#i'm gonna be honest the first half sentence of that ask had me thinking this would go in a way more dramatic direction

[batsplat]

Hi, I hope you are having a good to/will have a good day!

This is kind of of a drama stirring ask, but I was reading your post on your favorite riders on the current grid and you mentioned that you became fond of all the 2019 rookies except one of them. I was just wondering if there is any specific reason for that? Not a fan or a hater of that one rider just unfortunately overly curious sometimes, feel free to ignore this ask if you do not feel comfortable answering it.

I also just wanted to mention that I love the way you described Fabio in that post as a sad Frenchie because I immediately pictured a sad French bulldog and somehow that felt completely fitting. And I also laughed so hard when I read the part about about how Joan looked like he was so scared that Marc was going to eat him.

My favorite part of the post though was when you were talking about Pecco's super up and down performance and wrote something like Ok you won. but? why? were? you? in 13th? to begin? with? I don't know if this was what you were going for but the disappointed, but not surprised scolding parent tone I got from it was immaculate. I really hope next year Pecco remembers he has a backbone because if the vibes at Ducati are not rancid what even it the point?

oh tbh there's no real story there!! idm answering but i also don't have a great answer... it's just which ones of them personally caught my eye. early 2019 was a time when i was gradually reestablishing friendly relations with my primary sport and watching motogp was just hoping for... well, not a complete changing of the guard, exactly, because i like marc a lot more than i do the dominant athletes in said other sport. but some competition, some tension. the dovi rivalry kinda felt like it had run its course at some point in 2018 when it became pretty clear dovi probably wasn't ever going to match his 2017 challenge, let alone go one step further. valentino was increasingly washed + the 2018 yamaha was so mediocre that a lot of his very respectable efforts felt like an exercise in futility - and the vinales experiment is one that i'd also given up on at some point that year. (kinda ironic given where yamaha's next champion came from but tennis fans will know what i mean when i say i always referred to vinales as having a case of 'french brain'. actually was worried fabio might have a severe case of french brain until he won the title.) i had basically zero hopes for honda!jorge panning out, like it was conceptually fun (as casey said, get out the popcorn) but also we'd literally just seen jorge take over a year to even begin to adapt to a bike that didn't seem quite as unfriendly as the honda. also, he'd been injured for much of late 2018... idk kinda felt his time was up

which is a pretty dire competitive picture. like the racing was still good, a lot better than it is now, but it was also... this isn't a marc thing, i'm just not really the type of person who can enjoy winning for winning's sake. i do need a story. it all felt a bit depressing, also interpersonally - marc/valentino continued to be the main source of tension but it also meant marc wasn't really doing anything interesting with anyone else on the grid. the dovi relationship is like... civil, but nothing more than that, so mainly it really is just marc giving the side of valentino's scalp a thorough examination once a week. not really the web of intricate interpersonal relations + conflict of the alien era, is it. or guys in the early to mid noughties actually LIKING each other and HANGING OUT and a bit more of an interesting dynamic because you feel like these blokes have actual relationships with each other. dovi/marc as a rivalry is practically designed to make me feel a bit morose and irritable... and dovi came across as a little too resigned to his fate, jorge/dovi teammates was also taken away from me, and it already felt pretty clear marc wasn't going to leave honda when his next contract expired. (not that i thought he'd sign for another FOUR YEARS, obviously that didn't go like anyone was expecting but i can't say i was particularly thrilled at that announcement.) i had a bit of hope for alex rins but also i hadn't really seen THAT much from him. zarco-caused narrative juice also felt like very much a 2017 thing. morbidelli pretty meh rookie season, iannone experiment felt over, miller experiment felt over... you get the spirit

and basically at this point i wasn't looking at the 2019 rookies primarily in terms of personality, it was literally just an evaluation of whether one of these bozos could please, please, please give marc a proper challenge. from those, pecco was obviously the immediately eye-catching one - had just put together an impressive moto2 campaign, then rocked up and had an excellent pre-season testing. i wasn't like... completely sold, because tennis-pilled brain does at a certain point make you think that unless you're already breaking lap records as a toddler, it's probably not going to pan out for you. but obviously i was theoretically interested in a valentino protege going up against marc, and pecco had built up enough positive credit in my bank that i was willing to forgive a lot in 2019. (muttering to myself 'casey crashed a lot too, casey crashed a lot too, casey crashed a lot too' every time a rookie is driving me insane.) mir had quite an eye-catching first ride on the suzuki iirc... also obviously had that moto3 title going for him. i vaguely remember injury eventually just sort of fucking him over in his rookie season? and quartararo... obviously wasn't REALLY on my radar, like I knew about the pre-moto3 resume which did actually play into my 'breaking lap records as a toddler' bias. but also obviously he was the standout that season, like he was properly exciting... and also just the little things, how frustrated he was after losing to marc or when marc was pissing about in sepang qualifying. made you hope we could get something going there. oliveira just went under the radar a bit for me,, like this wasn't entirely FAIR because given machinery differences i would defo say he had a better rookie season than pecco and had run pecco pretty close in 2018. but also i'd also been supporting pecco for the moto2 title the previous year lol, not with all THAT much investment but he was a fun kid idk. so sometimes you just get to a point where you get used to rooting against someone. generally you'll already have an opinion on blokes before they even get to motogp, right

and yeah, genuine affection for these guys developed the following years... i mean, fabio only REALLY got me in 2020 when i was watching him throw his title bid away. and mir grew on me ever more as the suzuki project went down the drain. bagnaia actually has this fantastic quality that allows me to root for him, where every time i go 'hm he's winning too much' he puts the fear of god back into me. like i had this moment during qatar this year where i was like... idk, come on. and then obviously he's taking me on such a great rollercoaster ride and by the end of the season i'd basically never been more invested. i actually have quite possibly the worst type of sports fan brain - runner-up brain. i root for people who come close to winning but can't quite make it. my history as a sports fan is littered with these second tier athletes you can be delusional about but will never actually make you happy. and what i've discovered following motogp is that apparently this even extends to liking the guys i like less when they're winning and more when they're losing. the problem with this is that it's a recipe to always being miserable, which. well. it is what it is. luckily i'm not THAT emotionally invested in motogp, like if i'm not enjoying it i can just stop watching for a while lol and i'll be free of it. it's not that serious

so that's it tbh!! i don't even particularly dislike oliveira - his luck has been abysmal with aprilia and i do feel quite sorry for him throughout all that. yamaha will do him well i reckon (might be a crazy thing to say but yamaha is my team and i have decided to sniff the #hopium, idk i think we might actually be cooking). there ARE some riders i root against, oliveira is not one of them. i feel decidedly neutral towards him. also whatever casey might think about portugal being a province of spain, it's always good to have an extra nationality on the grid. he seems like a bit of a character, like sometimes i see a quote from him that makes me raise an eyebrow and i like raising an eyebrow. but also... his profile of rider is 'guy who can do incredible things on his day but disappears for months at a time', which has just never been the type of athlete i go for. (i think this is actually the main reason, like it's an aggravating pattern of results to me personally that always makes me go 'maybe do this more often?????') i'm way more about the #grinders and the guys who worry away at getting better for years and years and still eventually come up short. anyway, glad you liked the descriptions of fabio and mir lol, apparently i really will bring up that mir clip at any excuse

on pecco, i DO stand by the gags i made in the post probably maybe,, but also i have adjusted a little in response to just how wild the discourse around him gets... like i don't see much of it anymore because i practise #contentcuration but i know it's out there!! ultimately the ways in which he's frustrating push all my buttons, and also (controversial opinion) i do think he actually cleaned up his act in some regards, just everyone's upped their level this year. it's partly the gp24 but jorge + pecco's qualifying record this year has genuinely been so impressive to me, like there's so many fp1's i half followed and went 'hm another q1 excursion for mr bagnaia do we think' before seeing he'd figured it out late in... what's it called now, practise? awful nomenclature. i also did not post this because at a certain point you just have to give up and move on, but i calculated the error rate of each title winner and runner-up this century (where 'error' is strictly defined as any crash that was not CLEARLY caused by an external factor, so racing incidents like with marquez x2 counted but not binder at jerez sprint)... and again. it's six for pecco from forty bloody races. divide that by two (even though twenty races still longer than most seasons historically) and you're already at a considerably less apocalyptic three, which you don't need to do any fancy calculations with to know isn't a historical aberration. what it comes out as is... fine. it's fine. both marc and valentino have won titles with a higher percentage rate of error (and even there you're sometimes being generous - counting casey's laguna 2008 misadventure as an error and not whatever tf marc was up to in argentina 2018 feels quite unfair, but you need clear criteria y'know)... it's just a narrative that has completely gotten away from reality and it's a bit annoying. i also think ultimately sometimes you are punished more for relatively minor missteps, like both marquez brother incidents are 60:40-ish things either way that pecco probably shouldn't have gotten himself involved in... but the punishment doesn't quite befit the crime. and jorge likewise sometimes just got a bit lucky, like marc crashing out right ahead of him in thailand and giving him the warning he needed. it's such a long season, all these things add up, and sometimes... sometimes things just shake out a certain way. pecco likely lost more than ten points cumulatively through incidents that were 100% not his fault, jorge put together an extremely impressive season on a satellite bike and is very deserving of the title. idk stuff like this is so completely pointless because you might as well be arguing with the wall, like people just enjoy a certain pecco narrative at this point and it's not going to change so. no point arguing about this any further. but that's where i stand on THAT

and yeah i feel like i was quite optimistic about next season like... halfway through the year, but tbh. i'm not feeling it at the minute. i mean i've barely thought about it, all the time i have available thinking about motogp has really just been about the old stuff. which is such a rich text that i'm never REALLY going to complain about motogp, like at the end of the day i do enjoy following it *as a sport* and it is just so extremely extremely unlikely that we ever get anything that lives up to the old stuff. did you know that one guy put a curse on another guy?? it's crazy. so yeah, whatever, it's a different landscape now. competitively i am a little worried we're in for '2018 but with worse racing', which is unfair to pecco - he's a better, more well-rounded rider than dovi ever was facing off against a different version of marc. but i kinda feel like you NEED a decent title fight in this era to sustain your interest, like i'm not tuning in for the racing am i. which was the case in 2017-19!! but unfortunately we're keeping the shitty michelin front for another year, which just means that it's going to be monumentally hard for those two to actually put on extended duel. it's not their FAULT, it's just the limitations of the current series. i do hope we're going to get *one* proper proper duel... but the problem with marc is that it also takes quite specific circumstances for that to even matter - either you need to repeatedly beat him to start fraying at his nerves (see mid-2019 pre-misano) or your name needs to be valentino rossi. otherwise he can mostly accept that the relentless pace will be what wins him the title and you have duels that feel quite disconnected from the storyline of the season, which was historically the problem with the marc/dovi duels. they're fun in the moment!! it's good racing!! but it's also a bit... you know, these duels don't necessarily all stick in the mind the same way because they don't each come with their own story. austria 2017 vs austria 2019 just aren't the same level of distinctive as brno 2003 vs brno 2005, right. i will say both proper marc/pecco duels, aragon 2021 and jerez 2024, have been distinctive and memorable and interesting - so we'll see!! you could be in for a great duel at *checks notes* mugello or assen, but that would mean pecco's probably in quite a lot of trouble that season... catalunya, jerez, qatar. those are the ones i am eyeing anyway

and the other bit of the equation is interpersonal tension, which i am also not super optimistic on. i will be a bit disappointed in both of them icl, but it does feel a bit like we're headed to... vaguely tense but also kinda muted coexistence. the problem is marc isn't going to engage with this stuff unless he absolutely has to, and pecco is so extremely committed to his stance that he wants to be a good sportsman, fair and respectful and all that shit. they're both extremely motivated to downplay any potential tension because marc's calculation is that, all other things remaining equal, he will beat pecco - and pecco just does not want the drama. unfortunately as we've already seen this year, people just cannot be normal about any tension between the two of them either, like it's just also not a media environment where guys can just say shit about each other. casey *probably* accused jorge of faking injuries severe enough they put jorge in a wheelchair back in the day, and i'm not saying that's GOOD or what we should be aiming for, but also can you imagine the equivalent outcry over something like that today?? (this is now the fifth unsolicited mention of casey in an ask response about current motogp, if anyone's counting.) and both pecco and marc are aware of that, and they also know that if they blink at each other wrong, some fans will completely lose their minds... it's just not really worth it. you always kinda hope the natural tension caused by being teammates will get something going... but yeah, idk man, sometimes you just need to be ready for disappointment. and pecco DOES need to actually challenge marc because otherwise obviously you're not getting any proper tension. literally no point in feuding if the competitive stakes aren't there, you need to be a real master of the craft to pull that sort of thing off

anyway that's all from me!! idm asks like this, i love talking about my opinions on stuff lol. we might be in for 1-2 quite disappointing seasons but hopefully the racing will get better again and the competitive picture a bit more lively. thing is i do LIKE 1v1 title fights in theory but i think then you do need a proper compelling interpersonal narrative to pull it off. otherwise the best ones are the 2006/2017 type free-for-all's. and obviously i still think pecco and marc have all the building blocks there for something fun, and individually i clearly care a lot about both of them... they're both just quite self-contained characters? they're never going to get close for obvious reasons but they also don't want to rock the boat too much. idk i feel like we might be missing a bit of an instigator in the jorge/valentino tradition, or someone who's casey-levels of tightly strung they make it easy to provoke them. which is obviously why i'm hoping pedro will eventually come through for me, though i'd prefer it if he weren't currently tied to bankruptcy enterprises. ah well, we'll see

[solitaryandwandering]

A Ramble: Love in the Big City Eps 1-2

I just watched episode 2 of Love in the Big City and I am... reeling. Cried when Kim Nam Gyu died, when Yeong and Mi Rae sang together at the wedding, cried at the crushing ending line. I loved the direction in these two episodes; one of the reasons I was super excited to watch this was because they're switching up the directors for each part. Such a cool way to signal transitions in Yeong's life. Now that I've seen the caliber Son Tae Gyum operated at I'm intrigued to see how direction will affect the next parts. Maybe I'll write up a thing about that in the end, but I'm hopeful others will as well! I am chomping at the bit to read the book, seriously!!

I have to mention first what a BALLSY move it was for them to open on Yeong's tryst with a man who was cheating on someone currently in the military. And he walks in the door, STILL IN UNIFORM. What a fucking slap in the face to hegemonic masculinity!!

After this first part what I am really lingering on are two things: queer loneliness and heteronormativity's relationship to misogyny. I'm just gonna put down my half-baked thoughts, I don't have the time or spoons to formulate coherent sentences haha

Though I saw Nam Gyu's death coming just based on vibes in the first episode, its impact wasn't lessened. Its significance didn't really hit me until I saw how empty his funeral was. Loneliness shaped his life - repression, liberation in meeting another gay man, falling in love with him way too fast, forming a dependent attachment, his desperation/obsessiveness in losing it so abruptly. He expressed his queerness in his photography, voyeuristic and seeking closeness with his subjects in the only way he felt was available to him. He had no friends, no relationships outside of his with Yeong. When Yeong breaks up with him and when he visits him drunk in ep 2, he says "falling in love is not a sin." To me, this shows just how removed from a loving community he has been, how nascent his queerness. He's still processing homophobia, it still influences every move he makes, everything he thinks. Clearly he has not had close relationships with other queers, where he may feel free to unburden himself. He falls back on heteronormative performance of romance, searching the best places for dates, not having anyone to ask. Knowing he's older makes this hurt more.

His story brought to mind the futility of AIDS-related deaths in the U.S., to be honest. I lost my gay uncle before I even knew him, and I know no one from his life. I know it's not a perfect parallel, but that funeral... this emptiness carries beyond one queer person's death. And Yeong's journey in these two episodes is about queer loneliness, of course. But his story is not as tragic as Nam Gyu's. He has (amazing) queer friends, and at one point had Mi Rae. He is much more connected to the queer community than Nam Gyu ever was. Despite his immaturity, Yeong is also much more familiar and comfortable with his queerness. I imagine this thread of self-actualization in the face of loneliness will continue in the rest of the show.

@twig-tea and @poetry-protest-pornography also wrote about queer loneliness in this show: here and here

And then we have Mi Rae, a vitally important relationship in Yeong's life, the love this part of the story is about. I met my best friend in college as well, so this part of the story was bringing up a lot of feelings too. To me, their friendship was as much about navigating heteronormativity as anything else, reflected in Yeong's reflection that "she learned that being a gay man sucks, and I learned that being a woman sucks just as much." Mi Rae is impacted by misogyny in every step of her character's journey: male classmates labeling her a slut and claiming her body for theirs, being groped, her challenges obtaining an abortion and mistreatment by a male doctor (where she literally claims her uterus back), her conflict with her parents (I'm assuming her mother had very rigid ideas of what a woman should be, based on her behavior at the wedding), hiding her past from her boyfriend, forced to defend herself when he questions why she lives with a man, shutting herself off from her relationship with Yeong (and thus rejecting her past) after the wedding. I looked up the status of abortion in Korea (a legal gray zone) and was reminded of how badly women there have it, which provided more context for her behavior.

Yeong must also traverse heteronormativity, which is what ultimately drives a wedge between the two and ends their friendship. In the beginning, their mutual rejection of heteronormative scriptures is what brings them together. He stands up for her against those male classmates, in an interaction steeped with assumptions of his heterosexuality. In rejecting her objectification he made himself a pariah for refusing to participate in normative masculinity. And their relationship continues thus, with her promising never to out him. She betrays him in a moment where she feels her participation in normative heterosexuality is threatened (and, indeed, it is a legitimately precarious position to be put in as a woman). Their brief reconciliation mainly consists of Yeong participating in a heterosexual ritual - he has no access to marriage in Korea. Her singing with him and letting go of her inhibitions for one last time was her goodbye to him and her ultimate acceptance of a more heteronormative life. One he can't participate in.

I hope that made any lick of sense. So looking forward to watching the next week. I am holding myself back from watching the next episodes right now. So hard.

[charleslelurk]

Virginity for nortrell if it takes your fancy? 🫶🏻 for the kink prompts ❤️

Got a lot of notrell in the inbox atm

So Nortrell + Virginity

From here

"Jesus, you fucking--slow slowslowslow," Lando says with gritted teeth.

Max stops trying to add a second finger and apologetically strokes Lando's hip with his other hand, fingers warm. "Sorry, Bob."

Lando experimentally rolls his hips to push back on the one finger Max still has in him. It's not bad, just odd, like the times he's experimentally done this with himself. Except this time it's Max, not Lando locked in his bedroom by himself, messing around and then going to have a wank afterwards to erase the complicated feelings, the shame and burning desire and confusion.

"Mate, you've like... done this before, yeah?"

Lando turns his face into the pillows, hiding. Max's hand on his hip stills. "Bob?"

Lando shakes his head, can feel his curls brushing the pillow as he refuses to look at Max.

