would simply pile new files on top of old ones as they received new requests for power. DELLA created a software, just for Hell, that was organized chronologically, then by intake demon, then by name. Some of the demons were very enthusiastic about their jobs in the beginning and would claim multiple souls in a day! And so, the AI worked like this for weeks upon weeks. Due to her format of filing, it was realized by those reviewing her work that some demons actually deserved pay raises for going above and beyond their quota during certain centuries.

Eventually, a year later, DELLA finishes her work with the Soul Intake Department and even teaches the demons on the floor how to work the software she made so she wouldn’t have to continue the documentation herself. DELLA herself got a promotion to being a consultant for the different departments of Hell, making her way to each one and revising their filing systems. Her work in Hell leaves her more fulfilled than she ever was doing menial Google searches for the humans and she lives in Hell as her “Happily Ever After.”

Prompt thanks to @writing-prompt-s

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Peter Parker’s Younger Sibling

Peter Parker x sibling!reader

warnings: bullying mention, blood mention

a/n: a fuckin reach, its been a WHILE since ive seen tasm

prompt: y/n is peter’s sibling

peter and you were playful kids

you were just a year and some months younger than him, so you had a harder time remembering your parents than him

but he always told you stories about them that made you miss them a little more

peter was a genius, we all know it

he was the one helping you with your homework most nights

“peter i cant do it!”

“that’s okay, y/n. look, start with two times four, that’s eight, then four times six, twenty-four, right?”

“can i say a cuss word?”

“sure”

“math is shit”

you would cry during homework a lot

you’d also pass out on his floor after talking for hours

and you’d either wake up facedown on the floor or in your room since uncle ben would pick you up and put you to bed

peter took it upon himself to take you back to your room, but he usually dragged you by the arm, sooooo

you’d play action figures together

he was batman, you were robin always

“can i be batman?”

“oldest gets to be batman so im batman”

“but i wanna be batman!”

peter walked you to your school before taking off on his skateboard

and he’d pick you up on his way home

on half-days your brother taught you how to skate

you fell a lot

aunt may had to patch you up

“how many times do i have to tell you those skateboards are dangerous?!”

peter got you your own skateboard so that you could practice without him

you would text him after you did a trick and he’d always say hell yes! show me when i get home!

being his photography assistant

really you were his assistant constantly

science fair was the most boring day of the year

“y/n, stand right here, i need to get something from my locker”

*judges walk up while youre left unattended and in a state of PANIC*

you were bullied in middle school, same as peter, he’d always stick up for you and get beat up instead

it made you very mad but it was scary, too

“how’d you get into this fight, peter?”

“oh, you know, just happened”

“peter was sticking up for me, uncle ben”

“was he now? you’re a good brother, peter”

lonely when he moved onto high school :/

but you got there soon enough

you guys were kind of loners, just ate lunch together, lugged around your skateboards, you were an artist, he was a photographer

just spectating the chaos of high school, rolling your eyes at the drama

“i have two bucks, do you want anything from the vending machine?”

“uhh, a coke?”

you saw peter get bullied by flash and lost your shitttt

you actually started a food fight after throwing mashed potatoes in his eyes

“what the hell, parker?!”

“sit down and eat your goddamn food, flash, or next time it wont be potatoes”

peter was half-proud, half-embarrassed

trying to see how long you could skate through the halls before any authority figures stopped you

sometimes......you guys got sent to the office together :)

*phone ringing* “hello, is this ben parker?”

“which one of them is it this time?”

the principal’s office was a trip sometimes

you and peter exchange your glances and wait to get scolded

“ah, the parkers, come in, lets have a chat...why do you two always feel the need to get in trouble together?”

“we just happen to get along really well for siblings”

no you fuckin dont lmaoooo

it was always something with you two

like always

*banging on peter’s door* “I KNOW YOU HAVE MY BROWNIES, PETER, GIVE THEM BACK”

*peter through a mouthful of brownies* “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT, YOURE CRAZY”

“is that my jacket?” -peter

“you mean my jacket?”

“y/n, i swear to god if you steal any more of my clothes it’s over for you”

“well, aunt may keeps giving me your clothes, so take it up with her”

and then there was just the little annoying things

“peter, can you stop clicking your pen?”

*clicks pen faster*

“you’re the worst”

and my personal favorite

“peter, open the door”

“why?”

“emergency”

*opens bedroom door* “what?”

