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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years ago

Text

the interview.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: smut (18+), swearing, fluff

word count: 4.7k

a/n: guys I'm so sad, this is it before the epilogue. I have many thoughts and feelings that I'll put in a different post but this would not be what it’s become without you so THANK YOU!

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“Hey Poe, it’s me. I just got out of my interview. I think it went well, but…I don’t know. We’ll see. I think I rambled a little bit. Anyway, you’re probably going into your interview now so good luck, I love you, you’re going to do great, and I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. Love you, bye.”

Tucking your phone back into your bag, you walked along the boardwalk towards the café you were meeting Finn at for lunch. He had texted you saying he got stuck in some traffic and would be a few minutes late. You decided to wait for him outside, the view of the ocean sparkling in the bright sun too enticing to not stop and admire for a bit.

The interview, at least, hadn’t been a disaster. The job was an entry level position at a small public relations firm looking to expand it’s teams. It was nerve-wracking at first at the beginning, but as you learned more about the company and got into comfortable conversation with your interviewer, you felt more confident. There were a few questions you answered that you felt nerves got the better of you, like four years of knowledge just flew right out the window, and you talked in sentences you weren’t even sure were complete. But the woman interviewing you didn’t say anything and at times seemed almost charmed by it. You could only hope.

As you stood against the wooden fence separating the edge of the boardwalk from a large span of grass, a part of you could see yourself moving to Los Angeles, enjoying the sun everyday and taking weekly trips to Venice or Santa Monica to spend the day by the beach. It was incredibly tempting.

But you’d be alone, your friends, family, and boyfriend a thousand miles away. You didn’t know if you could enjoy it without any of them there.

Sunglasses perched on your reddening nose, the gentle ocean breeze moved your curled hair around your face. He sound of the waves was calming, putting you so far into a daze that you didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching you.

“I promise, if you move here that view will never get old.”

Finn stood behind you, hands in his pockets as he looked at the ocean. He smiled when you jumped at the sound of his voice bringing you out of your calming trance. He took a step towards you and hugged you tightly, lifting you up off the ground.

“How are you, nugget?”

“I’m good! I miss you. How are you?”

“Also good. Hungry.”

“Come on, let’s go eat then.”

Finn set you down and you followed him into the café, taking a peek at the menu before ordering and bringing a number plaque over to a table.

“So, congrats on graduating! You’re a real life working adult now. Or, you will be.”

You gave him an uncertain smile. “Thanks…I’m terrified. I’ve had one job interview and I’m ready to marry rich and jet across the world as a trophy wife.”

Finn chuckled. “You’ll be fine. How’d the job interview go?”

“Okay, I think…they said they’d call me within a day or so if they want me to do a second interview. They’re interviewing a few other people so I might not hear anything until tomorrow or even Monday.”

“I think they call you.”

“You’re just biased,” you teased and Finn smirked and shrugged.

“Maybe a little.” He sent you a wink and you giggled, his tone teasing but the vote of confidence greatly appreciated nonetheless. The waiter came by with the food, sandwiches for both of you, and set them in front of you.

“So what’s new with you? I’ve barely talked to you the last few weeks…finals and all…”

“Well, I’ve been seeing a girl who lives up here.”

“Really?” You smiled. “Tell me about her.”

“Her name is Paige, I’ve been seeing her about four and a half months now…”

“Since January?” He nodded. “Poe didn’t mention you were seeing anyone…”

“He doesn’t know. I really, really like her and things have been moving kind of fast and I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“Moving fast isn’t a bad thing…hello, I met Kes after a month of dating and told Poe I loved him after two and a half months.”

“And he knew he loved you when Rey and I met you.”

“See? Poe and I are the king and queen moving fast and look at us! We’re happy!” Finn chuckled. “So, tell me more about her. What’s she like?”

Finn smiled and shook his head. “She’s amazing and beautiful and funny…she went to school for business and accounting but found it boring, so she’s worked tons of odd jobs…like, she worked at Disneyland for a bit, she’s an artist and she’s had her paintings featured in a couple galleries around SoCal…currently she works part time at a bar in Santa Monica and she’s an L.A. tour guide on the weekends.”

You quietly squealed. “Look at that smile on your face! You really like her!”

Finn nodded slowly and took his bottom lip and tucked it under his teeth.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You nodded and Finn grabbed his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out a picture and set it in front of you. The blur of black, grey, and white gave way to a very obvious shape in the middle of the picture.

“Finn!” You gasped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. The smile on his face was so wide you were sure it would split his face in half.

“Ten weeks. Well, she’s twelve weeks now. We wanted to wait until the three month mark to start telling people.” You looked up at him, eyes wide. He looked at the sonogram adoringly. “It was a complete accident, so hopefully she likes me enough to put up with me for the rest of our lives.”

Your eyes watered and you smiled widely. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, nugget. I’m so…fuck, I’m so excited. Granted, this isn’t the way I wanted to do this…I imagine I’d be married first…”

You smiled softly. “As long as that baby is loved, which I have no doubt that he or she will, then who cares how it happened.”

Finn nodded and grabbed the picture, smiling at it once more before putting it back into his wallet.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Finn,” you said softly, placing your hand on his arm. “And I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.”

“We’re coming up fourth of July weekend. Poe, Rey, and I rent a cabin on the lake and we spend the long weekend there. You’ll probably be coming so you can meet her then.” You nodded happily, already excited for something happening a month and a half away.

“So, when are you and Poe having kids?” You threw your head back and laughed loudly. “What?! You said you guys move fast!”

You threw one of your chips at him and it bounced off of his chest and onto the floor.

“Yeah, not that fast! I just finished school, I’m not ready to have a baby!”

“But by Christmas, right?”

You giggled and threw another chip at him, which he caught and popped into his mouth. Your phone buzzed on the table and you saw an unfamiliar number flashing on your screen. Finn looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

“That’s an L.A. area code.”

You swallowed hard and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/N L/N.”

“Yes, this is…” you said nervously. Finn looked at you with interest.

“Y/N, this is Jyn Erso with Erso PR.”

“Oh, hi…” Finn mouthed ‘who is it?’ at you and you held a finger up. The woman on the other end chuckled warmly.

“I can tell you’re a little surprised I’m calling you right now.”

“Yeah, a little…I just left a little under two hours ago.”

“Well, I took a closer look at your resume and some of the work in your portfolio and, with your interview earlier today, I wanted to call and offer you the job.”

Your eyes widened and you stumbled over your words. “Wha—wait, really?”

“I know we said we’d call you to set up a second interview but I was very impressed with you today and I think you’d make a great addition to our team.”

“Wow, um…thank you!” You looked at Finn and bit your lip. “Can I…could I think about it?”

“Of course you can. I know you’re coming from quite a ways away and have a lot of factors to consider, so please take a few days to think about it. The number I’m calling from is my office number, please feel free to call it if you have any questions.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good day and a safe flight home.”

You hung up the call and looked at Finn, your face showing a disbelieving smile.

“I got the job.”

“Damn, congratulations!” You didn’t, couldn’t, say anything. You were still in a little bit of shock from receiving that phone call. “Or not…?”

“I….I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting this!” You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of you and looking at Finn. “What do I do?”

“Well, you obviously didn’t say yes…did they say you could think about it?” You nodded. “Then you think about it.”

You sighed. “This job…there’s so many opportunities for growth. It’s the kind of job that could kickstart by career. Honestly, I’d be stupid not to take it.”

“But there’s a lot of factors you have to consider.”

“Exactly…I don’t know what to do.” You looked up at Finn. “What do I do?”

Finn sighed and finished off his sandwich, wiping his hands and tossing the napkin in the basket.

“I wish I could tell you to just take it, but it’s not that easy.”

You exhaled sharply and ran a hand through your hair.

“No, it’s not.”

》》》

The job offer was in the back of your mind the rest of your lunch with Finn and didn’t fully sink in until you were on your way to the airport. You spent the two and a half hour plane ride going through every pro you could think of: the job itself, working and building your career, a new city with lots of opportunities, and sunshine and warmth everyday. But there were also the cons: moving expenses, finding an apartment you could actually afford that was close to work, and navigating a new city. Not to mention your friends and family would be a thousand miles away.

Poe would be a thousand miles away.

You walked off the plane and drove home still undecided. Even the drive home couldn’t help you come to a decision. You were much too excited to see Poe and hear about his interview. He had texted you when you landed that he was finishing up with dinner and insisted on waiting for you to get there to eat, but you encouraged him to go ahead without you. Your stomach felt twisted with nerves and there was no room for food at that moment.

You walked into Poe’s apartment and was immediately greeted by Beebs. The smell of garlic and other spices was intoxicating and you followed it to the kitchen where Poe was dishing it up into containers for you to eat later.

“Hey!” He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, walking over and pecking your lips quickly before putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. “How as your flight?”

“Good,” you said, dropping your stuff and taking off your shoes. “Little turbulent, but fine.”

Poe smiled and came around the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms. You could hardly contain the smile on your face.

“So?”

Poe smiled widely. “I got the job.”

“You got it?!” You exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe it…I’ve been pinching myself making sure it was real all day. After all the sabotage from Hux and our secret relationship, Leia really stuck her neck out for me to get this job.” You smiled proudly. “This is just…the best fucking day.”

The smile on his face reached his eyes, which shone brightly with pure happiness. “I’m so, so happy for you, Poe. You deserve this. You’re an amazing teacher and you’re going to make an amazing head of the department. Your department.”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet. I wanted to talk to you about it, especially because you just had a job interview yourself. Which, speaking of, how did it go?”

“I actually got the job too.”

“You did?! Congrats!”

“Thanks…but I’m not going to take it.”

Poe’s smile disappeared. “You’re not?”

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want it.”

“But raved about interviewing for this job. It’s what you’ve been talking about for weeks. You were so excited and now you got it.”

“And you got yours.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you choose between me and a job—“

“You’re not,” you stressed, taking a step towards him. “This is my decision. I am choosing you over the job and I’m perfectly okay with it. I’m just starting to job hunt and if I take the first job I’m offered, I can’t build up my interview skills and I won’t know what else is out there. What if I find something better? My gut is telling me this is the right move, so I’m doing it.”

“Have you thought this all the way through? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I have thought about it. I talked to Finn earlier at lunch after they called me and did nothing but think about it while I was waiting for my flight and on the airplane. I was still undecided up until you told me you got your dream job, the one you’ve been talking about for months and months.” You sighed and put your hands on his chest. “You almost sacrificed getting this job to protect me…to protect us. Now you’ve got the job and all I want to be here to hear all about it at the end of the day. And I can’t do that if I’m in California."

Poe gave you a look of uncertainty and you smiled softly. “I love you. So much. We did not fight this hard for our relationship just to do long distance. This is what I truly want.”

Poe nodded and returned your smile. “As long as it’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Silence fell over you for a moment before your delighted squeals pierced the air. Poe had suddenly grabbed your waist, picking you up and spinning you around. Your arms went around his neck and he kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder before looking at you.

“I got the job.” He smiled and you put your hands on his cheeks.

“You got the damn job.”

You pulled his lips to yours, the two pairs moving passionately together. After months and months of uncertainty and secrecy, things were finally going your way.

“Do you want to go get a drink to celebrate?”

You smiled suggestively and shook your head. “Maybe tomorrow. Tonight…I want to celebrate with you. Alone. Naked.”

He smirked and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he quickly made his way to his bedroom, his lips connecting with yours once again. He nearly dropped you on the bed in his excitement and you sat up as he got on the bed next to you. You moved to straddle his lap and your kisses grew hotter, the passion just as intense but the desire for each other burning brighter as you ground your hips against his. You grabbed your shirt and brought it up over your head, Poe leaning in and kissing your chest before you could toss it aside. His dark hair was messy from your hands and became more disheveled when you yanked his shirt off.

“You’re sexy,” you said as you ran your hands over his chest. He smirked and reached for the buttons of your dress pants.

“You’re fucking sexy,” he retorted, dipping his fingers into your underwear and immediately finding your clit. Your mouth opened slightly and he wrapped his arm around your waist and started to lay you down on the bed.

“No, wait!”

Poe froze and you pushed him back to his position on the bed, his eyebrow cocked with curiosity.