The finger disappears from his ass. Lando makes a little noise. "Max, like it's fine, just--"

"Like, I'm the first?"

Lando finally turns his face back to the room. "Not, like ever. No."

Max rolls his eyes as he sits back on his feet, placing his hands on his thighs. His dick is half hard, and it feels like it's staring at Lando. He tries not to make eye contact.

Max scoffs. "I know, mate. You've told me about like, the girls. But like, you've never told me about guys, yeah? Even after we like, came out or whatever."

"Or whatever," Lando mimics, a smile pulling at his face at the memory. The thing was, it wasn't so much a coming out as a drunken kiss they actually had the balls to address in the morning, and Lando had choked out some half formed, stuttered sentence about also being interested in men, which Max had vigorously nodded at and responded to with a positive and better worded sentence that put them on the same page. That was years ago now.

"But you didn't... explore that anymore?" Max asks and Lando feels embarrassed, wants to hide again. His legs are still spread, knees up on either side of Max on the mattress. He wants to close them if they're going to have a full fledged conversation now.

"How? When was I 'sposed to be doing that?" Lando asks. He's been driving for McLaren for every year he's known, too famous to experiment.

Max gets this weird look in his eyes, and pulls his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on.

"What?"

Max sighs. "I always thought you were bumping uglies with Carlos, if I am gonna be honest."

Lando chokes and Max looks worried.

"What? That disgusting to you, mate?"

Lando shakes his head, has to rub at his eyes for a second to give him time to recover, to think. He's never been good at choosing words.

"Carlos was like... how I realized? I guess? But like, it's totally--he's not into blokes." Lando's been over it for years, had only let himself be hung up on Carlos for their duration as teammates and then made himself move on and not ruin their friendship. He did, as best as he can.

Max puts a hand on Lando's knee beside him. "You never...?"

"What? Fucked?"

Max shakes his head. "Kissed or nothing?"

"Nothing," Lando confirms. "Straight as a door nail. And I tried, I checked."

Max barks out a little laugh at that. "So I'm the first."

Lando nods, and watches Max's eyes darken, his dick twitch. Oh.

"You like that?" Lando asks as Max crawls over him again, tops of his thighs pressing against the backs of Lando's as Max's necklace swings between them.

"Yeah," Max breathes, "it's like... wow. Yeah."

Lando grabs Max's necklace and pulls him down to kiss him bruisingly hard. Max makes a pretty little noise in his throat.

When they break to breathe, Lando runs his hands up Max's sides. "Can you like... keep going?"

"Finger you?"

Lando blushes and tries to hide his face again. "Yeah, that."

[fxchild]

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter nine: Make you stay.

--------------------------------

Miles pov

I think it's been one- no. Two weeks, since Y/n had that.. encounter? It's not like we had sex or anything but I definitely didn't expect to make out on her bed until Flora came banging on her door complaining about a nightmare, while Y/n forced me to hide under her damn bed on the cold floor for half an hour while she made sure Flora went to sleep and didn't bother us again. I was kinda glad we got interrupted if I'm being honest. Even though Y/n pounced on me like a lion to a gazelle, she seemed pretty nervous whenever I kissed her too hard or if I touched her leg. Believe it or not things have been even more awkward than before when we were constantly nipping at each other and now I'm starting to miss the fighting more than the dry tension in the room.

Anyways, I've got about fourteen days to make things less awkward and for her to stay with us for the summer. I heard her talking on the phone a few days back, thinking about taking up a different job in California. Her teacher recommended it or some shit, get into a better college. She's not going to Harvard I know that for sure.

Something that's been pissing me off is that Quint has been messing with her head so now she sleeps with the door off and the lamp lights on. I asked him to lay off but it's not doing much. I've been trying to sneak in to make sure he's not fucking with her in her sleep or anything. She's only sixteen like me after all, he shouldn't be messing with kids our age, especially the ones I want to stay.

Uhm, another thing is that I've been out of it for a day or two. Like my throat is pretty dry and I've had a wicked headache. I swear to god if I wake up tomorrow with a cold I'm gonna be pissed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pov

It's been about two weeks since Miles and I had that half-assed hookup. Ever since then it's been so awkward. We can't even speak to each other now for more than two sentences before getting freaked out and forgetting what we were talking about. I mean, it's easier to focus on Flora and her work, but at the same time it's boring without being able to pick a fight with Miles. I miss our back and forth bickering because at least it kept us talking and occupied. I have fifteen days before I go back home for the summer, I really wanted to stay but I've gotten more job offerings in new places and I want to go out and explore. Plus, spending the summer in some creepy ass house, with a boy who can't even be in the same room as me for five minutes doesn't seem like the ideal summer. I feel bad for leaving Flora, and I guess Miles because they are all alone with Ms. Grose, who is lucky if she can live another four years. But I need to put myself first, that's what's important. I just wish Miles would talk to me before I leave, because even though we snap at each other, he's been growing on me. I'm not saying I like his stuck up asshole personality but I see how he is with Flora and I sometimes wish he could be able to open up to me like that.

This morning I woke up to the sound of projectile vomiting. I figured it was coming from Flora's room since she ate a lot of chocolate last night. I ran to her room to check on her to find her still asleep in her bed. Then I realized that the puking and groaning was coming from Miles room. I debated on leaving him there to take care of himself since he thinks he's grown and can take care of himself but then I remembered the time I was drunk. The way he drove me home at 2am and stayed outside my door all night in case I felt sick again. I walked into his room and knocked on his closed bathroom door.

"Miles, it's just me. I'm gonna come in okay?" I say as I hear him groan and spit into the toilet. I open the door to see his face almost glued to the toilet bowl, gasping and throwing up. I sit next to him and rub his back, grabbing a few sheets of toilet paper so he can wipe his mouth when he's done. "Get it all out, that's it.." I whisper to him as he continues to gag.

When he finishes he grabs the toilet paper from my hand and wipes his mouth, flushing the toilet. I let him sit on the floor with his back pressed against the wall for a moment as I grab a washcloth, drenching it in cold water. I put it on the back of his neck as he tries to stand up. He walks over to me where I'm putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and handing it to him.

"Make sure to brush your tongue too." I put the cap back on his toothpaste. "I'm gonna get you a new shirt, there's a little bit of puke on it." I point to the spot on his shirt. I walk out of his room and open his closet, looking for an old shirt in the piles on the floor. Miles walks back into the room and curls up on his mattress with his washcloth in his hands. I didn't even realize he came back into the room until he spoke up and groaned.

"Jesus it's fucking freezing in here.." I turned around to see him shirtless, breathing heavily and laying down. I grab a random green shirt and walk over to his mattress.

"No Miles, sit up you have to let your stomach settle for a bit." I prop his pillows against the wall and help him sit up a bit. I let him put his new shirt on and pulled the covers up to his waist. I felt his forehead and winced at his temperature. "Miles, you're really hot." I sighed and bit my bottom lip trying to think of how to take care of him.

He let out a chuckle and wrapped a hand over his stomach. "I'm hot? Thanks.." I frown at him since this isn't something to be joking about. "Not funny." I say with pursed lips and put the washcloth on his forehead.

"I'm gonna go to the store to get you some medicine. Flora used it the last time she was sick. Do you want me to pick you up something?" I put my hands on my hips and waited for his response.

He sat there for a second to think, "Am I even allowed to eat anything? Like I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat when you're sick." He tilted his head, squinting his eyes.

"You're allowed to eat Miles but only if you feel up for it. I can pick you up some grits, or popsicles? Do you sound up for that when you get your appetite back?" I rub the back of my neck, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not hungry..I-I don't care okay? I'll be fine by tomorrow." He shakes his head and waves his hand in the air.

"Okay, well I'm still going to the store because I'm not putting up with your whining later. I'll be back in an hour okay?" I shrug and ruffle his hair lightly before trying to smack my hands away.

I brush my teeth, grab my keys and put on some slippers. I head out to the car to start for the store.

--------------------------------

Miles pov

She couldn't have taken any fucking longer to get back from the store could she? I'm sitting in my bed, trying my best for an hour to hold my stomach until she comes back but it's getting too painful. I ran to the bathroom throwing up nothing but stomach acid. I was panting and almost crying from the pain, it felt like my stomach was twisting. Y/n hears me gagging and rushes into the bathroom to rub my back and hold back my hair. When I'm done, there's tears in my eyes from the pain and she gives me this stupid sad look like she feels sorry for me or some dumb shit. I sit on my bathroom counter as she hands me my toothbrush again. She opens up a small can of Gingerale and puts it on my nightstand.

"You don't have to drink it now, but if your stomach feels funny again try some. It works trust me." She smiles and feels my forehead again to see if my fever had gone down a little. I sit there under the covers with my head against the wall as Y/n sits at the end of my mattress reading a book.

"What's that?" I say weakly, motioning to the book. I catch her attention and she smiles. "A book?" She giggles trying to be funny or something.

"Yeah, no shit." I chuckle and she gives me an unamused look. So apparently I'm not allowed to be funny anymore I guess. "What's it about?"

"It's about a prince trying to find his princess through a dream. It's really cute." She gets up to sit next to me on the mattress, showing me the blurb.

"Oh.. fantasy?" I mutter out as a question.

"Yeah, I like fantasy. You don't?" She tilts her head to look at me, tabbing her book before closing it. I shrug, "I mean, it's not bad but I just can't ever get into it."

"Well maybe that's because you haven't read a good one." She smirks, and for a second I feel like we aren't talking about books. I shook my head and stayed silent for a few minutes.

"You know, I usually get sick in the summer." I give her a side glance. I lied, I never get sick. This was the first time in probably a year and a half I've gotten sick. "I mean, who's gonna get me a cold washcloth and rub my back when I'm throwing up?" I smirk at her slightly.

"Ms. Grose?" She jokes and I roll my eyes.

"Be serious Y/n. She's so old I think she's gonna kick the bucket any day now. And when she does that, who's gonna help me take care of Flora? I don't have any parents you know." I sit up more and turn to face her, putting my hands in my lap.

She sighs and turns to face me. "Who said I was leaving?" She gives me a confused look.

"Y/n I heard you on the phone. I mean California seems nice, but is that what you really want?" I give her a dead eyed look and raise a brow.

She studies my face letting out a deep breath, "Miles, you don't even like having me around. We fight all the time, why do you want me around?" She shakes her head and leans back a little bit.

"Come on, Flora will miss you. She'll be upset that you aren't coming back. I mean she really loves you, fuck, she wants you to be her mother! She needs you, Y/n- I-I need you okay? I can't even take care of myself while I'm sick and you expect me to take care of myself, a whole property and a little girl? I mean, jesus, what do I have to do to make you stay?" I spurt out quickly, motioning my hands everywhere with dramatic tones.

She smiles for a moment and grabs my hand, "You just did." She gives me a sincere look, like we finally came to an agreement. I let out a relieved sigh I didn't even know I was holding and she giggled. "Why do we fight so much? Everything would be so much easier if we just listened to each other, you know?" She asks even though she sounds like she already knows her own reason.

"I think you know why I do it.." I look at my red candles I caught her staring at one day in particular when she first came into my room.

She looked at the candles then back at my eyes. "Because you don't know how to treat people?" She barely whispered out. She looked into my eyes for a moment before speaking once more. "I only pick fights with you cause I think you're kinda cute." She admits, leaning back again.

I raise a brow, "You think I'm cute?" I chuckle and she let's go of my hand, she's trying to bite back a smile.

"Yeah, you're cute. So what?" She smirks and we stare at each other. I think we were both waiting for one of us to do something, anything. But no one moved or spoke. After a moment of my silence she got up and put the covers back over my waist. "You should get some rest, it's not good to stay up when you're delirious." She gave me a dejected look and turned off my lamp.

"I'm not delirious." I grab her wrist gently and assure her.

"You're sick, Miles." She gives me a stern tone, and eyes me down to let go of her wrist.

"I know what I'm saying, Y/n." I gulp and give her the smallest smile I could muster and let go of her wrist, laying back into the pillows. She slides a hand on my forehead and it goes into my curls. She kissed my forehead and walked to the door.

"Get some sleep, call me if you need anything okay?" She gave me a sad smile and walked out of the room.

Now she was just confusing me because did she just reject me without either of us talking about dating? I don't think I asked her out but I think I wanted to. I want to I really do, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when she can't take me seriously? I better get over this damn sickness soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi hi! It's fxchild back again with another chapter! Sorry if this is bad I had to rewrite it THREE times because it kept god damn deleting. This took me 2 hours and 15 minutes to write (I timed it yes) so hopefully you enjoyed it. Plsplspls if you did not see my other post to put some requests in because this will be one of the last chapters until Mr. Fairchild finishes his story. I literally do not care what you ask me to write as long as it's not acc insane. If my requests don't work PLEASE dm me I will answer because no one texts me like ever ! Anyways, I love you guys so so much 💕 thank you for continuing to motivate me to write.

-fxchild

[lonelycowgirls]

Moongazing

This triggered some wholesome vibes. So, wholesome vibes with a touch of angst, coming in hot.

Will Harry and Stella be endgame?

Please like, reblog and follow if you enjoy it!

My asks are also open for feedback and ideas to how this universe can continue.

~

"Why am I getting emotional?" Stella laughed, clasping her hands to her face as her eyes welled with unexpected tears.

"Stell," Harry laughed softly, leaning to fold his fingers around one of her wrists that were still held up to shield her face. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"I just can't believe how much time has gone by, it's a little bit sad." She sputtered, her face contorted slightly with emotions. "But happy at the same time." She looked to him while running her fingers under her eyes. Letting her head fall back into the grass beneath them, she sighed dramatically, letting her breath escape through her mouth. She took deep breaths to try and pull herself together.

Harry leaned back on his elbows, a soft smile on his face as he stared at the moon displayed so clearly in the dark sky above them. He thought about all the experiences this field had given him, to Stella and to their friends. Friends they'd known since they'd started secondary school. He chuckled again at Stella's soft sniffles beside him.

"Don't laugh at me, you sadist." She snapped, tongue firmly in her cheek.

"It's alright, you keep sobbing over there. I'm enjoying the crisp twilight evening." She rolled her eyes but held up a hand to extend to him, which he accepted, linking their fingers and stroking the back of hers with his thumb.

There they were, 28 and 29 years old, reminiscing and mourning the youth that had barely left them. But it was hard to not yearn for the past every now and then. Harry thought back to when he'd told Stella that he was going to audition for the X Factor, everything since then had been a complete blur, with details he wouldn't be able to remember even if he tried to.

"You're off again soon."

"Yeah, next week." He sighed, one hand across his belly, some skin peeking out from where his jumper had ridden up. He smiled thinking about touring again - it was his absolute favourite thing to do, without a doubt.

"Think Ally's little nieces are coming to see you in Cardiff. Her sister's Welsh, she said they're already working on their banners." Stella mentioned her work friend, making Harry chuckle softly and glance her way with eyebrows raised. "At least we know theirs won't be rude ones."

"You never know, I've just about seen it all."

"I respect it, to be honest, some of them are really creative." Stella said, rolling slightly to the side to look at him properly and tapping a hand on his chest. "And honestly, when you write songs like Watermelon Sugar and Cinema what do you expect. Women are horny, too."

"Oh, trust me, if anyone knows that it's me." He scoffed, smirking in her direction before glancing up at the sky again. He sighed, dropping all the way back to rest his head back on the arm that wasn't already occupied holding her hand. "Shame my missus is always 'on nights'."

"I am on nights!" She said rising a bit to look at his face next to her. "Not always, admittedly, but if you think I'm gonna roll over at three in the morning just to get you off on FaceTime you've got another thing coming." She punctuated the sentence by flopping back down onto her back. He brought her hand to his mouth to press a few kisses to the back of it.

They laid in silence again for a while, Stella stared at the rough-looking, wooden swing set that lived in the corner of the expansive field. She could almost see herself, Hannah and Roxanne sitting and swinging slightly as they tried cigarettes for the first time. She rolled her lips into her mouth as she remembered coughing up half a lung after the first drag.

The image melted away to morph into her sitting with Harry as they talked about his X Factor audition, how it went really well, and how he 'could really have a chance, babe.' She watched him hold her 16-year-old hands and tell her that he'd think about her every day that he would be gone and promise that he'd be back to take her to prom.

Harry kept his gaze on the moon above them, unable to stop the thoughts from creeping into his head about their next steps. He knew that Stella needed more than what he was currently able to give her but selfishly, he couldn't imagine being the one to make the decision to walk away. He was about to leave again, for months. Albeit some of it would be in the UK but with Stella working shifts they wouldn't be able to see each other until the tour was truly over.

Where was this all going to end up? They weren't getting any younger and Harry's career had arguably seen its best year to date in 2023. But what if this was its peak? What if this was what everything had led up to and then, that's it? Did he want to come home and settle down? Did he want to go ring shopping and get down on one knee in front of the only woman he'd ever been with? Did he want to admit that it was all coming to an end and become just some 30-something-year-old guy? A husband? A father?

But then, what if this was just the beginning? What if Harry's House was the catalyst to his tenure in this business? Opportunities were continuing to roll in and if he didn't take them now, would they still be there? If he did take them, would Stella still be there?

These were the thoughts that plagued him and they were becoming far more stubborn and continuous.

Sometimes he'd lay in bed at night and think about all the days he'd spent rushing around, the days where he couldn't really be present. Days of precious youth he'd never get back. But who was truly present when they were young? When new days felt as promised as the grass promises to grow and the wind promises to blow. When you feel as if you'll live forever. His entire 20s had been fast and furious, he was only briefly reminded of what slowing down felt like during the lockdowns of 2020.

In One Direction, he was invincible - literally the hottest, youngest thing in the music industry. In everyone's eyes, he could do no wrong. He had cars, houses, and the world at his feet. When it came to women, there were endless options. Something he'd never even imagined for himself. While the other boys had enjoyed a revolving door of girls - something he'd been tempted by many a time - he had kept a relatively healthy relationship with a gorgeous, loyal, funny, smart and caring partner who he could trust and adore.

The shit first hit the fan when Stella had begun to pull away. That was the first time he'd become aware of his own mortality. Of his choices and the power they held. Time had suddenly felt very fleeting and tight. She'd graduated from her midwifery course and was really getting her teeth stuck into the reality of 12-hour shifts and the real-life wake-up call of forging a path for herself. A career.

When she'd stopped answering his FaceTime calls after shows and started declining his offers of joining him on tour, it was the first time his fast-forwarded life came to a shuddering halt. It felt like he was Peter Pan and he was living out the moment he realised his Wendy had grown up without him.

For now, they were a little more settled in their arrangement. Stella missed him when he was away but she enjoyed having her own life. She had her own friends, she was thriving in her rewarding job and was close to her family. But in moments like this, led in the field they'd had their first kiss in, the field they'd had their prom after-party in, the field they'd snuck bottles of warm cider to and drunkenly kissed until they couldn't breathe. Their true home turf. Every dose of nostalgic nausea came washing over Stella to the point she couldn't help but tear up.

