#i kept mucking up the text

[rathockey]

↳ crowley + "sides"

[blightbear]

I know this isn’t gonna happen because it’s a dragon age and it would just make things complicated (deving wise and story wise) but referencing the last post; if they make solas a secret companion a la loghain I want them — when he comes back to camp — to give me the option to play as my Lavellan for a brief moment, just so I can handle it on they’re terms. Just so it’s not entirely a hawke situation where they’re completely against blood magic (why would a blood mage be against blood magic lol I only accept it when it’s to hide the fact they’re a blood mage like that one comic lol). It’s a complicated situation and I just want it to be treated as such

[dethronetheveil]

Like a Villain | Part Four

Pairing: Noah x OC (Christie/Chris)

Warnings: mention of m*rder, mention of death, blood, cursing, mention of weapons, use of weapons, general violence [be careful before you read on!]

Synopsis: Part Four- Chris and Noah reunite but under quite weird circumstances. They decide to celebrate at a party, but things just continue to go south, especially for Chris.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @ladyveronikawrites , @catj422 , @asilentsiren [lmk if you would like to be tagged in the last part!]

My blood ran cold and for a second I thought I was going to fall over, from how wobbly my legs had become. It was Noah. But, why was he texting from an unknown number and why now? Should I actually go to his apartment? Is this a set up? All of these questions ran through my head as I steadied myself against the hard cement fountain that stood in the middle of the courtyard. This was where we first met. I could only remember how weird it was, and now I am receiving an equally weird text. Damn this fountain.

I pushed myself away from the centerpiece and slowly began to pace back and forth. I didn’t know how to approach this situation. I should be mad, but for some reason I was mostly feeling relief. I was so worried about him and now he was giving me a sign that he was okay. Or that’s what I thought. But, maybe I was overthinking this entire thing. I was going to go with that, because the more naive part of me wanted to see Noah again, despite all of the warning signs floating around inside my head like annoying little gnats.

I took a deep breath and practically forced myself to move from my safe spot in the courtyard towards Noah’s apartment. Luckily his apartment was on the ground floor, same as mine, so I didn't have too far to walk. My heart was racing in my chest, and I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. As I reached Noah’s door, my whole body erupted in anxious flames. I did not know what I was about to walk into, but the positive part of my brain pushed through all of the negative muck and sent my hand straight for the door. I knocked on it three times and waited for what felt like an eternity,until I saw the door handle turning. I held my breath until the door swung fully open, and Noah was standing in front of me, with a wide smile plastered across his face.

I let out the breath and gave him a short grin. Honestly, I didn’t feel like giving him a full energetic smile. He left me worried for over a week. He deserved my half-assed smile. Before I could do anything else, I felt Noah wrap his long arms around me and pull me in for a hug. My body did not respond with his and I kept my arms at my side as he squeezed me for a second. He let go, noticing my obvious discomfort.

He looked at me inquisitively, “What’s wrong, Chris?”

It took me a minute to process the fact that he had asked me that question. I couldn’t help but scoff, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I think Noah could tell this was going to be a more in depth conversation, so he just opened his door wider, and I wordlessly walked in. If I weren’t so taken aback by the oddities of this entire situation, I think I would have liked his apartment, but at that moment, everything was annoying me. He had a plain brown couch, with two pillows on them. Mismatched. He had anime posters hanging on the walls and what I could only assume was a katana displayed in the corner of the living room. What a fucking nerd. I physically rolled my eyes and plopped down on the couch, waiting for him to make his way over to the living room. He sat on the other end of the couch and sighed.

“Are you mad?”

“Are you stupid?”

Noah placed his hand to his chest, “Ouch.”

Usually I am never this up front or abrupt, but he left me confused and stressed for over a week with no sign or word as to where he was, and now he was acting like nothing had happened. I could feel the heat rising in my face, but I wanted to try and stay as calm as I possibly could, “Noah, you left. For over a week. I didn’t get one text, one call, I got nothing. And all of a sudden you’re back, texting from an unknown number, and you’re acting like everything is all fine and normal? How the fuck am I supposed to react?”

Noah just raised his eyebrows and let out a short cough, “I-I lost my phone. I dropped it in a puddle and I had to get a new one.”

“Noah, that literally only explains one small detail of all my concerns. Where were you?”

He sighed, “I just- I had to take some time away. These murders… they’re really really getting to me.”

“Noah, they’re getting to me too. We were supposed to help each other.”

“Chris, my mom was murdered. When I was 10.”

I felt all of the blood in my body rush to my feet, and I wanted so badly to take back everything I had said about five seconds ago. But also, I had no idea, “Noah, I-I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t know. I don’t like to talk about it. It was really difficult. She was kind of like my best friend. And then one day, she went to that little convenience store, you know, on Oakley, and some guy was robbing the store. Mom just so happened to be there at the worst time and she… she got shot. She was dead on the scene. My dad and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to cope. My dad definitely took it worse than I did. He drank himself to death. So, I just needed to get away.”

I could hardly process all of the information Noah had just given me. It would make sense as to why he would need some space, though. I couldn’t blame him for that. I gently placed my hand on top of his and looked up at him, “I am so sorry, Noah. For what I said. For everything, but I’ve got you.”

He just smiled and leaned closer to me, placing a soft kiss against my lips and pulling away almost immediately. I was a bit disappointed, because I hadn’t kissed him in a while, but I understood why he didn’t feel like prolonging anything.

“Thank you, Chris. You’re incredible.”

I could feel a blush rising to the surface of my skin, “Stop, you’re making me blush. But, you’re not too shabby yourself,” I replied with a chuckle.

He responded with a chuckle as well and ran his hand through his hair,”I do have a random question. Would you want to go to a party with me tonight? It’s a whole costume party thing so I get if you wouldn’t want to…”

I let out a louder laugh than I anticipated, “Sorry, sorry. That was just a horrible segway.”

He laughed shyly, “Yea,yea. You’re not wrong.”

“But, as long as you promise not to bail on me anymore, then I guess I will go with you.”

He shot me a snarl, followed with a laugh, “Okay, I can try and make that work.”

***

We arrived at the house, like an actual house, not an apartment, and the music was already blaring and people were already puking in the yard. I had never been the biggest fan of big parties, but I felt safe with Noah by my side. He was dressed in all black and had some sort of devil mask on, and I was dressed in a corset-type top, with a black skirt, and devil horns. All things I randomly found in my closet.

Before we made our way in, Noah turned to me, “So, this is my friend Folio’s house. Nick Folio, but he goes by Folio. My other friends Nick and Jolly will be here too. I want to introduce you to them.”

I nodded along as he told me each of their names, “So there are two Nicks and a Jolly.”

“Well, that’s why we call Folio Folio. Makes things easier.”

“Okay, that makes sense. Your friends have some interesting names though.”

He just laughed and led me through the front door and we immediately beelined our way to the kitchen, where all of Noah’s friends were, except Folio. Jolly was a tall, slender man with long brown hair, and he seemed very quiet. He wasn’t really dressed up and he just threw me a few smiles here and there. Nick was shorter and was covered in tattoos. His black hair was pulled up into a bun and he was dressed like a nun.

“Nice nun costume,” I commented through a chuckle.

“Thank you, thank you. You must be Chris. Noah has told us-”

Nick stopped talking and I could tell Noah was shooting daggers at him through his eyes, so Nick immediately put his hands up in surrender, “My bad. All I meant was, we are excited to finally meet you.”

I smiled, “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you too.”

Before anyone could say anything else, a sweaty guy without a shirt on came busting through the kitchen and bombarded our group. He threw an arm around Noah and smiled at me, “You must be Chris. I’m Folio, at your service. Welcome to mi casa,” he held his hand out for me to shake and I did so, but only for a second. I meant it when I said he was sweaty.

“Did you just finish running a marathon,” I asked.

“Hoo hoo,she’s quick, Noah! But no, I’ve just been running around here like a fool, trying to make sure none of these assholes puke on my floor or fuck in my bed.”

I nodded my head once, “Noted. Well, from the looks of it, I’d say you’re doing an adequate job.”

“Thank you. I pride myself on being the host that keeps the fun outside.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Folio was a character.

“I’ve gotta run to the bathroom. Are you okay if I leave you with the guys, Chris,” Noah asked.

“Yea, that’s totally fine. Gives me more time to try and get Jolly to talk.”

“Hey, I talk. Just only when it’s something important,” he raised an eyebrow and went back to his vow of silence. And with that, Noah had already walked off and I was left alone with three dudes I just met.

“So, Chris, tell us about you,” Folio moved closer to me and leaned his body against the counter so that he was now facing me.

“What do you want to know?”

“Hmm, what’s your favorite color?”

This reminded me of the time Noah and I talked about our favorite colors and how hard he bullied me for mine. “Wow, I am glad you’re going for the important things. But, it’s umm orange.”

“Goddamnit, not orange.”

“What’s so wrong with orange? Noah gave me the same shit! What’s your favorite color, Folio?”

“Green,” he replied with a large grin.

“That’s just as bad as or-” before I could finish, there was a shrill scream that pierced the air, but no one except the four of us noticed or cared. The other party goers probably thought that was just a normal party scream. Each of us looked at each other with concern.

Just as Folio pushed himself off the counter, Noah came running down the stairs towards us with blood covering his hands. I instinctively took a step back when he made his way over to us, but he was panting and he looked concerned.

“Th-there’s a girl. Sh-she is dead I-I think. Dude, I think the murderer might be here.”

My legs turned into jelly for the second time tonight and I immediately felt like I couldn’t breathe. I grabbed onto the counter for support and I just shook my head, “What the fuck,” was all I could muster up.

“Well, someone needs to go inspect the area, see what happened. What we can find,” Folio said.

“How about we go in teams and see if we find anything suspicious. We can’t have anyone else dying tonight,” said Noah.

Jolly and Nick looked at each other, obvious nervousness clouding their eyes, but they reluctantly agreed anyway, “Jolly and I can go look outside,” Nick responded.

“Okay good good, yea. Chris and I can take upstairs and Folio, you take downstairs.”

My head snapped up when I heard my name and I shook my head even faster, “Noah, I-I can’t. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Chris, I need you.”

My entire head felt dizzy and my heart was pounding in my chest, but I knew I couldn’t abandon Noah, so I too reluctantly agreed. We all looked at one another and silently split up into our groups. Noah took my hand in his and squeezed it gently. He smiled down at me and looked back at Folio before he and I began our trek up the stairs.

As we climbed the stairs, one by one, my head felt lighter and lighter. It felt like the oxygen was getting thinner and I could hardly breathe. I balanced myself against Noah’s arm and remembered he had blood still all over his hands. I gulped, “Noah, I-I can’t look at a dead body. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“We can start somewhere else. I don’t want to see it again either.”

I nodded and we finished walking up the flight of stairs. We started searching the first room at the end of the hall, which looked like it might have been Folio’s. We detached from each other and walked around the room. I was inspecting every little item Nick had. This guy was really into fish. He had catalogs, pictures, even one of those talking fish placards that your dad would have in his garage in the 80s.

I continued to look around, but could tell my footsteps were the only ones present. I stopped where I was and looked around. Noah was nowhere to be found, and I began to panic once again. What if the killer got him? What if the killer was in this room? I began to scramble around the room, looking for anything that I could use as a weapon, while simultaneously calling for Noah.

I found a baseball bat next to Folio’s bed and I grabbed it with both of my hands and made sure I had it ready. Right then, I felt a hand on my arm and my whole body jumped. Before I could turn around and put the baseball bat to good use, I heard a familiar voice whisper in my ear, “Don’t be scared. Now that we’re alone, we can have a little fun.” My body shuddered, and to make matters worse, the person behind me then placed a silver knife to my throat. Its cold exterior caused a shiver to run down my spine and my entire body began to tremble from pure fear.

“Drop the bat,” the voice whispered once again.

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and I knew this would be my last night on earth. There was no way I was going to survive this.

“I said put the fucking bat down,” the voice said louder this time. I obeyed and dropped the bat. This only received a chuckle from the voice, as he pressed the knife even closer to my skin.

I was fully shaking at this point and I could not see a way out of this, so I horsley asked the voice, “Why are you doing this, Folio?”

[novankenn]

Jaune 1/2 (v2-1)

Pyrrha approached slowly, eyeing the young man, who was now in the form of a young woman, because ... because of some magical fuckery.

As she got closer, she did wince. Jaune was soaked, and was covered in splotches of slime and muck. The only thing that was actually going in her favor was the fact her clothes seemed baggy enough to hide most of her more feminine features.

Pyrrha: Jaune... are you?

Jaune: This is bull shit. I quit.

Pyrrha: Quit? How can you quit? We haven't even...

Jaune: I'm not doing it. That old coot did this, and I'll be fucked if I play his game. I'll just...

Pyrrha: So you're just going to bail? Just going to walk away when things get a little difficult? Is that what you've done all these years?

Jaune rose to her feet, and snarled, though the slime and mud dripping off her strawberry blond hair, and down her face, ruined any chance of it looking imposing.

Jaune: I've NEVER run from a fight.

Pyrrha: Well, looks like you're going to start.

Jaune clenched her hands tightly, and growled, and Pyrrha shot her a self-satisfied smirk.

Jaune: Like you even care. You and I both know we don't want to be around d each other, so why shouldn't I walk? Save us both...

Pyrrha: Now that you mention...

Jaune's scroll began to ring, which surprised the pair, more so not that it was ringing, but that it survived being dunked in the scum of the pond. Pulling it out of her pocket, Jaune shook it a couple of times to clear the screen enough to hit the accept icon.

Jaune: Hello?

????: ....

Jaune: I can't hear you!

Pyrrha: Who is it?

Jaune: I don't know.

????: ....

Jaune: Hold on, let me put you one speaker.

Jaune groaned as she wiped her scroll off further to locate the speaker icon.

Jaune: There. Hello?

????: Can you hear me now?

Jaune: Yes.

????: Can Ms Nikos hear me as well?

Pyrrha: Yes?

????: Ah good. Now, just in case you don't recognize my voice, this is Headmaster Ozpin, and before you ask... yes we can see everything going on... oh and hear.

Jaune: Really? Like I believe that?

Ozpin: Ms Arc that finger gesture is rude and unbecoming of a lady to use. Now, I understand you frustration. In fact I understand both of your frustrations. Being paired together, and all that. But I do feel I should remind you...

Pyrrha: Remind us of what Headmaster?

Ozpin: That UNLESS you pass initiation and stay enrolled in my academy... I can't offer either of you Beacon's assistance.