“You want to be on top?”

You smirked mischievously and grabbed his wrist, removing his fingers from your pussy. You brought them to your mouth and gave them a quick suck before moving down his lap and further down the bed, bringing his pants down with you. Kissing his stomach, your fingers dipped under the band of his briefs. He was already hard and you wasted no time removing his briefs and wrapping your hand around him. Poe let out a soft sigh of approval as you pumped him slowly. You swirled your tongue lightly around the tip and Poe let out a sound between a moan and a whimper with a very quiet plea falling from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled. “What was that?”

He swallowed hard, his body ringing with want. “Please.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your lips around him, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His head fell back against the pillows, closing for just a minute before looking back down at you. He gathered your hair back so it was out of your face, biting his lip and watching your head bob as you sucked him off. A quiet ‘fuck’ left his lips and you released him from your mouth, your hand pumping him quickly and your tongue found the base of his cock. You ran your tongue slowly, teasingly up the length of him before taking him in your mouth again. Your hand and mouth worked in tandem, bringing him closer and closer to the edge each time he watched your cheeks hollow around him.

But Poe wasn’t ready to be done quite yet.

“G—fuck….get up here.”

You ignored him, sliding your mouth all the way down his length until he touched back of your throat. The groan that came from him came deep from within him and it took all his strength to tug on your hair again instead of giving into the immense pleasure you were giving him and coming too soon.

“Get up here. Now.”

You let him go with a pop, crawling up into his lap again. “Mmm, bossy. I like it.”

He smirked as you grabbed him again to line him up with your entrance. “Another day, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and nodded as you sunk down on him slowly, a soft groan leaving your lips as he filled you all the way up. He attached his lips to your neck, his teeth leaving little love bites along your collarbone as you grinded against him. Your hand came back up to his hair, tugging the inky strands at the base of his neck and he quietly moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“F—ohhh…fuck, baby…” your voice was breathy, a sound Poe could listen to forever. The way you called him ‘baby’, even in the throes of pleasure, tugged on his heartstrings a little bit. One hand splayed across your back, the ends of your hair threading between his fingers. The other hand rested on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as each shot of pleasure hit deep in your stomachs.

Poe’s lips traveled down to your chest and attached to your breast, sucking small marks onto your skin. A symphony of sounds filled the room: the sound of skin slapping against skin, yours and his moans of pleasure, and his name tumbling past your lips with a slew of expletives. Your hand found his headboard, grabbing it to use as leverage and support as your body was weakened by pleasure.

He kissed up your neck and found your lips once again, his tongue invading your mouth and tangling with yours. You moved faster, your body becoming slick with exertion. You struggled to kiss him back, your quick movements making you nearly gasp for breath. You rode him hard, the both of you chasing the high you wanted so badly.

You whimpered as you the burn in your belly grew hotter, the mind-blowing orgasm you always got with Poe building. Poe felt the same, having used a great deal of strength to hold off so he could give you the same kind of ecstasy you were giving him. Your body tensed and you clenched around him as his cock found that spot that drove you absolutely wild.

“Come for me, baby…” Poe’s voice was also breathless but still held the tone of finality, like he was commanding you. The idea alone spurred you on further and his hands helped you slam yourself down onto his cock, your body movements becoming sloppy as you started to lose control. “Come on baby, that’s it.”

His thumb found your clit and he rubbed it quickly, the sudden addition of stimulation making your body twitch and send you over the edge. You came hard, your body shaking in his hands and a loud moan coming from deep within your throat as the iron struck white hot in your lower stomach. He held you still and thrust up into you and your hand shook the headboard, making it loudly knock against the wall. Poe gritted his teeth and his head fell back as he came, spurt after spurt of his release filling you up. You both slowed, the intensity of your orgasms making you fight to catch your breath like you just ran a marathon. Your head fell against his and he presses his lips to whatever part of your face that was closest to him.

“You…you ride me so well.”

You let out a breathless laugh, allowing Poe to put both arms around you and bring you down on top of him as he laid back against his pillows. He rubbed your back slowly, neither of you bothering to move. His softening cock stayed nestled inside you as the both of you catching your breath in the afterglow.

“You know, I was thinking?” Poe asked after several minutes of comfortable silence. You hummed in acknowledgement. “You should move in with me.”

You looked up at him, your fingers running along the silver chain around his neck.

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“It might be…but I also know this is what I want.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering.

“We went on our first date on Valentine’s Day but we’ve technically been dating since Halloween,” he said, the memories making you smile. “I know it was supposed to be just a one time hookup and then after that just casual sex but it ended up being a lot of talking. We were basically on dates, we just did sex first and got to know each other afterwards. So, in my mind, we’ve been together for about seven and a half months.”

He ran his knuckle across your cheek and you didn’t know if your cheeks were still flushed from sex or if they were flushing from the way he was looking at you - with pure love and adoration.

“If it’s too soon for you, it’s okay. I do want to move in with you, but we can wait until you’re ready. Just the fact that you’ll be close by instead of hours and hours and hours away is good for me.”

You took in every word he said. The whole point of your plan to decline the job offer was to be with Poe, and moving in with him would mean being with him all the time. There was a sliver of doubt that crossed your mind, that maybe you’d get annoyed with each other after living together for awhile and learning each other’s daily quirks.

“What do you see? When you think about us moving in together?”

Poe smiled softly. He knew exactly what kind of house he wanted to move into someday. Since he imagined having a kid or two, he wanted a basement or an extra room to be used as a playroom. He wanted a big backyard with a large deck and fire pit for late summer nights. He’d thought about it plenty, imagined his future home many many times before you, but it became so much more clear to him after you told him you loved him. Poe had been thinking of you moving in since before graduation, but held off saying anything because of your job interview. He didn’t want you to feel pressured if you had gotten the job…like you had to give up the opportunity because you were moving.

He wanted all that with you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice your future to make his come true.

“Well…” He started, making sure to word things carefully so he wouldn’t scare you with how much he’d thought this through. “For now, we’d find a bigger apartment or a townhouse to rent…somewhere where there’s enough space for all of your things as well as mine…I think we’ve seen enough of the inside of this apartment.” You laughed lightly and nodded. “Maybe find one with an extra room we can turn into an office for us to work in. Eventually I’d like to buy a house, but I think that’s a few years away still.”

Though Poe was sparing you details, you could tell he’d been put a lot of thought into it. You didn’t blame him, he was in his early thirties and wanting to start settling down and building a life. You were still young, twenty-two with all the adventures of your twenties waiting for you…but you couldn’t imagine doing any of them without Poe. Navigating your way into the world post-education was going to be difficult. Nothing is promised. But having a place of your own to come home to with someone you loved, where you could relax and unwind and have that feeling of comfort and safety…you wanted that.

“That’s just what I’ve been thinking. We certainly don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” His voice brought you back from our own thoughts and you nodded slowly and continued to play with his necklace.

“You know I was talking to Finn earlier about how we move fast but everything’s worked out pretty good so far.” You shrugged, biting back the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face. “I don’t see why we should stop now.”

A smile slowly spread across Poe’s face. “Really?”

You nodded and sat up a little bit so you were hovering over him.

“Let’s start looking. See what we find. In the meantime…”

“You’ll move in with me?” He asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. You smiled widely.

“I would love to move in.” Poe leaned up and kissed your lips squarely and surely. “I can leave now, start packing…”

“Oh no,” Poe smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re not going anywhere. Tonight, we celebrate.”

He rolled you over onto your back, never separating from you and burying his face in your neck and kissing it all over. Your laughter filled the room and you kissed him passionately, the room soon filling with different noises of pure happiness.

You couldn’t wait to start your future with him.

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron smut #back to you series #modern poe dameron #modern au #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x reader

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

Note

I love your blog! Have u ever considered making a side blog with rp for the binary bfs? If not/you don’t want to, that’s fine! It’s not for everyone, although if you could link some that do that’d be awesome! Anyways, how do you think Hawk and Demitri met? What was their first date like? Do the karate dads know?- Cherry

Oh my goodness, my inbox has been blowing up lately! :D Imma have to answer like 2 questions a day to have any hopes of keeping up lol

Hey Cherry! OMG thank you so much, I’m so glad you like it :D

TBH idk if I have time to run a full-on RPG sideblog at the moment--truth be told, it’s enough work keeping this one as active as it is! Haha XD I’ll still give all the snippets of that sweet, sweet Demetri x Hawk content that I possibly can on this blog though :D

BUT I think @sipping--snowflakes recently started a Demetri RPG blog and is actually looking for someone to roleplay Elimetri with them :D If any of my watchers are interested, hit them up!!! There is much binary boyfriend roleplay fun to potentially be had!!!

ON TO THE QUESTIONS

My personal headcanon on how Demetri and Eli met is that on the first day of kindergarten, Demetri absolutely would NOT shut up about dinosaurs and Star Wars to their class (I mean, come ON, little Demetri HAD to have had a Dinosaur Phase...I know it deep in my heart to be true). He wandered around to basically every table during Center Time/Arts and Crafts Time/Whatever the fuck they call that “free wandering-about-the-classroom-doing-whatever-activities-you-want time” in elementary school and chatted the ear off of every boy and every group of boys in the class (remember, this is Tiny Demetri, who DEFINITELY would not have the courage to speak to ANY girl XD). And every single boy, every single group, without fail, responds with “Oh my GOD shut UP go AWAY you’re so ANNOYING you weirdo” and poor little excited Demetri is just crushed that no one wants to hear about tyrannosaurus rexes and lightsabers--or worse, tyrannosaurus rexes HOLDING lightsabers and dueling with them. And then, finally, he gets to little Eli, sitting all alone (because no one wants to befriend the kid with the messed up lip), and LO AND BEHOLD! Someone is finally listening to him!!! And seems to actually care about tyrannosaurus rexes with lightsabers!!! Little Demetri is beyond thrilled to have someone to talk to. Little Eli, meanwhile, is also thrilled, because did this kid just talk his ear off about Obi-Wan Kenobi for 20 minutes straight and not mention the lip scar once? Demetri, meanwhile, is so caught up in his rambling that he doesn’t notice the goddamn lip scar is even THERE until they’ve already spent half the day together XD “ANYWAYS I THINK ONCE THE JEDI ORDER COMES BACK AFTER RETURN OF THE JEDI THEY SHOULD RIDE STEGOSAURUSES AND--oh, what happened to your lip?”

As for their first date...had to think for a while about the perfect first date for them would be. I was originally gonna say they’d just go down to Santa Monica Pier or something and just goof off, but I think Demetri would want to make it more special than that. I ended up headcanoning that they’ve always wanted to go to Universal Studios together growing up (mainly because of Harry Potter World, of course!!!), but neither of their families have ever really been able to afford it. BUT when Demetri and Eli finally get together, Demetri is like “fuck it, we’re finally gonna do this” and he saves up basically all the money he’s made at summer jobs and buys tickets for both of them to surprise Eli. Eli is so happy he starts crying, and then he gets angry he’s crying in front of Dem and is like “GOD DAMMIT STOP LOOKING AT ME THIS IS SO EMBARASSING, I’M TOUGH” and Demetri thinks it’s the cutest, funniest thing ever XD Then Demetri drives them both down to Universal and they both just have the best goddamn day of their lives and buy WAY more merchandise from Harry Potter World than is in any way wise XD And becoming “Hawk” has, for better or for worse, laid bare Eli’s inner adrenaline junkie, and he drags poor Demetri on every. Single. Roller coaster. Don’t worry, Eli is more than happy to hold his hand during the scary drops XD But Eli will not rest until they’ve ridden EVERY fast ride in the park and Demetri whines about it but secretly he just likes seeing his boyfriend that shamelessly excited about something! Also Dem takes a million cheesy couple selfies and posts them all over social media bragging about his cute bf, much to Eli’s embarrassment.