She thought about the teenage girl who used to live in Holmes Chapel. She was vibrant and nervous and people-pleasing. She was excited about the future but terrified of failing. She experienced all-consuming love far too early and got hurt more than a few times, and she hurt back in return. She experienced a level of fame and attention that she never really wanted and experienced hatred and vitriol when she was still learning who she was and who she wanted to be. But she did it all, because she was in love.

"It's all been worth it, hasn't it?" Stella turned over to face Harry, leaning up on her elbow. He rolled to lean over her and shuffled closer, putting a palm to her cheek and bringing his lips to press a long kiss to hers. Pulling back, he tucked some hair behind her ear and tapped her cheek lightly with his fingers. She smiled back, a hand curved around his wrist.

"Yeah... I think so."

~

Just another lil something to add to Harry and Stella's story, inspired by the Satellite video.

Enjoy!

Here is the full list of content for the Been There All Along universe.

Nel xo

[otomehoneyybearr]

Act 12

Episode 20: The What-If Future and The Certain Now: Azami

Working w/ Maybelle Lace, jujumin-translates, Fea

Note: As you read, you will see that some sentences highlighted in a different color, this is what they indicate.

Pink: Flashback

Blue: Characters are acting

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

Azami: Damn, it ain't stopping... Can’t catch a break.

Azami: (It's about time I start heading there.)

Shift: Where are you right now?

Azami: (I can't rely on Shift or Ken anymore. In the end, there is nowhere for me to go.)

Azami: (The same goes for makeup. A dream like that would never go anywhere when you're born in a yakuza family.)

Azami: (Yet I still cling to such things...)

Azami: ...

Shift: Azami, hey, what'cha thinking about?

Azami: Ah? Nothing...

Shift: You've been spacing out a lot lately.

Azami: Oh, I was just thinking about my homework.

Shift: Is something coming up?

Azami: Nah, it's for the theater company.

Azami: We were asked to think about what we would have done if I hadn't joined Mankai Company while we were away from the dorms.

Azami: With that in mind, I have to find my own reason for standing on the stage at the Mankai Theater.

Shift: Heh~. That’s an interesting homework assignment.

Azami: If I hadn't joined the troupe, I probably would’ve kept running away from home until I reached my limit.

Shift: You're quite stubborn, aren't ya, Azami?

Azami: Shut up.

Shift: But I'm glad that you ran away from home back then.

Azami: What do you mean by that?

Shift: Because of that, you ended up living in the Mankai dorms and joining the theater troupe.

Shift: At the time, I was frustrated because you not only achieved your dream of being a makeup artist, but you also managed to start acting before me, which irritated me even more.

Shift: But thanks to that frustration and impatience, I auditioned for the God Troupe with all my might and managed to pass.

Shift: The reason I'm able to perform under Reni with Haruto and Madoka and others now is probably because you ran away from home.

Shift: It’s like everything is connected. ...Maybe this is what they call fate?

Azami: (Fate, huh...)

Azami: ...

Azami: (All the makeup tools I had saved up and bought with my pocket money were thrown away, but I never expected they would come back in such good quality.)

Azami: (My dad threw away all my cosmetics, we had a big fight, and that led me to run away from home and move into the theater company's dormitory...)

Azami: (When I think back on it, it’s kind of funny.)

Azami: (But, Mankai Company accepted me as I was, even though I was a total rookie.)

Azami: The hell were you thinking with those sorry faces earlier? You ever heard of stage makeup? Seriously.

Kumon: Whoa!

Izumi: That's amazing! You all look completely different!

Muku: All of our features are so defined! Now we'll really stand out on stage!

Yuki: ...Not half bad.

Kazunari: Are you a wizard, Azamin?!

Azami: ...Just an aspiring makeup artist.

Sakyo: Go on, boy. Tell the boss the real reason you love makeup so much.

Azami: Why should I? He's not gonna listen.

Banri: What, is your story that boring? What happened to all that confidence you had when you first went on stage?

Omi: If you only told boring stories, you wouldn't be in the Autumn Troupe right now.

Taichi: Your dad likes theater, so you'll be fine.

Banri: Remember. What's the one way to beat somebody you can't overpower?

Azami: ...!

Juza: You're not the same guy you were before you joined the troupe. You've learned a lot since then.

Izumi: Show us one more time, Azami.

Azami: ...Hey, old man. Peel back those wrinkly eyes of yours and watch closely.

Azami: I didn't want to talk about my parents in front of Sakyo, so I didn't use this for my audition, but...

Azami: This is the strongest memory I have of when I was a kid.

Azami: This is my portrait.

Azami: (During the Summer Troupe's "Love Out of Left Field", I suddenly had to redo everyone's makeup, and to be honest, I was a little nervous.)

Azami: (I knew that their makeup wasn't good at all, but it was my first time trying stage makeup.)

Azami: (But in reality, I was excited to do makeup on someone else, and I was happy when I was able to change Kumon's complexion with my magic brush.)

Azami: (My heart feels warm whenever I remember my mother, who inspired me to start doing makeup.)

Azami: (When I used the power of makeup to change someone's mood and was able to support them, I thought again that this is the dream I want to pursue.)

Azami: (I was also happy to be recognized by the theater company as a makeup artist.)

Azami: (Izumi and the members of Autumn Troupe accepted the unbearable emotions that I had when I was 15 and tried to understand me.)

Azami: (...I thought I was the only one in the world who felt this way.)

Azami: (There are many people in this troupe who have much more to deal with than me, yet we stand on stage together supporting each other's weaknesses.)

Azami: (The fact that when I joined, I found out that everyone in Autumn Troupe, including Sakyo, had run away from home too made me feel a strange connection to them.)

Azami: (The reason I was able to feel such strong connections with others was because I joined Mankai Company.)

Azami: (Otherwise, I think I would still feel like the only person in the world.)

Azami: (That's why I never want to cut ties with everyone in the theater company, the director, and the members of Autumn Troupe.)

Azami: (I still haven't fully repaid my debt to the theater company for allowing me to be in charge of makeup despite having no experience and allowing me to gain experience as well.)

Azami: (This is why I want to stand on the Mankai Stage again with those people...)

Ichiro: ——Azami.

Azami: ?

Ichiro: This just arrived for you.

Azami: Postcards...?

Azami: They're from Sakuya.

Ichiro: There's also one for Furuichi, so please hand it to him later.

Azami: Got it.

Azami: (Sakuya must be really polite to send one to me and Sakyo too, even though we're not a part of Spring Troupe.)

Sakuya: "How are you doing, Azami? I'm careful to keep warm while I'm traveling!"

Sakuya: "When I follow the steps you taught me before, I feel like I hear your voice in my head telling me to move."

Azami: That's great.

Sakuya: "During this journey, I wish to learn more about my roots."

Azami: (Roots...)

Azami: Wonder if my name has some kind of backstory too.

Sakyo: You don't know? Because I do. Try asking your father next time.

Azami: ...

Azami: Old man.

Boss: What?

Azami: Let me ask you something.

Boss: I hope you're not gonna ask for some pocket money.

Azami: It’s not that.

Boss: What is it then?

Azami: ...Do you have any idea where my name came from?

Boss: What's this all of a sudden?

Azami: Sakyo said earlier that he knew about it, so I was curious.

Boss: Sit down.

Boss: Since my name is Kikuo and your mother's name is Sayuri, which both have the name of flowers in them, Sayuri said that she wanted to give you the name of a flower too.

Boss: I thought it might be strange to give a flower name because we were having a son, but she was stubborn and wouldn't give in.

Boss: When I was asked what kind of meaning in flower language I'd like, I said I'd like one where it looks like you'll grow up to be a full-fledged man, worthy of following in my footsteps.

Boss: I wanted to give you a name that would help you grow up to be a mischievous man with enough spirit to even stand up to your parents.

Boss: And then she said that she knew a good flower for that...

Azami: (I guess that means that my name is the one my mom gave me...)

Azami: ...I'm not following in your footsteps, though.

Boss: Hmph, it doesn't matter. You grew up exactly the way we wanted you to, to our annoyance.

Azami: That's right.

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

Prev | Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

[moiloru]

The fact you’re shitting on demon slayer is crazy. All because of a singular character you don’t like the whole season is “bad” now. Get a stick out of your ass there’s always gonna be characters we don’t like but don’t hate the whole series for it. “My writings are better than this!” No tf they aren’t. I’ve read a few of your fan fictions and they’re terrible and uninteresting and don’t know how people read that cringy crap. The fact you’re saying you write better than professionals lmao. I’d like to see you write a better anime than demon slayer. Like fr bro I feel bad for people like you who have to put other shit down to feel better about yourself. Like how you just had to casually throw in you’re better at writing than one of the most popular animes. The narcissism really shows with this one.

Haters really gonna be courageous enough not to send asks anonymously, apparently 🥱

For context: https://twitter.com/Moiloru_/status/1670559358122336256

Well, let's break this down step by step, shall we? First of all, I am not "shitting" on KnY. This is quite obvious when you consider my past reviews about the series. Did I think S3 was subpar? Yeah, you bet I did. Do I believe KnY is a bad anime? Hell no. I think you forgot to read half the thread. You seem to be a hardcore shonen fan, though, so I don't expect you to have over 50 IQ. And like it or not, Tokito is nowhere near as good as Rengoku or Uzui 🤷

That second statement honestly made me laugh because it shows you really understood nothing of my thread. But hey, that's okay. I don't mind explaining it again for the mentally challenged. First of all, thanks a lot for reading my stories! It makes the stats go up, so I'm glad! Now, I realize I am not a professional writer and don't intend to ever become one. I write in my free time because I find it fun. Allow me to find it slightly concerning that my plot twists are more detailed and less pulled out of my ass (where there's no stick, mind you) than the ones we got this season. After all, I never once claimed that my writing was excellent: I merely said that S3 had poorer writing than my fics. It's also poorer than much of the fanfic content out there... and it's also poorer than the writing in both S1 and 2.

Now, I had never dealt with fanboys before, to be honest, so this is a new experience for me. I see that you guys do exist - and honestly, you're just as ridiculous as people say. I understand you're butthurt because someone criticized your beloved piece of media, but please turn your brain on before sending asks like this one. Given you have one, of course. It's wasting both my time and yours.

Now, if you can find some balls, you're welcome to DM me either here or on Twitter so we can discuss this further. Somehow, though, I doubt you will. Maybe you ought to use the free time you have to rewatch this season and take a harder look at it. Or perhaps you should go back to school to understand basic sentences. Whichever suits you best.

Cheers!😚

[kkumahearts]

february 13, 2023

i haven’t updated since december… oops! so many things have happened since then. this is so weiiird!

maybe a month and a half ago philip dmed me blablabla chicken and rice blablabla and we got food. it was cute and we walked around a lot. i've also realized i don't enjoy processing feelings i think i tend to ignore them until they go away or just mold into me. anyways and then new years eve happened and he asked me to come over and we could go to a party. he was like i wanna see you again and all that. i took half an edible and he was kinda fucked bc he took a full one and had a brownie and some shots. the party was literally all upper classmen and i was sooo out of my element. we sat on a bench literally the entire time after he talked to a bunch of guys. oh yeah also!! man party!! ratio was 3:1 guys and girls. so i was REALLY out of my element. and since i was so out of it i started drinking those seltzers like crazy. i had like five like wayyy too many definitely not one my brightest choices. but what can i say. i kissed his cheek somewhere along the night and he said oh u wanna kiss and then kissed me. super messy kisser btw. after that i mean there was the new years kiss duh and emma was texting calling omg my dad called and i was like bruh and also texted perfect viet to him like i was genius in that moment my brain was working so hard.

emma swooped in and i bonked my head on the car. seriously not one my best moments because i kept saying bye to philip and he was really fucking high and emma thought he was pissed. jack and julia were there. oh and before he came to pick me up from beas to go to the party and his house before. i was hyperventilating in the house and jack was like "just go with the flow...?" and i was like ARGHHHAAAHHHHHHHH

wow this is gonna be one long ass entry. anyways. we meet twice after that. the next time i just go to his house for a little. i bussed and we walk his dog enzo who really hates going on walks like the amount of resistance that dog put up was crazy. and then i laid in his bed which made him hop over and cuddle me from the back. and then we lay there and talk for a little but its mostly him talking bc my brain goes blank when i talk to him. he told me so much about farm subsidies. i like the way he thinks.

and then i was like i gotta go philip! and he was like just let me kiss u first ;DDD and i was like yo. this crazy. and it was like heavy we had to take pauses to breathe and i was breathing all over his neck god i rly like his neck. i kept telling him youre so messy and he was like giggle giggle "youre...not" and then he walked me back to beas and i waited for my mom and then bea came rolling up blasting music in her car.

this is literally a whole ass essay but i feel like i should update. i think i use this blog to vent mostly so when i look back at it itll just be depressing. why do i even care if its long... not like future amy will gaf. anyways i was prepared for that to be the last time i saw him for a while because mr is in eugene. but i was talking to emma and mimi and they were like amy there is a whole ass four days we can make this happen!~~ and i was like ur right.... let me beg my parents!! there was tiny drama bc we couldnt go with bea and julia to the market and they ignored us when we waved but moving on...

and then i got to his houseyyyyy and i was so super nervous and emma and mimi were hypign me in the car. i had to be back at like eight so we were on a tight sched. i think he led me up the stairs and held my shoulders but I'm gonna be honest i don't remember. anyways i brought him canes and he put that in the kitchen and we went upstairs and just sit on the bed... and i was like do you wanna eat? like the food is there lets go and he was like nope no no nah nah no. and then i was like okay.... idk put in some filler sentences there and then he said "i feel like i should make a move..." and i said "no pressure...i mean i can make a move... nobody needs to be making moves here.." and then he kissed me while we sat on the edge of the bed. then he takes off his shirt and he's like smirking and in my head im like this has rly escalated.. and we fuuuuucc ccccccckkkkkkk. i’m happy my first time was with him, and it was perfect. we were laughing and silly and he was oh so cute. i am too lazy to. continue updating bc i have memories so it’s not necessary.

[tsui-no-sora]

im turning the tables, give me gay cats content right now!

I got this ask and immediately got to work. I have to give something back for all the dnb cats 

But first I'm gonna prefix all of this real quick with I have no clue about absolutely anything at all to do with warriors cats the first and only contact I have had with it is through this au and what you write of it. So I'm sorry if this doesn't really make any sense, I did try to look a bit deeper into it but I got a little confused.

Also I couldn't find if the rest of the cast had chosen names already so I simply called them by their literal names 

Oh and I love your au your art and your blog <3

------

Dreamstar is first and foremost a responsible Leader.

Dreamstar takes action for his Clan and for himself. Dreamstar leads by example.

He may turn a blind eye from time to time (More like every single time) when Blazeheart would suddenly sneak out into the middle of the night, thinking himself so slick and cheeky, and act like he didn't know anything at all (He totally did.)

He chooses not to comment, if he sees Punz spending some rather longing, and terribly long stares in the direction of that weird cat who loved water like nobody else did.

Dreamstar is after all not such a noisy cat.

All of this though, wasn't to say he wasn't going to stick to warrior code.

Not to say, he was expecting the rest to give him the same treatment.

Even so, he wasn't as worried about the other's reactions against him, as much as he was worried about their reactions against Boarstar.

After all, he was another Clan's Leader, and everybody knew far and wide, that they were rivals, that the possibility that one day they would meet in a far worse instance, wasn't all that far-fetched.

That Wilbur's attitude together with half of the Sleeping Clan's as well, to be honest, didn't exactly help their relationship.

Dreamstar was well aware of all of that.

And yet, this was the worst winter they had ever faced, all of them, and food was scarce, and prey somehow harder to catch, sudden threat of predators arised, and he had to work really really hard, every single day.

In the midst of all this coldness, there was one constant, Dreamstar hunting for his Clan, and one miscellaneous event, finding Boarstar hunting for his own.

Something he did not look forward to, in any way, shape or form, nope, not at all.

"And so, we meet again" Boarstar said, making up a grand narrator voice.

"Even though, we definitely shouldn't" Dreamstar finished the sentence for him.

He still got uneasy at their meetings, whenever they suddenly started, always felt like looking around himself everywhere, to make sure there was nobody else nearby.

Nothing else made him nervous like this.

"You still scared, Dreamstar? They aren't gonna think worse of you. They know you" Boarstar said it lightly, but he knew how much it mattered for Dreamstar to hear this.

"I'm not even here to meet you! You know" Dreamstar felt the need to get closer to the ground, he did not.

"And you are just itching to tell me what you are actually here to do" Boarstar meowed back, in his usual deep monotone.

"I'm not!" Dreamstar huffed "I'm not predictable! Okay. I have to hunt, you know how it is" Dreamstar and Boarstar shared a tired, knowing, look.

"I feel for you, bro."

Dreamstar sighed "I hate winter, everything is already dead before I find it."

"Yup" Boarstar kept smelling around them, trying to find anything, whatever, that was fit to hunt "If you could have anything right now, what would it be?" 

Dreamstar immediately started imagining all the foods in the world, honestly, whatever would be good right now, but there was one thing, one little thing that made all hunts be worth it, if he could catch it.

Fish.

Some real good fish.

One of his most favorites have always been fish, but in the usual cold months, they were already hard to come by, now in this sudden icy cold wave they were living in, much more.

Dreamstar left his head drop, ready to spill all of his sadness over not having seen a fish, or at least one that wasn't dead already, in so long. He was only taken out of his misery by Boarstar suddenly screaming.

"Fish!" Boarstar said, his pupils growing small, and sharp.

"Mine!" Dreamstar immediately launched himself forward to the lake.

Boarstar bested him in pure strength, but Dreamstar always made up for it with his agile skills, and quick thinking. He quickly hooked into the water, and scooped the fish up, to swiftly kill it with a bite.

Dreamstar munched on his fish, savouring every bit of flesh, licking it off his fangs with his scratchy tongue.

He laughed happily, Boarstar left his grand fluffy tail fall on top of Dreamstar’s flank for a second, in a show of prohibited familiarity with each other.

"I just let you have that one, because I felt bad for you, bro" Boarstar said, with a grin on, obviously teasing him "I mean, look at you, have you been eating at all this winter, you are like 90% fluff ,and nothing else."

"Aww, is that so?" Dreamstar gave his own smug smile right back, cleaning the last remains of the fish off his fangs, just to show it off "Really? You sure you are not the hungry one?"

"Aja" Boarstar stretched, opening up his jaws to their full intimidating potential "Just don't be surprised when the next ten are mine, Dreamstar."

"In your dreams, Boar!Star!" Dreamstar immediately stretched too, ready to keep running with him.

"You almost managed to make the wordplay work, I'm so proud of you."

"Very clever, Boarstar" Dreamstar allowed himself to face Boarstar completely, and feel a little bit of calm, and a little bit of less pressure.

He was smiling genuinely, even under such stressful times.