Jaune: Who cares. Pyrrha can get the whatever and enroll. I'll take my...

Ozpin: Unfortunately, that can not happen. While you are correct that Ms Nikos needs to retrieve a relic and return to the cliffs with it... she can not do so on her own.

Pyrrha: I need a partner. That's the whole point of this, isn't it?

Jaune: So she can just...

Ozpin: I'm afraid she can not. Everyone else has already been partnered. So it's either both of you, or neither of you.

Jaune: I am NOT spending up to four years in this place being a girl! Not HAPPENING!

Ozpin: It doesn't need to be that way. You and Ms Nikos are both highly skilled individuals. Get a relic and get back to the cliffs... Professor Goodwitch will have hot water waiting for you.

Jaune: I...

Pyrrha: Jaune... if we're not enrolled at Beacon, there is nothing to stop the wedding. We can get a relic and get back to the cliffs, faster than anyone, I just know it.

Ozpin: Ms Nikos is just about correct. There are a few pairs already making their way back, but as they arrive they are ushered in to the auditorium, so no one will see...

Jaune: You promise? There'll be hot water waiting for me? That no one will see?

Ozpin: Yes, and to make doubly sure that your secret is kept safe... I'll send you alerts via text if someone is coming too close to you. Does that sound fair?

==\ Episode List /==

(A/N: So this is the start of Volume 2. I'm thinking of having Ozpin more active in this story than I normally do in my other stories. Anyway hope you enjoy, and yes there is more Ren & Nora coming.)

[zedecksiew]

Hang Tuah's Footprint

On Friday Sharon and a pair of friends (Marc and Carolyn) and I hiked up and down the Tanjung Tuan Forest Reserve, to see the shrine / keramat dedicated to Hang Tuah's footprint.

Hang Tuah is the archetypal Malay hero:

learned (he spoke a dozen languages before he hit puberty);

worldly (he embarked on diplomatic missions, as distant as the Ottoman Empire);

loyal to a fault (he slew his bosom brother at the behest of the sultan, a jealous, cowardly man).

Arguably the Hikayat Hang Tuah---the text which most thoroughly recounts Hang Tuah's deeds---was commissioned by royalty precisely to reify their position and provide subjects with a model for feudal obeisance (hence Tuah's blind obedience).

He was also a hero with demigodly powers.

Maybe he was able to leap far and fly? Perhaps his martial arts were just that powerful. The site in Tanjung Tuan is reputedly where Tuah alighted, on one of his journey, thereby indenting the rock with his footprint.

It has been a venerated site for a long while:

"Some come to ask for children or partners, others come with chickens, to repay their good fortune," he told BH.

Ishak laughed as he recounted his youth, where he and his village friends would wait for visitors to leave, before rounding up the chickens they'd left there.

According to him, visitors left live chickens as gifts for the spirit or saint they worshipped, following a taboo against slaughtering animals at the site.

When Sharon visited the site last, she saw the paved altar covered with food offerings and incense; fabrics girding surrounding trees and the lip of the nearby well; the paths swept clean, kept clear of trash.

Hang Tuah's footprint is not a shrine any more.

The sign reads:

The practice of veneration / superstition YOU WILL BE PUNISHED Fine of RM2,000.00 Or Jail of 18 months Or Both Section 69 of the (Melaka State) Syariah Offences Enactment 1991 Thank You For NOT practicing veneration / superstition in the state of Melaka

Now the paved altar is carpeted with leaves. The stone is bare. The trunks nude. There's is an air of ruin. Trash is strewn on the path.

The well is naked, and silent, and green. Left to muck and pond skaters.

Carolyn remarked that it felt like violence had been done here.

I agree. A heritage, a culture, sprung up organically. A hero, wrestled by time and need away from the aristocracy to hear and serve the prayers of common folk, a trade in gifts and respect---

Once again repossessed and demolished by power. The state as uncaring cultural landlord.

We did what we could. Previous visitors, folks who still had respect for the site, had left small scarves behind, tucked into the ridges of the bark.

Sharon left a good-morning towel there, with the other cloths. I think this towel was an art object created by hrftype, a design studio; they are responsible for the text on it. "Cayalah!" is a Malaysian exclamation:

"You better believe it!"

[harrison-abbott]

There was one time in my second year at university, where I made the mistake of coming home for the Christmas period. In December – I didn’t have that much money, and didn’t have a part time job at that point, so I figured that it would be easier to come back to the family home for a while. I had four exams coming up in January. My elder brother was staying at the house at that point. It was nice to see him in the first few days. But, he also kept interrupting me when I was trying to study. When I was in the living room – he would come in and annoy me. For the initial few times he did it, it was half-funny. I chuckled along and, “Ho ho. I’m actually trying to study. Seriously. I need to revise.” Then he would do it again the next night. He would say things like, “You can’t revise in the living room. This is a communal space!” And when I was in the kitchen he would come in and, if I was in the toilet, muck up my powerpoint slides with cuss words, fuck up the text. After about two weeks he was still doing it. I didn’t really know how to combat him. And he physically bothered me by poking me in the kidneys. I was sensitive in that part of that body and when he jabbed me there it made me jolt in a cartoonish manner, and he found it funny. But I didn’t find it funny and asked him to stop doing it. He then yelled, “You haven’t asked me to stop doing it!” And he did it again and again. It got to the point where I was incensed by his behaviour. And I had to resort to going up to the tiny spare bedroom upstairs, which had no desk on it, and revising on the bed in there instead. I put a sign up on the door, which said, “I HAVE TO PASS MY SECOND YEAR AT UNIVERSITY. IN ORDER TO DO THIS I NEED COMPLETE PEACE TO STUDY. PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB.” My elder brother responded to the note on the door by cutting a penis-shaped hole out of it with scissors. And then he came into the room six times. He came in the first few times, saying he needed to get some clothes, or something like that. But he kept doing it, opening the door without knocking. Just to annoy me. On the sixth and final time I said to him, “I’m trying to revise, can you leave me in peace please?” He said, “Oh, you’re a dick.” And he shut the door and didn’t come back again. I still get angry about his behaviour during that awful winter. What made it all the more embarrassing was that he was 30 years old when he did it. He was thirty. And he was acting as immature as that. Was nuts. [Despite all his efforts to infect my studying, I went back to university in January, and passed all of the exams.]

[piratecaptaincaroline]

fuck, thanks for the beautiful answer, it’s really been the highlight of my day. there are a thousand things i could say about homestuck, and the epilogues, and godfeels and media in general. and im high and have nothing better to do, so im gonna say them!

on the internet, for a while now, there exist large and distinct pockets of Readers. these individuals, bless their souls, see the words of a text, but they dont read them. this leads to endless dave x karkat slashfics and cozy indie rpg farming games and harmless ‘content’. god, content. i loathe that word. and its not the fact that these works are inherently wrong or bad (though often they can be, through “apolitical” (read: fash) reasons); they just dont excite. theyre the easy way out, a lot of the time.

some are quick to point out these works as comfort farms and get frustrated at the creators, which is fair. however, i posit that this phenomenon, this group of Readers, is the symptom of a larger issue: the commodification of media and art. eating a piece of media is a social act; the act of reading a story or watching a show doesnt exist in a vacuum anymore. the internet and capitalism and ‘popularity’ have all collaborated to make not only the art itself political, but also the act of looking at that art political as well. this results in Readers retreat into the safe, placid, sterile muck. this also intersects nicely with the concept of ‘right to comfort’. a lot of people just hate the broken glass, they hate the hard themes and motifs!! and theyre worse off for it!! tons of people disliked the tough parts of homestuck so much, they came up with a simple, digestible story in their heads and just kept the character names! thats why i like the epilogues, psycholonials, and godfeels so much. in the 3 years after homestuck ended, the homestuck happy ending was done to death. ‘everyone lives happily ever after’ can only get you so far thematically. but the epilogues offer a beautiful, torturous lens into two Bad Endings. a story goes nowhere and does nothing without conflict, and homestuck is so heavily tied to the concepts of narratives and timelines and canon that of course the epilogues had to bring the cycle of sburbia and growing up full circle. hell, hussie/co. even published the epilogues with two ao3 infopages on the first pages of meat and candy; theyre both conceding to the reader (by stretching the meaning of canon, and gesturing to the stories being quasi-pseudo-semi-hypothetical), and plying the reader (by luring them in with the promise of dubious canonicity and then having ult dirk insult them for being a Reader). psycholonials is in that same vein too. i once heard it described as “discourse judo” by victoria, the author of two phenomenal homestuck-adjacent multimedia projects, ‘burning down the house’ and ‘eternal september’. its more of that broken glass that really makes you think; but it’s also multifunctional as a political response to ‘controversies’ that hussie faced when writing homestuck (i wont lie, im not doing victoria’s analysis justice). but this is exactly why i fucking love godfeels so so damn much. its the pure, concentrated homestuck essence, the suffering, the brief reprieve featured in the newest chapter, the crying! god, the crying. my best friend showed me godfeels, and wow, i could have given a hydroelectric powerplant a run for its money waterworks-wise when i first read it. to me, godfeels will always be one of the best, most amazing interpretations of a homestuck ‘ending’, up there with the epilogues. it tows the trauma fatigue and character growth line perfectly, and christ did you do such a good job of capturing all of the characters PERFECTLY. there was a moment that it all clicked to me, it was during psychodrama, during june’s conversation with fake rose. when fake rose basically says ‘john, have you heard of autogynephilia?’ i fucking lost my shit. it was simultaneously the funniest and meanest thing i had read, i genuinely laughed my ass off. that was the flow state where the suffering became the fun part for me. it walks the knife edge between soul crushing and euphoric. more people need to remember that Losing Is Fun!

anyways, thanks for writing a hell of a story. keep on having fun.

hello ms sarahzedig hmsnofun. i love godfeels. death hands is phenomenal. i like your torturous writing style; it makes the pure fucking cocaine of the new chapter hit so much harder. i cant wait for more broken glass. thanks again.

this is what it's all about. this is exactly what i live for. i'm so glad it hit because this was very much my design-- pretty much everything from gf3.1 on has been a series of catastrophic tragedies and misunderstandings. every member of the cast has gone fucking through it lately, and as a result i think a lot of readers have felt that nothing good ever happens to these characters. it's trauma fatigue, which i absolutely get because i feel it too! i've had the B1 solo on the horizon for a VERY long time as the moment when all that tension finally uncoils, and everyone just kinda fucking chills out for a bit. i've never wanted this to be a story where bad things just keep happening forever. in fact, 3.2 in the broadest terms is about the process of building new relationships and community after a world-shattering trauma. it's so important, i think, to indulge in moments like these when the time is right. that's why the buildup to the solo is modeled after june's coming out scene in gf2.1. i wanted readers to feel instinctual dread at dave's "yo what the fuck" and expect the worst, only for it to go shockingly well and then become a party. i want the reader to feel like they can expect bad things to happen and be surprised when they don't. and i want these people to feel like they're becoming friends.

i love getting comments like this ngl. maybe broken glass/pure cocaine is my version of the meat/candy dichotomy. no, i hate that actually, i'll let you keep that one as an excellent way to get me laughing out loud in my own room in the middle of the night. but that's the basic idea anyway-- a good story required balance. even the BDSM enthusiast needs breaks from punishment! no response to my art in any medium has ever done it for me quite like "you hurt me in a way i didn't think possible, thank you, can't wait for more." YOU GET IT. I'M SO GLAD YOU GET IT. thank you for sharing this excellent comment, i hope you continue to enjoy this story as it goes on :)

[umitscomplicated]

The Wolf Moon

I've been trying to figure out why I was so emotional the last two days, so I looked up the moon phase. Tonight is a full moon. It's about letting go and moving on, moving forward without baggage, cleansing. I have an irresistibly strong urge to get naked and get in water under the moonlight. I text a few people asking if they know of anywhere I can go do that. Coyote was the person I thought would know, but she doesn't. I can't think of anyone I know with a pool or hot tub. On a whim, I text Jaguar. I thought he might just say no and think I was a little out there. Instead he says, “Best question I have heard in a long time! I'd love to go if you find somewhere". Then about 20 minutes later, he texts back with an idea. There’s a lake nearby that has a campground. Yes, perfect. We make plans to go together. 

Honestly I just completely lost my fucking mind with this full moon. I am a very outdoorsy person. I’m from the north and have real winter gear. I was nowhere near as prepared as I should have been, because all I could think was naked-water-moonlight. So that’s how, a few hours later, I ended up at a campsite in the woods with a boy I’ve met exactly once. And it was literally the most magical evening.

He brought way too much stuff given we had to hike into this campsite, so we had to take a few trips back and forth to the cars. But on the other hand, I brought exactly as much as I could carry in one trip, and I maybe should have been better prepared. It was a low of 34F that night. I had some warm clothes, extra layers, and two sleeping bags. He brought an extra hat, socks, and jacket for me - which was just so sweet and thoughtful.

The campsite wasn’t right on the water, so we had to walk down a hill through the woods a bit to get to the water. Jaguar was so cute and found a sturdy branch I could use as a walking stick, to help me down the hill. We got down to the water, and it was pretty obvious there was no way for us to get into the water. We would need to either wade through about 20 feet of sticks, leaves, and muck; or walk down further and hop off about a 5 foot drop off into the shallow water. Neither of us was confident that I would be able to get out of either situation, so instead we just stood next to the water under the moonlight. None of the trees had any leaves on them, and the sky was almost perfectly clear. The moonlight was so bright, the water still, and everything was mystical. You could taste the magic in the air. We stood near the water and talked for over an hour, until we got cold and decided to go build a fire. 

He built the fire, and made some sausages. We stood around the fire and talked some more. We both just kept looking up at the moon through the trees. It was so surreal. Occasionally a plane would fly overhead, and break the spell for a minute. We talked about how that moon was about letting go and moving on. I had several things I needed to process still - the situations with Deer and Scorpion primarily. We talked about that and he said essentially the exact same things as what Dick Pics said, which was comforting to get the same perspective again. We talked about what he wanted to let go of, and he said he still has feelings for his ex. We also had just random conversation, like if we were any other mammal, what would we be? I said I would want to be a big jungle cat, like a jaguar, because I wanted to go to places humans never go, and to tear and shred my food with my teeth. He said that was a great answer, and told me about how he worked at a wildlife rehab in the jungle for a while, and they had jaguars. He said they were terrifying and so cool. We talked about how tonight was exactly what we both needed. It felt right. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The right place, at the right time, with the right person. It felt peaceful. I felt present. It’s the strongest and clearest I’ve ever felt that I was right where I was supposed to be. It felt really good, to follow this crazy instinct, and to end up there.