“Karate Dads” fksljchcbduswvc I love that this is like...the universal term for Daniel and Johnny now. I honestly could not be happier about it XD Daniel I’m sure would pick up on it first (Johnny, though I love him dearly, is just so very DENSE sometimes), either just kinda by reading the room or hearing about it through Sam (who probably has mixed feelings on it herself). I imagine being as protective of Demetri as he is, Daniel would pull him aside at some point and be like “Demetri wasn’t this guy the reason you pushed yourself to learn self-defense in the first place??? And now you want to DATE him??? Are you sure???” and Demetri of course would be like “Yeah he was in a really dark place then, but I’ve known him basically my whole life and I know he’s got a good heart!” and Daniel would probably be wary about it, but ultimately decide Demetri’s a smart enough guy to handle himself and trust him to make his own judgements. And of course, he’d figure if Sam can vouch for an ex Cobra Kai like Miguel turning over a new leaf and trying to be better, there’s no reason Hawk can’t, too. And seeing how much Eli cares about Demetri and how protective he’s gotten of Dem helps too, and Daniel would probably warm up to Eli eventually. Although, like Sam, I imagine it would take a cool minute. Johnny would probably find out through chatting with Hawk, and Hawk just kinda...accidentally lets it slip he and Demetri are dating, and Johnny just quizzically raises an eyebrow like “Oh? You’re dating the mouthy kid?” And Hawk just goes bright-ass red and Johnny remembers how Demetri went off on him on the first day of Cobra Kai all those months ago for making fun of Hawk’s lip, and he breaks into this HUGE shit-eating smirk like “yeeeeeah that doesn’t surprise me at all. Eh, it’s probably for the best. If anyone can toughen that kid up, it’s you. Although I hear he DID hand your ass to you when he kicked you into that trophy case, so maybe he’s not as much of a pussy as I thought.” (sidenote: Yes, I do think Johnny ended up hearing about Demetri’s KO kick...and was grudgingly impressed XD) And Hawk just...gawks at Johnny being THIS nonchalant about all of this and he’s just like “Sensei? You...don’t think it’s weird I’m dating a guy?” and Johnny just looks him dead in the eye and says “I don’t give a fuck if whoever you’re making out with has a cock or a pussy, or whatever, as long as it’s not gonna distract you during training. Just play Hide the Salamis on your own time.” And Hawk, now a blushing mess, is just like “Y-YES SENSEI” and stumbles out of the room XD Ironically I think Johnny would probably vouch for the relationship to Daniel later on, and be like “I mean, the kid DID switch sides MID-FIGHT to save that scrawny little nerd. That takes some serious balls, LaRusso. He clearly cares about the wimp, you can stop hovering over them like Demetri’s gonna keel over and die any second.”

Thank you for the ask, as always! More to come!

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zankivich · 4 years ago

Text

An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 2

a/n: this one was really fun to write. I’m back in my bag tbh. These are some cute characters if I do say so myself. Like everything I write I feel like this could be a fully blown multi-chapter fic. Also it’s finna get smutty so I hope you’re prepared for that. Let me know what you think? K bye.

WARNINGS: Smut, softness, too much cuteness?

Part 1 Part 3

The call comes two days later. Not that he leaves any room to be forgotten. No, Chris had texted you bright and early the next morning to thank you again for giving him a chance, and to apologize if he’d been in any way aggressive. You were quick to reassure him there’d been no aggressiveness on his end, certainly not any that was unwanted. He was a good texter, happy to provide details about himself, and to notice the details you, yourself, provided.

Chris: What are you up to this morning anyway?

Y/n: I had an early meeting with the company I just signed on with for a project I’m spearheading, and now I’m in my office preparing the debrief on that meeting which will be presented at another meeting.

Chris: Wow. Sounds intense. What do you do for a living?

Y/n: I’m a senior level consultant at a consulting firm. I basically just get hired to tell folks what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it. Then I leave before they fix it.

Chris: Ah so you liked to be in control huh?

Y/n: I...trust my gut, and my gut has yet to lead me astray. I only make decisions I believe in.

Chris: And what is your gut telling you about me y/n?

Y/n: It’s telling me to keep texting you even when I shouldn’t. Even when I’m busy. I like the things you say.

Chris: I like that. My gut is telling me you’re important. I can’t really explain it further than that. I just think we could be really good together.

You bit your lip, eyes roaming over the words in the message a few times. It was sweet. Damn him all to hell.

Fast forward to the next day where you’d spent all day outside of the office meeting with clients. He caught you in the middle of your lunch break between bites of sandwich that wasn’t very good. You’d put his name in your phone as just Chris, and yet when his name flashed across the screen the letters may as well have been hieroglyphics. It took you ten seconds just to get your shit together.

“Hello?” You swallowed into the phone, trying to manage an up-beat cadence.

Chris was like honey through the phone, as if the weight of the conversation was nothing to him.

“Hello. God, I gotta tell you it’s good to hear your voice. I thought I was starting to lose it in my memory for a second.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure it’s been exceptionally trying for you.”

“It has, it has. So perhaps you won’t think I’m being too pushy by asking you out tonight?”

You moved the phone just far enough away from your ear to wordlessly praise the lord to the air. Or whoever was up there.

“Um...tonight, huh?”

“Yea do you already have plans?”

“No, no. I just have a pretty long day ahead of me. I might not be able to make an early dinner.”

“Well that’s okay. Dinner isn’t even what I had in mind. What if I picked you up at, say eight-thirty? Would that be enough time?”

You bit your lip. “It would...Can I ask, if we’re not going to dinner, where are we going?”

“Now that....is a surprise. Send me your address, I’ll be there at eight-thirty sharp.”

“Oh lord. Okay I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

It took you a moment to remember to put the phone down. Men were usually very simple. Dinner, usually somewhere they can order a steak. They like to do dinner on the earlier side, give them ample time to order drinks. The more drinks they order the higher they believe their chance of sleeping with you goes up. In all your years of “grown up dating”, you could count on one hand the amount of men who had offered to take you somewhere other than dinner on the first date, and never had that place been alcohol free.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was more that understanding men; their preconceived notions, their inadequacies, their mentality etc. was about safety for yourself and for others who may fall victimized. The patriarchy was toxic afterall and perhaps no one knew this better than Black women.

And yet Chris seemed to be evading your expectations, and not for the sake of keeping you on your toes. It was as if his aura existed outside of your expectations all together. He didn’t need to trick you, or convince you. He was just himself, and that self was perhaps better than the vast majority of men you’d met in your life. Could that be? Was it really possible? It seemed like you’d find out regardless.

***

Large hoop earrings are truly a staple piece for any iconic outfit. Without the dread of a formal dinner, you were excited to play with your wardrobe a little bit. There was a beautiful pastel pink camisole that matched a floral set of pumps quite perfectly. The slicked back ponytail and the knitted cardigan are simply added bonuses. Ya girl looked good as per the usual is the moral of the story.

By the time he knocks on your door there’s a giddiness to you. Grownup dating seemed to lack a certain excitement at that point in your life. Oftentimes priorities didn’t match up, men didn’t say what they really wanted, or truly were after. But it really did seem like Chris just wanted to show you a good time. And as much as you were trying to keep the walls up and stay smart, you couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might prove you wrong.

“Hello.” He smiled warmly at the threshold. “You look beautiful.”

Your brain had short-circuited. This was basically nuclear warfare and you were not having it! He was wearing a thin black sweater that stretched tightly across the firmness of his chest. There was a level of scruff that was absolutely tantalizing, and the way his eyes were one step away from twinkling like an anime character was a reality that suffocated you with the weight of it. It was truly too much. This man looked straight out of a factory. The wind had been zapped from your sails. Dammit.

“You look...really good yourself.” You hummed. “Like, unnaturally good actually.”

He only laughed wild and carefree arms coming up into a shrug.

“I gotta keep up with you somehow, right? So you ready to go?”

“Yes actually, let me just shoot a quick text…” You mumbled, swiping your fingers across the screen.

y/n: Okay we’re leaving the house. Remember if I don’t text back for an hour without stating why to track my phone.

Raya: don’t worry girl ain’t nobody gone call the police on captain america. Yo black ass wouldn’t make it a second

Jesse: Me and my cousins will ride up there swinging if need be. You just say the word mija

Tanya: or not word….cause the girl might be dead????

Jesse: Oh...you right

Y/n: okay BYE NOW

Usually the group text for dates was centered on safety and precaution. You had a feeling this one was going to be fully for them to clown your ass for the rest of the night.

Chris gets the door for you, and it’s easy to note immediately that you’re sliding into a tesla. The fact that it looks like a spaceship on the inside is a dead giveaway. But the car is warm and the second he slides into the driver’s seat, his large frame takes up precedence in the vehicle. His non-driving arm lands on the middle console sending parks of heat over to your seat with stark intensity.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going? You know that’s like prime serial killer talk right?” You noted.

He smiled again, this wide grin that seemed to transform his entire face. It seemed infectious just to look at him.

“Gosh you’re totally right. I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we’re heading towards the city and not away from it. It’s a public place, I promise.”

“Okay Chris. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt...for now.” You teased.

He looked over at you instead of the road.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Oh chile….

“Mmm. Noted.”

There had been a certain energy the night you met. It had existed in the non-existent space between your bodies as he held you against his chest. A sort of aura that pulled you, pulled the both of you in. It had felt a little overwhelming then, but to know that it existed now within the small confines of the car was another thing entirely. Your body tilted in the direction of his unconsciously, your elbow propped on the console directly next to his. You were drawn to him. And the good news was he seemed to be too.

You were both confused and happy to see him steer clear of the usual Beverly Hills or Hollywood spots. Where does one such movie star as Chris Evans take a woman on a date anyway? Your girls had discussed everything from WolfGang Puck to the Rosevelt. The sun was sinking low and heavy in the sky as night began its arrival. As he navigated you to the Santa Monica Pier you felt the giddiness from early wreck havoc in your belly. It was so far from anything you could have ever expected in the best way possible. All the nerves of being with this guy you really liked sort of melted away and gave way for excitement.

“The boardwalk huh?” You grinned out the window.

“Yea. There’s great street food, games, views. I figure it’s pretty tough to have a bad time here. Increases my chances of you agreeing to a second date.” He smirked.

You laughed a little louder than your flirting giggle and turned to face him straight on.

“Oh so you already plotting the second date now!”

He laughed right along with you.

“Sweetheart I’m on date number four up here.” He pointed to his forehead.

“Sheesh! Well I don’t want to disappoint, but I played point guard in high school so if we find some hoops I’ma have to put your ass to shame.”

“Oh she’s trash talking me already ladies and gentlemen!”

You were already taking your seatbelt off and reaching for the door handle. It was the most excited you’d ever been on a date, couldn’t even remember the last time someone took you some place to be goofy and play games. You typed your destination into your group chat and told your girls not to bother you. It was finna be a night.

It comes to no surprise that you end up at the arcade. He buys the tokens, you buy the beers. And then...it’s on.

“I want to start by saying that I am firm in my masculinity. Basketball is not my game, and I stand by that.”

You rolled your eyes around your beer and quickly took off your cardigan to free your arms.

“Boy, put the tokens in the machine and quit playing.”

He only grins at you so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Side by side in front of the basketball arcade game, you each take shots at the swinging net. Unfortunately there are no bonus points for fine looking biceps while missing shots. This leaves you to crush your opponent--date, whatever--by over twenty points. Though Chris was “firm in his masculinity” this did not stop him from being competitive, so he quickly threw more tokens into the machine and tugged the sleeves of his too-tight sweater up his arms. He makes a shot while you just stared at him, a little dazed. You only beat him by eight that time. Rude.

“Okay,” Chris panted. “I lied. I do play basketball. I like to think I’m pretty good at it too, but you definitely just kicked my ass.”

“I was MVP all three years I played. It’s not your fault.” You giggled.

“You play in college at all?” He asked as you took your beers and moved on to a new game.

You shook your head. “I went to Howard for both undergrad and my masters. We’re D1 and I wasn’t that good. I got an academic scholarship instead.”

“So brains and a killer arm? Anything else I should know?”

“Hmm...I have an irrational fear of mice? I found a mouse once in my kitchen when I was a little girl. I got so scared that I literally fainted.”

“Brains, killer arm, faints at the side of mice. So, I guess Cinderella for date number two is out.”

You placed your arm on his shoulder as you laughed. The sheer volume of muscle was not lost on you, nor the way your mouth salivated in response. Woops.