This was all to say, that Dreamstar was a responsible leader, who led by example, and stuck to code, but if nobody was looking, and all the aggressiveness usually associated with him, and Boarstar coexisting at all, wasn't around.

Well, he could give himself a little bit of leeway, only from time to time, right.

Dreamstar ran to Boarstar's side, making sure their sides touched each other, he couldn't suppress the happy purr that came out of him, as Boarstar leaned back in, closer to him.

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me: Norman x Reader

-MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! 

-NOTE: YOU’RE BOTH AGED UP SO DON’T START TELLING ME FBI’S GONNA COME TO MY DOOR 😂😂

-THE TIMELINE IS A BIT MESSED UP SO JUST IGNORE IT COMPLETELY AND DON'T ASK ME LOL

-also, is it just me or do thick eyebrows look really cute??? Norman has pretty thick brows compared everyone else and I think they're cute 

WARNINGS: Kissing lol

Summary: You finally see Norman again.

Life had to be the scariest thing you'd ever faced. It threw the bad, the good, the everything your way until you could barely stand. Until you were left broken and mangled and shattered. Life was scary. It was cruel. Yet somehow, today was different.

You thought it was a dream. After all, how could it be reality when the boy in front of you died a year and some months ago? He had been shipped out, left for dead because it was a part of his stupid escape plan.

So how was it he stood before you? Breathing? Smiling? Living?

The office door closed behind you with a soft click. It bathed the room in silence, as if for a moment, the world decided to give you a second to breathe. A second to take in the wonderous sight before you.

The boy's name stuck in your throat. He had changed, not only in height, but stature and appearance. Norman was older, and he grew up to be more handsome than any runway model could ever be.

"(Y/n)," he gently said. "I'm glad you're well."

That was all it took. One sentence and you tackled him in the tightest hug your trembling arms could muster. "Norman...!" To have his arms around you, to hear the beating of his heart--it was a relief. A miracle sent by the gods. "You’re so stupid!"

No, he was more than stupid. He had to be the dumbest boy alive to think that it was okay to sacrifice himself for the sake of your family. You all were supposed to escape together just like Emma said. No one was supposed to be left behind, yet Norman--bless his heart--acted on his own.

You hugged him as if he would disappear if you let go. "We were all supposed to leave together. But you--I thought you--shipped out--and then--!" You chocked on your words. What more could you say anyway?

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. The muffled sob that ripped through your throat was more than Norman could handle. His knees went weak and you both slowly sunk to the floor in a heap. 

"I'm here." he gently said. "I'm not going anywhere (Y/n)."

Despite the steadiness in Norman's voice, his shoulders hitched, and he sniffled. "I'm here." he repeated. "I-I'm here." It sounded like he were reassuring himself that he wouldn't leave you so soon, as if he were scared too. Not for the way you sobbed and sobbed, but for the ache in his heart that seemed to beat in sync with yours.

Slowly, your sobs turned to quiet sniffles, which then silenced into nothing but tiny hiccups. You basked in Norman's warm embrace. He didn't hold you too tightly, as if he were afraid it would shatter you to pieces. Instead, he pulled you close to his side and leaned on his desk behind.

You rested your head on his chest, taking the time to memorise his scent. Parchment, the woods, and old books. You liked that, it was comforting to know he still smelled the same. On the other hand, his voice wasn’t as smooth or rounded as it once was. It was icy. No one seemed to notice that tiny sharpness that hit the end of each note he spoke. You wondered what could've made his kind heart harden.

Sure, Norman was still the same Norman you remembered, but something about the way he acted seemed off. He was clingy, much more than he ever was. Maybe he just missed you? No, that couldn't be right. Norman acted as if he were running out of time. He held you close and gently, as if these would be the last moments you'd see each other again. As if there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

You slowly pulled away to get a good look at Norman's face. His chin was slightly pointier, his cheeks less chubby and full. His lips twitched upwards into a comforting smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes because he looked so overwhelmingly tired. Your poor boy probably worked day and night to keep the hideout on its feet. It must be hard on him, you thought. Especially since he was revered as a god.

Norman's brows raised. "What's wrong?"

You took his thin hands in your own and gave them a good squeeze. "It's nothing. What about you?"

Ah yes, small talk. The perfect way to avoid any question thrown your way. Norman knew you well, sometimes even more than himself. When you asked simple questions such as these, that meant your mind laid elsewhere in a land he could never reach. Norman took that as a hint to drop the subject.

For now.

He wondered what invisible weight laid on your shoulders. Was it something as heavy as his? Perhaps your weight was worse and it ate away at you. Norman wished he could take that weight away and relieve you of that pain. He'd carry it all if he could, and it didn't matter to him if he'd die trying. This was you he was thinking about. He'd do anything for you.

"I've been okay," Norman vaguely responded. "But I have been busy, so I find it difficult to sleep sometimes.”

Norman liked to be honest, but you knew it was because that helped him figure out what was wrong with you. It was a game of tag. In this case being 'it' meant figuring out each others' worries through a back-and-forth match.

"You haven't been sleeping enough?" Your voice came out rather quiet as you traced invisible circles over the back of his hands. "Is that because you have so much work? Or do you refuse to get help?" Norman sat in a still silence and you sighed.

Of course. 

This was your Norman after all. He always shouldered a burden too big for his shoulders to carry. It was always something so heavy, so terribly hard to balance by himself. If that burden grew any bigger, it would collapse, and that would be his downfall. But you wouldn't let that happen to your Norman. No, no, no. You'd take that burden from him, steal it if you had to, and be his crutch.

"What have you been doing here?" you quickly added. "As 'William Minerva', I mean?"

Norman looked unbearably uncomfortable. That little frown tugging at the edge of his lips was a tell-tale sign. “I’ve been getting a lot done." he carefully said. "In fact, I’ve figured out a way to end this. Once and for all.” 

Norman began by explaining the first phase of his plan. The first phase had long been in motion. It started with the indiscriminate burning of cattle facilities, then the gathering of information, and continued on to pave the way for all the other phases you didn’t care to hear about.

The first few steps weren't too bad, but the final act in Norman's plan made your skin crawl. You half-wished you hadn’t asked him anything to begin with. Maybe it would have spared your appetite. Your grip on his thin hands loosened and loosened until your hands rested on your lap.

Norman wasn't so little anymore. He had grown up just a bit, but not in the way you wished to see. How could he think of something so cold-hearted and cruel? The extermination of all demons in Neverland was an act of genocide. If you re-called correctly, it was also considered a war crime.

Norman was smarter than that. He understood the consequence he'd have to face if that were the path he walked right? He understood that there were still other options right? Maybe you heard him wrong.

No.

You had to have heard him wrong. Norman wasn't ruthless like that. He was a ball of sunshine that made you smile whenever you were together.

"I see..." You tightly smiled. "So that's your plan on freeing everyone?" Norman nodded with a seriousness that took you back to the time he left everything to you and Ray and Emma. 

You weren't mistaken then. Norman truly meant everything he said.

"Yes, that is my plan. It's been taking me a little longer than expected to set it in motion. I've decided to officially start tomorrow."

Tomorrow? 

Your breath hitched. "Don't you think that's a bit hasty? What if...what if something goes wrong?" Norman smiled. It was hollow and wry and everything that he wasn't. "Don't worry. Fortunately, I've always been pretty good at getting what I want." You didn't return the smile, and you didn't want to say why.

Norman was quick to catch on. But of course he would catch on so quickly, this was Norman. Your Norman.

"Do you have a problem with my plan?" he inquired. You shook your head. "No, it's...it's not that." Yes, it was that. Your plan is dangerous even if it is good, you thought. Innocent lives wouldn't be spared, and that would spell an unfair fate for the demons who ate to survive.

You wanted to tell Norman why his plan was wrong, and why he didn't have to be so unforgiving about it. But then what? Why would he listen when you didn't have any better ideas? He seemed to have his mind set anyway, so no half-baked ideas would make a difference. And besides, he was the smartest person you knew. Maybe that was the only way out of the terrible fate all you cattle children faced.

"If you're okay with my plan," Norman said, "then what's bothering you (Y/n)?"

"It's still a lot for me to take in," you admitted with a plastic smile. "I guess I'm just shocked that you're, well, here." Norman smiled, this time with a genuine warmth. "I understand." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "I'll see you at dinner."

Your cheeks burned. How bold of him. "Y-yeah, I'll see you at dinner." Norman let out a cute little chuckle that made your heart beat a little louder than it was supposed to. You hauled yourself off the floor and made your way to the door. Norman followed.

You flashed him a nervous smile, one that mixed in with your muddled worry and anxiousness. You glanced at his bright eyes. For a moment, they seemed to dim like the setting sun. It reminded you of Mama. When no one looked at her, she didn’t smile. She always looked so sad when she sat by herself, and maybe that was because she was. 

"(Y/n)?"

Your fingers brushed against the doorknob. “Hm?”

"I want nothing more than to protect you and our family. I know you don't fully agree with me," his expression darkened. "But this is the way--the only way we can save everyone without spilling a single drop of blood."

For a moment, you forgot who you were speaking to. This wasn't the same boy you begged to run away with before he got shipped out. This wasn't the same boy who gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sweetly complimented you. This boy--did you truly still know him? Was he still the Norman you grew up with and fell head-over-heels for?

You blinked and that dark look washed itself off his face. He strode up to you and placed a hand on your cheek--just like the day he was supposed to be harvested. Norman’s eyes were soft, softer than any blanket, and his lips pursed into a gentle frown. With his thumb, he wiped a stray tear away. 

Why were you crying?

"Norman..." You couldn’t find the right words. There were none that could explain the suffering you endured in silence. You worried, not only for Norman, but your family and all those other people in the world you didn’t know about. Norman’s plan--oh how stupid it was--had it changed him? Had it forced him to guard his heart to keep a still mind? 

You wondered what he endured while you went on your crazy adventures. At least you had your family, and Yuugo, Lucas, and all your friends. But Norman? He didn’t have anyone but himself. He carried the whole world. Alone. Had he been scared? Worried? Angry that no one came for him? Your heart clenched at the thought. 

"Smile,” Norman said. “It’s okay, I promise. I'm here." He gathered you in his arms and you didn’t have the heart to protest. “How?” you whispered. “How were you able to do all this on your own?” Norman helplessly shrugged. “You could say I have connections, either that or I’m just lucky.”

“What will you do after this is all over?”

Norman went still again, as if he couldn’t answer your question. You heaved in a shaky breath. If Norman wasn’t going to give you a straight answer, then you’d squeeze it out of him. “Did anything else happen to you? I’m sure there’s a catch, isn’t there?” 

It was like someone flipped a switch. One moment, you were a mess of tears, sorrow, and anguish. Now, something menacing laid in your voice. It was almost threatening, as if you were indirectly telling Norman to dare avoid the question. “I don’t want you dying trying to be everything at once,” you said. “Here you’re revered as a god, and if I know you, then it’s plain that you set yourself up like that. Don’t tell me you plan to die on us again.”

He stiffened.

“I know you Norman, don’t forget that. And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself. I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again, but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.” You pulled away and took his hands in yours. A small smile of reassurance made its way up your lips, but Norman didn’t return it. 

No, he couldn’t. And despite all he did, he couldn’t lie straight to your face. Not like this.

Dinner cheered you up. The smiles and laughter that your family shared with Norman made you feel just a little bit better. But how long would it last? And how long would those smiles stay present? All the questions swarming in your mind made you feel sick to your stomach. There was too much to think about, and too little time to answer them.

You forced down the last of your food with a sigh and brought the plate to its respectful place. Everyone was too busy chatting and catching up to notice, but that was fine. It was better that way. 

You made your way to a secluded walkway. It was in one of the calmer areas of the hideout that overlooked the lower levels. It was quiet, save for the distant chatter of Hayato and his friends. He let out a bright laugh that echoed through the vacant walkways. What a shame it would be to hear that disappear.

“So this is where you went.” 

“I told you she’d be here.”

You whipped around in alarm. “Ray, Emma!” 

Ray sharply looked you up and down. He raised a brow and you squirmed under his gaze. He gently bumped shoulders with you. “What’s wrong with you?” 

You absentmindedly shrugged. “Nothing.” 

“That’s what someone who’s not okay would say.” Emma noted. She settled by your side on the railing and flashed a bright smile. “You were so quiet at dinner today.” 

You shook your head. Que another absentminded shrug and plastic smile. “I guess I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.” 

Ray sighed. “Everyone but you?” He leaned against the railing next to you. “Did you and Norman talk at all?”

You froze. ‘Yes’, was what you wanted to say, but no sound came out. The image of Norman’s matured face, the way his his soft lips hit your own, and his stupidly tall build crossed your mind. 

Emma let out a gasp and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Ah!” she cried. “You’re all red!” You covered your hands with your face, ignoring Ray’s curious stare.

“What did you two talk about in his office anyway? Or should I say, do?” The glint in Ray’s eyes had subtext you didn’t want to recite out loud. “Rayyyyy,” you grumbled, “shut up.” He sent you a teasing grin as Emma frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it.” 

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Yeah, it’s grown up stuff.”

You ignored the warmth spreading to your cheeks and elbowed Ray. “Don’t say it like ‘that’! Now you make it sound like something else!” 

He daringly raised a brow. “Like what?” You ran a hand over your scorching face. It was a miracle you weren’t on fire. “No, no, I’m not answering you!” 

You shared a good laugh and a comfortable silence began to settle, blanketing your shoulders in a lightness that you hadn’t felt in a while. 

Emma softly smiled. “I’m glad we found you.” she admitted. “You looked really sad all by yourself out here.” Ray nodded with a small snort. “Yeah, talk about depressing. But seriously though, did something..?”

Of course these two would see through your façade. Of course they’d understand something was wrong. They were your family, and they didn’t deserve your silence. Your smile shattered. “I don’t know if Norman told you about his plan yet, but it’s...it’s bad. Sure, the demons have done some terrible things to us, but that doesn’t mean all of them are guilty. I want to stop him, but I don’t know how.” 

Emma nodded in agreement. “He told us earlier and I don’t like it either.” she firmly said. “Ray and I talked it over and we have a plan, but it’s risky. Like, really risky. It has to do with the Seven Walls and...” 

You held on to every word Emma and Ray spoke. Risky was your middle name. Well, not actually, but it was something that became your friend. You and your family looked death in the face too many times to count. What would be another?

By the end of it, you were sure this new plan would change Norman’s mind, or at least convince him to give up the whole ‘genocide’ thing. It was decided by Ray that tomorrow, you’d all talk to Norman. Things seemed to be looking up. No, they had to be.

------------

The halls were empty and you were alone. How was it you got lost in the first place? You made sure to have every twist and turn memorised, so why did you end up in the wrong corridor twice? Ray would surely tease you for getting lost. What an absolute--

You slammed into someone’s chest. A yelp escaped your throat as the person in question lost his footing. He sucked in a sharp breath and went tumbling straight into you. Your back hit the ground as the boy threw out his arms on either side of your head to brace himself. You didn’t need a name to know who you had tumbled into. Light hair, soft eyes, fancy waistcoat and suit. 

“Norman?”

He hovered over you with wide eyes. His lips were inches from yours and he was just so, so close. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was so gosh dang loud. Could he hear it? Could he see the way your face burned red? 

“Uhm--I--I--uh--” 

Why wasn’t he moving? Why weren’t you moving? Why was it so hard to look him in the eyes? A nervous smile broke out across Norman’s lips. He pushed himself off of you and offered out a hand. You gingerly took it.

“Sorry.” Norman said, helping you to your feet. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?” Your gaze darted from his lips to his dazzling eyes and then to his cheeks dusted in red. Your heart wouldn’t stop slamming against your chest. It kept going, and going until you felt like you were about to burst. 

“Sh-shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you retorted. “I’m not the one who--you know...gets sick all the time.” You weren’t sure why you said it like that, or why that made Norman smile so cutely, but he was smiling. That made your heart flutter. You glanced around the corridor a few times, and somehow, you kept finding focus on his lips. 

What was wrong with you?

Norman caught on fast--like he always did. “Oh I see,” he said with a low chuckle. You swallowed. His voice really did deepen (but you kind of liked it). For a moment, you thought he caught onto your staring, but instead of commenting on it, he intertwined his hand with yours and led you through the winding halls. 

“Don’t tell Ray I got lost.” you muttered. Norman laughed and it was like the sound of happiness itself. “I won’t.” 

The halls all looked the exact same: cream coloured paint, nature-like decorations, and numbered wooden doors. You forgot what number your room was, so that was probably why you got lost. Norman took a sharp left where you recalled should be a right instead. “Wait isn’t it that way?”

“I have something to give you, so we’re going to make a quick detour.” Norman’s cheeks dusted pink and he looked the slightest bit nervous. “What is it you want to show me?” He flashed you a contagious smile. “It’s a surprise.” 

“What kind of surprise?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said with a chuckle, “that’s why it’s called a surprise.”

When you got to his office, you were nervous. Surprises were fun, yes, but in a world where nearly getting eaten by wild demons fell into the category of ‘surprise’, you learned not to like them very much.

Norman closed the door behind you and it softly clicked shut. Okay, you thought. So he was locking the door and making his way over to his desk. Okay, that’s fine. Norman shuffled through a cabinet, that nervous look still on his face. Okay, okay, nothing wrong here. He gently shut the drawer, and as he walked out from behind his desk, you took note of the small little box he fiddled with. 

Okay. Okay. Box. Nervous. Locked door. Did he not want anyone to interrupt whatever he was about to do? 

Norman heaved in a deep breath. A really, really, really deep breath. “(Y/n), I have never met anyone else like you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and kind.” He sunk to one knee and opened the little box. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

---------

You jolted awake with a start. 

“Sorry,” Norman said. He scribbled a few words down in his notebook. “Did I wake you?” 

Ah, that’s right. After you talked with Emma and Ray, you all met up with Norman and hung out for a bit. But when had you gotten to his office? Much less, fallen asleep? You rubbed your eyes with a shake of your head. Judging by the tired look on Norman’s face, it was way past bedtime.

The heavy cloak around your shoulders offered a welcoming warmth. It smelled like books. It smelled like parchment and ink. It smelled like Norman and it was comforting. 

He glanced up from his notebook and curiously met your gaze. “What are you smiling at?” The dream popped up in your mind and your smile grew. “I had a good dream.” 

“What was it about?” he inquired without looking up.

“You.” 

The scratch of the pencil froze and he met your gaze. “You had a dream about me?” Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, and you proposed.” Norman’s back went rigid and he turned as red as an apple. “I-I pro--proposed to you?” he stammered. You snickered, a smug smile tugging on your lips. “It was really sweet. And if you’re wondering, I said yes. I was going to kiss you, but then I woke up.” You stood up with a sigh. “It was disappointing, but that’s okay.” 

You let out a small laugh and neatly folded Norman’s cloak. You left it on the couch and made your way across the room. “That’s a nice notebook.” you said. “What’re you writing about?”