We got into the tent at around 1 or 2 in the morning. It was cold, so we each put on several extra layers. Then we ended up taking a few of them off each other, and playing around in the cold. He made kind of a roaring noise while kissing my neck, and I laughed and asked him what that was. He said, “A jaguar”. 

We woke up around dawn, after getting approximately 35 seconds of sleep. And I felt fucking incredible. I felt so alive and refreshed. We worked together to pack up camp and carry everything back to the cars - which was a lot easier when we didn’t need to carry firewood. We said goodbye at our cars, and there was a cute moment when he gave me a look and said, “I want to do this again.” I said I did, too.

[erodasfishtacos]

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

**

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame. 

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

**

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face  relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels. 

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

**

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers. 

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

**

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless. 

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom.  Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

 Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,”  Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and  Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear. 

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

 Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her. 

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

*

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again. 

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife. 

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat. 

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction. 

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?” 

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

[the-busy-ghost]

Turns out that listening to an adaptation on the radio makes me pay attention more closely to the text than if I were watching the play or reading it, possibly because everything is dependent on the ear working very hard, and so I didn't spot this earlier. However I now have questions for the Shakespeare fans (as someone more interested in mediaeval history myself and not particularly knowledgeable about the plays or their author beyond the basics).

This short section in Act 3 Scene 2 (Folger version) has Blount imply that someone named Lord Mortimer is communicating with Henry IV's government and giving him news of the rebels whereabouts. The way this is written suggests it's either Edmund Mortimer, somehow now in (i.e. writing from) Scotland, and essentially attempting to play it safe despite his earlier allegiance with the rebels, or, more likely, this is a separate 'Lord Mortimer' who comes from Scotland.

Personally though I assume this came from a scribal error. Edmund Mortimer is conflated in the play with his nephew the Earl of March (in the English peerage). Historically though, Henry IV was also being kept informed of movements on the Scottish borders by the exiled George Dunbar, Earl of March (in the Scottish peerage)- both England and Scotland had Earls of March, with Mortimer's title deriving from the Welsh Marches and George Dunbar's from the Scottish Borders (where he had, before his exile from Scotland, competed for power with the Earl of Douglas).

So essentially, it looks to me (and again, this is not my area) like the line was originally something like 'the Earl of March of Scotland hath sent word' and then either a scribe or copyist or the author himself went through and changed some references to March to make it clear they were to Mortimer but somehow mucked this one up. In so doing, this made it look like there was either a second Lord Mortimer living in Scotland, or that Edmund Mortimer's motives are distinctly shady if he's letting Henry IV know all the rebels' movements just one scene after he was carving up the country between them.

Firstly, is this likely? And secondly, while I'm thinking about it, does anyone have any interesting facts about the copying process for Shakespeare's histories that they want to infodump about or any interesting reading they can link to?

Every time I put on an adaptation of Henry IV Part 1 I am reminded afresh just how unhinged I am about this play

[duvetsandpillows]

Sebastian Vettel Fluffy A-Z

Gif Credit: @chasingpegasus

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about the other?

Your kindness. You are always looking for the best in everyone and you always put others before yourself. He calls you his little angel because he thinks you’re too good to be of this earth.

B = Baby: do they want a family? why/why not?

Seb knew he wanted to have kids with you after he saw you with one for the first time. Your friend had a baby and you’d offered to babysit for a night so she could go out. Seb got back from work to see you dancing around the living room with the baby girl in your arms, the two of you listening to Queen.

“Liebling what have we said about stealing babies?” You turned around and rolled your eyes.

“I know, I’ll give her back tomorrow.” He chuckled and gave you a kiss before cooing to the baby.

Once you’d put her down for the night you turned around from her cot to see Seb standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids.” You shrugged and gently ushered him out the room, pulling the door to.

“I dunno, used to look after my cousins when I was growing up.” He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Do you ever think about having your own one day?” he asked wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I think I’d like having a pair of feet pattering around the house.”

A year later you found out you were expecting two sets of feet to cause mayhem and Sebastian couldn’t have been happier when he found out.

C = Cuddle: how do they cuddle?

Sebastian loves to wrap his arms around your shoulders from behind. He loves being able to hold you close and press kisses to the top of your head. In bed he loves to be big spoon, having you curled into his chest, your leg hooked between his. He will kiss the side of your head and whisper sweet nothings in German to you as you fall asleep.

D = Dates: what are dates with them like?

The two of you don’t always get time for dates as he travels so much so you always cook dinner for when he gets back from a race. It’s guaranteed time for the two of you to have some alone time together. You don’t need extravagant dates, being together is enough.

E = Everything: "you are my ____" (e.g my life, my world...)

You are my forever and always.

F = Feelings: when did they know they were falling in love?

He knew he had feelings for you pretty quickly. Whenever he was home from work you would be his first thought and he realised that he loved you and no one could ever compare to you.

G = Gentle: are they gentle? If so, how?

Seb is always gentle with you, sure you two muck around and play fight but he would never intentionally hurt you.

H = Hand/Hold: how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

When out and about you can guarantee his fingers will be laced with yours. He likes keeping you close, knowing how you can get overwhelmed in big crowds so will always squeeze to give you reassurance that you’re not some and that you’re going to be okay.

I = Impression: first impression/s

You were an old family friend but you two hadn’t seen each other since the two of you were kids. Sebs mother had invited your family over for a barbecue since Seb was home for a while. When he came down stairs he saw you chatting with his auntie, and he couldn’t believe it was really you. You’d gone from being an adorable little girl to a stunning young woman.

You glanced away from his aunt and caught him staring at you so you flashed a smile and a small wave. Seb immediately had an unexplainable wave of anxiety wash over him. He walked over and his auntie excused herself to let the two of you catch up.

“Long time no see,” you said offering him a beer, which he accepted.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“It’s a lucky day for both of us then.”

The two of you were inseparable for the rest of the day, causing both your mother’s and his auntie to have plenty to gossip about.

The two of you ended up staying up all night chatting around the fire pit, cuddled up in a blanket together.

“Can’t risk you getting a cold or something,” he whispered wrapping his arm around you.

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

You two would be silly and make each other laugh with shitty dad jokes and puns but you two weren’t prank sort of people.

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

Sebastian is quite reserved in public so usually kisses your head or cheek but in private he will kiss you anywhere he can, he finds it hard to keep his hands and lips off you.

L = Love: who says I love you first?

He did. You two had been dating for a couple of months and he just knew it was love but he was worried that it was too soon to say it to you. I hat was until you two had gone out for drinks with some friends and you two ended up getting a taxi home and leaving the car at the bar.

Sebastian poured the two of you a whisky while you kicked off your shoes and lit the fire. Seb sat down next to you and passed your drink before wrapping an arm around you.

“Did you know…” you slurred turning your head to look at him, “you are my favourite person,” you pressed a kiss to his jaw before pressing kisses to his neck, leaving a small mark.

“Did you know that I love you,” he slurred back. You looked up at him in shock, just as much as he was; realising what he’d just said.

“Really? You love me?”

“How could I not, you’re perfect.”

M = Memory: their favourite moment together

You hadn’t been able to go to a race weekend and even though he didn’t show it he was bummed. You felt just as sad so you wanted to make it up to him. He got back to see candles lit everywhere and music playing softly in the background. The table was laid and dinner waiting. You were in the dress you’d worn on your first proper date together, which was coincidentally Sebastians favourite.

You spent the whole night pampering him after he’d worked so hard and by the end of the night the two of you were cuddled with up under a blanket by the fire.

N = Nickel: do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

Sebastian likes to occasionally spoiled you with jewellery or clothes. You don’t like him spending so much money on you but he would always respond with “nonsense my angel deserves the best.”

O = Orange: what colour reminds them of their other half?

Light green. You wore a necklace that you’d had since you were a kid and it had a small light green emerald inside it. He was so used to seeing you wear it he automatically associated the colour with you.

P = Pet names: what pet names do they use?

Engelchen, Schatz, my everything.

Q = Quaint: what is their favourite non-modern thing?

Cuddling up by the fire and chatting. You would sit there for hours discussing anything that came to mind. You just enjoyed being in each others company.

R = Rainy Day: what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Usually you would start the day by trying to do jobs around the house but Seb gets bored and insists that you two take a break that never seems to end. Then you usually watch a movie or cuddling up in bed.

S = Sad: how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Sebastian goes quiet and finds ways to occupy himself. You always notice fairly quickly and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight.

“I love you so much,” you will say giving him a squeeze, causing him to hold you as tight as he can and let everything out that’s on his mind. As long as you were in his arms he felt safe.

T = Talking: what do they love to talk about?

Anything. You two could talk about paint drying and find a way to make it interesting. He spends half his day texting you random things because he misses you.

U = Unencumbered: What helps them relax?

Taking baths together. He brought a purposefully large bath so that you two could both fit in it. He loves holding you close, with your back against his chest and pressing kisses to the side of your head or neck while whispering how much he loves you.

V = Vaunt: what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Seb only shows off on track. His personal life is kept private.

W = Wedding: when, how, where do they propose?

Seb proposed to you on your three year anniversary. You were four months pregnant and didn’t really want to dress up all fancy and have to go out so Seb set up a beautiful dinner in the back garden. After you had finished pudding Seb took your hand in his and told you how much you mean to him before getting down on one knee and asked you the questions. You said yes and pressed your lips to him before he slid the ring on your finger. You had the wedding a few months after you gave birth so you could have the kids in the photos.

X = Xylophone: What's their song?

Thunderstruck - AC/DC

Y = You're the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You're the lightning to my thunder.

Z = Zebra: if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

You both had dogs but when you got pregnant you got a puppy so your kids could grow up with their own dog.

[sirowsky]

King

Part of the Driving Mr. Tovar Universe

Description: King's story comes to an end, as all things do. But because this is the best fucking horse in the world, it's a special one.

Rating: Mature themes. Warnings: Major character death, angst, grief, but also fluff and comfort and Pero being really sweet. Word Count: 3737 (217 words added) Masterlist of the original story

   It was brisk that morning.    The night had been just cold enough to freeze the dew in the grass, making the tips of each blade sparkle pearly white against the deep green.    The trees were dressed in their finest autumn garb, so at this time in the morning, when the sun climbed over the horizon and bathed them in her golden light, they looked as though they stood aflame to greet the day.

   Without even a whisper of a wind, Pero could see his own breaths billow out ahead of him as he calmly walked down to the stables, earlier than usual to be certain he’d have enough time for everything that needed to get done.    He’d closed the double doors for the night, to keep the worst of the chill out, but he now pulled them wide open to let the fresh morning air into the structure, before he walked in and headed over to the boxes.

   “Still with me, chico mayor?”

   He was met with a deep rumbling sound that made him smile warmly, because it was the same one that he’d heard every morning for a great many years now.    Reaching the box, he peered over the wall to see King lying in the shavings, flat on his side and completely relaxed.

   “Sorry for the early morning, hermano, but today is the big day.”

   He opened the door and stepped in, before sitting down next to the horse’s head, gently stroking him along his cheek and under his eye, to coax him into waking up fully.    It took him a while to get going in the mornings these days, but he soldiered on.    Once he’d woken up enough to fold his legs in and right himself, Pero got up and moved out of the way, so he could stand up without fear of accidentally bumping into his human.

   He poured his breakfast grains into a bucket that was bolted to the wall at chest-height, and while the horse ate, he began to massage his back and upper legs, to help him regain full mobility.    King would always show him if he had a sore spot anywhere and let the human work on it until it wasn’t sore anymore, even though that was sometimes a painful process.    He’d long since stopped getting himself injured in the pasture or coming up with mischief. These days, it was age that injured him.

   Once the massage was done, Pero let him go outside and graze for a while, since the movement would help his body warm up and soften, while he mucked out the box and did the usual chores.    He then returned to the house for breakfast and found you reading a newspaper and having your morning coffee by the kitchen table.    You looked up as he stepped in, and even now, after all these years, the look you gave him still reminded him of that first morning when he’d walked into the kitchen, certain that you’d run away and that he’d be met by a furious Sam.    And he was still so grateful to have been proven utterly wrong.

   “How is he today?” you asked softly, and he walked up to you as he answered.

   “Same. Bit tired,” he paused mid-sentence to kiss your cheek before moving to get some coffee for himself, “but it was earlier than usual.”

   “You think he’ll be okay to be ridden?”

   “I think he would still be offended by the suggestion that he couldn’t.”

   You shook your head, but with an affectionate smile in your eyes, even as they kept scanning the paper.

   “Same old King, huh.”

   “Always.”

   He took out some bread and butter and made himself a sandwich, knowing you wouldn’t want one this early in the morning, before he took a seat opposite you.

   “Have you talked to Johnny yet, Belleza?”

   “I’m fairly certain he didn’t sleep much last night, because he texted me about a minute after you’d gotten up, with a question about fingernails, of all things.”

   “It’s a big day. He wants it to be perfect.”

   “Yeah,” you answered, seeming lost in thought for a while, so he dug into his sandwich.

   You put the paper down after another minute or so, clasping your mug with both hands and meeting his eyes with something very tender in your features.

   “Can you believe we got them here, Pero?    I mean, after everything they went through, everything we all went through, isn’t it kinda remarkable that they’re all doing so well?”

   “Mm. Especially when you consider that they had me for a father…” he replied, only half joking, which you immediately shut down.

   “You know that’s horseshit. You’ve been the best dad imaginable to them, the most rock-solid part of their lives, and you still are.”

   “Hey, don’t make me cry over breakfast, we’ll have plenty of chances to clean our tear-ducts later.”

   You just laughed lightly at that, before your phone rang, and you kept smiling and lovingly shaking your head at him as you answered it.

   “Morning, Alice.”

   Pero might’ve been a rock to them, but you were the web that held the entire family together. You were always everyone’s first call, and whenever something significant was going on, you were the central hub. The one that had all the information and coordinated everything, and today would be no exception.    In fact, today would likely be another perfect example of just how brilliant you still were at handling people, places, and everything in between.

   He finished his breakfast while you kept talking to Alice, your conversation intermittently disrupted by the two toddlers who kept trying to get their mother’s attention, on the other end of the line.    As he cleaned his meal away, he caught your eye for a second, and indicated that he’d be heading back to the stables, getting an affirmative nod in return.