“I’d be down to watch Ratatouille. That’s my favorite food movie ever, I think. I guess animated equals not so scary.”

He smiled and let you keep your palm on his shoulder for much longer than was necessary.

“Duly noted. Shall we?”

Chris beats you in skee ball, and you beat him in some random zombie shooter game. Eventually he lets you lean on him to take your shoes off so that the two of you can do a dance revolution game. It’s silly and awful, and you laugh the entire way through it. There’s more arm touching and at some point he finds an excuse to touch your waist again. The way you bite your lip and stare up at him is only interrupted by the squeal of children’s laughter. There’s an increase in your heart beat that can’t be explained by the physical activity of the game alone, and the heat in his eyes is not nearly PG-13 enough.

“Should we uh...go get a snack or something?” You mumbled still peering up at his lips.

His grip on your waist only grows tighter, and you swear it’s past them kids' bedtime.

“Sure, why not?” He grins before slowly letting you go.

Sweet jesus.

It’s only when there’s a foot of space between the two of you that you can breathe normally again. But then he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Breathing is clearly overrated.

You buy two different flavors of icecream to split and find a bench tucked away in the lights of the pier to keep talking.

“So what about you?” You asked between globs of cookie dough.

“What about me?”

“I know what you do for a living obviously but like...Where are you from? Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite food? How do you take your coffee? That kinda shit.”

He beams at you and holds a spoon of his rocky road to your lips. You hold eye contact as your lips wrap around the spoon. His lips part just barely and you know you’re not the only who can’t get a grip tonight. Good.

He clears his throat. “I’m originally from Boston, but I grew up in a town like thirty minutes away called Sudbury. I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and an older sister. They’re all much smarter than me I promise. My uh father remarried so I’ve got some half-siblings too. I can break out the family tree sometime if you want. I really enjoy seafood. I think it has something to do with where I grew up. I take my coffee black.”

“Boston, eh? LA must have taken some getting used to.”

He chuckled. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to LA. I have a place in Massachusetts. It keeps my mom happy, and makes it easy to go home. I’m between projects for now, but its easier sometimes to just be here for the talk shows and the meetings and what not. I’ll be honest it’s been looking up lately though.”

Damn him and his ocean eyes and his dumb dumb smile and his stupid facial hair. And...now he’s putting more ice cream in your mouth. Diabolical.

“What about you? From DC to LA?” He asked.

“Ugh it does feel pretty cliche, I know. I never in a million years though I’d live out here. It’s tough cause all my family is east coast as well. When I was fresh out of grad school I got offered a job at a firm out here. The salary and the benefits were some of the best of my class. I couldn’t really say no. And now I mean...you saw me and my girls. I found community out here. It’s scary to think of losing that.”

“Hey that makes sense. You’ve made a life for yourself here. That’s really admirable.”

“Yea I guess. It helps to live away from the worst of it all. And I suppose LA does sometimes come with perks.” You smiled in his direction.

“I could not agree more.”

*Meanwhile in your phone*

Raya: what do we think? Is she still alive?

Tanya: Girl please. The only thing that girl is at risk for is a good dicking.

Raya: sljgdlkfgjkl you goin to hell

Jesse: Should we take our bets now?

Tanya: I’m putting five on the captain throwing her back out TONIGHT

Raya: I’m putting ten on y/n holding out just to be stubborn af

Jesse: I’m with Raya on this one.

You walk through the sand together with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. There’s everything from playful jabs to probing questions to heavy flirting. At some point it transcends the innocence of a first date. Perhaps it's the moment when he offers to carry your heels so you can feel the sand between your toes. Or the moment when you tell him something funny and he laughs into your neck till all you can feel is the rumble of his chest and the warmth of his skin. Maybe it’s the feel of his fingers untangling your hair from your cardigan when the wind traps it. There’s a softness to him in all his overt physicality. He thumbs at your chin playfully and smiles down at you. It’s not just softness then. It’s tenderness too. And you melt into him.

“Hi.” he whispered till you smiled.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

“Can I kiss you by chance?”

Your arms slide closer wrapping firmly around his neck.

“Absolutely.”

If his chest is rock-hard muscle then his lips are the antithesis of that. The kiss is soft and yearning when he wraps them around your own, and his hands ain’t bad either. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in him and he in you until there’s no clear discernment of where one begins and the other ends. But it doesn’t matter when his tongue is just as teasing and probing at his personality, and you fingers scratch roughly through the strands of his hair.

The only thing that could possibly bring such a perfect moment to an end is the need to breathe. You pull away with a stuttering gasp, and he hides his face in your neck with a whine that awakens a whole new fire with you.

“Wow.” He sighed.

“Yea...Wow.”

You blinked a couple of times to try and bring yourself back to reality and out of...whatever the hell that was.

“I should uh--I should get you home right? You had a long day.”

He squeezed at your shoulders before pulling away and you swore it was colder without him near. As the night suddenly hurdled towards a close, you felt a sense of longing. You weren’t quite ready to let him go yet, and the anticipation of being without him was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. The only good news is he holds your hand the entire walk back to the car, and his shoulder makes for lovely resting space.

The car ride feels like a fraction of the time it took to get there. Perhaps it's because you know each other better now, have a taste of what it’s like to be next to one another. Like a junky you were hooked. White, Black, or green, there wasn’t anything that could stop you from wanting to be near him. He was infectious, and he’d gotten himself directly under your skin.

“Could I walk you to the door?” He asks.

“Please.” You nodded.

You take smaller steps as if that will make it all go slower. And a grin forms slowly on your lips when you notice his much lengthier legs attempting to do the same. It’s the kind of PG-13 shit you’d never really experienced before. How pathetic that the second you got just a tiny bit of it you were practically begging for more.

The light beneath your door illuminates the movement of your bodies. You turned with your back to the door to face him, aware for the first time that you’d been smiling for a while, that you had no idea how to stop smiling.

“I gotta say I had a really great time.” You murmured. “Thank you for the effort and the fun and...the kiss.”

“That means the world to me. All I wanted was for you to have a good time. Honestly I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“You know, I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on as well.”

He smiled widely at you. “Good. So now we’ve set the bar so high that it really only makes sense for us to go on another date right?”

“I think I could be up for that, yea.”

“Could you be up for another kiss?” He teased.

“Could you be up for coming inside?” You countered.

His eyes widened at that, the intricate game of you both keep each other on your toes unfolding. You weren’t even sure where the idea had come from. You certainly hadn’t planned it. At some point you realized you had to go inside, and the thought of him being on the other side of the door just didn’t feel right.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose if you’re tired. I know your work day was long.”

You nodded eyes skimming from his ankles to his hair.

“Suddenly? Not so tired.”

“Me neither. Let’s go inside.”

That’s what you thought.

You unlocked the door to your place leading him into the living room.

“Um make yourself comfortable. I just gotta let my girls know I got home alright. Do you want anything to drink?” You asked.

“I better not. Still gotta drive home.”

There was something about his lack of confidence about getting laid that had you pausing in the kitchen. Few men had ever made it past the threshold on the first date. The threshold may as well have been a neon arrow towards your vagina. Not that you’d decided to have sex with him. Of course not...

Y/n: I know y’all are not placing bets that center around my pussy. Get a life.

Raya: Girl I’m married with two kids and you just went out with Chris Evans. Your life is my life. Don’t take that from me.

Tanya: Now sis, why are you texting us when there is some red, white, and blue DICK to be had.

Jesse: djdflkjgdf

Raya: lmao. She got a point. Did he drop you off?

Y/n: He did.

Tanya: Annnnnnnnnnnd?

Y/n: Annnnnnd my date ain’t over. I simply must be going. Night night!

Your phone began to erupt with buzzes in your palm. You quickly set it to silent to ignore the peanut gallery and headed back to your date.

Chris was in your living room staring at a photo you had set up on the wall. It was you, your mother, and your little brother all wrapped up in each other from your graduation the second time. The fact that his ass was poised like a piece of fruit begging to be plucked from the tree is a secondary detail.

“Is this your family?” He grinned. “You look just like your mother.”

You stalked closer, ready to be in his space again, and smiled.

“This was for degree number two. I’m the first to ever get a master’s, and my mom couldn’t stop crying the whole day. This is the only picture I had where she wasn’t obviously in tears.” You hummed.

“That’s beautiful. She’s got so much to be proud of. You’re clearly an amazing woman.”

Most may have tilted their head in shyness, maybe looked at the ground and ignored the compliment. Such a cliche. You had learned long ago that the most radical, most self-loving thing you could do was believe your own hype. Others will rarely do it for you. Chris seemed to be the exception to many rules.

You raised your chin proudly. “Thank you. Every ounce of it, I get from her. I can assure you of that.”

“I believe you. Mothers really are the superheroes of the world, no pun intended.”

You reached for his hand slowly, heart warming at the way he instantly went to intertwine your fingers. He was truly nestling himself inside your head, your walls coming down one by one. Silence pursued as you led him towards the couch, his eyes raking over every inch of you as you moved. As his back hit the couch, you stepped out of your heels. His legs were deeply parted and the thickness of his thighs looked like the perfect seat. It didn’t help the way his hands were gripping his thighs like an invitation. That knot that sometimes appeared in your belly when he was around tightened.

“Can I sit with you?” You hummed.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like.”

His voice had suddenly gone husky and deep, your eyes fluttering wantonly at the sound. You were mostly definitely going to take him up on that.

You placed your foot on the space of the cushion right next to his thigh, and used the leverage to climb yourself into his lap. His hands immediately came to rest on the small of your back pulling you close, close, close.

This kiss is better. Much better.

Whatever gentlemanly urges he’d proudly displayed throughout the night, quickly gave way to a new urge, a hunger that boiled hot for each of you. It was the same feeling you’d felt when he first caught you at the bar, multiplied by a million. His facial hair rubbed tantalizing along your jaw as he kissed and bit and marked you with reckless abandon. Your fingers turned to fists in his hair and tugged sharply. The moan he released in response had your hips bucking up against his.

“God, come here.” He muttered against your throat.

His too-large palms went from your back to your ass and suddenly he was tugging you rougher, firmer, right against something firm of his own.

“Oh shit.” you whimpered thighs tightening around his waist. “Touch me.”

His lips began a trail from your neck down your cleavage, beard scratching up the flesh until your back was arching in lust.

“Take this off.” He demanded with a tug to your cardigan.

No problem there.

“You next.” You whined and reached for the bottom of his sweater instead.

Your camisole joined the rest of the pile on the floor and suddenly his tongue was finding the patch of skin right between your breasts. Wet didn’t begin to describe what you were experiencing in that moment.

“You’re fucking gorgeous you know that?” He huffed.

Your fingers gripped at his knee for leverage and you leaned back just enough to give your hips room to breathe. And move.

“Fuck.”

You giggled at Chris, your hips sliding against his in the most amazing rhythm.

“I like it when you lose that little nice-guy thing you got going on. What else do you got hidden from me, Chris?”

His hands moved to the thick of your thighs and squeezed hard until you lost your own grip of self-control.

“I think you like to take the reins. I think every part of your life is carefully constructed to your liking. But I’m starting to wonder what it might look like if you lost a little control, y/n. Do you think I could make you do that?”

Your eyes, though hooded with the overwhelming emotions he was making you feel, found a way to burst open at his words. Because in just one single night he saw you. Saw you in a way that you had not willingly given out. There was an armor that you put on to walk out into the world, something intentionally crafted to keep you safe. How had he disabled it in just one night? As sexy as it was, it was also scary. Were you ready to let him take control?

“Look if you wanna make me lose control? You better have something damn good to show for it, sir.” You grinned.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

And just like that you were being lifted into the air like a spaceship taking launch. A man had never lifted you with such ease since you were a child. A grown ass woman of your size wasn’t just thrown around like a rag-doll. Dainty had certainly never been used to describe you. And yet, Chris had managed to stand with your legs and arms wrapped around his like a kola to a tree. His hands on your lower body only throw you further out of whack. This shit was insane. And your pussy was transcending physics with how wet he’d manage to make you.

“Can I take you to bed?” He panted, breath harsh against your lips.

You groaned. “God, yes, boy scout. Please take me to bed.”