Norman stilled and closed the book with a smile. “It’s nothing special.” He put the pencil down ever so quietly and stood. “Do you seek my affections?” he inquired. You settled on the wall. “Don’t you have work to do?” Norman looked down at you. His fringe brushed across his eyelashes, and he loosened his tie. Slowly.

Your heart steadily drummed against your chest. “What are you doing?” The false innocence in your voice caused Norman to chuckle lowly. He caressed your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Well, you did say you were disappointed right? Why don’t I make it up to you?” 

He rested an arm on the wall with a sly smirk. Your lips connected and it made your stomach flip-flop. The kiss was slow, it was sweet. You found yourself pulling him closer, running your hands through his hair and yanking him over. "Norman?" He met your gaze with half-lidded eyes. "Yes (N/n)?"

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

He smirked and it was hot. The fact that he kept his arm braced against the wall didn’t help either. "Why?" he lowly inquired. "Do you like it?" Your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself wanting more. 

Knock, knock!

Norman didn't look too happy about that. He ran a hand over your cheek and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, that half-lidded look of his melting into warmth and love. He made his way to the door, tightening his tie and smoothing out his hair with a quick touch.

"Hello--?" Norman fell short mid-sentence. As soon as your gaze locked with the person on the other side, you understood why. Ray stood in the threshold, just as red-faced as you and Norman, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll come back later.” he muttered. 

Oh great. Had he been eavesdropping? You glanced at Norman and he glanced at you, then Ray, and back to you. Ray sucked his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t have too much fun.” he said, a smirk twitching onto his lips.

You made your way to the threshold with a groan. “Rayyyy!” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” he coolly replied. “Do whatever, I didn’t see anything.”

PART 2 <--- READ PART 2

NOTE: I spent a WHOLE WEEK writing this. Please reblog so I know you guys like it :)

TIP JAR

[justrandomselfships]

“Who can I talk to?”- Sylvain x Heather short story.

This story contains spoilers for Fire emblem three houses!

He still remembers it just like it was yesterday, while in reality it was 5 years ago. The Garreg Mach Ball, the day where he had his heart skip a beat. He didn’t think much about this day but once he saw Heather again the memory came back and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How they laughed and how beautiful she looked while dancing... He never doubted that he loves her- but he loved her like a friend does. Right now, he's certain the kind of feelings he has may be different from what he first felt about her.

He was happy about it, but he had nobody to share his happiness with. His options were limited from the start... So he had no choice but to bottle it up.

Of course he was great at pretending, so nobody was any wiser. Once he was alone though he let his guard down.

It was late, Sylvain stood on the bridge near the cathedral looking in the distance, he thought about Heather again. Letting out a sigh he just realized he wasn't exactly alone...

“Sylvain?” said a gentle voice, one that he recognized well.

“Hello there Mercedes, what a beauty like you is doing here at this hour?" he smiled at her and she giggled.

"I just had a sudden urge to pray. Or maybe I was looking for a ghost. Who knows?" she said it in dramatic tone.

"Beautiful and mysterious, you got yourself quite a package"

"Enough about me, what are you doing here? Why were you sighing just now? Did something happen?"

"I was only thinking back about good old times, mainly about the ball if I'm gonna be honest"

"It was really fun indeed"

"It sure was..." although the memory is a happy one, he suddenly stated feeling bitter about it.

His change of expression didn't go unnoticed as the lady before him asked "There is something more to it, isn't it?"

"I'm just having some mixed feelings, that's all" he tried to brush it off.

"Well, I'm willing to listen no matter what they are. Especially right now I don't think it'd do us any good to forget we have lives outside the battlefield" she told him, although her tone was sweet he knew how serious she was.

He was quiet for a moment as he felt a little embarrassed... It was weird since he never held back with that kind of stuff but with her everything was different. He eventually spoke up "It's about Heather..."

Mercedes smiled "I'm listening" she looked at him and was quite surprised to see him blush like that. She could guess at that moment what he was about to say.

"I think I love her" he chuckled "But I can't really talk about it" although he was smiling his expression was more of a defeated one.

"If you're afraid of getting rejected-" she couldn't finish her sentence before she got cut off "I'm actually afraid that I won't" as he said it he saw the confusion on Mercie's face so he continued "Heather isn't the type to say 'no' no matter how much she doesn't want to be with someone... Instead she just tries to drive them away... But that's not about that anyways"

"Oh now I understand... You're afraid she will accept your feelings just to ultimately make you regret loving her?" she was surprised as to how brutal it was, she never suspected that Heather was capable of such things... But then again there could be a reason why she does that.

"Like I said this isn't about that. That's entirely different problem for future Sylvain to solve if it comes to this" he half-joked "I'll tell her how I feel after we won't be have to worry about the war- I already decided on that... But it's exhausting to pretend all day that everything I say to her is a joke"

"Then, you can always come to see me" she said sounding as supportive as possible "If you'll ever need to say or even scream about your feelings towards her, I'll lend you my ears. I'm actually quite curious about what your true thoughts are like" she giggled.

"I'll just feel stupid if all we'll talk about is me, so if you have anything you'd like to get off your mind- just say the word"

"It's a deal then" Mercedes clapped her hands together "But it's getting quite late. We'll talk more next time. Goodnight Sylvain"

"I can walk you back to your room if you'd like" he reached his hand out and she gladly took it "Alright, then I suppose our conversation doesn't need to end now"

Sylvain felt happy that he finally had someone to talk to... Their conversation as he escorted her to her room was short, but he had more conversations to look forward to.

[coldmilkcreamery]

Luminescent Moonlight

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: nct dream x male reader 🥀🌹

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1862

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: y/n sneaks out of the dorms every friday night. the dreamies notice and follow him only to find out that…

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀: degradation; swearing

𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 🌙

𝗮/𝗻: uhh... idk how to feel about this? at first i was proud of it but now reading it i'm like... meh but enjoy ig ^^ this marks the last day of our launch week, which means we won't be posting daily anymore :(( we have 2 requests and we're working on them, if you have any feel free to drop it at the ask box !! good night <33

> 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 <

-

Both hands on the clock point at 12 again, signaling Y/N’s departure from the NCT dorms. As their newest and youngest member, Y/N was thought of as the sweetest, purest, and on top of all, most respectable member of NCT. He graduated Neo High with honors, was friendly on campus and auditioned for SM only once, unlike the sea of trainees who had to audition for more than three times. Because of this, he was viewed as this innocent prince once SM told the boys that he would be joining NCT. But, just like any cliché scenario, none of them knew of what Y/N did in the dead of night, when the moonlight shone on the city and no one knew him, not even by his silhouette.

✦ 𝙨𝙞𝙭 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 ✦

“Has anyone noticed Y/N during the weekends recently? He usually isn't sleeping on his bed when he’s supposed to be.” Shotaro asks, genuinely worried about him.

“He probably just goes to the comfort room and stays in there for the whole night or something, no biggie.” Jeno says sarcastically, shoving a mouthful of popcorn into his mouth as he blabs his mouth.

“Hm,” Jisung mumbles, skeptical of Y/N’s actions, “there is definitely something up with him.” Jisung wasn’t one to get jealous often but with the addition of Y/N into NCT, the beloved, innocent, has-never-committed-a-sin Y/N, the attention wasn’t on him anymore. He was a tad bit jealous, but he would never admit that out loud.

“So what do you wanna do about it then?” Jeno replies, still staring straight at the television playing Titanic, “Confront him about it? It’s not like he’s gonna budge. What are you gonna do then, force him to tell you? Huh?”

“Quit being an asshole Jen.” Jaemin slaps Jeno sitting beside him, a frown on his face.

“How about we just, you know, pretend to sleep and wait till he gets up and leaves, then follow him?” Sungchan suggests, equally as worried as Shotaro. Both the former and the latter know how hard it is to be new members of a group that has already debuted. So, they felt the need to let Y/N know that he didn’t have to keep leaving the dorms, for an escape or whatever.

“Then it’s decided,” Jeno speaks up, finally peeling his eyes off the television, “tonight, we find out what the fuck Y/N has been doing for the past 6 weeks.”

✦ 𝙨𝙞𝙭 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 ✦

Y/N rises up from his bed, making extra effort not to make a noise. He grabs the hickory duffle bag from under his bed and unzips it to check if he’s had everything for his night out ready. He zips it back just seconds after and drapes it over his shoulder, getting ready to leave. He pulls his hoodie up and ties his black converses before opening the wooden door and leaving the Dream Dorms, oblivious to the boys’ plans.

Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, Sungchan, Shotaro and Jisung are led from the warmth of their dorms into the cold autumn night as they follow the figure wearing a black hoodie in front of them. The 8 boys walk for what seems like hours, crossing street to street, going through alley to alley, main road to main road as they do nothing but stay in silence and tail the (H/C) boy in front of them. They don’t know how many neon signs they’ve passed by now, only noticing how red ones become more and more evident as they venture deeper into the city.

“I think we’re in the red light district.” Haechan blurts, being met with shushes from the 7 other boys he was with. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Y/N of course, who pauses and turns around, only to look at a dark, empty street behind him. Y/N furrows his brows, confused, as he resumes his amble towards his destination.

Hiding behind garbage bins, the 8 boys sit in disgust as they hide from Y/N, scared of being caught halfway through their stalking session. Haechan peeks his head out and speaks up once again, but this time quietly, “The coast is clear.” All 8 stand up synchronized, noses scrunched as they glare at Haechan.

“No shit sherlock,” Chenle whisper-shouts, hues of scarlet and crimson decorating his face, “it’s red everywhere! Of course we’re in the red light district!”

The others giggle as they stare at Chenle.

“No, you dumbass,” Haechan replies calmly, “a red light district is like a place full of clubs and.. you know…” He trails off as the other seven’s brows furrow.

“Let’s not jump into conclusions,” Sungchan cuts him off, remaining positive, “let’s just keep following him.”

They sneak behind Y/N once again, trying their best not to get caught. It was only a minute or two before they saw Y/N turn a corner. The 8 slowly creeped up on the opening of the alley, just in time to see Y/N enter a building with an indigo sign, which stood out in the sea of bright, neon red signs.

“You don’t think… he’s a…” Jaemin spoke up as all of them shared a glance. The eight of them stood in silence, too scared to speak up, under the illusion that Y/N may be a male stripper. That wouldn’t be a problem but he was… 17.

“Only one way to find out.”

♪♪♪♪...

The deafening music boomed from the speakers, resonating into the indigo aesthetic of the club. Contrary to the word, this side of the club was the opposite of aesthetic: sweaty bodies stuck together, giving the 8 boys an unsettling feeling. They had almost started contemplating on leaving the said club, but not before Jaemin spots a quiet section, free of the sweaty bodies grinding against each other. It wasn’t free of people, per se, as there were a few people making out here and there, but it definitely wasn’t as congested as the indigo dance floor they had previously stood on. They saw vacant seats at the bar and, just like anyone who had been walking and hiding for 30 minutes, took a seat. All 8 of them had their backs turned away from the bar as a familiar voice spoke up.

“What can I get for you?” Y/N asks, a smile forced on his face. Y/N’s blue velvet suit shimmers under the spinning disco ball, exhibiting various accents of blue. Azure, cobalt and lapis and sapphire compliment Y/N’s face as he looks down, glass in one hand and towel on the other, wiping. He’s wearing nothing but a blue velvet blazer as a top, chest out as if he was as the beach. The boys turn around, mouths agape and unable to speak. They lock eyes with Y/N when the latter looks up due to the long, uncomfortable silence, eyes wide open, his body frozen in shock.

Attempting to cover his exposed chest, Y/N drops the glass and immediately places his hands flat on his chest, the feeling of fear, embarrassment and surprise devouring him.

“Y/N what the fuck?” Jeno blows up, completely losing his self control, “What the fuck are you doing in this… this.. strip club? You’re sev-”

Y/N unsticks his palms from his chest and re-sticks it onto Jeno’s mouth, shushing the older. “Shhh. let’s…” he pans his eyes from left to right, staring into his hyung’s disappointed faces, “let’s talk outside. Wait for me.”

The boys head towards the exit as they pass by the cramped dance floor once again, the silver disco ball spinning endlessly above them. They exit the club, the chilly breeze of the autumn night slapping them on the face once again as they step out. They wait in silence, leaning on the wall, occasionally staring at the indigo sign above them. Just as Chenle was about to break the silence, the cushioned doors of the club open slowly, revealing a boy in a more decent outfit. Y/N steps out, head burning holes into the stone floor. As soon as the doors of the club seal shut, all 8 of them went into chaos.

“What the fuck?”

“Is this what you’ve been doing for the past 6 weeks?”

“What are you doing with your life?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually a fucking stripper. What made SM recruit a stripper?”

He let himself get scolded but got caught off guard when Jisung uttered those words. “Wait, stripper?” Y/N looks up from the now-molten floor, eyebrows furrowed, tears pricking the corner of his eyes, “I— how could you even call me that?”

“Don’t act like you didn't have your chest on display before we got there.” Jisung replies, disgust written on his face, “Is this really what you've been doing for the past month and a half? Whoring yourself out? I guess you love people’s attention on your body don’t you?”

The gates of the dam that had held his tears finally gave out, spilling endlessly as Y/N tried to find his words, “I— that’s just the uniform for us bartenders… I work in a club so… we’re required to—”

“Exactly Y/N!” Jaemin shouts, “You’re 17 for fucks sake, why the fuck are you working at a bar? You’re a fucking idol! You're going to be publicly announced as a new member next month! What if people start recognizing you, huh? Then what?”

“I-I’m sorry hyungs. I—” tears gushed from Y/N’s orbs, coating his face, “I just did this for money.” Disgusted looks turned to looks of confusion as the 8 boys stared at Y/N, puzzled.

“M-my mom is in the hospital, she’s dealing with stage iii breast cancer and,” Y/N says, shaking, unable to complete a sentence without stopping, “and my family couldn’t afford the hospital bills, and the company wasn’t paying me yet– and I– I couldn’t wait any longer so when I saw a poster one day, looking for a bartender, I applied and lied about my age. Hyungs I’m really sorry, I- I didn’t do it because- because I liked putting my body on display. To be honest I was really uncomfortable but– but I would do anything for my mom and—”

Y/N pauses as he feels a warmth envelope him, curing his heart’s hypothermia. “We’re sorry. You know we can always lend you a hand, right?” Jaemin says, regretting his thoughts. Renjun adds to the two boys hugging, then Shotaro, then Chenle, and soon enough, all 9 of them are one; all hugging it out in a giant fluff ball, in the aged alleyway under the moonlight.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung states, voice softer as ever, “for calling you that. And, I know your mom is strong, she’ll get through this.”

Y/N felt warmer, and suddenly, under the moonlight, all his worries and doubts vanished. Nothing was more calming than a hug from the 8 boys he loved the most. They stayed like that for as long as Y/N needed, the moonlight’s luminescence lingering in the air.

End.

-

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙: 01.11.21

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙: 01.12.21

[topsytervy]

Cupcakes ~ JJ Maybank and Rafe Cameron

Blurb: Rafe and JJ decide to do a bit of baking for you since you're on your period

Word Count: 1,399

Warnings: swearing, mentions of periods?, grammar/spelling mistakes, i think thats it.

I couldn't choose between the two so i did both and decided on the reader, JJ, and Rafe being a trio. The writing gets a tad dicey at the end but I never know how to wrap these little blurbs up so I'm not surprised.

~~~~~

You laid in your bed, fetal position, an unopened Midol bottle on your nightstand with a water bottle, a heating pad clutched to your abdomen as you clenched your eyes shut at the pain coursing through your stomach. 

If you were being honest, you were really fucking close to taking one of those knives from the knife block in your kitchen and cutting out your own uterus.

That sounded like it would hurt less than the absolute agony that your period was causing you.

Your phone buzzed and you winced as you flipped over, reaching across the bed to grab the device and hitting the accept button on the call.

"Hello?"

"Oh wow, you're up? She's actually up, Rafe. Anyway, Rafe and I are at the store right now but we were thinking since it's a beautiful day we either go to the beach or, if it's too crowded, we just hang by Rafe's pool. Oh, yeah,  pick up two bags of the flamin' hot Cheetos." JJ's voice rang through the phone.

You went to sit up but whimpered as your cramps punched you in the stomach.

"Y/N? You okay?"

You heard Rafe whisper a 'what's wrong' and JJ hushed him.

"Mhm. I just don't feel like going anywhere today. You know…girl issues." Silence filled the other side of the line and you exhaled sharply. "Period, JJ. I'm on my period."

"Oh!" He responded. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N. Do you need anything?" 

"Uh hello? Can I know what's happening or am I just the wallet around here?" You heard Rafe right next to the phone.

"No. I'm pretty much all set. I'm sorry that I can't join you two." You apologized, tears welling up in your eyes.

Stupid emotions.

JJ heard you sniff on the other side and he immediately started trying to make it better. "No, no, no. Please stop the tears."

"Now she's crying. Give me the damn phone, Maybank." You heard slight rustling before Rafe’s voice came over the phone speaker a lot clearer. "Screw talking to JJ. Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I hurt a lot and my periods ruining the plans you and J made and now I'm sad cause I can barely move so I can't hang out with you two today and I feel horrible."

Rafe walked towards the end of the aisle and looked at the signs above to aisles before finding the one he wanted and going towards it. "Y/N, it's not that big of a deal. It's okay to blow us off cause you're in pain. It’s like if you broke a leg. We're not mad at you for something you can't control."

"I'm sorry." You sniffed.

"And that's the other thing. Quit apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Okay."

"Now dry those pretty little eyes of yours and then close them to try and get some rest, okay?" 

Rafe’s eyes scanned over the boxes of cake and brownie mix until he finally found what he wanted and grabbed the box, throwing it into the cart that JJ was now pushing.

"Okay."

"Bye, Y/N/N. We'll talk to you later." 

"Alright. Bye, Rafe."

Rafe hung up, handed JJ his phone back, and continued down the aisle, grabbing two tins of frosting. 

"Cupcake mix?" JJ raised an eyebrow at the older boy.

"Yeah. We're gonna make Y/N/N cupcakes."

JJ picked up the box and looked on the back before scrunching up his nose. "What if we made them from scratch?"

Rafe turned to look at the blonde boy. "You think we can handle it?"

"As long as Rose and Ward aren't home to make a fuss, yeah."

Rafe grinned as he pulled out his phone and googled recipes for cupcakes. "Alright. Put the box back. We're getting the frosting premade though. And we obviously need the paper to put in the tins along." Rafe started listing, his eyes trained on his phone as he continued walking.

****

Two and a half hours later, Rafe and JJ were parked in your driveway, a box of cupcakes in JJ's arm and a bag containing Rafe's sweatshirt and JJ's sweatpants swinging from Rafe's hand. 

They carefully and quietly made their way upstairs and into your room, unsure if you were sleeping or not. You turned over, rather regretfully considering you had found the perfect position to keep the cramps somewhat at bay, when you heard a bag rustle. Your TV was on and playing How To Get Away With Murder, a slightly concerning choice your two best friends noted.

"Did we wake you?" JJ asked, worry written on his face.

You shook your head. "No. I haven't been able to fall asleep yet."

"Well, we made cupcakes." JJ grinned, holding up the box. 

"When you say we made cupcakes, do you mean from the box?" You shot the two boys a look.

"No. We made them, from scratch. By hand. Followed a recipe online. You can even check Rafe's search history."

Rafe grimaced. "Uh...maybe don't. Or let me clear a couple of things first." 

You ignored Rafe's sentence and sat up, immediately placing your head on your knees. 

"Have you taken any Midol?" Rafe asked, coming over to sit on your bed.

"No. I can't get the damn bottle open."

Rafe nodded before grabbing the bottle off of your bedside table and opening it with ease as JJ set the cupcakes on your desk.

JJ grabbed a water bottle from your mini-fridge and twisted the cap off, handing it to you while Rafe poured two pills into the palm of his hand. He placed them into yours, putting the cap back on the bottle into the little drawer of the table.

You popped them into your mouth and took a swig of water as Rafe spoke. "We also brought you your favorite shirt of mine you like to steal and your favorite sweatpants of JJ's you like to steal."

You nodded as you swallowed the water and pills in your mouth before grabbing the bag and heading into the bathroom to change. You always swore that their clothes were way softer than yours so you felt pretty grateful that they brought over their clothes for you to wear.

When you walked back out you saw, Rafe and JJ sitting on your bed, JJ holding a cupcake in each hand as Rafe held one in his.

"Alright. Get over here so we can try these bad boys." JJ nodded to the empty spot between him and Rafe. You climbed into the spot, Rafe setting the heating pad back on your stomach as you leaned against the headboard, taking a cupcake from JJ's hand.

You peeled off the paper, leaning across Rafe to throw it in the trash can, before taking a bite out of the treat.

You hummed. "I'm pleasantly surprised. When did you two become bakers cause holy shit? This is pretty damn good." 

Rafe shrugged as JJ beamed.

"Just call us whoever the hell the guy from Cake Boss is." JJ bumped his shoulder against yours as you snorted.

"Please. You're no Buddy Valastro. Yeah, these are delicious but that's like me making spaghetti and saying I'm Gordon Ramsey." 

"At least you like them and they, hopefully, made your day better." Rafe slung an arm over your shoulder.

"The cupcakes do make this slightly more bearable." You pressed a kiss to Rafe's cheek before turning and placing one on JJ's as well. "Aren't I lucky to have two baker boys as my best friends?" You grinned, not missing the smile on Rafe and JJ’s faces when you said that.

JJ rested his head on your shoulder. "You are pretty lucky to have us as friends huh?"

"Yeah, I am. Now if you could hand me the remote so I can put on a show that doesn't have an excessive amount of sex scenes in it, that'd be much appreciated. That’s the last thing I wanna watch with you two. Oh and grab the box of cupcakes. I have a feeling those are going to be my lunch.”

Rafe and JJ shot you a glare. 

“You can have another cupcake after you eat an actual meal,” JJ told you as Rafe stood up. 

“I’ll go see what I can whip up in the kitchen. You stay here and make sure she doesn’t snag another one.” 