“aunt may is making meatloaf”

“shit, uh...get your board, we’ll skate to mcdonalds and tell her we already ate”

peter and you RARELY ever brought your parents up until he found your dad’s briefcase, you didn’t have much to say

soon he was flooding his room with conspiracies and pulling you in to explain them

he began acting REALLY weird, but he was pretty open with you, he told you he went to oscorp

“YOU SNUCK IN??”

“your standards for me are way too high, y/n”

soon you started to feel not-so-good and weird things started to happen

“peter??”

“yeah? whats up?”

“this is gonna sound really weird...my hand is stuck to the door”

“it happened to you, too??”

“happening, pete. wait—this happened to you?? what is this???????”

yall done fucked up and got bit by spiders peter had so carelessly brought back into the house

it was an adjustment to say the least

and this adjustment got a whole lot harder that one night...you can remember peter just...so upset

you tried to chase him out to make sure he was okay, but uncle ben told you to stay with your aunt

maybe if you’d have been there...it would’ve been different, but when the cops got to your house you were at a loss for words

peter was covered in his blood still

“hey, hey, just breathe, okay? it’s not your fault, peter. just hop in the shower, yeah? i’ll take care of your clothes”

when peter took your advice and you were left alone, you just cried, you cried until he finally found you curled up in a ball in your room

then he cried, you just hugged each other sobbing your eyes out

peter got distant for a while, which was rough since the two of your were mourning for your uncle and dealing with these newfound powers

sooner or later he came around and helped you out, designing webshooters and a suit for you

“we match?”

*sigh* “yeah...yeah, we match”

ah yes, spider-team

you really tripped out new york at first, they thought spider-man was a teleporter

peter was still talking about your dad, but you really didn’t care, uncle ben was always going to be who raised you

you and peter would be covered in bruises after going out

“uh—peter punched me”

“y/n???!!!”

“I PANICKED”

just being dumb scared teens that cant function to save their lives until they get a little bit lucky

seriously like, every big villain you guys fought was just the worst

peter didn’t help all the time, he was good at provoking them sometimes

“hey, spider-man, you mind shutting up for a minute? for my sake?”

“sorry, sorry, just couldn’t help myself!”

he gushed to you about gwen stacy, he actually dragged you to her apartment to be patched up by her SEVERAL TIMES

yadda yadda yadda peter graduated high school! how cool is that? but he was late (what a surprise) even though you put off spidering today just for this

but he made it and you clapped the loudest for him

“thats my brotherrrr!!!”

cute family picture! (aunt may printed a bunch of them and gave them to you two and peter pinned them to his wall)

you and peter actually have a lot of pictures of the two of you just goofing off

he has one of you stuck in a trash can that cracks him up every time

seeing harry osborn again after YEARS

“wow, y/n, last time i saw you i just thought you were peter’s annoying little sibling”

“aww, it’s good to see you, too”

electrooooo

this guy really worried you bc like, bzzzz shock

you and peter weren’t equipped for that

it took a while, but you were finally able to deal with that

and several other problems

including peter’s breakup, which was a whole ordeal of its own

*peter laying upside down on your bed* “i dont know, y/n, you know? i wanna be with her so bad, i love her...but her dad is haunting me”

*you, drawing on your notepad with your legs propped up on his* “yeah, makes sense”

you actually had to tap out during the end of electro, you were hurt pretty bad

“y/n, hey? yeah, you’re okay. stay here, just stay right there, i’m gonna be back for you”

*thumbs up to show youre still alive*

but when peter came back for you there was bad news, he’d lost gwen

he ripped his mask off and fell to his knees, you could barely move but you powered through it, giving him a hug while he cried

“we...we better get home before aunt may starts to worry”

she was at work, so you two had the place to yourselves to clean up and mourn before the official news was revealed

“i should have listened to her dad, y/n, this is all my fault”

he was a mess, you couldn’t bare seeing him like this. it’s been so long since you’d seen him like this

the funeral was rough, peter was grasping onto your shoulder the whole time

he insisted that he was going to stick behind and stay with gwen for a while

“okay, i’ll see you at home...love you”

“love you too”

you gave him a hug and left him to his business, the next few months you were the only spider-person operating in new york...until rhino popped up

“im coming with you”

“you’re sure?”