Your bed seems perfectly crafted for two, or maybe that’s just the feel of him sucking at the skin of your pulse point. His tongue is suddenly everywhere. On your neck. Below your sternum. At the jut of your hip. He strips you of your jeans and falls victim to the slim space between your thighs. His palms now work on mapping them expansively but not without exploring the thin piece of fabric that separates him from the wetness of your inner folds. All it takes is the tip of his nose to rub against the pubic mound, right above your clit, and you just kind of lose it.

“Holy shit! Please. Just please.” You whined, hips bucking closer to his mouth.

A grin descended upon his face that held all of the cockiness of a man who was sure of himself. It was the first time he’d ever looked like that to you. And lord was it hot.

“Sweetheart listen to me.” He said smoothly. “I’m gonna make you cum now. But you gotta be good for me. Can you do that?”

Your lips parted in shock. What does one say to such a thing?

“Okay.”

He’s not interested in torturing you, at least not this time. As soon as you promise to be good, his tongue snakes out of his mouth and he’s on you. Firm flicks of his tongue and hard sucks of his lips quickly leaves your underwear sodden. It appears he has no interest in taking them off, and you might just care if it weren’t for the way he was rocking your body. Most men couldn’t find a clit if there was a neon sign pointing to it. Chris finds it like it's his damn address. He sucks and licks and drools until your thighs pulse, until your back arches, until your body feels poised like spring begging to break.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders trying desperately to pull him closer. You’re not gonna make it.

“I--I gotta...I gotta cum.” You huffed.

He nods while he’s eating you out and takes your statement as a direction to slip his fingers between the soaked material of your underwear. You’re so wet that there’s barely any hit of tension as his finger slides deep inside of you. You can hear it now right beside the desperate pants of your mouth, the crude slip of his fingers digging into you, searching and pumping. He curls it just right, touches that place, until you can’t breathe, until your bursting for him like an overripe fruit.

Your body throbs and pulses as the orgasm rocks its way through you and he never moves, just licks away your release with the same intensity. When you collapse, he lays his head against your thigh and grins up at you with wet lips and a wet beard and eyes completely void of anything but tenderness.

“Oh fuck off.” You whined pushing your hand tiredly against his face.

He chuckled but absolutely did not fuck off. Instead he took to placing kisses along the skin of your inner thighs as if he was rewinding the coil inside of you so that he could make you come loose all over again.

“You done?” He hummed nosing at your pubic bone. “We can be done, just let me know.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really.”

You bit your lip and watched him for a few minutes. His fingers were drawing patterns on your leg, his lips feeling like they shot sparks all across your skin. You wanted him bad. Whoever said consent wasn’t sexy hadn’t had Chris Evans in their bed obviously.

“Come up here.”

His eyes finally left the dream of your thighs and locked with yours. He trailed slowly up your body, thighs and arms bracketing either side of you. Your back arched involuntarily until your chests touched. He kissed you long enough for the taste of yourself to get lost in your own mouth. His facial hair still scratched hotly at your flesh.There wasn’t anything you wanted more than for him to destroy you in that moment. So that’s exactly what you said.

“Chris?” You mumbled against his lips.

He immediately backed away. “Yea?”

You reached over to the drawer of your bedside table and grabbed aimlessly for protection. The condom wrapper fell into his hand and your legs came naturally around his waist.

“I’d like for you to wreck me...please.”

It didn’t sound like a question. It was much more a demand than a plea. But your boy scout aimed to please. And please he did.

“I can do that.”

Suddenly when Nicki Minaj said You’ll never catch me in a light-skin nigga’s bed, it took on a whole new meaning. Surely she meant light skin like Drake, and sis definitely had a point. But... surely Nicki couldn’t hate you for the choices you made that night, and all the ones you’d go on to make for this man in particular. After-all, it was technically your bed.

buy me a ko-fi?

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kookie-doughs · 4 years ago

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Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 14: Faith, Trust And A Little Pixie Dust

I'd love to tell you I had some deep revelation on my way down, that I came to terms with my own mortality, laughed in the face of death, et cetera. The truth? My only thought was: Aaaaggghhhhh! Honestly I was having Peter Pan flashbacks and started muttering random happy thoughts in hopes I could somehow fly or something but nope. I'm plummeting down six hundred feet into the water. Oh how I wish Minecraft was real. The river raced toward me at the speed of a truck. Wind ripped the breath from my lungs. Steeples and skyscrapers and bridges tumbled in and out of my vision. And then: Flaaa-boooom! A whiteout of bubbles. I sank through the murk, sure that I was about to end up embedded in a hundred feet of mud and lost forever. But my impact with the water hadn't hurt. I was falling slowly now, bubbles trickling up through my fingers. I settled on the river bottom soundlessly. I still held the knife which continued to glow. At that point, I realized a few things: first, I had not been flattened into a pancake. I had not been barbecued. I was alive, which was good. Then as if the water remembered they hated me. It began pulling me down again. I was immobile. I couldn't see or breath. I was in fear the moment I open my mouth I'd die. Percy Jackson help us. Percy... Please... Anyone... The knife I had been holding drifted away from my hand as if the water took it. I wanted to Thea and take it but I couldn't. Luke's knife. My knife. I was running out of air. Loosing my consciousness. Someone please help me.

As soon as I got air to breathe I regained consciousness. I felt arms around me. I was out of the water but I still couldn't move. I could see a McDonald's come to view. I looked at Percy who was carrying me. He was mostly dry aside from where he had come in contact with me. He was a scared, and vulnerable look. It was almost the same look he had when he lost his mother. A block away, every emergency vehicle in St. Louis was surrounding the Arch. Police helicopters circled overhead. The crowd of onlookers reminded me of Times Square on New Year's Eve. A little girl said, "Mama! That boy walked out of the river with a dead girl." "That's nice, dear," her mother said, craning her neck to watch the ambulances. "But he's dry!" "That's nice, dear." A news lady was talking for the camera: "Probably not a terrorist attack, we're told, but it's still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We're trying to get to some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of people falling from the Arch." Survivors. I felt a surge of relief. Maybe the park ranger and that family made it out safely. I hoped Annabeth and Grover were okay. Percy tried to push through the crowd in a hurry. "... an adolescent boy and girl," another reporter was saying. "Channel Five has learned that surveillance cameras show an adolescent boy and girl going wild on the observation deck, somehow setting off this freak explosion. Hard to believe, John, but that's what we're hearing. Again, no confirmed fatalities ..." Uniformed officers and news reporters were everywhere. I could tell Percy was anxious trying to look for either Annabeth or Grover. And I could also tell I was close to losing my consciousness again. "Perrr-cy!" "Help!" Percy cried to them running towards them going to a more secluded area. "What happened?!" Annabeth panicked. She was waving her hand at my face. "Y/N can you see me?! We don't have any ambrosia and nectar... What do we do?" Could you help me? I couldn't hear anything. I had closed my eyes. Instead of seeing darkness I saw brightness. Then I saw silhouettes, three of them. Two were together I could only presume were hugging while the other one was looking around for something. Another one came it's darker than the other three. It looked down on me. It knelt down and placed something then gave a nod before vanishing. They came... They were watching. Save us. Behind you, they had brought gifts. I was not wrong on choosing. The three silhouettes made a sharp turn and they all rushed towards something. Next thing I know there was something in my mouth and I was regaining my strength. As if I gagged, I shot up. Coughing whatever I could and I saw water come out. "What...?" I said tiredly. Before I could comprehend what happened Percy had tackled me down. Annabeth stood behind Grover, trying to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see me okay. "We can't leave you two alone for five minutes! What happened?" "We sort of fell." I explained weakly. "Six hundred and thirty feet?! Who did you think you are?! Peter Pan?! That you'll fly after believing in your parent?!" I got up with Percy's help and we continued to walk. "Yes and no, its somehow like... Arthur Curry and Mera. Except I was actually Jack Dawson which almost got me killed." Behind us, a cop shouted, "Gangway!" The crowd parted, and a couple of paramedics hustled out, rolling a woman on a stretcher. I recognized her immediately as the mother of the little boy who'd been on the observation deck. She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing Chihuahua-" "Okay, ma'am," the paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is starting to kick in." "I'm not crazy! This two kids jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared." Then she saw us. "There he is! Those are the kids!" Percy immediately ran with me, Annabeth and Grover after us. We disappeared into the crowd. "What's going on?" Annabeth demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?" We told them the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, the high-dive act, and Percy's underwater lady's message. "Whoa," said Grover. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad." Before Annabeth could respond, we passed another reporter doing a news break, and I almost froze in my tracks when he said, "Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy and girl who may have caused this explosion fits the description of the young children wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. And the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N." We ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley. "First things first," Percy told Grover. "We've got to get out of town!" Somehow, we made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted. We got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind us.

Previous |Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #Lightning thief #Book 1 #Chapter 14 #Fanfiction #Fanfictions

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amanda-glassen · 4 years ago

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The Wonder Years: Part 8

While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Parts 1-7 can be found under the the tag #alex and liv: the wonder years

Thank you @ghostwritingcabenson @imaginaryoperagloves @cabensons @oliviaswifey and my lovely anon for all of your really sweet comments and tags.

Cover courtesy of my tumblr wifey @ghostwritingcabenson

Seeing the brightly colored frozen yogurt shop put Olivia at ease because it was the setting of some of her best childhood memories and now she was going to experience it with her girlfriend.

Olivia did as Jamie had done for her mom and opened the car door for Alex. That small act of chivalry earned a big smile and a ‘thank you’ from Alex, which made Olivia feel as if she had butterflies in her stomach.

“Babe, why don’t you take Alex inside?” Jamie suggested. “I want to stay out here and talk to Ollie.” Uh oh.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Serena gestured for Alex to follow her. “We can get first pick of the toppings.”

“Yeah!” Alex said excitedly. “I want chocolate chips and chocolate brownie bites.”

“Is everything okay?” Olivia asked, worried that Jamie had a suspicion that she and Alex were hiding something.

“Everything is fine,” Jamie responded. “This is a good talk, I promise.” She pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to Olivia.

“Cool! Twenty bucks!” Olivia folded the money and put it in her pocket. “Thanks, Jamie. I was saving up to buy a－”

“It’s not for you, kid,” Jamie interrupted. “It’s for you to treat Alex.”

Olivia tried to hide her disappointment. “But my mom always pays for frozen yogurt.”

Jamie made a failed attempt at stifling her laughter. “Think about it, kid. What’ll score you more points, you paying for her frozen yogurt or your mom paying?”

“Me, I guess,” Olivia groaned. “There goes my new bat.”

Jamie shook her head and wrapped her arm around Olivia to guide her toward the entrance. “I have so much to teach you, Ollie.”

Alex and Serena were already choosing their toppings when Olivia and Jamie entered the frozen yogurt shop. Olivia noticed that her mom had gotten their usual and she was eager to get the same－chocolate flavored frozen yogurt with Oreo crumbles, gummy worms and Fruity Pebbles－a tradition in the Benson household that they had named Dirt and Worms.

“Mom, I’ll pay for me and Alex,” Olivia told her once all four cups of frozen yogurt were on the counter and ready to be weighed.

Serena took her debit card out of a pink and white polka dot Kate Spade wallet. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll get it. Save your money for that bat you’ve been wanting.” Olivia noticed her mom and Jamie exchange glances and she hoped Jamie could read her mind because she no longer had the slightest idea what to do. “On second thought, it’s probably not cool for your mom to pay for you on your first date.”

“I got this,” Olivia tried to say as smoothly as she could while she pulled out her twenty dollar bill and placed it on the counter.

“And I’m getting yours,” Jamie told Serena. “You already paid for dinner. We’re supposed to be in an equal partnership here.” After Alex and Olivia’s cups of frozen yogurt were paid for, Jamie inserted her card to pay for hers and Serena’s.

“I paid for us to eat at Hot Dog On A Stick, not some expensive restaurant,” Serena reminded her. “That’s all we had time for after Barnes & Noble and GameStop.”

Jamie picked up their frozen yogurt cups and carried them over to the table. Olivia figured she should do the same for Alex until she saw Alex already eating brownie bites from her frozen yogurt. Better not take that away from her. “I learned an important lesson today, Ser. If I value my life, I will never attempt to take one of your fries. Is it the same with frozen yogurt?”