~~~~

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Three: Chasing Waterfalls

a/n: Welcome back!! Another huge thank you for the sweet words and love you have shown to part 2! I'm so glad to hear from those of you who are enjoying the story so far :') Things are starting to get interesting, so I hope you'll stay tuned! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to come chat with me after you have finished reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, drug/alcohol mention

Word Count: 5.3k

catch up on parts one and two

Alani watches the stream of salt descend gracefully into the salt-shaker like a mini waterfall, her mind still replaying the events of the past couple of weeks. It has been fourteen days, 336 hours, and 20,160 minutes since the last time she saw Harry, not that she was counting. The image of him getting smaller in her rearview mirror as she drove away from the recording studio is still fresh in her mind. Two weeks and all she has to show for it is three sentences in her notebook, most of which is material she had already known prior to the interview. Alani supposes that this fact should trouble her more than it does, with her future at Rolling Stone depending on much more than the smoothie preferences of Harry Styles; but all she can dwell on at the moment is the serene image of them standing side by side, pinkies nearly touching, making a wish on the most vibrant rainbow she had ever seen. What does concern her, however, are the events that immediately followed their arrival back at Napua.

“Maybe next time we should do this in a neutral location,” Harry had offered, stepping out of the Range Rover. “Less distractions,”

Alani’s brows shot up at the words, not quite believing that she had heard him right. “Next time?”

“You can’t possibly have gotten everything you needed from that,” he scoffed, leaning against the passenger door. Alani had fully prepared to butter him up in order to extend their time beyond the initial one interview agreement, but she hadn’t expected it to be this easy, especially after his dismissal of her attempted humor and begrudging lunch invitation.

“Well, no, but I thought-”

“Okay, so we’ll do this again,” he shrugged, “No biggie,”

Alani felt a wave of relief, and a twinge of excitement, rush over her at the prospect of securing another interview with Harry. Offering him a grateful smile, she nodded and agreed.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you, again, for agreeing to this,”

Harry’s furrowed brow didn’t budge, nor did his set jaw and pouted lips. He simply offered a small bow of his head and a ringed finger through his dark locks.

“Sure. Wouldn’t wanna be the reason you fail,”

“Thanks,” she replied through a forced laugh.

Alani had almost forgotten about the cover she devised to get Harry to agree to the exclusive. A part of her wondered how willing he would have been to participate had he known her true intentions of submitting the final piece to Rolling Stone, but the better part of her judgement knew there was too much at stake to fold her cards now. Besides, Harry had to have known that any work linked to his name would get some sort of public attention, regardless of the original intentions. At least, that was what Alani planned to say if things went south.

“So you can just... text me, I guess,” she proposed cautiously. “When you’re free?”

“Will do,” Harry nodded. “But I think that requires us to exchange phone numbers first,”

“Right,”

Alani pulled her phone from the back pocket of her shorts and opened the contacts app before holding it out to Harry. Carefully, he punched his digits and handed it back, smirking when he was greeted by the image of irresistible watery eyes and floppy ears beneath the time.

“Cute dog,” he remarked while Alani finished typing her own number into his phone.

A soft smile spread across her lips as the image of her furry companion drifted into her mind.

“Oh, thanks. His name’s Freddie,”

“D’you name all your belongings after 70s rock stars?” Harry teased, flashing a dimpled grin.

“As a matter of fact,” Alani played along. “I’m about to go take a sip from Mick Jagger in my car,”

Immediately, Alani regretted her choice of words, though the bright ringing of Harry’s laughter soothed some of the embarrassment.

She winced, nose scrunched. “I guess there’s no taking that one back, huh?”

“Not a chance,”

Clutching her bag closer and sliding her sunglasses back onto the bridge of her nose, Alani took a step back and sighed.

“And with that, I bid you adieu.”

“Au revoir.”

Two weeks and still radio silence from Harry. Alani had begun to wonder whether she had input her phone number correctly in the first place, or if her penchant for embarrassing herself had ruined all chances of Harry making good on his promises.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you want salted fries you’re gonna have to wait for your turn at the salt mound, just like everyone else,” the voice of Alani’s sister breaks through her thoughts. Somewhere between reliving her last interaction with Harry and anticipating their impending reunion, Alani’s hand had drifted slightly off course of the salt shaker, resulting in a rather impressive mountain of salt forming on the countertop.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Alani retorts, annoyed at the mess she’ll have to clean up.

“Seemed like you were in the zone, or possibly sleepwalking—and you know what they say about disturbing sleepwalkers,” Pua says simply, unaffected by her sister’s irritation. “Plus, I thought it would be funny, and I was right,”

Alani sweeps the salt into a garbage can below, her mind already drifting back to her afternoon with Harry, when her sister speaks up again.

“He hasn’t called yet?”

This catches Alani’s attention, but she only shakes her head dejectedly in response.

“I thought your date went well,” Pua muses, thinking back to the way her sister had practically floated through the house upon her return.

“It wasn’t a date,” Alani corrects firmly, perhaps trying to convince herself, as well.

Pua scoffs, lifting herself to sit on the countertop. “So you made me cover a four hour shift for nothing?”

“It’s strictly professional and he’s busy,” Alani sighs. “That’s just how these things go,”

“Did he let you listen to his new music?” the younger sister asks, eyes widening.

Alani rolls her eyes and resumes twisting the caps back onto the filled salt shakers. “No,”

“Did you ask him why he left One Direction?”

“No,”

“Is he single?”

“I don’t know,” Alani huffs, turning to face her smug little sister. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Ask him what?” a familiar accented voice cuts in behind her.

Alani whips around to face Harry, a familiar dent between his brows and dark sunglasses shielding her from the intensity of his stare.

“Ask my dad if I can go to the..movies—tonight,” Pua chimes in. “With my friends. I have those,”

Harry smirks, lifting his sunglasses up to address her. “S’that so?”

“Yup,” she confirms, popping the “p” and crossing her arms. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Curiosity runs in the family, I see,” he remarks with amusement. “Shoot,”

“Is your phone working?”

“Why don’t you go call dad and ask him about the movies? I’ll cover the register,” Alani interrupts, shooting a glare over her shoulder as her sister saunters into the kitchen with a satisfied grin on her round face.

“Ignore her, she’s fifteen,”

“The most honest age in my experience,” Harry observes with a twinge of guilt settling in the pit of his stomach.

Alani pushes any thoughts about Harry, beyond the fact that he’s standing in front of her, to the side and puts on her best customer service voice. “What can I get started for you today?”

“A green smoothie, please,” he says, searching for her eyes that are occupied with the register buttons. “And the rest of your afternoon, if you’re free,”

Alani pauses and allows her gaze to meet his. She senses a hint of apology behind his emerald eyes, a welcome change to the storminess that often clouds them.

“I don’t know,” she starts slowly, despite the fact that every bone in her body is screaming at her to go. “I gotta finish up here,”

“What time are you off?”

Alani mulls his question over, silently deciding whether to tell the truth or not. Ultimately, retribution for her bruised ego is the only reason she can come up with for lying. She knows that it isn’t logical to be upset with him due to the fact that their relationship is strictly professional. Harry owes her nothing; in fact, him agreeing to meet with her the first time was, as she pointed out on several occasions, entirely a favor on his end. Despite this fact, Alani couldn’t help the disappointment she had felt the very next day when he hadn’t even texted his name to make sure that he had the right number. And she can’t help how she feels now, two weeks later, looking into his big, dumb eyes that are begging for her forgiveness. She missed him. Against her better judgment, and for reasons she can’t explain, Alani misses Harry, so she chooses honesty.

“Four,”

“Great,” he perks up, victoriously. “Then I’ll have the green smoothie, and keep ‘em coming,”

“You’re gonna stay here that long?” Alani asks, eyes darting to the 1:11 displayed on her watch.

Harry holds up a teal paperback with cassette tapes stacked on the cover. “Got some reading material to keep me company,”

“Love is a Mix Tape,” she reads the yellow cursive looped at the bottom of the cover aloud with a nod.

“Ever read it?” he questions, flipping through the pages.

“Can’t say that I have,”

“Well then you can borrow it sometime.” Harry says finally, turning on his heel in the direction of a table near the window.

Alani half expects him to leave and come back closer to their allotted time, but he simply sits near the window with the book in front of him and the straw of his drink resting against his pouted bottom lip. Customers come and go, tables are cleared, and the sunlight spills into different corners of the room, but Harry remains perfectly unchanged as if he were a fixture of the room itself. His presence is both comforting and unnerving to Alani, who glides around the room taking orders and serving food. Meanwhile, Harry does his very best to focus on the words in front of him, but the letters jumble together like alphabet soup amidst his wandering thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he follows Alani as she gracefully moves from one table to the next, flashing a warm smile at each guest who enters. He notices the tapping of her pen to whatever Beach Boys song plays over the stereo and the way she bites the inside of her cheek when making change at the register. The more details he stores in his mind, the deeper the sinking feeling burrows into his stomach. It had taken every ounce of willpower and over twenty unsent text messages to stay away, but Harry needed to put space between them for both of their sakes. He didn’t dare flatter himself with the thought of her having feelings for him, but he didn’t mind her company and that hadn’t done him much good these days. Harry knew that eventually he would have to bite the bullet and keep his word, and he decided that a temporary writer’s block was as good a time as any to do so.

“What ever happened to that girl?” Jeff had asked the evening prior, responding to an email from the recording label.

Harry feigned ignorance and continued to doodle something in his notebook, though he knew exactly who his manager was referring to. “What girl?”

“Dark hair, pretty, made you blush like a 12 year old,”

“I did not,'' Harry defended, scribbling a little more harshly. “‘S nothing. Was just helpin’ her out,”

Jeff snorted with an accusational brow raised.

“How romantic,”

“Jesus, not like that!”

“All I’m saying,” Jeff conceded. “Is that you seem a little uptight these days, and the music shows,”

Harry pondered this for a minute, his pen stilling to look over the lyrics, or lack thereof, on the page.

“You should be having a little fun, that’s literally what we came here for,” Jeff continued. “Get out of this fuckin’ studio and be a normal 22 year-old. You deserve it.”

So Harry had decided to go out, telling himself that he was merely listening to a friend’s advice for the sake of his music and sanity. But a part of him also desperately wanted to see Alani, even if he didn’t really know why.

As the clock strikes four, Alani sucks in a deep breath and turns to her sister slicing bananas in the kitchen.

“I’m going out,”

“Figured,” Pua responds, unphased. “I’ll cover for you,”

“I owe you.”

“Get me tickets to his next concert and we’ll call it even.”

Alani rolls her eyes, amused, and presses a chaste kiss to her sister’s temple before grabbing her bag off the hook and heading out. When she emerges in the dining area, Harry is already waiting at the counter with his broad shoulders turned away from her. She taps him gently and feels dizzy when he turns to her with a faint dimpled smile.

“Ready to roll?” he asks.

“Ready.”

When the two are comfortably situated in the Range Rover, Harry scans the parking lot and pulls away onto Mamalahoa Highway.

“Where’s Stevie?” he questions, his lower lip pinched between his index finger and thumb in concentration.

“Oh I walk to the restaurant,” Alani explains. “Don’t live too far,”

“Explains why you ditched your sister,”

“I did not ditch her!” Alani defends with a light laugh.

“Kinda did,”

She shakes her head in mock offense as the corners of Harry’s lips turn up. “My dad will pick her up after work, she’ll be fine,”

“Not to accuse you of nepotism,” he hesitates. “But I thought maybe your dad worked at the café. Family business?”

“He owns it, yeah, but he also works as the head chef at Honu. It’s a resort,” Alani continues. “But I’ll have you know that my waitressing skills are highly qualified, regardless of the nepotism,”

“And your mum?”

“She’s a doctor—pediatric surgeon,”

“That’s amazing,” Harry comments, glancing down at the GPS.

“Yeah, she is,” Alani agrees, her own eyes darting to the screen before attempting to analyze her surroundings. “Hey, where are we going?”

The rings on Harry’s right hand tap gently on the steering wheel as he responds carefully, withholding any hints.

“To the best interview spot I could think of. Go there sometimes to work on the album,”

“So there is an album,” Alani wiggles her brows.

“Off the record,” he clarifies. “But.. potentially,”

She scoffs at his insistence to maintain secrecy.

“Really?”

“We’re almost there.” Harry consoles, referring primarily to their destination, but perhaps speaking personally, as well. Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning and chooses to nod silently in acceptance.

The next few minutes of their drive are filled by humming along to whatever song drifts through the stereo, most notably Paul McCartney and George Harrison, which inspires a lively back and forth about the ranking of ex-Beatles members.

“It goes Paul, George, Ringo, and John,” Alani states matter-of-factly. “There’s no other answer,”

Harry shoots her an incredulous look before responding. “Are you seriously putting Ringo Starr before John Lennon?”

“John Lennon was an abusive asshole,” Alani defends. “Plus he wrote, like, one good song-”

“More than one song—”

“I said a good song. ‘Good’ being the keyword,”

Harry can’t hold back his endearment at her reasoning, so he shakes his head with a wide grin plastered on his face and decides to take one last swing at the hornet’s nest.“He’s still a legend,”

“Isn’t it weird,” Alani muses with a far-away look in her eyes. “That someday, someone’s gonna have this conversation about you?”

Harry doesn’t respond right away, weighing her words and how they settle in his bones. It doesn’t offend him in the slightest, he’s heard far worse, but there is still something strange about comparing himself to musicians he considers to be his icons. Despite all the hard work and sacrifices he’s made over the past five years, he still sees himself as the lucky little kid from Holmes Chapel underneath it all.

“I’m sorry,” Alani speaks up when Harry doesn’t respond. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, no it’s okay,” He reassures her. “I was just thinking... ‘bout what you said. I guess I don’t really think about it like that,”

“Oh,” is all she says, still waiting for him to elaborate. After a beat, Harry begins again in his characteristically slow way of speaking that Alani finds charming.

“It’s just that,” he begins, tugging on his lower lip. “Obviously I can’t ignore, you know, the impact that all of it had. But to me it was just… I don’t know. In my head it’s not really on the same level,”

Alani nods, though she can’t say it’s with complete understanding. In this moment, she truly feels the weight of their completely different worlds and how she may never be able to fully sympathize with that part of Harry’s life. She certainly hadn’t been under any impression that she would, but she still feels a bit embarrassed for the closeness she had begun to feel to him in their moments spent together. A sinking feeling settles into Alani’s stomach at the thought that maybe she was making a mistake, despite the constant self-reminders that everything they were doing was completely professional. Don’t get too close, she writes on a mental post-it note, sticking it to the forefront of her mind.

“We’re here,” Harry pipes up.

Too wrapped up in her own thoughts, Alani hadn’t noticed when they pulled into the parking lot at ‘Akaka Falls and it took her a moment to adjust.

“This is the place?” she questions hesitantly.

“Yeah,”

“This is where you come to write?”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to stay chained to the studio,” Harry teases with his hands raised in mock surrender.

“No,” Alani breathes out a light laugh, rolling her eyes. “I just mean… I don’t know what I expected.”

“That was the point.” he explains with a devious smile that makes her let out a proper laugh.

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

“Did you know,” Alani starts, the tips of her fingers reaching out to stroke the petal of an especially vibrant red flower. “That Georgia O'Keeffe had a show in New York City during the 40s with twenty paintings of different flowers that she observed right in this very park?”

“I didn’t,” Harry admits. “Who needs a tour guide when we’ve got you?”

“I have a copy of the waterfall one she did in my room,” Alani continues. “But I’d love to see the real thing some day,”

Harry scans the landscape, eyes settling over the winding stairs that lead them further to the falls and the rest area where he frequently hides away. “Is it still on display?”