   Once there, he brought King back inside to get started on grooming. He’d need to be spotless for an occasion like this.    He still enjoyed the process, letting it relax him as the familiar sensations of the different brushes and rags being pushed into and through his coat, warmed his blood. But the enthusiasm hadn’t been there for some time now.    Not since he’d lost Pace, almost three years earlier.

   It had been tough for everyone, but also not as bad as Pero had expected.    Horses like these normally lived for about twenty-five years, if they stayed healthy and didn’t develop any dental issues. But Pace had been thirty-nine years old when he had finally laid down to sleep one night, and just never woken up.    That was a nearly impossible age for horses this big to reach, and the fact that they’d gotten to keep him for so long, seeing him get visibly old and weak, had made them all feel like it was okay that he passed. He’d earned it.

   King had turned forty earlier this year.    He’d already earned his rest a thousand times over, but he kept pushing on, and Pero had often wondered if your magic was involved with both horses’ extremely long lives somehow.    If your connection to nature had allowed you to at least keep them healthy, keep arthritis from setting in, keep their stomachs from starting to lose the ability to absorb nutrients properly, as were the usual afflictions with older horses.    Whatever the case, he was glad that neither of them had needed to be put down because of pain or weakness, as that would’ve felt so much worse.

   He moved to King’s head, using a rag to coax the last remnants of dust from his fur, but he couldn’t do anything about the grey hairs that littered the areas around his ears, eyes and mouth these days.    His mane and tail were also full of them, but like with Pace, it somehow only made it easier to accept that he was now truly old and that it would be okay if he decided that he’d done enough.    Okay… but still impossibly hard.

   Just as he finished the grooming, you stepped into the stables, somehow having lost none of your gracefulness even though you’d passed the 60-year mark, and had grey hairs of your own now.

   “Hey there, old boy. Are you ready for today?” you said as you made your way to them, and King excitedly hummed when he heard your voice, turning his head to look at you as you approached.

   Something about you always made him perk up, your mere presence making his eyes brighten and his proud posture return to his still very impressive frame.    You came to stand next to your husband, right in front of the animal, and he nestled his nose into your belly, the same way he had that day when you’d been so angry with Pero after your first drive together, and he’d somehow taken all that harsh emotion out of you.

   “You look as gorgeous as a starry night sky, your highness,” you praised, gently stroking the sides of his head while he hummed again in response.

   “He’s ready,” Pero declared. “Have they arrived yet?”

   “Yeah, they’re up at the hotel. We’re just waiting for the Coulson’s, but they said they’d be here in time for the ceremony, so I’m not expecting them just yet.”

   “Okay. Then we should go and get changed. We have about an hour, yes?”

   You nodded at him, keeping the bulk of your focus on King, and Pero felt like something was passing between the two of you. Some secret or understanding.    He had no idea what it might be, but he also didn’t need to know.    Then William stepped into the stables, dressed to the nines and looking very relaxed.

   “Hey, everything’s ready in good time. The guests are mingling and starting to work their way down to the pavilion.”

   “Thank you, hermano. Can you keep King company while we get dressed?”

   “Sure thing.”

   Pero hadn’t managed to hold on to his dislike of the man for very long. And once he’d surrendered to the strangely familiar feeling of being around him, they’d quickly developed a strong bond and were now as close as brothers.    Although no friend would ever be as closely entwined with his heart as Sam had been.

   Once you were both dressed, you came to check him over, to make sure there weren’t any hairs on his suit, and he marvelled at the sight of you.    You were wearing a simple cotton dress, light green with embroidered white and yellow flowers in the skirt, which came down to your feet, hanging loosely around your legs.

   “You look perfect, Belleza,” he complimented, which made you smile.

   He still loved that he was the one who got to make you smile like that.

   “So do you, my love.”

   His suit was grey, with undertones of brown to make it feel warmer, less like steel and more like earth.    He smiled back, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, every bit as passionately and lovingly as you always had, still making his pulse quicken even after so many years.    Still making him want you.

   “You should stop that now, Diosa, or we’re gonna be late,” he mumbled in between kisses, and you huffed.

   “You stop…” you countered, which was actually an invitation, and one he was not at all inclined to reject.

   Twenty minutes later you left the house, parting ways as you headed for the pavilion while he went back to the stables to get King.    It was only fifteen minutes left until the ceremony was set to start, and William had left, but only because the man of the hour had arrived.

   “Hey, Johnny!” he smiled, seeing his youngest standing there in a gorgeous, bespoke suit, perfect for the occasion.

   “Dad!”

   He embraced the no longer tiny boy that he’d first had dropped into his lap eighteen years ago, now fully grown and getting ready to become a husband and father himself.

   “I’m so proud of you, hijo,” he said while holding his son tightly.

   “Thank you. I’m so emotional already, I have no idea how I’m gonna get through the day,” Johnny returned, somewhere between tears and laughter.

   “You will, don’t worry. You’re supposed to be a mess on your wedding day. Just a very happy one,” Pero encouraged, and the boy pulled back and wiped tears from his eyes, before turning to King.

   “You sure he’s okay to carry me?”

   “I’m sure. He carried your sisters to their altars; he’d be offended to be side-lined now.”

   Johnny just smiled at his father, and gently stroked King’s neck while whispering his thanks to the animal.

   “How’s Josie and the baby?” Pero asked, since he hadn’t seen his son’s fiancée in the past week, among all the wedding prep.

   “Oh, god… Dad, she’s glowing even more every day. I love her so much I don’t know where to put it all,” the boy chuckled nervously on the last word, but with a huge smile on his face.

   “Good. Then everything is just right, so let’s get you married.”

   King stood tall and proud as Johnny climbed onto his bare back. He was too old now to manage to bow down so that a rider could mount, so they used a stepladder instead.    But once the boy was up there, the horse looked only pleased, as if he was saddened by the fact that no one let him carry them anymore.

   Pero had stopped riding him for exercise several years earlier, favouring to work him from the ground, only occasionally riding him for old time’s sake, to spare his back.    But this was a horse that had always loved to carry people, and even though his human was certain that it nowadays caused him more discomfort than pleasure, the animal still seemed to consider it the ultimate sign of trust and affection.

   Pero stayed by their side as they made their way down the aisle, to await the arrival of the bride.    The guests all stood and bowed at King as he slowly passed them, because every single person there knew his journey and his bravery, the lives he’d saved and the difference he’d made to everyone in the Tovar family. Directly or indirectly.

   When they got to the altar, Johnny climbed off and hugged the horse, and then his father, before taking his place next to the priest, while Pero and King went to stand to the side, behind where the groomsmen would be, remaining there throughout the ceremony.

   Josie was four months pregnant, and her fiancé was right, she really did shine as she walked down the aisle, taking everyone’s breath away.    You were standing behind the bridesmaids, smiling and crying throughout the whole thing, just like your husband.    Your own wedding had been so special, thanks to Sam, but also nothing like the big, lively and classic ceremonies your children had all chosen.

   They were all there. Alice with her husband Isaac and their two toddlers, Natalie and Hannah. And Emma and her wife, Rebecca, who were in the process of adopting their first child.    The family had grown so much that they’d had to close the hotel over the weekend, to accommodate everyone, as the respective families of all three additions were obviously in attendance as well.

   They’d each gotten to choose whether they wanted to keep their birth-parents surname, back when they were still young, and they’d all opted to remain Williams, both to honour them, but also to keep their parents’ legacies alive.    Which was why you and your husband were both shocked to hear the priest announce the newlyweds as Mr. and Mrs. Tovar.    Pero stared at Johnny, at a complete loss for words, but the boy just smiled.

   “We decided that your name deserves to live on too, dad.”

   Throughout the first forty years of his life, Pero had never felt deserving of anything but pain.    You had changed that, making him believe in himself, and in his capacity to still be a good person, but he had never truly lost that hard-earned belief that some things would forever be unattainable to him.

   Hearing this boy who had been given no real choice but to accept this broken and dangerous man as his guardian, declare him worthy of being a permanent part of not just the boy’s own family, but of the future, possibly for many generations to come, did something to his heart that he couldn’t have named if he’d spent a hundred years trying.

   King kindly steadied him when he began to sway where he stood, with the sheer deluge of emotion, as he watched Johnny take his wife back down the aisle to begin their newest chapter of life.

   And as soon as the procession had left the pavilion, heading for the reception up at the hotel, you came to his side and put your arms around him.    Your touch opened the floodgates, and he cried in earnest, not really able to ascertain which emotion was causing it, but needing it to come out, all the same.

   You didn’t say anything, you just kept holding him until it ebbed out, and then you kissed his tear-streaked cheeks before you went to join the festivities.    You were the host, so you kinda had to go, and he was mildly relieved about that because he needed a minute to himself, to try and absorb what had just happened. Which he suspected you understood, allowing you to walk away without feeling guilty about it.

   He brought King back to the stables and walked out into the pasture with him, taking his jacket off now that the ceremony was over, and the air had gotten warmer.    The horse stayed close to his side, seeming to want to keep comforting him, so Pero walked further into the enclosure and sat down in the grass.    There was so much joy and hope and gratitude in his heart, and not just because of Johnny, that he didn’t know what to do with it, but somehow, words found their way to his mouth even though he wasn’t looking for them.

   “Thank you, chico. You’ve taken such good care of all of them, and even before they came into our lives, I already owed you so much.    I wish I knew how to repay even a fraction of what you’ve given me…”

   King stepped to the side and then folded his legs under him, so that he laid down right next to his human brother.    It took him a while to complete the process these days, as his legs protested the strenuous movements, and once he was down, he huffed a few deep breaths before moving his head into Pero’s lap.

   “What a journey we’ve made, you and me. If someone had told me that we’d end up here, I never would’ve believed them.    I sometimes wonder if Sam knew, though. If that strange intuition of his could somehow tell him how good our lives would become.”

   He stroked the horse’s cheek and forehead, watching the one eye that he could see close as he got more and more relaxed, tired as he undoubtedly was after having stood in attention for almost an hour.

   “I hope so. I hope he knew, in the end, that we’d be happy.”

   Something about that morning, the chill in the air and the spectacle of the rising sun, had made him feel like this would be a significant day.    Of course, the wedding had made that pretty obvious, but he’d felt like something else was coming with the frost and the stillness of the air.    Therefore, a part of him wasn’t surprised when he felt King’s head get heavier, and his breathing stop.

   He stayed still, even though grief ripped through him, unwilling to disturb the magnificent creature as this was clearly where his chico had wanted to be for this moment.    His job was done. He’d taken everyone that he felt was in his charge, into their futures, been there with them every step that they’d allowed him to be a part of, and now he was finally ready.    Pero had never been ready, and would never be ready to lose him, but it had also never been his choice.

   He cried, but quietly, and kept caressing King’s head and neck, hoping his soul would feel his love, while it travelled to whatever heaven horses went to.    He’d earned it, so many times over, but he would leave such a gaping hole behind that Pero didn’t dare to even think about it.    He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted you, just one word: King.

   You were devastated, even more than he’d thought you would be, when you joined him in the grass, wrapping your arms around the horse’s head and putting your cheek against that spot between his ears which had always been yours.    He’d saved your life, so many times. Been there for you every time that Pero hadn’t. He’d healed parts of you which you had believed to be beyond healing.

   You hadn’t lost a brother, or a child, or a friend or companion.    You’d lost your angel. Your god of hope. And it was as soul-crushing to you as losing you would be for Pero.

   Together, you decided not to tell the children yet. To let them have their night filled with love and celebration. They’d understand, because as much as they loved him, they didn’t have the same relationship with him that the two of you did.    They’d respect your decision.

   He was buried the next day, and because the guests were all still there, it ended up being a large affair. They all wanted to pay their respects, as they were all affected by the passing of this titan, even though some of them had only met him briefly.    Such was the enormity of his personality and heart, that he could make people fall in love with him within mere minutes. Which was made even more clear when each of the guests shared their favourite memories of him.

   His tombstone was put in place a week later, identical to the rest of them, as he joined Sam, Brix, Shaggy, Nat, Andrew, Tuck, Sparky and Pace, down by the edge of the forest. It read simply:

   ~Long live the King~

THE END

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Sorry for ripping your hearts out... But thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging. I would dearly appreciate it <3

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[celestialrry]

bunny

6.3k

summary: Harry's shy and you need a tutor.

warnings: like none, cursing?, severe fluff

You rushed into class, and scrambled over to sit in your chair, huffing as the clock struck 9:00 a.m. the moment you touched the seat. Why you signed up for a morning class you knew you would never want to wake up for is beyond you. Why the class you were taking was about English literature, a genre you had only read less than 3 books in was also beyond you. Being undecided in your major didn’t have many perks, you had come to find.

“Alright class, first things first, you’ll be having a test in this class next week about what we studied this past month.”

As your professor droned on, your heartbeat started to pick up. A month into your second year of university and you already had a test? This was absolute torture. You were psyching yourself out at this point, almost positive you would fail, until you zoned back into class to hear a deep voice speaking.

The boy with the curls almost reaching his shoulders in the back of the class, Harry, you thought. He was terrifying and intimidating, but he raised his hand almost every other question and got it right. Always. He was the answer to all of your problems. The one who always wore those tattered brown Chelsea boots and long coats. You had even seen a peek of tattoos on his hand once.

The rest of class was spent thinking of ways to ask him to tutor you. So far, you would suggest to pay him for his time, do it only when he’s available (you would switch your schedule around for him, you were already going to ask a lot of him), and just try to be really nice. You always tried not to judge on looks, but Harry seemed quite scary, and you were afraid he’d turn you down immediately.

Soon class was dismissed and you grabbed your trusty bag (it had survived multiple sleepovers at Niall’s and that boy could destroy anything by just touching it) and slung it over your shoulder, looking to see Harry walking out of the classroom. You hurried over to him out of the doors and caught up to him. “Hi, um, Harry?” You asked, and he stopped in his tracks.

He looked back at you and his eyes widened. He had to look back down for a moment so you couldn’t see him flush out of surprise. He looked back up at you and smiled softly. “Hello.” Harry mumbled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. No one really ever spoke to Harry all that much. People just never approached him and he had no idea why (his friends had tried to clue him in that he did seem a bit intimidating with his brows furrowed almost all the time, his body littered with tattoos, and the fact that he’s quite a buff guy, but you couldn’t really tell from his oversized sweaters that he seems to wear every single day, but that’s besides the point) and it confused him a bit. It also made him a bit shy around anyone he didn’t already know, because he didn't want to come off too strong at first and scare anyone away.