Serena scrunched her nose. “Yours is vanilla with strawberries, blueberries, and bananas. No wonder you want to steal some of mine.”

Within seconds of sitting down at the table, Olivia’s phone started to vibrate. It was a text from Elliot confirming he'd be at their secret meeting, but Olivia didn't want to risk her mom seeing a message from her dad come through so she decided to put her phone in her pocket.

"What's this big science project about?" Serena asked them. "I've never seen an assignment have that effect on Olivia."

Olivia was in the middle of chewing a gummy worm, so she was grateful when her quick thinking girlfriend decided to answer. "It's the end of the year project which is worth 25% of our grade. Mrs. Rodriguez is supposed to give us more details on Monday, but my brother had her class three years ago and he said she lets her students pick the topic. Sometimes that's harder because the possibilities are endless. She also doesn't like us to pick partners because someone could get their feelings hurt if they aren't picked, so she puts us in alphabetical order. If she does that, it's fine because I'll get to work with Olivia. Alphabetically there's no one in between us. We should start brainstorming, Olivia."

The last thing Olivia wanted was to think about a science project that wasn't due for another month, but her girlfriend’s enthusiasm was contagious and the project was the only thing keeping her mom from asking questions about what was actually on her mind.

Olivia felt her phone vibrate again, except this time it wasn’t a text from Elliot or any of her other friends. It was another message from her dad that read, “Hey Sport. Wanna get some pizza tomorrow?”

“Who’s that, baby?” her mom asked her.

“Just Elliot,” Olivia said nonchalantly. “He’s asking if I’m still coming over tomorrow to watch the game. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Olivia was grateful that the bathroom was a single stall so nobody could follow her in there. She pulled out her phone from her back pocket immediately after locking the door behind her and started to respond to her dad. “Yeah can we go to Another One Bites the Crust? That’s my favorite. I can meet you there at 1.”

She waited two minutes before another response came through. “Daddy/daughter day tomorrow at 1. They have those rotating basketball hoops outside. Bring your A-game.”

When she returned to their table, a feeling of guilt hit her hard and suddenly. She occasionally hid things from her mom like when she didn’t tell her she had a girlfriend, but this was the first time she had actually lied to her. It was the worst she had ever felt in her entire life and she knew that lie was only the first of many that she’d tell her mom that weekend.

Serena asked Alex about her siblings and Olivia heard Alex talk about her older brother who was fifteen and nice to her and her younger brother who was almost nine and kind of annoying. Olivia loved to hear Alex talk about her home life and her friends and her favorite movies and TV shows, but that night her mind was on her dad and how much fun the two of them were going to have the next day eating pizza and playing basketball.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Alex asked Serena.

With Serena distracted by Alex’s question, Jamie took it upon herself to attempt to steal a gummy worm, but her attempt was soon thwarted by Serena gently smacking her hand. “Hey! Nope. Hands off my worms. If you wanted gummy worms, you should have added some to your frozen yogurt.”

Olivia handed Jamie a couple of her own gummy worms. “Here, Jamie. You can have some of mine. I have a whole bunch.”

Jamie took the worms and held them up to show Serena. “Unlike you, your kid actually shares.”

“What can I say?” Serena smirked. “My kid is better than me. That means I’ve succeeded as a mom.” She held Jamie’s hand on top of the table before turning to Alex. “Sorry, Alex, before we were so rudely interrupted by my gummy worm thief, I was going to tell you that my brother Kyle is two years younger than me and my sister Lexie is one year younger than me. The three of us are really close, like best friends. Kyle and I live in the same building, but Lexie moved back to California after college. She lives in Santa Monica now.”

“Lexie Benson is your sister?” Alex asked, wide eyed and completely in disbelief. “Lexie Benson, the YouTuber? I’ve seen every single one of the videos on her YouTube channel! She does these really funny videos where viewers can request what era or theme they want and she does these in-character spoofs about－” Alex started to blush. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. She’s your sister so you know all about her channel and her videos. Wait, I think I’ve even seen you in some of them!”

“Yeah, she’ll force me every time I go out to Santa Monica,” Serena smiled at her. “And don’t apologize for getting excited over something. I’ll tell Lexie about you next time I talk to her.”

“Babe, your phone,” Jamie told her as she looked down at Serena’s phone and noticed an incoming video call.

“It’s my mom,” Serena groaned. “If I don’t answer, she’s going to keep calling.” She swiped across the screen to answer. “Hi, Mom. I’m out right now with Olivia, do you mind if I－”

“Where’s my grandbaby?” Mrs. Benson interrupted her. “I want to talk to her.”

Serena handed the phone to Olivia. “Hi, Grandma!” Olivia said excitedly. “Wanna see my girlfriend Alex? She’s having frozen yogurt with me. Me and her went on our first date tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Benson,” Alex said after scooting closer to Olivia. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You’re adorable!” Mrs. Benson responded. “And so well mannered. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex. So, tell me, how is my grandbaby on a date? Does she hold open the door and pull out your chair?”

“She’s a perfect gentleman and she’s so cute and sweet and she got me a rose and frozen yogurt tonight,” Alex beamed. “I like Olivia so much.”

Olivia felt butterflies in her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to kiss Alex if they were alone. “Doesn’t Alex look like a princess?” Olivia asked.

“She looks like Princess Grace,” Mrs. Benson told her granddaughter. “She could be a classic Hollywood starlet. And you look so handsome and grown up, my darling grandbaby.”

“Jamie cut my hair,” Olivia said excitedly.

“Jamie,” Mrs. Benson said in a teasing tone of voice, hoping Serena would hear. “Tall, dark, and handsome, herself, the one woman I would consider switching teams for.”

“Mom,” Serena groaned and Olivia couldn’t help but laugh when her mom put her head down on the table in embarrassment.

Olivia handed the phone over to Jamie. “Hi, Melanie. You’re looking beautiful as always. Where are you? I can see the sunset behind you. Are you on vacation?”

“Oh, no, I’m just on our rooftop,” Mrs. Benson said nonchalantly. “Didn’t my daughter tell you about the beach house in Malibu?”

Serena took the phone from Jamie. “I have to go now, Mom. Alex has to get home soon.”

“Not so fast,” Mrs. Benson told her. “Since you neglected to tell me when your spring break was, I looked it up on Columbia’s website and saw that it’s the week after next. I’m booking your flight to LAX. You can bring Jamie so I can finally meet her in person and my grandbaby can bring her little girlfriend and before you object and say you had something planned for my grandbaby, I will save you the effort and say nothing you can plan in that gloomy state you insist on living in is as much fun as the kids will have at the beach and at Disneyland.”

“Disneyland!” Alex said excitedly. “I’ll ask my mom if I can go as soon as I get home.”

Olivia’s dream of riding the teacups together and buying Alex a pair of sparkly Minnie Mouse ears could finally come true. “Please, Mom. Please can we go? I’ll do anything.”

“Don’t be the bad guy, Serena,” Mrs. Benson told her daughter. “I can hear how happy the kids are.”

“It’s 9:45 over here, Mom,” Serena said in a frustrated tone of voice. “I have to hang up now so we can take Alex home. Bye, Mom. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Serena set her phone on the table and then turned to face Jamie. “One thing I hate about smartphones is that you can’t angrily close them when you wanna hang up on someone. Nothing gave me more satisfaction as a teenager than hanging up on my mom with my pink bedazzled Motorola Razr phone whenever she nagged me about something like she is right now. She completely undermines my parenting every chance she gets. What if I had something planned for Ollie?”

“At least you knew how to use that phone because, apparently, you can’t use this one,” they heard Mrs. Benson say. “I’m still on the line, Serena. I’m booking your flight and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Olivia looked across the table at her flustered mom and at Jamie who was trying to contain her laughter. The short interaction with her grandma had made all of her negative feelings go away. Tomorrow, she’d spend the afternoon with her dad and, as long as they could convince Mr. and Mrs. Cabot, she’d soon be at Disneyland with the love of her twelve-year-old life.

#cabenson #baby cabenson #alex and liv: the wonder years #serena benson #law and order svu

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escxpiism · 4 years ago

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( olivia holt, 23, she/her ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ALICE ADAMS. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE MASK if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re ADAPTABLE but JADED, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CATFISHED DAVID HASSELHOFF. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

hi y’all !! i’m may ( 21 // est // she/her ) and i am super super pumped to be here !! i’m also very much writing this against my better judgment ya girl’s running on four hours of sleep and has the option to sleep more but......... is not tired ?? so i do apologize if my mind is secretly tired and makes this intro,,,, even worse than it would be fahouedn. on with the show !! anyway anyway!! feel free to like this if u wld like 2 plot and i will hit u up!!

( also, for some vibes if you so choose to read, here’s the link to her playlist ! )

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

QUICK FACTS:

full name: alice audrey adams

date of birth: october 26th, 1997

*will not perfectly reflect the zodiac big three below because that’s.... math.

zodiac big three: scorpio sun, virgo moon, taurus rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual

education: ged, bachelor’s degree in film — pratt institute

enneagram: 4w3

mbti: enfp

temperament: sanguine-melancholic

label: the mask

various inspirations: “nutshell” - alice in chains, “santa monica” - everclear, “polly” - nirvana, “jennifer’s body” - hole, “creep” - stone temple pilots, kate wallis ( cruel summer - shhhh ), heather davis ( crazy ex-girlfriend ), satana hellstrom ( marvel comics ), bojack horseman - without the amount of problematic ego ( bojack horseman ), eddie huang ( fresh off the boat ), the great britney spears evolution ( temporarily stopping at circus era )

BACKSTORY:

triggers in order: toxic family dynamic, grooming (nothing super in-depth), kidnapping (? like it was ‘willing’ but no. see next trigger for why), toxic “relationship” (and 11yr age gap w/ a 16y/o we hate it), straight-up captivity, very brief mention of suicide + heroin (very!)

*would like to quickly preface that this isn’t just Dark for the sake of being r/im14andthisisdeep but that’s for a later time **(also! i have markers for where the grooming + Super Dark parts begin and end! -- also, the Super Dark part is all very public knowledge. had articles. media frenzy. first thing that comes up if you google her name) *** also. if u need it then a tl;dr is below this section hfkldsa

alice audrey adams was born to the type of family that names all of their children alliterative names ( however, they sadly didn’t get their own kardashian-style show )... alexis adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... alfie allison adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... born to anna adams and allen adams... we hate it here.

as u can see... all of the kids were basically named after allen... they all had ‘al’ names.... extremely confusing

plot-twist: THAT’S the darkest part

the adams were very concerned with public image. as a family in the upper echelon, they simply had to be! a narcissist father, a distant mother, put in competition with her siblings — there was no truly healthy dynamic in the household. but they looked good. they went to church every sunday, a ‘wwjd’ sticker on the back of her mother’s car. they did just enough activities and took just enough trips together to get the image across. they threw parties. they attended parties. they were the picture perfect american family — they even had two cats in the yard! life used to be so hard!

of course, in reality, this all left ms alice quite the lonely gal. but don’t worry! she didn’t turn to hedonism! lord no! instead, she turned to other people. a lot of friendships — couldn’t tell if they were real or #fortheclout — but at a point, did it matter?

grooming tw: it all came to a screeching halt when she met luke johnson, the son of their neighbors. he came back from california to georgia to visit family, care for his ailing father. oh, he was a good man! sure, he was ‘somewhat’ older than her — 27 when she was 16 — but he was such a good, handsome young man! and they were all still calling him young man, after all.

alice ‘began’ a torrid affair with luke after about a month into his visit. although she saw no immediate wrong in it, he insisted she keep it a secret ‘for the time being’ — which really just made it all the more exciting! he made all the storm clouds that hovered disappear.

one day, the levee broke for alice (still figuring out what exactly happened because i don’t wanna go too dark since this is already extremely dark, but trust that it had something to do with her parents and was just enough to push her over the edge). convinced luke was the only safe person, she turned to him. knowing their small community would catch on and essentially exile him, he took that opportunity to convince her to go back to santa monica with him where they could ‘start anew’ after his father’s death.