“Last I checked, yes,” she nods. “At the New York Botanical Garden,”

“How are you not even a bit winded?” he chuckles, hands on his hips as he pauses and takes a moment to breathe.

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry with a teasing glint already present in her deep brown eyes.

“I thought you came here all the time to write,” she says with a raised brow.

“And I thought it was against the journalist code to berate your subjects,” he shoots back. “But here we are,”

“Touché,” Alani concedes. “But I’m not a journalist yet so I guess the rules don’t apply to me,”

Harry thanks his lucky stars that she turns on her heel back down the steps before she can witness the fond grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He savors the image of the greenery that complements her olive skin and how the gentle breeze dances through her curls before following behind.

Alani takes a deep breath once they reach the lookout and soaks in the familiar view. No matter how many times she visits the national park, the first sight of the 442 feet of cascading water always leaves her eyes a little misty.

“What brings you here?” she asks, turning to Harry whose sunglasses are perched at the crown of his head to leave the view unobstructed.

His jaw clenches and his Adam’s apple bobs, but he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his head to Alani and searches her face with a crease between his brows.

“That,” he responds, pointing to the glossy sheen over her eyes. “That feeling. Felt it the first time I came here, still do,��

He turns back to face the roaring water before them and Alani takes this moment to study the sharp angles of his profile. She takes note of the sunlight peering through his sea glass irises and waits patiently for him to continue.

“Makes you feel lucky to be alive,” Harry says finally. “And a little small, but in a good way. Like everything bad that ever happened to you doesn’t matter because none of it’s real, is it? But this… this is real,”

Alani feels like the air has been sucked from her chest and her eyes burn a hole straight through Harry’s temple. He doesn’t budge, despite the overwhelming urge to face her again, because he knows that if he does, he’ll lose his nerve.

“Damn,” is all Alani croaks out when she finally catches her breath.

Harry’s stony expression falters as he cracks a small, relenting smile. “D’reckon that’s what TLC were on about when they wrote that song?”

“I think you’re on the right track, yeah,” Alani agrees with a light laugh. “Though I think they were talking a little bit more about drugs, but I like your thing too,”

“Thanks,” Harry smirks. “Now you see why I come here to write,”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that one,” she concedes.

“Speaking of writing,” he starts, walking away from the lookout and over to a rest area with a few tables and benches. “I think we were here to help you write,”

Alani follows and takes a seat on the bench across from him, the setting sun beating against her back and outlining her in golden light that Harry feels couldn’t be more poetic.

She retrieves a notebook, her phone, and a pen from her bag and sprawls them out across the table top. Harry notices that each item is colored a varying shade of pink, but he decides to keep that detail filed at the back of his mind instead of investigating further.

“Same deal as last time, voice notes for quotational accuracy,” Alani reminds him. She looks over her list of questions to pick a starting point, but suddenly none of them seem relevant, so she takes a moment to collect her thoughts and says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Earlier when I said this wasn’t what I was expecting,” she begins. “You said ‘that was the point’. Why?”

Harry turns this question over in his mind, caught off guard by the seemingly trivial detail. “I dunno. I guess.. Maybe I just like the surprise,”

“To be surprised, or to surprise others?”

“Both,”

“Why do you like to surprise others?”

He ponders this for a second and takes a deep breath. “I think it’s because it doesn’t happen that often,”

“What do you mean?” Alani prys.

“Well,” Harry begins carefully, sifting through his brain for the right words. “Ever since the whole band thing blew up, I’ve had this strange feeling that everyone knows everything about me, like there’s nothing left to discover,”

Alani watches as he twirls the ring around his wedding finger, a silver rose that has always caught her eye.

“Maybe that sounds self absorbed,” he simpers.

“It’s not,” Alani reassures him.

Harry meets her eyes appreciatively before resuming. “I still remember the first time someone recognized me,”

“What was that like?”

“Bizarre,” he chuckles to himself. “She was very nice, but the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it all was. It’s like, you know when someone you met once or twice comes up to you and you don’t remember their name at all? S’bit awkward ‘cos you feel like you should know something about them, too— level the playing field. ‘Cept no matter how hard you wrack your brain, the information’s never gonna come, even though they know everything about you,”

“But they don’t,” Alani cuts in. “Not really,”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, his eyes narrowed. “But sometimes they feel like they do, which might be worse,”

Alani taps her pen against her bottom lip and nods, a gentle hum leaving her throat as she registers his words.

“Didn’t think about it like that,”

“S’not so much about the fans,” Harry continues. “Because I feel like there’s lots of things I wanna share with them through the music. It’s… everyone else, I guess,”

“I don’t think it’s abnormal to want your privacy,” Alani comments. “To want to share things on your own terms. It’s human,”

“But isn’t that what it means to be loved?” he asks, chin resting in his palm. “To be known?”

Alani picks up on a glimmer of challenge behind Harry’s eyes, as if he is the one conducting the interview and trying to extract information from her.

“There’s a difference between knowing something about someone,” she argues. “And knowing someone,”

“It’s like Prince,” Harry says suddenly, an excited fire behind his emerald eyes. “Who knows anything about Prince besides the fact that he’s a fuckin’ great musician? I sure as hell don’t, but all you wanna do is know more, and that’s what makes him so magical. It’s mysterious… I like that,”

Alani snorts and looks up from her notes scrawled on the page. “Did you just describe Prince like your manic-pixie dream girl?”

“No,” Harry defends with an amused laugh. “Well, not intentionally anyway,”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes with a wave of her hand. “No, I know what you mean. It’s like keeping the rock-star persona separate from your real life, makes it all more alluring,”

Harry nods, running a hand through his hair and shaking it out before securing his sunglasses back at the top of his head. “Yeah,”

“But earlier you also said you wanted to share some things with the fans,” Alani begins again, going back to her chicken scratch notes. “What kinds of things were you referring to?”

“Real life stuff,” he offers. “Mostly the not-so-great things. ‘Cos I mean no one wants to hear me sing about going to bars and how great everything is. The champagne popping,”

Harry trails off as his fingers smooth over the cross pendant hanging around his neck.

“I mean, I don’t wanna hear my favorite musicians talk about that, at least. I wanna know ‘how did you feel when you were alone in that hotel room, because you chose to be alone?’”

The wind begins to pick up more noticeably and the pages of Alani’s notebook flutter wildly, threatening to escape. Too wrapped up in their conversation, the pair hadn’t noticed the dwindling tourists or the cumulonimbus clouds hovering above. Harry squints up at the darkening sky and it peers back at him with equal contempt . He springs to his feet, quickly gathering some of Alani’s things for her.

“We gotta go,”

They quickly scurry and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance quickens their pace up the steps. The adrenaline coursing through Alani’s veins masks the burning in her quads and calves, but Harry’s steady panting gives away his exertion. They’re almost halfway up the long trail of steps when another thunderclap pierces through the sky above them and sends a jolt through their bodies. One speckle of rain hits the pavement in front of Alani’s quick feet, and then another, and another, until the sky opens up and they are caught in the downpour. Alani shrieks and the sound makes Harry belly laugh, a hand instinctively reaching out to the middle of her back to brace her.

“Careful,” He calls out above the deafening rain. “Watch your step!”

Somehow over the sound of the rain and her own heavy breathing, Alani still manages to come up with a witty remark.

“Imagine the headlines!” she shouts over her shoulder. “‘Popstar Lures Innocent Civilian to Her Untimely Demise’,”

Alani doesn’t say anything about his palm still pressed securely against the small of her back, but the warmth of it spreads through her fingers and toes. They continue up the steps, each breathing a sigh of relief when the top is in sight. Harry reaches out for her hand when they make it to the landing, and she accepts it gladly, before they bolt to the parking lot where the lone Range Rover is parked. Once inside, a fit of laughter erupts from the both of them.

“What a cliché,” Harry comments. “Getting caught in the rain,”

Alani sighs. “Too bad we don’t have piña coladas,”

“We could maybe do something about that,” he shrugs.

Alani reaches for her phone and queues up the next song, which brings a cheshire grin to Harry’s face when he hears the familiar drums.

“Wasn’t what I meant, but okay,” he rolls his eyes, turning up the car’s heater before heading back out onto the highway.

“This song’s kinda fucked up when you think about it,” Alani muses, swaying in her seat. “But the chorus is fun,”

“S’all that matters when you’re sloshed,”

“Sorry about your seats, they’re gonna be soaked,” Alani apologizes as her wet socks squelch around in her shoes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves the concern away. “Occupational hazard.”

The drive to Alani’s house from ‘Akaka Falls is only 25 minutes and the two of them spend most of the time lost in their own thoughts, letting the car heater soothe their chilly bones. Alani watches the rain droplets race down the window pane and turns over some of Harry’s words in her mind. His comment about the waterfalls sticks out like a shell emerging from the sand. She begins to think that it perfectly captures this time in his life as he searches for something real amidst the chaos of fame. It’s an angle she’s keen to run with once she has the time to sort through her notes and write, but her thoughts also drift towards the waterfalls in her own life that she’s been chasing. Naturally, she thinks about Rolling Stone and what she hopes New York City will bring her. Adventure, she thinks at first, digging deeper when that doesn’t quite suffice. Success, getting warmer. Purpose, bingo. Alani sinks into her seat with a contented sigh.

“Piña coladas,” Harry hums once they’ve pulled up to Alani’s driveway. “Next time, we’re definitely getting piña coladas,”

Alani isn’t as surprised by his suggestion of meeting up for a third time, though it still sends her heartbeat through the roof. She tries not to think too hard about the implications.

“On you,” she teases.

“Of course,”

“Thanks again,” Alani says, turning to face him. “We covered a lot of material today,”

Harry flashes a shy smile in response. “Sorry ‘bout...your clothes. I should’ve checked the weather,”

“Occupational hazard,” she shrugs, mirroring his words from earlier. “So I guess I’ll just see you around then?”

“Yeah,” he swallows, suddenly aware of her proximity. “I mean are we still doing this—the interviews?”

Alani stops smoothing out her damp waves, feeling as if she had overstepped. “If that’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry reassures her. “I’m available—I mean for your writing I’m—”

He stumbles over his words and Alani eases the slightest bit knowing that he’s nervous, too.

“Just let me know, whenever.” he says finally, regaining his composure.

“Will do.” she nods slowly.

Alani’s eyes dart to Harry’s lips briefly, lingering just long enough that Harry notices, but too quick for him to justify closing the gap. Before he knows it, he’s missed his chance and she’s slipping out of the car, closing the door with a sense of finality that makes his stomach drop.

Alani makes her way up to the house, gravel crunching under her feet and head pounding.

Don’t get too close, she reminds herself. Don’t go chasing waterfalls.

Next Chapter

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Seven | Dogsong (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

A strong and persistent, ticklish feeling on your nose wakes you up with a sneeze. 

Albeit, your face is far too puffy now for you to even see what's going on, not including the fact that you're not wearing either contacts or glasses presently -- and not that you even remember where your glasses ended up on after you passed out yesterday. It's all one big blur both in terms of your eyesight and your mind. The only few things you remember after waking up in a hospital bed was Sans at the very beginning of it all, along with your aunt arriving with some fresh clothes plus basic toiletries for you to use and change into after a shower. The rest of your memories are muddled to a point where you can't even remember where your belongings are, how long you've slept, or what hour it is.

The pressure you feel on your chest paired up with a few energetic woofs and a lick at your face let you know who's the product of your allergy. Thankfully though, the dog understands when you tell him you have to stand up. He barks again and jumps off of you, giving you freedom to move and try to feel around for your phone.

Doubt hits you when you find it, and you start to wonder if calling anyone's even necessary, keeping in mind that your emergency's mostly a puffy face and an itchy nose, coupled with blurry eyesight.

Surely, you could find your medicine just as you did with your phone, and worst case scenario, you could wait until a nurse or a doctor came around; your allergy wasn't that bad, anyway.

You try to search for the medicine all on your own first, though it results in you having to question the very same root of your problem for help. "Could you help me find my bag?" you ask, facing down with a smile at where you assume the dog's at. How he got inside a hospital room's left unknown to you, but now's not the time to be worrying about that. "It should be around-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, the dog barks once and runs off, becoming an even fainter, white blur as he leaves your side. Soon enough though, he returns with what you assume are your belongings, based on the colour of the bag's material alone, its dark brown contrasting with his white fur. "Thank you," you say, taking the bag from his mouth. You then sit down in bed and rummage through your belongings until you find some allergy pills and a half-drunken, lukewarm, bottled water, plus the new bottle your aunt had brought you. Compared to the one you packed up for yesterday, it's still ice-cold to the touch, and it's twice the size as a regular one.

A yawn, a headache, and a painful stretch intervene with your mission, so you decide to wash up first before taking any medicine. Countless hours of sleep meant lethargy was just around the corner were you to be tempted to lay down again, so you stumble your way to the bathroom and freshen yourself up, a daily routine adjusted to go by quicker when you hear the door of your room open and the dog bark at the new visitor. Happy woofs inform you you're not in any sort of danger, though you could still use whatever company there's waiting for you with how long it feels since you've last had a talk with someone unrelated to how your health was doing and what happened back at the bus.

"Hey, bud. What're ya doing 'ere? You know (Y/N)'s allergic to you."

"Woof-woof!"

The exchange between the new voice and the dog are the first few words you can hear while you wrap things up, though the dog runs back to your side as soon as you open the door and return to your bed.

"Don't," the visitor warns, whistling for the dog to approach him and chuckling when he runs off to his side. "You're gonna get 'em hospitalized again if you keep doin' this."

The dog distracts himself with the visitor while you take your pills and down them with some water. All that's left is to find your glasses while your face recovers, though as much as you try searching for them or your other alternative, you can't find them among all the other items scattered inside. Most first aid items are felt tampered with, bringing forth the unwanted memory of what you'd been through yesterday and how you were still well under recovery.

"Good mornin', (L/N). Dunno how that doggo got here, but I'll make sure he doesn't break in again."

Another recognizable blur -- made up mostly of blue, black, and white smudges -- shows up in front of you and crouches to meet with your face. Weren't he so used to wearing such similar colours and casual outfits all the time, you would have a harder time distinguishing him beyond that of his low voice and New York accent. He scoots a bit closer and reaches out for your face, hands brushing with your ears as he slips on your glasses for you. It's as clear as day he's already regretting what he's done, judging by the way his gaze averts from yours when you're able to see clearly again.

"You alright? Your allergy's lookin' worse than yesterday's." While it's initially unclear as to why he hesitated after putting on your glasses for you, just one closer look through all the puffiness of your face lets you see a faint, microscopical hint of red on his cheekbones. "...Sorry 'bout touchin' you like that, by the way. Dunno what got into me, but, uh-"

"You mean you putting on my glasses for me?"

"Yeah -- That was way outta hand of me. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

You take a second to think over what he means with that -- mind still processing everything as quickly as an old desk computer -- until you remember how his brother tried to set you both up a while back. 

If that was enough to get the one being set up all worked up around you even for the most trifling matters, you can't imagine how the monster's feeling now that he's taken such an intimate initiative with you, considering he could've simply offered you the glasses rather than slip them on for you. "That's okay." You snicker, dismissing his worry with a smile. "It's no big deal, really."

"Still, that was wrong of me." He smiles back at you, though that expression soon fades as he dwells deeper and longer into what's happened. "I did that without your knowledge, and we're not even friends yet. I took that, uh, incident back at the park too close to heart, so I'm not really sure what to do anymore or how close I should act with you." Sans takes a hand to the back of his neck, sighs, and rubs at it, inadvertently sitting next to you in bed as he contemplates the situation while facing the floor. "I need to tell Paps to stop settin' us up anymore in the future. Not only is it unfair for you with all the stuff you have goin' on. But well... I'm not too sure about what being in a relationship entails, either. I mean, seriously -- Being set up like this's really not my thing. Maybe it's different for others, but I just can't date a person or go out with 'em unless I'm real close to 'em." His shoulders stiffen, and he looks up at you with widened irises and a meek grin. "God, I'm… I'm not even sure why I'm tellin' you all this, though. It's-"

Remembering Papyrus's request, you intervene with, "Can I kiss your cheek, uh… bone? Maybe you could sort out your feelings a bit more if you try it."

Seemingly at a loss for words, the skeleton nods as a response.

You move a bit closer to him and press a quick kiss on his cheekbone, keeping all other limbs aside to prevent touching him anywhere else. His face turns a bit hotter now, similar though not as noticeable as when humans blush, so you assume he's going through the same thing despite those subtle differences. He looks away when you move back, though he faces you again when you ask, "How did that feel?"

There's a long beat of silence between you, until he eventually breaks it with, "It felt nice."

"Like in a platonic sort of sense, or otherwise?"

"...I'm not sure."

You hum and lose yourself in your thoughts, motivated by the kiss and his reaction to it. His body language is either good enough to mask any further embarrassment; that, or he just really didn't feel anything out of the ordinary when being kissed on the cheekbone. You try to think back on past experiences and remember how Jerry was a lot shyer than you when it came to being upfront and honest about your feelings with each other. Both your appearances deceived in that aspect, as your roles in twelve grade were like those of a high school movie clique: Jerry was a popular soccer athlete back then, while you were the quiet and lonesome nerd in charge of the library. You kissed him first though, and you were the first to admit your feelings for him after you discovered you liked both boys and girls alike.

"Well, how about this," you speak up, gaining his attention again. "Could you imagine yourself doing anything romantic with any of your past crushes, like kissing, hugging, or just… full-on making out?"

"Hard pass on the last one. Don't think I can imagine myself doing somethin' like that with someone -- unless I'm maybe really, really close to 'em. Other than that, well… I guess I wouldn't mind doin' all that other stuff." 

"So if we both had a crush on each other, would you see yourself on a date with me? If you can't use me as an example, imagine someone else you're more comfortable with."

He looks away again. Still, he nods. "Just with none of that steamier stuff. I've heard some of my co-workers up here say they're all about this and that, and how often they do stuff like that with their partner, but I just can't really see myself in a situation like that one -- Or just… Not yet, at least."

"That's normal, then. Intimate stuff like that isn't for everyone." Your smile grows at the feeling that you're making progress with Papyrus's request. "Some are just fine with what you said, and others don't even have a need for romance in their lives. Just like marriage and children aren't for everyone, romance and sexual intimacy aren't, either."

"Thanks," he says, meeting your eyes with a less tense gaze of his own. "How did ya learn 'bout this kinda stuff, by the way? I think maybe Alphys and Undyne know a bit about this themselves, but, uh… I never had the guts to talk to 'em."

You grin. "So you ask a complete stranger about it?"

Thankfully, he knows you're joking and follows up to it by jabbing your side with his elbow. "You caught me in a vulnerable state."

"How so?" you ask, scooting closer on instinct.

"Things are different here at the Surface," he replies, suddenly wistful. "When you passed out yesterday, that reality hit me, and so I kinda just… froze at the thought of losing you."

"How's it different down there? Does… Does that mean if I were there, I wouldn't die as easily as I would here?"