You smiled at him and introduced yourself before you continued to ask him what you had been dreading out of pure nerves. “Um, I know this is weird, but we’re in the same English lit class and I notice you know like, all the answers to what Mr. Reeves asks, n’I just really wanna pass this test so I was maybe wondering if you could tutor me or something? I would pay you of course-”

“You don’t-you don’t have to pay me.” He interrupted you from rambling on for too long because you tended to do that a lot, and Harry had no idea but he had just saved himself about ten minutes of time. If you were his chance at a new friend, he wouldn’t want it to start off on money, because helping a friend wouldn't be a job. “Oh!” Your mouth formed an “o” shape and your eyebrows raised at him. “Are you sure? I mean that's fucking awesome if you really don’t want money, but I would just feel so bad taking up your time without giving you anything in return.”

You prayed that he would say that you really didn’t need to pay him anything. If he meant it, it means this boy was a godsend and you would be happy spending time with this bloke if he is really that sweet all the time. You wouldn’t expect it just because he rarely ever speaks to other people. The most words you had ever heard him speak was when he was answering a question from Mr. Reeves-

“S’fine, really. If I tutor you, um, it's basically like studying m’self so...” He trailed off scratching the back of his neck, and bringing you back to Earth. You broke out into a grin and bounced a bit on your toes, because he was going to help you pass the final and you didn’t have to pay him. “Perfect! Wow, Harry, you’re an angel. Thank you so much,” You complimented him as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and as your eyes darted away from his face for a few moments, he attempted to bite back his smile, because you were talking to him, and calling him an angel.

You pulled your pink-case covered cell and unlocked it, handing it to Harry and saying, “Here, put your contact in so I can text you about meeting up, s’that cool?” To which he nodded and took your phone gently and began typing his name and number in, and biting back his tongue when he was about to tell you he had the same phone case as you, because you probably wouldn’t care (you actually would care a very great deal, but Harry had been so used to being ignored he figured he wouldn’t muck up his one chance at a new friend). he handed your phone back to you and you just shoved it back in your pocket, the smile never leaving your face.

“Thanks again Harry, it really means a lot. I’ll text you later, yeah?” You said, slowly beginning to walk to your next class. He just offered you a small smile before continuing the way he was before you had asked him to tutor you. Why he didn’t want money was still itching at the back of your brain, mostly because when you told your best friend, Niall, about it later that night he had said “What kinda college student turns down money?” before going off into a rant about how he wished he actually knew what he was learning so he could tutor someone and get some extra cash. You reminded him he already had a job, but it seemed tutoring was “so much easier than dealing with kids whose parents didn’t give a rats-ass if they yell in the restaurant.”

｡:°ஐ

You and Harry had arranged to meet on Wednesday, because you only had one morning class as did he, and would meet in the library at 12 p.m. You don’t think you had ever been so anxious walking into a library before, but here you were, opening the double doors and swiping your student I.D. (which had a horrid picture on it, they really never tell you when they take the photo) before your eyes scanned the front part of the library you could see. It was safe to say you weren’t in the library very often, if seeing your frazzled face as you zig-zagged through the rows of bookshelves was enough to go by.

You made your way to the back, where you assumed the tables for studying and reading would be, and as you turned the corner of one of the oddly tall bookshelves, you thanked your instincts for the first time, and scanned the area until you found a certain flop of messy brown curls hunched over at a table.

“Hi Harry,” You chittered, flopping down in the seat across from him and immediately pulling out your notes and the book you had been reading for class, Pride and Prejudice. “How are you?”

For the first time, you noticed he wore glasses, when he looked up at you and pushed the clear tan frames up the bridge of his nose, a bit startled by your arrival. “M’good, you?” He asked, no emotion or tone behind his voice really. It sounded like he just wanted you to stop talking almost, but you settled on the fact that it was your nerves telling you he hated you.

“’Bout as good as I can be with teachers up my ass all week.” You said, and a small smile struck his face. You wondered what it would be like to make him laugh. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you cleared your throat and looked at your notes before back up at him. “Alright, so m’a bit confused on why Charlotte marries Collins? I mean, ignoring the fact that they’re all related, I’ve re-read it so many times but the old English they use is so confusing.”

After your question, Harry delves into the answer, not going on an extraordinarily long tangent, but a decently long one, explaining the relationship between them, and why they married when he wanted Elizabeth first, and so on. What was even better was that he explained it all so easily you understood it all (and his voice was sweeter than honey), you just kept wanting to ask more questions, so you did.

Harry was talkative when you kept asking him questions, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, but whenever the conversation swerved into personal life, Harry shut off and became more quiet. It wasn’t like you were asking him about his family drama, the conversation had smoothly sailed into something about high school.

“I wish I read this book in high school when they gave us the chance.” You sighed, flipping through the pages to where you had put a sticky note to write down your confusion. You truly regretted not being one of those reading types, but you preferred to hear things more (like Harry’s voice), and listening to music became your ‘hobby’ instead.

“Yeah, reading it earlier makes it pretty easy now.” He shrugged, going through his own notes. “I just wasn’t much of a reader, did you read a lot in high school?” It's an innocent enough question, and after spending about 2 hours with Harry, you already knew you would want to get to know him more, but it seemed he didn’t feel the same. “A bit.” He said, tensing up. While you were mildly confused by his body language, Harry just didn’t want to talk about highschool. He read a lot, and was so in his own world he found it hard to really have many friends. He had a few loyal ones, but books would always be there, as cheesy as that was. High school wasn’t fun for anyone, he was sure of it.

“You seem like you’d read a lot, you just give off that vibe, y’know?” You said, looking at him. He lifted his gaze from his notes and you truly could not tell what he was thinking. He gave a small “hmph” in response to your question that wasn’t really a question and looked back down at his notes, gathering them all quite fast. “I think we’re good for the day, just text me if you want anymore help.” He mumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the library. You sat there with your mouth slightly open in shock at the way he left so abruptly. After a few moments you packed up your own things and practically ran after him, bursting through the double doors and trying to find him, to-you actually didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even know what happened. That’s why you found yourself on your couch with Niall as he ate all your snack food, deep in a long-winded advice session from him.

“He just ran out Niall, I don’t even know what happened, like did I say something?” You asked, picking your nails in distress, your eyes following the chip that disappeared in his mouth seconds later. “What’s this bloke’s name, again?” He asked, after chewing (Niall could be vulgar, but he wasn’t an animal). “Um, Harry. Longish brown curls, pretty green eyes, y’know? I-I don’t even know his last name.”

The blonde’s icy blue eyes widened in recognition after a moment of thinking, and he slapped your bicep gently. “Harry Styles! I’ve heard o’him. Apparently he has like two friends and never speaks, s’not hard to believe you have a thing for him, bug.” Your brow raised incredulously, and you were quick to defend yourself, and Harry. “I do not have a thing for him, and just because he doesn’t have many friends doesn’t mean he’s a-wait what do you mean it's not hard to believe?”

Niall rolled his eyes and sat up a bit more, turning to actually face you. “You like the quiet types, s’why we aren’t dating, obviously, n’I never said he was a dud, love, just tellin’ you what I heard.” You just nodded, deciding to not worry about it so much. “There’s many reasons we aren’t dating Ni.” You gave him a compassionate smile and pat his knee. The two of you then burst out into laughter and your worries about Harry faded away.

Until the next morning that is.

You had been going over the study guide Mr. Reeves had emailed everyone that morning and realized you weren’t sure about quite a few of the things you were supposed to know. Sighing, you opened your phone and clicked on Harry’s contact typing out a text.

Hey Harry! Wondering if you could meet up sometime again this weekend just to go over the study guide?

You hit send and prayed that he wouldn’t just ignore it, especially after running out last time. After looking back at the email, you heard your notification bell go off just a few minutes later.

I can do Friday at 8pm, and Sunday around 3.

A smile of relief graced your face at his quick response, no matter how short his texts were, he was still willing to help you, and you were extremely grateful. After texting him back and agreeing to meet back at the library, you went back to working on another assignment, happy that you were able to get more studying in, not about the fact that you got to see the quiet and unusually attractive Harry Styles again. That was not the reason.

｡:°ஐ

Eventually it was Friday night. Your friday nights usually consisted of Niall dragging you somewhere you did not want to be, like a frat party (he always made sure you got home safe though), or you sitting at home, watching a movie and binging on cookies that you had baked just 30 minutes prior. Tonight was different however, and you were attempting to open the doors of the library, because it was locked, but you were positive the library wasn’t closed.

A soft voice said your name, and you turned around to see Harry standing a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets and his bag on his shoulder. “Harry,” you exhaled in relief. “I was about to text you, but it’s locked and I know for a fact it shouldn’t be closed because the hours say 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every weekday.” You stated matter of factly, pointing to the hours painted on the door. He walked a bit closer to the door and adjusted his glasses a bit, pursing his pink lips as he read the hours. “You’re right.” he said simply, his sage eyes darting to the handle. You wordlessly stepped back and he went to the handle, pulling the door a bit, and pushing it. It moved a bit for him, but it was obvious it was locked.

Your mind raced for solutions, the only ones you were able to find was going to your flat, or wherever he lived, and you were almost positive he wouldn't want you in his house. You heard a little sigh leave his lips as he let go of the handle, and stuck his hands back in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet adorned with black boots today. “We could go to my place? If you’re comfortable with that of course, I won’t force you, but it’s like the only place I can think of and my roommate won’t be home tonight to distract us, something about staying the weekend at her boyfriends, but-”

“Sure.”

Your eyes fell back onto his face at his words and you gave a small smile, happy that he had agreed. “Alright, c’mon then.” You said, walking towards the direction of your flat. Only a few moments after you began taking steps he stopped you with his voice. “Wait, you walked here?” He asked, his face twisted up with something you couldn’t tell. “Yeah, m’only fifteen minutes away.” You shrugged. “It’s pitch black-um, come with me, I drove here and you can just direct me to yours.”

You just agreed and followed him to his car, which was an awfully nice black one, you weren’t sure of the brand, but as you got in, you could tell he took really good care of it (not that that was attractive to you or anything). Your words during the drive consisted of you telling him the four turns to take before directing him the best place to park in your lot. You ignored his gaze on you as you led him up the two flights of stairs to your hall, because “The elevator has been down for ages, and I’ve sent about four letters to the landlord, but all I’ve gotten in return is just unnecessary exercise for two months.”

He chuckled a bit at that and you swore your heart grew two sizes as you led him down the hall to your door. You unlocked it, and let him in, quickly walking in front to scan and make sure it wasn’t messy. You were never one to leave the house while it was dirty, but Niall had come over earlier to convince you to come to a party, and you were scared you hadn’t picked up his mess. He truly was like your child in a sense. Taking a sigh of relief at your clean flat, you turned around to see Harry closing your door and you brushed against him to lock it, you never kept your door unlocked at night.

You led him to the living room and dropped your bag on the floor next to the couch, and he did the same, pulling out your books and notes, as well as your laptop. Harry followed your actions and you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in your flat, or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Do y’want some water or anything? I’m not sure what other drinks I have because I’m pretty sure Niall drank everything in here, and ate it probably as well.”

He looked up at your words and hesitated, bringing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Erm, I’ll have a water, please.” Now was not the time to ask about Niall or who he was to you, he told himself, because it didn’t matter. You nodded and stood up, hurrying over to your kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you before handing one to Harry and sitting down on the couch again.

It was a bit weird at first, but soon enough the two of you slid into an easy conversation about the study guide, it was mostly you asking and Harry answering, but occasionally he would ask you something (that you were sure he already knew), and you would answer. It was a good back and forth, and you found yourself thinking about how it would be nice to talk to Harry like this about himself. You wanted to know everything, his favorite color down to the weird little quirks he has (you’ve already picked up on one, like when he itches the bottom of his nose with a curled index finger and slides it to the button of his nose before scrunching it).

“We’ve been studying for about two hours,” You noticed, looking at the time on your computer screen reading 10:03 PM. “I’ve just about filled my brain with enough information about fictional characters for today.”

You looked over at Harry to see him grinning a bit at your joke, and for the first time you noticed he had dimples. You were positive there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he didn’t seem to want to be your friend (it wasn’t his fault, you could be a bit too much for people sometimes). “Okay, I should probably get back home to Luna anyways.” He said, his offhand comment filling your brain. Luna? You prayed you haven’t been taking his time away from a girlfriend, and before your brain could catch up your mouth was already moving. “Oh, who’s Luna?”

Harry looked at you like he forgot he mentioned her and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh, um, she’s m’kitten.” A wave of relief rushed over you, as well as another reason to want to get to know him more. A man so intimidating people didn’t approach him, had a kitten? Harry was flushing out of embarrassment of telling you this little fact, and looking down as he put his things in his bag to avoid eye contact with you, you did not care about his kitten, and you were indirectly telling him to leave, he didn't think he ever hated speaking more.

“That’s such a cute name!”You exclaimed. “Do you have any photos of her? It’s okay if you don’t want to show but I love cats, always wanted t’get my own.”

Nevermind.

30 minutes later, and he was sitting next to you awfully close on the couch, showing you his photo album of Luna. Some of the photos had Harry in them, one in particular, a mirror picture, where he was wearing sweats and had chosen to go without a shirt, holding Luna in one hand by his side. He swiped off of that one with lighting speed, and although you were telling yourself he obviously was embarrassed by you seeing his bare torso, which he shouldn’t be because wow, you couldn’t help your curiosity. “How many tattoos do y’have?”

He moved his head to face you, and only then did he realize how close the two of you were sitting. “Uh, I don’t know, fifty-something? I lost count a while ago.” Your eyes lit up at his words and a grin spread across your face. “Wow, that's so cool. Did it hurt a lot? I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but I have no idea what, and where. I thought a small little butterfly on my ribs or something would be cute for a good year, but I don’t have much connection to butterflies really, and I feel like if I get something tattooed on your body for forever I would want something that really sticks with me.”

He couldn’t help it.

As you watched Harry while you were rambling on about tattoos you could see him smile. Truly smile, one where his teeth showed and everything. You tried not to get too giddy about it, but it was just so beautiful. “It started hurting less the more I got, and tattoos don’t have t’be something y’really connect with, I have a bunch jus’ because I thought they looked cool and had a decent meaning,” He said, and you were positive that’s the most he’s ever spoken to you. “I actually have a butterfly on m’tummy.”

“What other one’s do you have?” You asked, attempting to get him to talk as much as he could.