there are a few details i plan on adding regarding like. how legality playing into it. but i may just reserve those for an official bio lhakfsdfj

**BEGINNING OF SUPER DARK** for a while, there was the question of whether they should consider it a kidnapping or not. she went with him willingly, but she was still underage (and… you know, that age difference… the power dynamic... gross y’all). the adams insisted that it was (bc it basically was lbr) — primarily because it would make them look far better — but the community still questioned the logistics and legalities of it all… ugh. did the police really wanna deal with that? ugh.

in any case, on the other side of us america, autumn was nearing. alice would have the very occasional inquiry over how school would work (very occasional! don’t worry, luke!), over the logistics of her new life… and, after receiving multiple calls from various friends (in addition to her siblings) that sounded genuine, began wondering… if she’d made the right choice. questions about him.

when she began bringing up the idea of going back — at least for the school year!! — he would continuously remind her that she was not old enough to buy herself a plane ticket (and he was not about to do that). she also couldn’t rent a car yet (and he certainly wouldn’t let her take (one of) his car(s)!). but most importantly? he loved her. and she loved him. (what a creep!)

so, for a hot second, it seemed like she was stuck. damn legalities!! damn love!! you know, until she texted her older sister back with all of the problems that only being 16... and “in love”.... caused. her sister offered to fly down, buy her a plane ticket, and fly back with her.

when luke saw this (with all the unrestricted access to her phone he had so he could block, delete, and manipulate as he pleased), he confronted her. things went awry. she wound up in his budding wine cellar (which he soon emptied, of course… those merlots :( ….). he messaged back and, as her, said it was actually all good!! luke had figured out the logistics and she could call whenever she wanted!!

and those calls became frequent! because she would pick up when luke held it up to her! because she was pretty sure luke would kill her if she didn’t!

she wasn’t sure how long it was until she was officially Found. it took what was ruled a suicide by luke, a shot to the head and heroin in his system, to finally get any authority’s attention. all she knew was that she went to santa monica in mid june and she stopped seeing regular daylight by late july. so some time in august to some time in april… **END OF SUPER DARK + GROOMING**

she was returned to georgia shortly after and everything was different. from herself to her friends. but everything was also the same. from her room to her family. it was all… teasing. she began going to therapy, but she really sucked at it?? so she just let her therapist rely on various articles that covered the event. because it had been a media circus. good enough, amirite??

she didn’t have the will or patience to put on that peppy facade she’d had before, but there were still a few things she found a smidge of joy in. music (although her taste had… slightly altered and wow! it’d been almost a year since she’d picked up that bass!), videography… just those small things, you know??

for the first half of the ~ 2014 fall semester ~, she attempted actual school. really was not working out. with, for probably the first and only time, her parents’ approval and understanding, she dropped out and studied for a ged -- shorter and self-led -- instead.

she passed with a pretty decent grade... but it’s been argued that she really shouldn’t have gotten into pratt institute (she was at least realistic and didn’t apply to, like… cornell), but she did. national news helps.

while in the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, she learned of masters. she submitted an application as a joke — because her grades sucked!!!!! — but guess who got a job?? oh, she could pretend it was because her selected portfolio was actually genuinely good… but, man… we all know…

fun fact: my uncle applied to harvard as a joke. some twenty-five years later, we still haven’t heard back :\

she… continues to suck. like… she kinda wants the place to eventually burn down?? figuratively speaking (or is it…) but ya, for all the monopolizing she has seen turn people Evil?? but the hell can she do about it… just gotta make sure she keeps her in-house videographer job… maybe she can do something about it when she like… is capable. fuaihoelwdjkn

she sees an in-house therapist and i’d say ‘good for her,’ but it was mandated l m a o

doesn’t talk about herself all that much!! but that might not matter for some people, yk?? ugh journalism <3

y’all im so bad at ending intros.

TL;DR:

(consult above trigger list): bright kid in a super rich and toxic family because obviously. everything they did was just to look good <3 also they all had ‘a’ names which is the biggest tragedy of all :( ‘fell in love’ when she was 16ys/o with a 27y/o who was visiting to care for his father in his final days. had a torrid affair. creep. creep (luke) basically made her ‘fall in love.’ she thought creep was the only safe person at one point and creep was like ‘wanna go back 2 santa monica w me?’ and she was like ‘yes.’ and everyone was like ‘was this kidnapping... we cant tell....’ then he became even more possessive when she started questioning him and some logistics. when she finally found a way she could go back to georgia for a spell, he was like ‘no u can go in my wine cellar btw i will be taking all of the wine out.’ he kept her there from august to april and... only reason he didnt keep keeping her was bc he was Caught so. back to georgia where the devil went down. everything was Worse. even the things that were the same. but hey, the sob story that landed her in the news plenty of times got her into a college she shouldn’t have gotten into and gave her a leg-up in a joke application for a job at masters (in-house videographer). really bad at doing her work but like... fuck the man i guess??

PERSONALITY + HEADCANONS:

has no time for Fake Nice (which, as a born southerner, she’s really good at sniffing out!). has no time for arrogance. kind of makes her at odds with the nyc upper class...

on that note, still got a lil bit of some georgia twang

she lets herself indulge in various vices, but has left a previous hedonist status. weed and alcohol are still pretty common, but everything else is kept at arm’s length.

also, while on that topic, she Does Not drink wine. being trapped in a cellar... kinda makes u averse. like. literally despises it. will go on autopilot and make it KNOWN if offered wine.

also ALSO while on that topic, after looking it up and seeing she fits the new york city requirements, she has a medical marijuana card <3 the one good thing, if u ask her, to come out of therapy/psychiatry <3 will not show it off unless absolutely NECESSARY bc then it gets personal or <3 will lie about why and say it’s like for epilepsy or sumn unless ur rolfe but <3 she has it <3

at odds with herself. enjoys the company of others, definitely has a history of being an extrovert, but has become very selective with the company she keeps.

VERY private person! has had enough public standing!

...has occasionally used her story to advance her tho bc it’s her national newsworthy tragic story and she can exploit it if she wants <3

when good charlotte said “i don’t wanna be in love”?? she felt that. her last ‘relationship’ ruined that for her <3 save her <3

used to be really into pop! bc pop is fun! she loved some britney (i mean... she still does... how can u not!)! but. her taste has changed drastically. rarely listens to pop. has traded britney for like.... hole and the like.

her parents didn’t use this as the basis for her name but,, 2 me,,, she’s named alice for a reason <3 gotta luv alice in chains <3

y’all i found a youtube comment on a video called ‘nirvana - half the man i used to be’ (the song was, in fact, ‘creep’ by stone temple pilots) and it’s <3 her music taste <3 click here for it <3

the above said, dresses like she’s in seattle in the early 90s.

her rumor is true btw she DID catfish david hasselhoff and she will proudly tell u. it’s her best accomplishment.

completely stopped talking to her parents and got cut-off a while back ago so now she’s livin like the Prols

which is how a rich kid one of my profs once advised referred to his classmates.... hilarity ensues.

the above in mind, her parents say she’s testing the waters as a ‘normal person’ to save face. they can’t have anyone knowing their family isn’t perfect <3

she has a pet turtle whom she named “dr. turtle,” although he’s constantly referred to as “doc” or “the doc.” he has his own youtube channel and tiktok account.

she has a wall full of evidence that courtney love did not kill kurt cobain... it makes sense, believe me.

became a vegetarian...... partially because it was different from her original life and a way to control something, partially because this commercial made her feel SO BAD.

literally her default mode is stoned like... a totally sober alice is rarer than a nessie sighting

when she was 18, before she could ‘hold her liquor’ as well as she can now, she got a lil too drunk and now has a portrait tattoo of courtney love on her forearm. but it was done well at least!!

kind of ironic considering her career, but RARELY posts on any social media site except twitter. after the media circus in 2014 and All Eyes On Her, she’s just..... so tired...... of ppl seeing her face and being like ‘omg ur that wine cellar bitch!’

(drugs tw) has become more and more Addicted to playing around with fate. j chill on a ledge, talkin to some pals, but deciding it’s a good idea to swing her legs on the wrong side of ledge? totally! mixing a lot of alcohol with opioids which she is not accustomed to? DEF!! (end tw)

more to come!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

i have two (2) queued up!! but while we wait for them to post, i’ll just… link them over here: 1, 2

muse u <3 the other half of her subplot from the main <3

her older sister!

her younger sibling!

some of the basics!! you know: close pal, roommate, drug buddies (but she gotta hit them up), fwb, ons, frenemies, enemy

ppl who recognize her from the 2014 luke johnson articles and have either brought it up or,,,,,,, act Awkward™

cld be fun 2 just have like. a jam bud. someone who plays any instrument and they j. jam sometimes.

ppl she sells. some of her medical marijuana to. bc yk what weed may be legal in nyc now but,,,, she’s still found a way to be broke she will accept anything. and also it just became legalized THIS YEAR so!!

i have a budding wc page @ https://escxpiism.tumblr.com/wcs (and when i say budding, i MEAN budding) so feel free 2 check it out!!

more to come!!

#masters.intro #alice | intro !#this took me like....... 2hrs 2 write so i do indeed think my mind is fooling me and actually lagging behind.

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carmenxjulia · 4 years ago

Photo

Showrunner Duane Capizzi did an informal Q&A session with some fans in a CS chatroom. There are several question askers, all marked by name. Get some insider knowledge on the show, after the break!

Duane Capizzi:

Just checking things out! Feel like I'm poking my head through a door at a party I'm crashing haha.

Fun to see everyone hanging out and talking all good things Carmen

Can't stay long - I should have taken the code name "Crimson Phantom"

Crimson Phantom - I like the sound of that (if it's not already taken haha)

Carmen:

It's an awesome nickname! Personally I'm more of a Scarlet Santa Rosa person myself- I love that little interaction with Jules and Carmen in the special

Duane Capizzi:

Scarlet Santa Rosa! Yes, that was really cute between them. Too cute in fact.

Coach Brunt had some names for her too if i recollect

Arden:

Lambkins

Wren:

Didn't Brunt also call her Monica Santa Monica once?

Mage:

Yeah in the Boston episode

Also Josie San Jose

Arden:

I personally prefer Fedora the Explora

Duane Capizzi:

Josie yes hahaha

I can't believe we got away with Fedora the Explorer! I thought that would be noted but I'm glad we did. So funny!

Carmen is amazing! She "owns" whatever she wears, doesn't she?

Carmen:

She definitely owns Carmen Brand Outerwear

Duane Capizzi:

I'll share another tidbit though (along the lines of Carmen being a love story where everyone is in love with Carmen).

It was important for obvious reasons that the show be (among other things) about female empowerment. And we wanted to celebrate fashion of course. But it was super important to me to not fall into the "male gaze" trap. That was something I imparted to the storyboard crew and directors. It's a fine line, I know, but I think we succeeded.

Arden:

You sure did. What I adore about Carmen Sandiego is how unsexualized all the characters were while still being inclusive to different body types and races

Duane Capizzi:

Well artists love to sneak things in! So it was a little rule I had

They were mostly great about it - in all the 32 episodes, I think I asked to change only two shots for that reason. Where I had to go "ahem"

"Outerwear" sounds so peculiar but I think that's what made it work. I kept changing it back and forth and sometimes I'm surprised to see/hear it in the show. For the longest time it was "Carmen Clothiers." Did I make the right decision? Sometimes you can rework things too much and lose sight - it happens!

The one shot that leaps to mind was Shadowsan carrying her fireman style at top of 202, as they were escaping through the tunnels. Her, um, fundamentals were just a little too front and center to not fall into the "male gaze" trap. Nothing awful! It was borderline. We just adjusted the angle a bit

Julia:

My favorite most definitely has to be her formal wear from the "need for speed caper"

Duane Capizzi:

I'd have to think about my favorite outfit or top five. All her evening gowns of course!

Maybe "witch." We couldn't make it red because it would not have been a very good disguise (plus, you know: "Scarlet Witch" haha).

But let's not underestimate her signature hat/coat - I continue to be enamored with how we updated her look from the old trench coat thing.

Arden:

Not me suddenly motivated to draw Carmen in a scarlet witch outfit

Duane Capizzi:

Then you have to draw Zack as Pietro!