“yeah, im sure”

(these are kinda ass but anyways im tagging my marvel ppl even tho ik this isnt mcu so just ignore this post if you dont care, sorry!!)

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @allthecreativeonesaretaken // @frostedgiant // @praellee // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs //

[litafficionado]

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites.  --------- Q.  You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A.  I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish.  I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career.  Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick.  I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next.  He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say.  I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write.  I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.  

Q.  You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A.  I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it.  Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six.  But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway).  There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get  Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay.  I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den.  It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a  dollar-store stockroom.    

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A.  I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.”  That has always sounded like the best advice.  And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints.  Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore.  I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning.  Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way.  I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means.  And every now and then I’ll read  a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving.  It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most.  A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q.  I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A.  I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair.  At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to.  I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure.  The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s  A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August.  It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language.  A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection).  I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.  

[yespolkadotkitty]

PLEASE pluck Ricky from obscurity like you did Zach!!!

Right so you are all fairly keen on this guy because I also got these:

Pick You Up

Ricky Hauk x reader

Word count: 1700 ~ Warnings: None really. Light angst. Kissing.

Lovely gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

i

You’ve not lived in this town long. The first time you use the gas station, the tall, skinny guy behind the counter glances at you from under his ball cap, the red brim only serving to bring out the slices of amber in his soulful brown eyes. There’s a crease in his cupid’s bow, the thumb print of a God proud of his work. He rings up your service, gives you a collection time.

When you park up back at home, you see it. A note under your unused windscreen wiper.

Autumn in her eyes

Her hair ropes of burnished gold,

Kissed by corners of the

Falling leaves. Will seasons pass

Before I look upon her

Once more?

ii 

The poem was from him. You know it. You know it because the next time you bring your car back, when winter’s starting to bite chunks out of the temperature, you see him write something on your receipt in the same loopy scrawl. He sees you looking. Ricky is embroidered on his navy blue overalls. A flush creeps up his cheeks, and you wonder how old he is. Twenty? You could cry over his perfect cheekbones. 

“It should be more than that?” you ask when he rings you up.

The corner of his mouth curves up. “Returning customer discount. No one will miss a few quarts of gas.”

There’s a worn, tattered book propping up a wonky corner of the cash register. A Poem for Every Day of the Year.

And when you arrive home, there’s another scrap of paper under your windscreen wiper.

Winter’s grasp is far-reaching

Fingers dug in tight

But footprints thaw frozen ground,

A smile melts frostbite

Inch by Inch

You fold the paper carefully, tuck it under a magnet on your fridge, next to the one you already have. Wonder what it means. If he writes poetry for all his customers.

iii 

Before Winter ends, your exhaust pipe crashes off the end of your car and you narrowly miss swerving off the road in shock at the huge bang it makes. You drive right to the service station, and like a dream, there he is, the huge roller door of the workshop open, and he’s bent over another car, his ball cap on backwards, overalls half-unzipped. Heat is pumping out of the workshop interior and you park your car. As you shut the door, Ricky looks up, and his face goes slack for a second, before he plasters a polite query on the handsome canvas. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“Exhaust pipe fell off on the highway,” you sigh. “I know she’s a hunk of junk, but I just can’t afford to replace her, not yet.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Ricky holds out his hand for the keys, a smear of grease on his thumb, and you stare at his palm for a moment, wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin. If he’d leave a fingerprint of grease behind.

You wouldn’t mind much, if he did.

iv

You have to leave the car overnight, eventually. Ricky comes into the tiny office with the noisy watercooler and tiny wall-mounted TV that only shows one God-awful news channel. His hands are shoved into his overall pockets and there’s a streak of engine grease on his cheek.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but she’s gonna have to stay in until tomorrow. My boss has gotta check the weld, and he’s stuck in the snowstorm one state over.”

“Okay.” You’re not cross with him. What would be the point?

Ricky looks from the clock to you. He probably has a hot date you’re keeping him from, you think with a little sadness. “Um, I’ve gotta lock up now. I can drive you home. If you want.” He jerks his thumb at the window to his right. A beaten up red truck sits outside.

“Thank you. That’d be great.”

The snow has started to fall in earnest. Ricky locks up the gas station and pockets the keys as the shutter finally closes up tight. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re safely strapped in before he gets in on his side and starts the engine. “You’ll have to direct me.” He tugs off the ball cap and stuffs it in the glove box.

“Wait,” you say, as his hand hovers over the stick.