It worked, because soon the 30 minutes became an hour, and the hour became two, and he was in your flat at midnight. It seemed the two of you had no idea how much time had passed, because when you checked your phone it said it was five past midnight, and you reluctantly told Harry.

“Shit!” He muttered, and that was the first time you’ve heard him curse before. He looked at you, concern taking over his features. “M’so sorry for staying so long, I didn’t want to impose, I-”

“Harry, it’s okay, I promise. If I didn’t want you here, I would've told you to leave.” You said, and that seemed to calm him down a bit. “I’ll walk you down.”

You slipped on your coat and grabbed your keys, while Harry grabbed his tote and the two of you made your way down the stairs, this time a comfortable silence overtaking the stairwell. You reached his car and smiled at him as he unlocked it. “Thank you Harry, for everything, m’sure after Sunday I’ll be aces at analyzing characters.”

He smiled at you and fiddled with his sleeve before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. You were surprised to say the least, but your arms found their way around him as well and you reveled in his warmth. He stepped back after a moment and let his hands slide down your arms before bringing them back to his sides. “M’sorry, I should’ve-I just-you’re so nice n’I just-thank you.”

You couldn’t help but watch him try to stay afloat as he struggled to explain the hug. He really felt like he did though, because you were just so sweet, possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, and you wanted to know about him, and his tattoos, and his kitten, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be with anyone for a hours on end, but he’s already decided that he’d want to be trapped in a room with you for days.

“No need to thank me, get home safe okay?” You smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm and holy shit he’s fit. He looked down at your hand for a moment before smiling big and nodding, parting with a “G’night, I’ll see you Sunday.” before hopping into his car and insisting you walk up first. Rolling your eyes you smirked a bit and started walking up your stairs, turning around and waving at him before he sped off. That was quite possibly the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

｡:°ஐ

Harry was reeling, in the best way possible, but still reeling. After you got together to study on Sunday (and after you both aced the test, which you had given him the largest hug and a kiss on the cheek for), the two of you had hung out almost everyday after.

You met Luna during that following week, and he was expecting her to stay in his bedroom, because Luna didn’t really like new guests all that much, but she had immediately scurried up to you and walked in figure-eights around your feet. Your giggle of excitement was the best thing Harry had ever heard, and he had to take a moment not to squeal out of adoration.

He had opened up to you about, well, a lot. Told you how people just didn’t approach him, which was why he was so off-put when you did, and that he just didn’t want to scare anyone away. You shook your head and sat closer to him on the couch, lifting your hands to pinch his cheeks and pout as you said that he was “the sweetest person” you knew and you had “no idea how anyone could be scared of such a softie.” It was safe to say his face was flushed the entire conversation.

You had also commented on his sweater collection once, and everytime you would shiver, he’d pull off his own sweater and give it to you to wear, even in the courtyard when the weather was reaching 30 degrees. You had refused due to the fact that he would be cold, and eventually he just gave you a sweater you had expressed your liking for. He had handed it to you and you frowned in confusion and said, “Did you bring that just for me?”, because he was already wearing his own, and he had nodded and once you put it on he mumbled, “Keep it.” You did.

It got to the point where the two of you had spent so much time together you introduced him to Niall, to which Niall had commented, “So this is the Harry bloke you’ve been talking about all the time. Nice to meet ya, mate. So, how did you grow your hair out so long?” You had hit his shoulder for embarrassing you, but it seemed Harry didn’t even skip a beat when he started talking about how he had decided to grow his hair out. It was a story you’d heard before, but with Harry speaking, you would listen to the same words over and over again.

When you each went home for winter break, Harry had hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek, telling you that it was only 2 weeks, and the both of you would be back before you knew it. When the two of you weren’t texting, you were calling each other, and he was right, because you had both gotten back yesterday, a day full of hugs of goodbye’s from families, and full of cheek and forehead kisses, along with hugs and cuddles from Harry. You teased him about the gift, a book you had told him was the only one you wanted to read, he mailed you, and he teased you about his gift, a sweater with  a hand-stitched (by you) small little moon where the left breast was, for Luna, and posters of his favorite artists, because he didn’t have anything on his walls.

Today was a day of “movies and cookies, it rhymes” as Harry had put it, and you had just knocked on his door, adorned with the sweater he gave you and some sweats. He opened the door almost immediately, a large smile on his face as he brought you in and gave you a large hug, to which you returned. “Missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “I saw you yesterday, dimples.” You said, squeezing him before letting go and poking the indent in his cheek that just got deeper. “I told you I hate that nickname, bunny.” He smirked. “Oh, shove off.” You smiled, making your way to his living room where Luna was curled up on the couch on the right side, close enough to the end that no one could sit there, but close enough to the middle that practically half of his couch was taken.

“Don’t move her,” He said, walking up beside you. “She’s been crazy all day and she's finally relaxing, little devil.” You just shrugged and looked at the cookies he had already set out. “As long as I get these, I don’t mind where she is.”

The two of you settled next to each other on the couch as he chose an old horror movie that you begged not to watch but according to Harry, “S’not even scary, pet. Nothing is realistic, swear.” You just grumbled in defeat as he started to play it and just stuffed cookies into your mouth as you fell against the back of the couch.

Half an hour later, and your head was tucked in Harry’s chest, while your legs fell over his own. His hand was splayed across your back, rubbing up and down gently and mumbled “It’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you”’s while you peeked out to see the giant ant’s taking over. He really couldn’t believe it, you of all people were in his arms at night. He wished it could be every night, and when he heard your breathing slow down he suddenly took it back.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

You hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but just the other day were you complaining about not getting enough sleep because of your “stupid Philosophy professor”, and there was no way in hell Harry was going to wake you up. He hesitated for a moment, before turning off the T.V. because in the time he was deciding on what to do the movie had long stopped playing, and wrapped his other arm under your knees, gently picking you up and taking you to his bed.

He laid you down and tucked you under the covers, grabbing a pillow for himself before making his way to the couch for the night. He made sure to set an alarm to wake up before you did, and make you breakfast.

When you opened your eyes, the last thing you were expected to be met with was a white ceiling with a sleek silver fan nailed in. You sat up groggily, looking around the room to recognize it as Harry’s room. You had only been in here a few times, mostly to scavenge his closet, but you knew his room when you saw it. You swung your legs out of bed, and slowly made your way to the living room, where you were met with a sleeping Harry, spread out on the couch in his sweats, without a shirt. You tried not to linger your gaze on all his tattoos and abs as you walked by him to check the time on your phone. Almost 9 a.m., and by the vibrating phone next to yours, with the same case, you could tell he meant to set an alarm but forgot to turn his ringer on.

He had an alarm set for something, and he never told you what he was doing this morning, so you decided you would wake him up, just in case. You grabbed his shoulder gently, and tried not to think about how warm he was, shaking him gently and calling his name. “Harry…” You said in a sing-songy voice a few times. He pouted in his sleep and grunted a bit, before scrunching his eyes open. He practically jumped back when he saw you and his head fell back against the arm of the couch. Of course he wouldn’t wake up before you. “Morning.” You grinned. “G’morning. M’sorry if you were confused when y’woke up. I just brought y’to my bed cause you fell asleep, n’I was gonna wake up before you but obviously that didn’t work out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, trying not to think about his morning voice. There were a lot of things you had to try not to think about with Harry. “No worries, wanna go grab breakfast at the diner down the street? Heard they have killer hashbrowns.”

And all thanks to you, Harry wonders what he had to worry about in the first place.

After breakfast, you went back to your place, Harry in your living room while you got dressed for the day, changing your sweats to jeans and slipping back out of your room. “Alright, what’s the plan?” You asked, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to make paws. It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t seen you with his sweater on, but it seemed to make him more flustered everytime you did wear it. He shrugged and looked you up and down quickly. “I like your sweater, where’d y’get it?” He joked, in an attempt to mask his blush.

“From this really cute guy, he just gave it to me one day.” You shrugged, and watched as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to smile too much. “Really cute?” He asked as you stepped closer to him. “Mhm, his name is Harry.”

“Please stop.” He said, and you stepped back, confused by his sudden change in emotion. “I’m just joking, Harry.” You said, attempting to save the moment. His bottom lip trembled and he sat down on your couch, his head falling in his hands. “I know, n’I don’t want you t’be.” He mumbled as you sat next to him. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked at you, his heart beating faster than it ever has.

“I really like you, bunny. And I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because you’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time, but I cant- I can’t listen to you joke about how you think I’m cute if y’don’t feel the same.”

You swear your heart bursted at his confession. A smile overtook your face and you moved so you were right next to him. You placed your hands on the sides on his face and kissed his nose. “You think I don’t feel the same? For someone so smart, m’surprised you haven’t realized it before,” you said softly, as he looked at you in wonder and shock. “I really like you too.” You leaned in and placed your lips on his, about to pull back when he didn’t respond. He then began to kiss you back and his hands found a home on your hips. When the two of you pulled away, he smiled like a fool and pecked your lips once more.

There was never anything to worry about with you, he was sure of it.

[harrison-abbott]

Our Only Kid

My son Derek dropped out of high school.

I didn’t blame him. Because that was something I did too when I was around his age, and I went on to achieve other things.

Derek flunked in April. And then it turned into May and then June. I suggested that Derek might get a summer job? So he could have a bit of money on him? He’d never had a job before. And I had a buddy who was manager of a warehouse, who said he could get Derek a role packing boxes, if he wanted it?

“Okay, sounds good,” Derek said, when he was lying on the sofa watching TV.

Derek was supposed to go there for ten a.m. the next day, to meet up with Phil, my buddy. Was pretty much guaranteed a job.

I got home the next evening and Derek was lying on the sofa with a sci fi film blaring on the screen.

“Hey, Derek?” I said to him.

“Hey.”

“How’d your meeting with Phil go?”

“Huh?”

“How did it go with Phil this morning?”

“Oh. I slept in. Didn’t make the meeting. Sorry.”

“That’s no good, Derek.”

“I know. I mucked up, sorry.”

“Well, did you tell Phil about that? Did you apologise to him?”

“Yeah I sent him a text.”

“Well are you going to see him again?”

“Nah. I don’t think I’d be good in a warehouse job. I’m not that strong. But I can get something else.”

It got to July, and he still hadn’t gotten anything else.

His mother and I were heading off on holiday to Barcelona. We told Derek he could stay here by himself. And that he could have mates around if he wanted. But he needed to keep the place clean. Do the bins each week, etc etc. We were headed away for a fortnight. I was a bit wary about leaving him for two weeks on his own. We did it anyway.

When we touched down in Barcelona I messaged him to tell him we got there okay. Derek didn’t respond for two days. And I got worried about him. When it’s supposed to be the people at home who are worried about the travellers. So I finally called him on messenger and he answered, with a dopey face – I’d probably just woken him up.

“Hi Dad,” he muttered, “yeah, I’m all good. House is all fine. How is Spain?”

I asked him to keep online in case we needed to speak to him. He said yeah, sure thing, no problem.

There was no response from him for another three days, and by that final night I called him again. He ignored the call, but gave a thumbs up, and typed “I’m still alive.”

It was quite annoying because I was trying to enjoy this famous city and there was my seventeen year old kid at home making me angsty. But I kept trying to license his behaviour by remembering how dumb and immature I was at that age.

When I was seventeen I was heavily disturbed. I did all sorts of odd things to people that had meddled with me in high school. Bullies who were in my year. I’d find out where they lived. And I would leave things in their gardens. Signs, to spook them. The teachers as well. There was this mean physics teacher who picked on me in class. I found out his telephone number. And would sneak along to the phone booth up the road, at night, and call his house. I did that quite a few times.

“Who are you?” I remember him saying. The physics teacher – he was scared, but angry as well. “Who are you! You’re not allowed to be doing this. And I can call the police about it! Stop calling my house in the morning – you creep – you’re waking my family up!”

I’ll admit that I enjoyed the fear in his voice.

I’ve never told anybody these stories.

My wife and I went around the cathedrals and we dined out and we developed tans. It all ended too quickly and then we were flying back home. On the journey back, whilst we were up in the clouds above the continent, my wife turned and said to me,

“Do you think we should be worried about Derek?”

I thought how to answer. Hadn’t been expecting the question. Derek was our only kid, and I still wasn’t sure whether I’d been a good father to him.

“He might be going through a tricky period,” I said to her, “but we can’t fret about him just yet.”

And I wanted to add, just then, ‘And I was way more fucked up than him when I was seventeen.’

But I hesitated and never said anything.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Five

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3601

Warnings: ANGST, Bucky most definitely needs a hug halfway through this, bad language words

A/N: I’m flattered and frankly overwhelmed with the love and support everyone is showing for this little story. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🥰

A/N 2: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

In case you missed the update, I will try to publish a new chapter every Saturday from here on out. 🤞

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

Whistles and sirens were blaring inside Bucky’s head as he stared at Peter’s neighbor. Everything within him was screaming at him to run away. His anxiety ticked up. Could this really be (Y/N)? 

He would have recognized her voice anywhere. God only knew how many times he’d listened and relistened to her voicemail. He wasn’t obsessive; he just liked the dips-the peaks and valleys-in her voice and the self-deprecating laugh she’d made. And with his super soldier hearing- he’d learned a knack for these things.

Bucky stood unmoving and breathless while shaking (Y/N)’s hand in front of her door. All he could do was stare at her. He had never imagined in a million years meeting her face-to-face. It was like a dream. A weird but wonderful dream. 

He was stunned by her beauty as he gazed into her smiling face. Not that he’d ever pictured her being unattractive.

No siree.

It was a shock to have her here now, but to have her looking the way she did? (Y/N) was gorgeous. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, and pink tinged the apples of her cheeks.

He must have finally died and gone to heaven. That was the only explanation he could think of right now.

Because there (Y/N) was, in front of him and in the flesh, still shaking his hand.

Still.

Bucky’s stomach swooped with the feeling of embarrassment. He could feel the skin of his face warming quickly. He was just like Lang meeting Steve at the airport in Germany. An overeager puppy. 

God, he was an idiot.

He caught an uncomfortable look flash across (Y/N)’s face but continued pumping her arm. Peter cleared his throat beside him, and (Y/N) grinned wider in response. 

A dazzling smile.

“Gonna need my hand back to unlock the door,” she said with a soft chuckle. 

Bucky dropped it like he’d been burned. He could see Peter giving him a goofy look out of the corner of his eye. Like that kid wasn’t awkward as fuck around girls. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand. 

What was he thinking, shaking her hand so long?