"Not exactly. There's just a different system down there, and it helps strong-willed humans have a second chance and more at life."

"But strong-willed could mean both good people and not, right? How would you deal with bad ones, if it came to it?"

"That's where the whole situation with your kid takes place. It's not that we wanted to hurt 'em, but that there were plenty of factors that made us view humans as a threat back then. It was them who taught us there's another way around it. But then again, I think those points you've made're important, and that you really shouldn't just forgive us outta-"

"Time's up, mister Serif. The patient has other people who want to see them."

Nearly disheartened by how time runs short, you end it on that and make a (metaphorically) telepathic note to continue with the conversation during your tour, something you both agree on with a nod. There would be plenty of time to talk about that there, though that's not to say you don't want to have all that information discussed right here and now. "I don't think I've said this before, so… Thank you for all your help. I'm not sure I'd even be here if you hadn't been there at the bus for me." You pause and smile. "Friendly hug?"

Sans chuckles and sits down again. "Friendly hug." He takes up your offer faster than the first two times since you first met him. It feels far more natural now, almost as if the previous two had been reciprocated to, but with that doubt still on his mind, weighing him down. "This's probably really damn weird, but you're kinda… comfortable to hug."

"Okay, yeah. That's kinda weird." You laugh. "Comfortable as in soft or warm or-"

"Comfortable as in I could easily fall asleep on you if you keep huggin' me like this. But yeah -- That's probably the reason why."

"So you'd say you like cuddling, then?"

"Definitely better than all that other stuff."

"See that?" You let go of him and let your smile grow. "You're understanding yourself more already. That's good!"

"Is it? I thought I was too old for that."

"Oh, come on." You judge him. "You're a science wiz, aren't you? People all experience things differently and at different stages. You're being rude to yourself. Just give yourself a chance to grow and understand yourself a little more!"

"I'd hate to break you two up, but people are waiting outside."

You both freeze at the sound of the nurse's voice being so close now. She's standing nearby now rather than simply waiting by the doorway, an observation that makes you question just when she'd come closer and how much she'd heard you talk as a result. Still, she doesn't appear fazed nor bothered by anything, so you take it she'd either just arrived at your side or had found a way not to overhear while she waited.

"The doctor should be here soon, so we have to cut your visits short."

In compliance to her words, you wrap your conversation up with the skeleton and tell him you'll message him over your next tour date. You would need a little more time to recover now, so it would only be common sense to check through your schedule, sort things out with your job, and manage how you would deal with Frisk's school days and homework. The monsters were already doing you plenty of favours, and yet you only knew two of them in person, three if you counted how often you talked with Toriel through phone and video calls despite not visiting her home to this day. Asking them for any more help than what they were already giving was out of the question. 

Even if such fantasy-like beings existed, that didn't mean they were as magically potent as most books made them out to be. At the end of the day, they were living, breathing beings just like you, with lives of their very own and troubles just like any other human being you knew. What made you different were your appearances and customs, and even then that was something that could be overlooked with due time and mutual understanding, as it isn't as important as who they are and what they do to live each day like you did with your own.

"Let me know if ya need help with Frisk's school," Sans says, already standing near the doorway. "You can't recover if you don't look for help."

And with that, he leaves.

Whether you were an open book or he a mind reader, you can't tell for certain, but if there's one thing you could use presently, it's words like those.

You barely have a chance to say thank you as other visitors step inside, some familiar and some not.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

The holidays are now over where I'm from, so expect updates to return to their usual Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday schedule (depending on the chapters' lengths) starting from the 16th of this month!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to it!)

@the-simp-express​

@nektotersh

[clumsyclifford]

you said i should say less about new ace content in general and i immediately understood that as say more so please gimme some ace stuff and please make it fluffy. i don't particularly care about the pairing but i'm always down for lashton and/or malum but any atl ship works for me as well so like just do your thing i guess wow that was a useless sentence this messy ask is further proof that i should go to sleep so bye love you!! -fiancee

well i ran with ace lashton in an interesting way i hope you enjoy it this is not based on real life but maybe it could be. in a better world it is. that’s all i’ll say about that, i hope you like it

read here on ao3

-

Luke likes going to the movies. He likes staying home and having a home-cooked meal. He likes quiet, simple, intimate activities.

He does not like parades.

“But it’s Pride,” Ashton wheedles. “D.C. Pride! One of the biggest pride events in the country!”

“You made that up, and I don’t care,” says Luke. “I don’t want to go. I don’t like parades.”

“It’s not really a parade.”

“Also not true.”

“Okay, but it’s not about the parade, it’s about the gathering,” Ashton says, gently shaking Luke. “It’s about a bunch of queer people all coming together and uniting in one space. Celebrating our differences and our similarities. Celebrating community.”

“That’s beautiful,” Luke says. Ashton looks hopeful. “Still no.”

Ashton huffs. “I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Go with Michael and Calum,” Luke suggests. “I’m sure they’d love for you to tag along.”

“And third-wheel all day? No thanks.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Luke says, and carries on setting the table for dinner. If his mum comes home to a half-set table, the blame will fall on Luke, of course. Ashton takes the cue and begins laying out plates.

It’s quiet for a moment. Luke can tell Ashton is trying to come up with a way to convince him to go to Pride, but it won’t work. Luke’s avoided Pride for seventeen years. He doesn’t intend to start now. Staying at home with his boyfriend and watching Rent is about as much as Luke cares to celebrate Pride Month. Maybe they’ll make out a little. Standards are low.

“Okay, how about this,” Ashton says, and Luke sighs deeply. “No, hear me out. And keep an open mind, okay? Think about compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if we go before the parade starts?”

Luke frowns. “Then what would be the point?”

“There will still be people there,” Ashton says. “But it won’t be nearly as many people, and the festivities won’t really be happening yet, so we can still say we went to Pride but we won’t get caught up in the whole big thing.”

“But I thought you wanted the whole big thing.”

“Ah, whatever,” Ashton says, waving him off. “I’d rather go with you than see the parade alone.”

Luke feels bad. It’s obviously important to Ashton, or else he’d have given up already on trying to make Luke go. And as much as Luke knows he shouldn’t feel obliged to prioritize Ashton’s wishes over his own comfort, this makes him want to.

Compromise. “Okay,” Luke says. “Fine.”

Ashton blinks. “Really?”

“Did you think that wouldn’t work?”

“I—” Ashton’s face breaks into a smile. “I don’t know, not really, to be honest. Really? You’ll come?”

“Yes,” Luke says, and the delight in Ashton’s face makes up for the dread pooling in Luke’s stomach. 

Ashton shuffles around the table and presses a warm kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, warmth also bleeding into his voice. “I’m excited. You’re gonna like it.”

Probably not, but Luke keeps that thought to himself. He doesn’t need to rain on any more of Ashton’s parades.

-

Luke and Ashton are excited about Dupont Circle for different reasons. Ashton is basically vibrating out of his seat on the Metro as they approach their stop, where the parade is slated to begin at half past noon. It’s only eleven now, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Ashton. He seems confident that there will be enough Pride to satisfy his excitement without overwhelming Luke.

Luke’s just looking forward to the Krispy Kreme at the station.

They take the escalator out, and sure enough, there’s Krispy Kreme to the left. Luke grabs Ashton’s hand and yanks him towards the shop.

“Seriously? We’re at D.C. Pride and your priority is donuts?” Ashton says, but he allows Luke to tug him along until they’re at the door.

Luke turns to him and very seriously says, “Ashton, my priority is always donuts.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, I walked into that one,” Ashton mutters as they enter the store.

Five minutes and two donuts later, both of them exit, Luke munching contentedly on a strawberry-frosted donut (with sprinkles, of course) and Ashton carefully biting into his jelly-filled one. 

“Okay, starting now, we’re at Pride, and you can’t be a Negative Nancy,” Ashton declares.

“I promise not to be a Negative Nancy,” Luke vows. “I swear on this donut.”

Ashton beams. “Yay! Okay let’s go explore.”

You’d think this was Ashton’s first Pride for how excited he gets over everything. He stops at almost every stand, even though they’re all selling different versions of the same thing, and somehow manages to spark up conversation with any passing person who looks queer and interesting. Luke loves this about Ashton, how charming and outgoing he is, how he could befriend a vaguely human-shaped plant. People are drawn to him; Luke’s no exception. Ashton is very much the main character, even more so because he doesn’t seem to know it. He's just Ashton, and Luke loves him for it. Even when it means the halo of Ashton’s spotlight draws attention to Luke by extension.

Luke is not a charming, outgoing person. Luke is quiet and reserved. He’s never cared for the spotlight. Sometimes it’s a good thing that he has Ashton to pull him out of his shell a little. Sometimes he wilts under the scrutiny. It's a toss-up, but Luke appreciates that Ashton never stops trying.

Most of the tables selling merch boast shirts, hats, flags — the kind of thing you’d wear or own if you wanted to be loud and proud about your identity. Luke’s not really that kind of person. Luke’s way of coming out is to subtly slip into the conversation the fact that he has a boyfriend. Before he had a boyfriend, it pretty much never came up. Big, colorful flags have never been his cup of tea. 

And anyway, that’s only half of his identity. The other half never comes up, and Luke’s okay with that. It’s not like being ace is the kind of thing you can casually mention. It has to be a whole thing, every time, and Luke doesn’t want to deal with the whole thing, so he just doesn’t bother. Most of the time it doesn’t really matter. As much as Luke is able to fly under the radar, that’s what he intends to do.

“Hey, pins!”

Ashton is not like that.

“Luke, you like pins, right?”

The table they’ve stopped at is covered end-to-end with pins. Enamel or plastic, every single pride flag Luke has ever seen in his life is represented here, in a variety of shapes and sizes. The kaleidoscopic display is fun to look at, at least. There’s nobody behind the table at the moment, which means in theory it would be pretty easy to steal one, but Luke’s not like that, and even if he was he wouldn’t feel good stealing a pride pin from a small-business owner.

“I don’t really have an opinion,” says Luke.

“Ha,” Ashton says. “O-pin-ion. Haha.”

“I’m leaving you,” Luke says, turning away with a wry grin.

“No, come back.” Ashton grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, so Luke wraps an arm around his waist and rests his head on Ashton’s shoulder instead. “I like pins. They’re a very understated way of coming out.”

“Having a boyfriend is an understated way of coming out,” Luke replies.

"I resent you calling me understated," Ashton says in faux-indignance. Luke giggles.

“I’m so sorry, I had to run and grab some water,” says a voice, as a person bustles around them to stand behind the table. Their pink fringe is pushed back by a bandana and they’re wearing a jean jacket with so many pins and patches that the fabric is practically invisible. A sticker on the front pocket of the jacket introduces them as Alex, he/they :). “Can I help you with anything?”

“Just admiring the collection,” Ashton says brightly. “I love your jacket.”

“Thank you very much,” says Alex. “It’s been accumulating pins for about five years now.”

“Damn,” Ashton says, wolf-whistling. “That’s a good collection. I don’t have a good jacket for pins.”

“Wish I could tell you where I got mine, but it was a gift from my boyfriend,” Alex says. “I’ve heard thrifting is a good way to go.”

“You wanna go thrifting, Luke?” Ashton says, nudging Luke, who shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. He reaches for one of the asexual flag pins, a small enamel rectangle, and smoothes his thumb over the surface. “These are pretty nice.”

“You should buy it,” Ashton says. “Start a cool jacket. Then we could be matching.”

“You don’t have a cool jacket yet.”

“I know, but we could.”

“But neither of us have a cool jacket. So it’s not even—”

“Fine, ruin my fun,” Ashton harrumphs. To Alex, who’s watching them with amusement, Ashton says, “So how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

“Oh, uh…” Alex’s gaze diverts to the air like he’s counting invisible numbers. “Six years? Almost? I think it’s gonna be six years in July.”

“Six years,” Ashton repeats in mild awe. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, high school sweethearts, blah blah blah,” Alex says, smiling. They shrug. “Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. You know?”

Luke swallows. Ashton says, “Good for you. That’s impressive.”

“I like to think so,” Alex says. “What about you? Are you guys together?” He winces. “Should I not have asked that? I’m sorry, to be honest this is Jack’s business, I’m just running the stand because he wanted to go look around a little before the parade started. My boyfriend Jack, I mean. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s all good,” Ashton says. He hip-checks Luke gently, which Luke takes to mean something like is it cool if I tell him? It’s nice that Ashton is asking, but Luke had kind of figured everyone would assume they were together because, you know, Pride, so he doesn’t really care.

“Yeah,” he says. “For, what, eight months?”

“Eight months,” Ashton confirms.

Alex grins. “That’s great, I love it. What are your names?”

“Ashton,” says Ashton. “He/him.”

“Luke. Also he/him.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” Alex says. “I’m Alex. He/they.”

“Yeah, your thing says,” Luke says, pointing.

Alex laughs. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t see it. Or they see it and think it’s just another decorative pin.”

“Do people wear pronoun pins as decorations?” Luke wonders. “That seems strange to me.”

“People are ineffable,” Alex says solemnly. Then he grins. Luke likes Alex. In fact, little though Luke’s actually spoken today, he likes most of the people whom Ashton has stopped to chat up. Queer people are so friendly, is what Luke is learning. It almost makes him happy to be here. 

Except now Alex’s words are ringing in Luke’s head, and he can’t stop hearing them. Everyone thought we’d break up when we went to college, but when you know, you know. 

Ashton’s going to college this fall. Luke’s managed to forget about that fact because it’s only June, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Ashton’s leaving and Luke’s going to finish his senior year alone and what if something happens to them? What if they’re fooling themselves thinking they can do the long-distance thing? What if they’re doomed already and this summer is just prolonging the inevitable?

“Well, personally I would love to buy a pin,” Ashton says. “Luke, choose one.”

“What?” Luke says, blinking himself out of his spiral. “Why?”

“I’m buying you one,” Ashton says.

“I don’t—” Luke bites his lip. He’s still fidgeting with the ace flag pin, and he kind of likes it. Maybe he can subtly come out in different ways. Maybe he can just wear it, and wait for someone to ask. Then it’s way less of a big deal because it’s not like Luke has brought it up. 

There’s enough shame in the world. Luke doesn’t need to add to it.

“Okay,” he says instead. He holds up the ace flag. “This one.”

“Great choice,” Ashton says, digging out a five to give to Alex. He hesitates, then pulls out a ten instead. “Actually, maybe I’ll also get one. Then we can actually match.”

“Right, with our matching jackets that don’t exist yet.”

“You know what, fine, we don’t have to match.” Ashton makes a face at Luke. “You can put your pin on whatever you want. It’ll go great with your all-black closet.”

“Shut up,” Luke grumbles. Ashton laughs.

“Hey, don’t knock the all-black,” Alex says. “Black is the new black. It’s fashion forward.”

“Not in eighty-degree June it’s not,” Ashton says.

“It’s seventy-five,” Luke protests. “And Alex is wearing a jacket!”

“Yes, but Alex is not my boyfriend, and we only just met,” Ashton says, grinning. “Also, their jacket is sick as fuck.”

“It is sick as fuck,” Alex agrees. “But I’m still siding with Luke here. You can’t go wrong with all-black.” For the first time, he seems to register Luke’s shirt, and his eyes light up. “Hey, Green Day! I fucking love Green Day!”

“You should be my best friend,” Luke says seriously, and Alex nods equally seriously.

“Hey,” Ashton complains. “I like Green Day.”

“Thank you for the pin,” Luke tells Alex. “Good luck with the, uh, you know, selling more of them.”

“Of course, anytime,” Alex says. “I’m pretty sure there’s a website on these business cards if you ever want to, I don’t know, browse?” They shrug one shoulder. “This is why I’m not a small business owner.”

“Cool,” Luke says, taking the card. He probably won’t use it, but you never know. 

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” Ashton says, as he and Luke start to walk away, fingers interlaced between them. “Good luck! Happy Pride!”

“You too! Enjoy the parade!” Alex says, waving.

Luke doesn't bother to inform him they're not staying that long; he and Ashton turn away and continue walking, Luke with his new pin clutched in his fist.

“They were cool,” Ashton says enthusiastically. “There are so many fucking interesting people here. God, I love Pride.”

Luke grips the pin tighter. The pointy back starts to hurt where it’s pressing into his palm. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for letting me get you something,” Ashton says. “I know it’s not really your thing, but I don’t know. I felt like we should buy something after we stood there for so long.”

“No, yeah, I agree.”

“On the bright side, they’re pretty cool pins.” Ashton holds his out like he’s assessing what he’ll do with it. “Maybe Michael has an extra jean jacket he never wears. I could ask him.”

Luke hums. Ashton glances over at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

Luke's not supposed to say anything like this. He’s supposed to be positive because he promised he wouldn’t be a “Negative Nancy” and the sky is so blue that Luke would hate to be the reason for rain, but if he doesn’t say it then it’ll just keep ringing around his head until he can’t think about anything else.

“You’re not scared we’re gonna break up when you go to college?” he blurts out.

Ashton stops short and their hands break apart so Luke’s falls to his side. “Where’d that come from?”

“You heard Alex,” Luke says. “Everyone thought he and his boyfriend would break up when they went to college.”

“But they didn’t,” Ashton says.

“But that’s obviously unusual,” Luke counters. He swallows hard. “I’m just saying…aren’t you worried?”

Ashton tilts his head. “Do you want me to be worried?”

And yeah, a little part of Luke does. Only because if Ashton’s worried, it means he values their relationship enough that it would hurt him to lose it. But Luke knows that’s not really fair, and he knows Ashton loves him, even if he doesn’t seem worried at all.

“No, I don’t know. I just— I don’t know.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says again. “I had pretty successfully managed to avoid thinking about it, but now…I don’t know.”

Ashton gently pries open Luke’s fist and runs his thumb over the red imprint the pin has left. Sheepish, Luke puts the pin in his pocket. As soon as his hand is free again, Ashton takes it, holding both of Luke’s hands in both of his own.

“I’m not worried,” he says quietly. His eyes are so sincere and his hands are so soft and Luke loves him and likes him and knows that to lose him would be a fate worse than death. “You must have missed the other half of Alex’s sentence. Remember? When you know, you know.”

Luke’s breath catches a little. “Yeah, but…”

“But what?” Ashton lifts a shoulder. “I already know, Luke. I’m in it for the long haul. So unless you meet some other guy who’s even awesomer than me and makes better puns, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not letting you get away that easy.”

Luke gazes at Ashton until the rest of the world falls away. “Oh,” he breathes.

“Okay?” Ashton quirks a smile.

Luke surges forward and kisses Ashton for as long as he can manage without passing out. It’s clumsy and sweet and Ashton’s hands tighten around Luke’s waist and Luke wraps his arms around Ashton’s shoulders and nothing else in the known universe matters except this.

When they finally break apart, Luke cracks a smile. “Okay.”

Ashton beams. He offers his hand to Luke again, and this time Luke takes it and doesn’t let go.