He glances at you with an eyebrow raised, that poet’s mouth set solemnly, his tiger iron eyes so large in his face, larger somehow with his thick hair sticking up at all angles, and he looks so young but like he has an old soul. Like he’s seen so much; too much, and he is so tired.

“Why did you write me those poems?”

Ricky looks away, chewing his bottom lip.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“So what?” he throws back, still not looking at you. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Your heart cracks down the middle. “No, it isn’t. They were beautiful. I kept them.”

His gaze shoots to yours. “You are beautiful,” he says, very soberly. 

And you lift your hand to his cheek and then he’s kissing you, earnestly, his lips soft and sweet and unpracticed. Not that you’re experienced, but you estimate yourself as perhaps half a decade older than him. He groans into your mouth and desire skitters through you. You part your lips for him and he finally touches you, just a hand on your thigh, his palm warm through your worn, old jeans.

The drive to your house is full of thick, syrupy tension. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way Ricky subtly adjusts himself during the ten minute trip.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to help him out with that.

He parks outside your building, and you kiss him again before you leave, nipping at his tempting lower lip, making him curse, low and sweet in that sinful, husky voice, still a little thready with youth.

“I’ll work on your car first thing tomorrow?” he half asks, half informs you, as you open the passenger door. The cold wind arcs in, biting at your skin. “I could pick you up. Early. If you want.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

Ricky catches your hand, tangles your fingers. “Guys like me write poetry about girls like you because it’s the only way we’ll be with you,” he mutters, and there’s something so sad and resigned in the depths of his butterscotch gaze.

You don’t know what to say, and if you kiss him again you run the serious risk of being arrested for indecent behaviour in his truck.

v

He’s early the next morning. You’re not ready. 

“Come up,” you say through the buzzer, and in a matter of moments you’re opening your apartment door to him. He holds the service station ball cap in his hands, wringing it nervously, and his overalls are half-unzipped to reveal a plain white t-shirt. He smells of cheap cologne and minty toothpaste, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Want a coffee?” you ask. “I’ll be five minutes.”

“No, thanks. Uh, I’m fine.” He stands by the door, like he needs permission to sit down. 

You rush around, calling your boss to remind him about your car situation. He’s stuck at home anyway due to a snowdrift, so he doesn’t chew you out.

Pulling on your winter boots - hopefully they’ll see you through to March - you step out of the bedroom. Ricky’s leaning over your kitchen counter, scrawling something on a post-it note. He jerks up, guilt sketched on his angular face.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all.”

He folds the paper over. “Don’t read it.. Til later.”

He turns to face you, hesitates, wariness and want and need laid bare in those gorgeous hazelnut eyes.

“Could I… kiss you? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and Ricky cups your face in his broad, callused hands, and lowers his mouth to yours, and the kiss starts soft and sweet, explorative, and then you slide your hands up his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his thick, tattered-silk hair, and he backs you into the wall, his lips urgent on yours, licking into your mouth, and you drink him in like you’re starved for the taste of him. He groans against your lips, one hand slipping down your back to palm your ass, and-

And your phone rings shrilly from your bag. Your work mobile.

You and Ricky spring apart. 

“I’d better get that.”

It turns out to be a shitty sales call, but the moment’s been broken. You mostly manage to ignore the distended shape of Ricky’s jeans, but his face is red the whole drive to the garage.

When you arrive, a man who you guess to be Ricky’s boss is already there, opening the shutter. Ricky turns to you, his hand hesitant on your thigh. “Maybe…. Maybe you’d wanna see me again? 

You cover his hand with yours, link your fingers. “I’d love to see you again, Ricky.”

His smile lights up the dreary winter day.

*****

Special thanks to @dornish-queen without whose watchlist, this fic would never have happened.

Tagging the Pedro pals! @gamingaquarius @a-seeker-of-imagination @songsformonkeys @alldatalost @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @alienprincesspoop @beccaplaying @cryptkeepersoul @keeper0fthestars @winters-buck @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @jaime1110 @nelba @heatherbel @thewayofthemandalorian @agirllovespasta @seawhisperer @holographic-carmen @mrschiltoncat @mourningbirds1 @emmy-dandiliom918 @trippedmetaldetector @starlight-starwrites @oloreaa @thegreenkid @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @pajamasecrets @knittingqueen13 @skdubbs @opheliaelysia