Bucky clumsily followed (Y/N) and Peter into her apartment after the deadbolt was unlocked and nearly dumped her grocery bags on the floor. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her. Peter threw him another weird look.

“Please excuse my friend,” Peter quipped, patting Bucky on the shoulder.  “Apparently, he just learned to walk yesterday.”

(Y/N) laughed politely at the joke, and Bucky blushed furiously. 

From the stories Steve had told him about their past and “sweeping dames off their feet,” why was this so hard? It should be like taking candy from a baby. He had a rapport with her, not that she knew, but it should be more comfortable than it was. His shoulders slumped.

“S-sorry,” Bucky stuttered out. (Y/N) smiled sweetly at the apology, and his chest constricted.

“Don’t worry about it,” (Y/N) reasoned, “I just had the floors waxed.” She winked at him as she grabbed a bag from his arms.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. She winked. She fucking winked!  

Was (Y/N) flirting? Did he flirt back? Did he even remember how? He would have known what to do if they were texting instead. Their whole relationship was easier when they weren’t face-to-face. When he couldn’t see how the light in the kitchen made her hair shine or how her eyes twinkled when she laughed, he was a lot smoother. 

Smooth like creamy peanut butter. 

It was so frustrating only remembering bits and snatches of his old memories. This situation was nothing like the girl at the coffee shop he sometimes visited or the corner market’s cashier. This was (Y/N). This was someone he’d reciprocate the advances from- given half a chance. Someone he definitely didn’t have feelings for, though.

Nope. Not at all. 

From somewhere hidden deep inside, the darkness crept in. You think she’s flirting with you? You think she wants someone like you? She pities you, his inner voice said—pity for a sad, broken man. 

The breath previously stuck inside him rushed out in a sob.  His stomach plunged to his feet again, but not in embarrassment this time. This time, it was for actually believing he might have a chance with (Y/N). Thinking she’d settle for someone like him. 

He was dangerous. He was a murderer.

(Y/N)’s face filled with concern, eyebrows pinching together, and she edged closer. She raised a hand to touch him but thought twice. “You okay?”

Bucky shook his head to dispel the bleak thoughts. “Ye-yeah, sorry.” The room kept spinning. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Would you like some water?” (Y/N) asked, rushing to the cupboard to pull down a glass to fill.

Peter stepped closer to his side. “You don’t look too good, man. Yer not havin’ one of your flashbacks, are ya?”

Bucky looked at Peter for a moment, puzzled. Flashback? His grapefruit was too scrambled to conjure up any of the horrors he experienced at night during the day. “No, kid. I’m fine,” he lied. 

Peter inched back slightly, but still within reach if the worst should happen. 

Bucky saw (Y/N) watching him expectantly, tilting the glass in his direction. “No, thank you, ma’am. Water won’t be necessary.”

He observed (Y/N)’s eyes slowly widen in shock.  

“Ma’am?” (Y/N) asked in mock offense. “Ma’am?”

Peter started laughing as Bucky’s mouth popped open in a horrified “O.” He tried to protest, but nothing would come out. 

(Y/N) turned to Peter, who was now gasping in laughter. “It’s the cardigan, huh?” she questioned jokingly. “It makes me look like a crazy cat lady, doesn’t it?”

Bucky’s face flushed instantly. “That’s not…” he argued, the end of his sentence coming out as a groan instead. 

How had this night and their meeting gone downhill so quickly? He couldn’t do anything right around (Y/N), it seemed.

How could he win her heart if he was just some bumbling fool? 

Oh, god! Was he actively trying to win (Y/N) over?

Bucky’s pulse hammered underneath his skin. He’d finally met the girl he was falling for, and he was mucking up the whole thing. The instinct to flee suddenly kicked into high gear. 

He took one last look at Peter, hunched over in laughter and holding his stomach. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the kid. He had some nerve! He slid his eyes over to where (Y/N) stood. Her expression was rapidly morphing from good-humored to regret. 

Bucky placed the final bag he held on the counter and huffed a sigh before walking past (Y/N) and Peter out of the kitchen, heading for the door. (Y/N) caught the nook of his elbow as he passed, stopping him.

He looked down at the delicate fingers wrapped around his arm, and his heart lurched. She wasn’t afraid, he thought. She knew who he was- what he was- and she wasn’t afraid. He brought his gaze back up to hers. He could easily break every finger of her hand, but there was no fear in her eyes—just remorse.

“I apologize,” (Y/N) assured. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Her hand skimmed down his forearm to his wrist and left behind the fleeting feeling of her touch.

“It’s fine,” Bucky said gruffly. “I was leaving anyway.” He nodded at Peter, who had managed to pull himself together from his laughing fit, and gave (Y/N) a thin-lipped smile. He made his way to the door. 

(Y/N)’s face dropped as he walked away. “Oh. Well, thank you for your help with my groceries,” she called.

Bucky’s step faltered as he walked through the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at (Y/N) for a moment and shut the door.

He had had no desire to leave the radiant presence of (Y/N), but if he didn't, the fluttering he felt inside would have turned into a full-blown panic attack while thinking about every misstep he’d taken. 

Reaching the sidewalk outside (Y/N) and Peter’s building, Bucky expelled a huge exhale. 

“Well, that was a fucking disaster,” he grumbled to himself. 

He stomped down the sidewalk to where he’d parked the car he’d borrowed from the compound. He wrenched the driver-side door open in frustration, nearly ripping the thing off. He slid inside and stared out the windshield. Was there a way back from this? Or was he destined to spend eternity in the friend zone?

Bucky wrung his hands around the steering wheel and let out a moan of exasperation. He started the ignition and gave one last glance to (Y/N)’s building. He tucked away any hope he thought he might’ve had with her in the far recesses of his mind and drove away. 

Bucky was trembling by the time he returned to the compound. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he strode down one of the many halls leading to his quarters. He had worked himself into a frenzy on the drive home. 

It was her, he thought, gliding his gloved hand through the hair that had come loose from the earlier knot he’d tied. It was definitely (Y/N).

There was no mistaking it was her, now. Bucky was absolutely sure. (Y/N)’s voicemail had played over and over in his mind on the ride upstate.

Bucky stalked down the hallway, cursing himself again for blowing any modicum of a chance he had with (Y/N).

What was he saying? Did he stand a real chance with her? He was The Winter fucking Solider. The Asset. Soldat. 

Of course not.

He growled as he moved closer to his apartment, his sanctuary. It was the only place he could find any real solace nowadays.

Struggling with his internal conflict, focusing too much on the what-ifs, he didn’t see the solid wall of muscle until it was too late.

“Whoa, Buck! Easy there,” Steve said as he steadied his dazed best friend. “Where’s the fire?”

Bucky glimpsed into Steve’s eyes, his own shimmering with sadness. Steve thought the world of him. He could do no wrong, according to Steve. What would he think after this? 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, voice full of worry. 

“I fucked up, Stevie,” Bucky lamented, eyes now downcast to the floor.

“What happened?” Steve asked, grabbing hold of Bucky’s shoulder.  “What did you do?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked back up to Steve’s face, and he watched fear crawl across it.

His body practically crumpled inwardly. “It was her,” Bucky said. “She was right in front of me.”

“Her who?” Steve questioned. The look of fear slipped into one of misunderstanding once he realized no immediate threat or harm was coming to Bucky.

Bucky chuckled. “(Y/N).” His focus wasn’t on Steve anymore, but just over his right shoulder. His eyes were wistful. 

“(Y/N)?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “She was so...God, she was just so beautiful.”

Bucky proceeded when Steve continued to stare at him blankly. “She was a breath of fresh air after you’ve run at full-speed for what seems, like, forever.”

“A breath of fresh air?”

“Yes!”

“I’m still not exactly sure who we’re talkin’ about,” Steve confessed.

“God, punk! Pay attention,” Bucky groused, swiping both hands through his hair.

“Who’s (Y/N) again?”

“She’s the girl,” Bucky explained.

“The girl?” Steve asked, still not quite understanding.

“The girl,” Bucky emphasized.

A look of realization finally dawned on Steve’s face. “(Y/N)? The girl you’ve been texting?”

“YES!” Bucky exclaimed emphatically. “For a smart guy, you can be pretty dense.”

“Wait, how?”

“I was helping Parker with some schoolwork, and she’s his neighbor, apparently,” Bucky answered.

“She’s Peter’s neighbor? In Queens?” 

“Did you have a stroke or somethin’?” Bucky wondered. “Yes, in Queens. Next door to Parker.” 

“You didn’t tell me she was in New York,” Steve said, a hint of hurt in his voice.

“I didn’t think it mattered at the time,” Bucky admitted. “It wasn’t like I ever planned to meet her in person.”

“So, what now? Did you ask her on a date?” 

“What?!” Bucky asked in disbelief. He goggled at his best friend like he’d grown a second head. “What part of ‘I fucked up’ didn’t you understand?”

“It couldn’t’ve been that bad,” Steve soothed. “What exactly happened?”

Bucky recounted the whole bungled interaction, down to every gory detail.

“And you just stood there, staring at her?” Steve asked, slightly wincing in secondhand discomfort.

“With my mouth open and everything. Like I was a goddamn fish out of water,” Bucky stated candidly. He scuffed a foot across the linoleum floor. He could feel the anxiety building inside him again.

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think?” 

Bucky pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed to the messaging app. “Parker said, and I quote, ‘Way to make it weird with Miss (Y/L/N).’”

Steve looked nonplussed. “H-how?”

Bucky threw up his arms in defeat. His hands landed atop his head, and his fingers snaked into his hair, pulling at the roots. “I dunno what happened! I realized I was actually talking to (Y/N), and my insides turned to jelly!” 

Steve stepped forward and guided Bucky’s hands from his hair. Empathy and compassion filled his crystalline eyes.

“How...how do I fix this, Stevie?” Bucky whimpered softly.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know if it can be fixed, but you need to talk to her.”

Bucky blanched at the thought. “I-I-I can’t,” he stammered.

“Why?”

“I like what we have,” Bucky explained. “I like that I’m just James from Brooklyn with her.”

His mouth thinned as he picked at his flesh hand’s thumbnail. “Plus, if I tell (Y/N) who I really am, she’ll judge everything going forward on today’s meeting.”

“You really like her, huh?” Steve queried.

“Well, yeah,” Bucky answered, blushing a bit. “She’s pretty great.”

A smirk lifted at the corners of Steve’s mouth. “No, I mean, you really like her.”

Bucky’s blush deepened. “I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, faintly shaking his head. He held up his hands in mock surrender. He took a step closer to his best friend. “Whatever you decide to do- whether it’s to tell her the truth or just suss out the situation- just talk to her.” He placed a hand on Bucky’s right shoulder and squeezed gently. “Don’t wait too long, though, and miss your opportunity. You’ll be kickin’ yourself.”

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. “I know.”

“Everyone deserves good things to come to them. You most of all, Buck.” Steve squeezed one more time before dropping his hand to his side.

Bucky blinked rapidly at the sentiment, trying his best to keep the emotion out of his eyes. He smiled. “Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

After a long shower to help himself unwind and wash away all the stress of the day, Bucky was sprawled out on his bed in a t-shirt and loose-fitting sweats. His phone was in the palm of his hand, and his heart was doing flip flops in his chest. His anxiety was gradually spiking, undoing the purpose of the earlier shower. It had been nearly two hours since he charged out of (Y/N)’s apartment. Why hadn’t she texted him? 

Before he could overthink it more than he already had, he punched in a text and initiated the conversation.

Bucky Hey, doll. How was your day?

He stared at the screen of his phone, willing (Y/N) to reply. 

He watched the words go in and out of focus as he continued to observe the unchanging text thread. His right palm was beginning to sweat.

Several minutes passed before Bucky gave up and threw the phone to the bed. He tapped his fingers in a rhythm against his thighs to keep them occupied, only to find himself crossing his arms across his chest moments later. Seconds afterward, he uncrossed his arms, balling his hands into fists. He reached for the book on the nightstand, hoping for a distraction from the silence of his phone. 

He was inevitably waiting for a text he knew wasn’t coming. 

Bucky consciously tried to read the words on the page, but his mind kept drifting. (Y/N) was smart. She had obviously put two and two together, and she was currently composing a polite yet firm text dismissing him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was maddening!

He shoved the bookmark back in the book, tossed it on the nightstand roughly, and got up from the bed to start pacing. Periodically, his hands would find their way into his wet locks, tugging ever so slightly.

After what seemed like the twentieth circuit around the bedroom, a soft buzzing came from the mattress top. Bucky rushed toward the bed and retrieved the device. He clutched it to his heaving chest before exhaling loudly.

Moment of truth, he thought.

He raised the phone to see the screen.

(Y/N) Hey, sorry! I must’ve dozed off while taking my bath. 

(Y/N) Didn’t mean to leave you hanging!

A weight lifted from Bucky’s shoulders. She hadn’t purposely meant to ignore his text. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Bucky Don’t worry about it.

(Y/N) I guess I was more tired than I thought. 

Bucky Should I let you go?

(Y/N) No, no...I can chat.

Bucky So, how was your day?

(Y/N) It was good. The subway was on time this morning. Timmons wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass, even though we are in the middle of putting together a huge, new account. 

(Y/N) I had dinner with Robyn at Penelope to discuss centerpieces for the wedding. 

Bucky held his breath as he watched the ellipses blink on his phone. This is it. This is where (Y/N) let him down easy.

(Y/N) Then, I came home to a hot bath and a bottle of wine.

Bucky reread the last text three times before it sank in that (Y/N) hadn’t mentioned anything about running into him. Maybe it really was okay.

(Y/N) Oh, and I met my first Avenger today.

There it was. That’s what Bucky had been waiting for. Butterflies erupted in his stomach and flapped slowly up to his chest. His thumbs gracelessly typed out his message.

Bucky Oh, yeah? Who’d you meet?

Bucky tried to calm his breathing as he anticipated (Y/N)’s reply.

(Y/N) It is was something like Bunky or Borky. The one with the metal arm.

Borky?!

Bucky You mean Bucky?

(Y/N) Yup. Thats the one!

Bucky Well…???

(Y/N) He was absolutely adorkable! 

Bucky Adorkable? 🤔

What the hell does that even mean? Bucky wondered, gripping his phone a little tighter.

(Y/N) You know, adorable but dorky. Adorkable!

Bucky Oh.

(Y/N) He wouldn’t stop shaking my hand when my neighbor introduced us and he was just staring. he almost dropped my groceries all over the kitchen because he wouldn’t stop staring. 

Bucky Wait, your neighbor knows an Avenger?

(Y/N) Pssh! Im pretty sure hes an avenger too!

Bucky What?!?! 😳 Which one???

Bucky’s heart started galloping as he read (Y/N)’s words. Did she know about Parker?

(Y/N) hes obviously spiderman

Oh, shit! She did. 

Bucky How do you figure?

(Y/N) same height/build...ive listened to interviews with spiderman...sounds just like peter...he has an “internship” at stark industries...and i saw peter climbing up the side of our building once in the spiderman costume

(Y/N) spiderman is peter parker

(Y/N) dont tell anyone i told you though...its a secret

Bucky How much wine have you had, doll?

(Y/N) 1 or 2 glasses y?

Bucky chuckled at (Y/N)’s obliviousness. She was quite “adorkable” when she was drinking.

Bucky Your grammar has gone to shit, and you think your neighbor is Spider-Man.

(Y/N) grammar schwammer and he is

Bucky threw his head back in a full laugh. He was suddenly glad he took Steve’s advice and texted (Y/N). She really wasn’t bothered he’d made a fool of himself earlier. At least, not with a little wine in her.

(Y/N) Like borky, you should have seen borky barnes! he turned red as a tomato when he almost dropped my stuff...i think someone was smitten

Bucky’s stomach rolled when he noticed the subject change. She wasn’t going to let it go.

Bucky Can you blame him? I bet you’re cute as a button.

(Y/N) well obvi...i feel bad though...i kinda gave him a hard time for calling me ma’am...i regretted it the sec it happened...he kinda stormed out...i know i hurt his feelings

(Y/N) he was just being polite cuz you know- manners

Bucky What would you do if you saw him again?

Now was his chance to see where he stood. To know if he even had a fighting chance.

(Y/N) probably apologize profusely then ask him out for a cup of coffee

Bucky You’d ask him out for a cup of coffee?

(Y/N) y not? hes easy on the eyes and when those baby blues are locked on you-its hypnotizing

And just like that, Bucky knew he was back in the game.

10:37 pm- later that night

Bucky Hey, dipshit. (Y/N) knows you’re Spider-Man.

Parker

Chapter Four | Chapter Six (Part 1)

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[mellointheory]

inhaling smoke, i just awoke

Red wakes up because he’s cold.

It’s winter in Hypixel City, and even the amount of toxins the city puts into the air doesn’t keep the weather from getting cold. Red used to live near a factory that, despite its other drawbacks, kept the air around it warm. He moved away from the factory after he lost his job at the pharmacy. Of course, at that point there wasn’t much of a factory to move away from.

He fights the urge to stay in bed, even though his blankets are thin. It’s only when a glance at his alarm clock tells him it’s 10:46 AM that he gains the motivation to get up. His hands are numb and he blows on them periodically as he gets dressed. There are stains on his palms and fingertips; skin spotted in dark purple and blue. He was working on something new before he went to bed: a recipe of his own that should give the user enhanced eyesight. He tried it last night and all it did was give everything he looked at an edge of bright orange or cyan. He still has the residual headache from it behind his eyes.

Red and white hoodie. Headphones. Bag full of enhancements--the kind that people will actually buy. A baseball bat painted with candy-cane stripes, just in case. Then it’s time for him to go to work.

He ended up in the dockyards of the city after the pharmacy incident, partially because no one would come looking for him here and partially because it was full of exactly the type of degenerates he could sell to. This was where the unwanted of the city ended up; hybrids and cyborgs who’d gone to the wrong place for their surgeries, stray creatures trying to scrape through living in alleyways. One of them ducks into a gutter as he passes; a kind of modified creature with fur and wings. It’s probably been commissioned by some rich person in the upper quarter of the city, then tossed out as soon as they got bored with their living artwork.

Red turns up the music in his headphones and shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets, trying to keep them warm. It’s snowing out here; flakes of grey slush raining down. He could almost mistake it for ash if it didn’t melt when it touched his skin.

A neon sign, its glow still noticeable despite the late morning due to the dark clouds hanging in the sky, catches his attention.

Munchy, it reads in cursive yellow text. Below it are the glass doors of what appears to be a small bar. It’s a little early for one to be open, and there’s far more patrons than he would guess from a place like this. They must serve breakfast or something. He’s not dumb enough to sell in someone else’s establishment without talking to the owner first; but this has more potential customers than anywhere else he’s passed and he’s loathe to let the chance go.

Red pushes one of the doors open with his forearm and walks inside, exhaling as warm air swirls around him. He walks up to the counter and sits down, resting his elbows on it and sliding his headphones down around his neck.

“Can I get you anything?” A blonde man in an apron turns towards him, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter to someone sitting a few seats down.

“Um, yes.” Red straightens his back, smacking his palms down on the counter. “Could I talk to the owner?”

The man squints at him through green eyes, vaguely suspiciously, then shrugs. “Sure. He’s through those doors,” a finger points at a pair of double doors at the other end of the bar.

Red spins his bar stool in the direction the blonde man directed and gets up, walking over the strip of linoleum floor between squeaky-clean booths. He pushes the indicated doors open and find what appears to be a small casino. His gaze passes over the poker and pool tables and catches on a figure behind a desk all the way at the other end of the room. He takes a step forward.

“Excuse me,” a voice at his elbow says, and he turns to see a cat.

A catboy.

The man is standing behind a counter to Red’s right, soft fur and pointed ears and huge eyes. He’s patterned like toast, is Red’s first thought. Soft, cream colored fur that shades to tan on his face and almost black on the backs of his ears. His hands that rest on the counter are delicate and covered in short fur as well, except for soft pads on his palms and fingertips. Red wonders if he has claws. His blue eyes are mostly pupil at the moment, dilated in the low lights of the empty casino.

“You need to leave your weapon here.” The cat hybrid says apologetically. He has little fangs that glint against the pink inside of his mouth when he speaks.

Red reaches up and pulls his basketball bat from where it’s strapped to his back, extending his arm full length to hand it to the other man. The cat hybrid leans forward to grab it as close to the handle as possible and Red glimpses his tail curling up behind the counter to help him keep his balance.

Coming here was a very good idea.

The thought stays even when he walks up to the desk at the other end of the casino and sees a demon sitting there.

The demon’s name is Bad and despite his initial disappointment that Red was not in fact a traveling muffin salesman, he gives Red permission to sell his enhancements in that area. Red may have glossed over all of the benefits of the various concoctions he creates, but he receives the go-ahead that he needs.

If anyone bothers you, feel free to let me or Antfrost know! The demon said cheerily as Red was on his way out. The catboy nodded in agreement, eyes staying downcast when he handed Red back his baseball bat.

Red half hopes that someone will mess with him. He waves a goodbye to the blonde man working behind the bar and hooks his headphones up over his ears again as he strides out into the cold of the street.

He sells half of the supply he packed, and only one person tries to rob him. That’s a downright phenomenal day of business, honestly. He starts to head home when he gets hungry in the late afternoon. The sun is low in the sky at this point, and that combined with the heavy cloud cover of winter has it dark enough for the street lights to be on. Its not night, but there’s a grey gloom over everything that’s only faintly dispelled by the blue-white street lamps every once in a while.

Red hums along to the music in his headphones as he walks. It’s finally stopped snowing. There’s about an inch of snow on the ground, trampled to grey slush on the street and sidewalk, and in the gutter stained various colors by whatever toxic muck runs through there. He spies a patch of untouched snow near the base of a building and squats down, pressing his forefinger into it.

The snow stains red, chemicals bleeding off of Red’s skin into the pristine whiteness. A trail of crimson trails after his finger as he drags it through the snow.

He draws a penis.

“Excuse me?” A voice asks hesitantly, and Red looks up. The catboy from earlier today is standing above him, huddled in a dark green coat. Like an angel from above, back in Red’s life already. Antfrost, the demon had said his name was.

“Hi, Antfrost.” Red beams, standing up and shoving his headphones down around his neck so he can hear the man properly.

“Hi, I—didn’t catch your name.” Antfrost glances down at the penis Red drew in the snow.

“I’m Velvet, but most people call me Red.” Red sticks out a hand.

“I can see why.” Antfrost stares at the red stains on his skin, hesitates, then reaches out and clasps Red’s hand. He shakes it once, then pulls his back. His fur is like soft silk and the pads on his palms are warm enough to leave the faint ghost of his touch on Red’s skin.

“Do you sell sedatives?” Antfrost asks abruptly, shoving both his hands into his coat’s pockets. Red notices that his tail is nowhere in sight, which means it’s probably tucked away into his pants to stay warm. The thought is unbearably endearing to him.

“What kind of sedatives do you want?” Red asks, swinging his shoulder bag around in front of him and unzipping it to look through it.

“A mist or something?” Antfrost tries to peer inside the bag, although odds are that he doesn’t know what any of the potions’ colors and appearance actually mean.

“How wide of a range do you need?” Red zips his bag shut again and folds his arms.

“Big.” Antfrost’s pupils tighten to little slits, and he frowns. And now he looks dangerous, a fanged man with narrowed eyes and some goal not yet revealed to Red. It’s fascinating.

“I don’t have anything like that with me,” Red starts, and before Antfrost can open his mouth he continues, “but I can make some for you within an hour. When do you need it?”

“Tonight.” Antfrost says resolutely. “How much will it cost?”

“For you? Free.” Red turns and starts down the street again. Antfrost follows a few feet behind.

“Are you sure?” The cat hybrid asks.

“Of course I am. Your boss did me a favor, so I’ll pay it forward.” Red glances back at him. “I can make that in half an hour, if you don’t mind waiting at my place till it’s done.”

“That’s not a problem.” Ant puts his hood up. His ears make little points in the top of the fabric.

Red’s apartment is only a few minutes away, but it’s long enough for his hands to get numb. His headphones double as earmuffs, so he puts them back on as they walk to keep his ears from getting cold. He’s thankful for when they finally make it up the stairs to the small, three room apartment that he calls home.

Damn, not even the first date and Antfrost has already come home with him.

Red fumbles with his keys and unlocks the door with cold fingers, kicking it open and nodding at Antfrost to go inside. He pries the keys out of the lock and closes the door behind them, exhaling. He doesn’t have heating, but the walls and insulation make it at least a little bit warmer than outside, and as soon as he starts cooking what Antfrost has asked for, it’ll heat up in here.

The front door opens directly to the small tiled kitchen that Red uses almost exclusively for manufacturing. The counters are occupied by synthesis stands and bunsen burners, and the open cupboards are full of jars of multicolored chemicals. Red sets his bag on the ground and rolls up his hoodie sleeves, nudging his chin at Antfrost. “Can you pull the pots out of that and put them in the fridge?”

Antfrost nods, turning around from where he was ogling the liquid-filled glass on Red’s shelves. Red slips past him and reaches up, pulling down four different bottles and putting them on the counter. This is a simple recipe, it shouldn’t take him long. He starts the blue flame of the burner and holds his hands over it, letting his numbed fingers warm up.

“How large of a radius do you need this to cover?” Red swirls a vial of zolazepam hydrochloride, then checks the temperature of the flame and turns it down slightly.

“I don’t know, big?” Antfrost rests his elbows on the counter, staring at the swirls of bubbles in the depths of the liquid. “Like, small stadium sized.”

Red whistles, sloshing tiletamine into one of the vials in the synthesis stand. Some of it splashes on his fingers, adding to the stains on his skin. He doesn’t mind. Antfrost is definitely planning something very, very interesting tonight. Hopefully no one can trace the origins of the sedative back to Red. He adds a few more chemicals to another vial, caps them both, and presses a button to start the process. He puts a few pumps of nitrous oxide into the mixing chamber.

“It’s like a cock-fighting ring,” Antfrost bursts out.

“You mean a strip club?” Red raises an eyebrow.

“Wh--no.” Antfrost blinks. Pauses. Gathers his words again. He’s cute when he’s flustered. “It’s like a pit where they get genetically modded animals to fight and bet on it. They have a bunch of chimeras trapped in there.”

“So you want to get them out, huh?” Red turns a valve and watches as the two vials mix, emerald green and golden liquid swirling together.

Antfrost nods.

“Why tonight?”

“They keep them all locked up except for the fights.” Antfrost explains. His ears flatten back against his head as he speaks. “But they’ll all be out in their cages tonight. So if I can knock the entire place unconscious…”

“You can get them out.” Red finishes. “What are you gonna do with them after? Keep them in your basement?”

“Drive them to the edge of the city and let them out.” Ant’s tail has slipped free from wherever he was hiding it, and Red is so distracted by its back-and-forth swishing that he almost forgets to turn down the flame exactly when the mixture is boiling at 211° Fahrenheit.

Antfrost wants to be a hero.

Red grew up in the bowels of Hypixel City, pinching pennies like his parents taught him to. He only stayed off the streets due to an unusually high tolerance for chemicals that landed him a job at a pharmacy, mixing drugs for addicts trying to get their fix through the guise of medicine. He’s experienced with cynicism, with people busy deciding something wasn’t their problem simply because they didn’t have the strength to care. And here was this hybrid man, planning an optimistic rescue mission just because he knew animals were being hurt and it made him sad.

Kindness. Red wonders when it became something unfamiliar to him.

The liquid he’s mixed evaporates into a faint yellow mist that he splits into three different vials. He caps them and lines them up on the counter. Antfrost reaches for the one still under Red’s hand and, impulsively, he slides it farther away from the hybrid’s grasp.

“I’m coming.” Red declares. Antfrost looks up, pupils dilating and expanding to make his blue eyes suddenly seem three times bigger. Fuck, that’s cute.

“Are you sure?” He asks, screwing up his face.

“Absolutely.” Red nods.

“Can you fight at all?” Antfrost steps back and gives Red a once-over.

“I don’t carry a baseball bat around just because it makes me look sexy.” Red reminds him.

“Okay, sure,” Antfrost says doubtfully.

“When do we leave?”

Antfrost looks around for a clock on the walls, turning in a slow circle and finding none. Red shakes his sleeve back from his wrist and holds his arm out to let the hybrid read the time. It’s 5:43 in the afternoon.

“I have to get back to Bad’s bar and work.” Antfrost yanks his hood back up over his head. “But I’ll come get you around midnight, if you’re still up for it.”

Red leans against the wall to let him pass. “I will be.”

Antfrost casts a glance over his shoulder, eyes glowing faint blue from the inside of his hood. “Are you sure? You really, actually want to help?”

“Don’t have a reason not to.” Red shrugs.

There’s a long silence, then Antfrost finally says a soft thank you and leaves.