(or Player? Only his fingers are speedy)

Arden:

Idea: what if player (or Shadowsan) was Pietro

Duane Capizzi:

Shadowsan IS Pietro. He's so quick you never see him move.

Wren:

Shadowsan's fight with Brunt where it went slowmo and he moved fast was so cool!

Duane Capizzi:

Hey, Shadowsan is quite the fashion plate too - am I right?

I love the outfits on the show. So good! So perfect! But, I'm not being very modest am I

I really love SS in the dark trench coat. So. Bad. Ass.

Carmen:

Any thoughts on the Fashionista memory thing?

Duane Capizzi:

Fashionista, sure! What do you want to know?

Carmen:

Give me a second-

Duane Capizzi:

Thank you for noting the aesthetics on the show! Much effort, passion and vision from all involved - Chromosphere, our directors, animators, composers, sound mixers - everyone gave it all they had, it was so inspiring for all involved.

Carmen:

Was there any significance to that specific memory- Carmen defending Julia in the Fashionista Caper- being chosen as the first memory she remembered when she went outside? Like, why that scene specifically over any others for example?

(referring to the finale)

Duane Capizzi:

Oh, that! To be honest, not from me: we were just trying to do the "swirl of confused memories" like we did with Gray earlier in the season. We wanted to show that the ACME device had jostled some old memories loose and that "the girl agent with glasses" was now taking root in Carmen's rush of memories/emotions

But that specific memory, not necessarily from my POV - it could have been any number of Julia moments, like their first meeting on the train (for instance)

The director Jos Humphrey must have picked it. It worked for me!

Carmen:

We all loved that it was that specific memory that was chosen out of all Julia and Carmen moments, the fact that she remembered defending her was an added emotional experience to the already emotional finale

Duane Capizzi:

Well let's talk about the original scene in 204! On the surface just a light fun episode, but so many things came together there: Shadowsan connecting with Player; SS getting his new clothes; but the key thing was switching Julia back from doing Chief's bidding back to Carmen's side. The episode was built around the moment that Carmen pulls Julia on stage with her (I'm not kidding). That was THE moment

Carmen:

We have MANY questions... we should probably set a limit

Duane Capizzi:

Ask away - I don't mind. Honestly, Carmen is my favorite topic! I've been living, breathing, dreaming Carmen for the last 5 years! I don't think there's much to say, I think it's all there on screen. But happy to talk about it because I love to

Cam:

I have a question, what about the color theory in Carmen Sandiego? What do you think certain colors mean as in, blue, yellow, green, and red.

we have our own ideas about the colors but it would be interesting to hear from your perspective

Duane Capizzi:

Color theory! Well chromosphere color scripts every episode (!). If those haven't been shared publicly yet remind me, maybe I can get permission to do so or have them do it. They are lovely to behold.

But basically Carmen = red (duh); Vile = green; Acme = blue. That's the simple version. We started talking about that early on.

color scripts = they do thumbnail art of key scenes to share mood/emotion

we tried to NOT use red for non-Carmen scenes; and scenes where she was significant the color red would be dominant or sometimes symbolically precede her (for instance).

If you google color scripts I'm sure you will see some come up. Try Pixar color scripts for instance. There's a great Art of Pixar book with their color scripts.

Arden:

Do you think Julia is blue or purple?

Duane Capizzi:

Haha, Jules definitely purple! Cute.

Mage:

You've just confirmed the whole color theory these guys have been working on for a while.

Duane Capizzi:

I was actually being funny - is she actually color scripted purple in the series? Wow, my mind might be blown

Garfield:

Now I have a question!

Julia has great admiration and respect for Carmen. Do you think Carmen has as much respect and admiration for Julia as Julia does for her?

Duane Capizzi:

I think Julia might just be a little infatuated with Carmen (even if she hasn't fully articulated how to herself - remember, the show may be sophisticated but it's still a kids show). But mostly Julia just knows/intuits/deduces Carmen's a good guy, pretty much from the beginning. I think the two have a connection that defies space and time in some ways - look at how much they work in tandem without being in the same scenes together much of the time. I love that!

As for Carmen, of course she respects Julia: she knows Julia "gets" her, and respects Julia's smarts and mutual love of history/respect for cultures.

I love how Chase is the ultimate buzzkill for whatever might be stirring in Julia as she's watching Carmen fly away in the Pilot. She's like, "whooaa ..." Then Chase falls onto the windshield. Hilarious!

Nina:

I was actually wondering if Carmen and Julia were meant to have opposing color schemes? With Julia's original outfit I mean

Duane Capizzi:

Oh, good question about Julia's original outfit: I'd have to think about that or ask Jos or Chromosphere. J's colors ARE sort of a drabber distant cousin to Carmen's, aren't they? I think mostly we just wanted "drab workaday" colors for Interpol, knowing that both of them would eventually be slicked up as ACME Agents.

Nova:

Devineaux is immune to injuries it is the only reason why he has lasted so long in ACME and Interpol

Duane Capizzi:

Devineaux, one of my favorite lines: "I did not know you two kept in touch."

Am I right?

SelinIndigo:

I have one question:

Will we ever know Carmen's given name? Also, if you don't mind when is her birthday in this reboot?

Duane Capizzi:

Carmen's given name: never say never! But for where our series ended, I thought it would just interfere. That's not how I wanted you to remember her. It would have just been a label and spoiled her mystique IMO

Player, however: we totally messed with you! "Mr. Bouchard."

Carmen's birthday?

Hmmm.

Maybe month and day but not year: would hate to date the show

I also don't like naming ages in shows because it just gets weird with timelines and such. Or can be.

Carmen:

I made a post about this a while back— how did Carmen end up getting Julia's apartment address? did she just text her for it or straight up ask? did she find out on her own in the least stalker-y way possible? I just have so many theories- do you have any thoughts on it?

Duane Capizzi:

The apartment in the IA special? Oh that whole story was like one big dream sequence ;)

Arden:

What does the wink mean? Does Julia even live in an apartment?

Nina:

Does that mean Carmen dreamt she gave Julia roses or-

Duane Capizzi:

We played things faster and looser for fun there

Okay, I just saw what time it is. Yikes! Time flies when you're having fun. Well THANK YOU EVERYONE (for loving the show, for building this site, for being you.

#Carmen Sandiego #Duane Capizzi #CS Crew #Interview #Transcript

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lizaloveslevihan · 4 years ago

Note

my big mood today is an au where levihan is living the west coast life and going to the city to buy good bread and go biking next to the sea-side and maybe crossing the bridge as they the weather is so cold but they feel so warm from the exercise and each other's love <3

A Day Well Spent

He kneeled at the bedside, already dressed for the day with every intention to drag her out of the bed. However, as he stared into her sleeping face, the words died down his throat.

Her messy brown hair was everywhere, and she snored, mouth slightly agape, tiny hints of drool slipping from her mouth. He had already allotted himself time this morning to watch her for a couple of minutes before he got up and prepared breakfast, which was already waiting for them in the dining room. He had been incredibly tempted to just stay in bed with her all day, but he had already agreed with her plans, which, ironically, she had to be reminded of herself.

He carefully tucked a handful of hair behind her ear and traced his hand towards her bare arm, shaking it lightly. “Oi, four-eyes. Wake up. We’re gonna be stuck in rush hour.”

Hange groaned in her sleep. She lifted her arm and started waving her hand around until it finally smacked against his face. Levi sighed and took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

“Five more minutes, clean freak,” she yawned, “five more minutes.”

“It’s already nine, for fuck’s sake,” Levi said firmly. Hange huffed and squeezed her eyes, even more, crumpling her face a bit. Levi shook her again with a little more force. “You were the one who kept bugging me about going out today, so stick with your plan.”

Hange groaned louder and draped an arm over her eyes, shifting her body so that it was facing away from him. “It’s not my fault you’re so good in bed,” she complained, “I’m still exhausted as fuck.”

Levi sighed again, knowing that he now had to stick to his initial plan. He stood up, cracked his knuckles, and tore off the blanket that covered her bare body. Hange let out a loud shriek in surprise but had little time to react when he swiftly picked her up and carried her towards the bathroom.

The position was rather awkward, given their height difference, but Levi had already done this multiple times whenever she refused to take a bath herself. Hange normally didn’t complain, but this time, she was swatting his arm and growling like an animal. “I would have gotten up in five minutes you kn--”

She didn’t finish her sentence as Levi plopped her right into the bathtub.

“What the fuck?!” Hange screeched, feeling the water envelop her skin. She yelped, spilling some of it on the floor.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, four-eyes, but you left me with no choice,” Levi said as he crossed his arms. “Now you better hurry up or I’m leaving your ass in thirty minutes.”

Hange huffed. Of course, he’d already prepared a bath and everything. However, the annoyance she felt slowly died down as she noted the warmness of the water and the strong scent of lavender. She poked at some of the bubbles and felt her frown turn into a wide grin.

Levi scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “The fuck are you so happy about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Hange sang as she eased into the tub, feeling her muscles relax. She sighed comfortably and looked at him. “Just how much I love you.”

She grinned even wider as he was visibly taken aback, an unmistakable blush dusting his pale cheeks. “Just hurry up and wipe your ass,” he grumbled, suddenly turning shy and looking away. “I don’t wanna be stuck in traffic all day.”

“Aren’t you going to do it for me?” Hange pouted. She did her best puppy eyes, knowing it always had at least a fifty percent chance of working on him.

“Nice try,” Levi said as he swiftly walked out of the room. “Save your begging for later.”

As he shut the door behind him, Hange couldn’t help but giggle. He really was something else.

--------

The weather was finally turning cooler after months of excessive heat, so she was glad to finally be able to wear that soft, yellow sweater Nanaba had gotten for her on her birthday. She finished dressing, leaving her damp hair to dry first, and went out of the bedroom. She found Levi in the kitchen, sipping his morning tea.

Levi glanced up as he heard her walking in, and Hange observed how he stared at her a second longer before glancing down and taking another sip. “Took you long enough.”

Hange then noticed the plate of eggs and toast on the dining table, as well as her usual mug of coffee. “Thanks for breakfast, Levi!” she happily exclaimed as she took her usual seat, Levi joining her afterward.

They took their breakfasts quickly, seeing as they had a couple of places they needed to get to that day. In twenty minutes, they were already on the freeway, and much to Levi’s pleasant surprise, the traffic wasn’t as bad as he thought. The whole ride would have been perfect if only Hange didn’t control the music. Hopefully, she’d let him play his playlist when they drove to their next stop. He didn’t know if he could handle listening to her rap “My Shot” from the Hamilton soundtrack seven more times. He appreciated the music, but what he didn’t appreciate was her screeching every. single. word.

They got to the Farmer’s Market before noon and Levi managed to secure a parking spot by her favorite pastry stall. “Remember, we’re getting bread and fruit. Don’t you dare buy a fucking fish like last time.” He reminded Hange as they got out of the car. He walked around and met her eyes, already seeing the excitement in them.

“But that was so fun!” Hange complained. She immediately hooked her arm to his and started dragging him to the first stall.

“I went to the bathroom for ten minutes and the next thing I know you made your own campfire in Santa Monica and tried cooking an actual fish in it,” Levi emphasized. They stopped right in front of her favorite shop where she glanced at all the decadent options that laid in front of her. “You were fucking lucky that Arlert kid worked there and helped cover it up, otherwise, they would have probably arrested your shitty ass.”

Before Hange could reply, the old woman who managed the store finally saw and greeted them. “Oh, how nice to see you again Dr. Zoe! Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi nodded at the woman while Hange gave her a big wave. “Hi, Kate! We’ll have the usual. And maybe a box of these blueberry tarts. Thank you!” She smiled brightly.

Kate instantly returned the smile. “Of course. Half a dozen of chocolate croissants and a box of blueberry tarts coming right up, dear.”

Hange finally glanced down at Levi as Kate was busy grabbing the pastries. “Isn’t Armin such a sweet kid? He also works so hard at the lab, even if he’s an unpaid intern. I already promised him a superb letter of recommendation when he graduates, which makes us even I guess.”

Levi rolled his eyes. She was definitely shaping up Arlert to replace Moblit, should he finally die from stress from making sure she doesn’t blow herself up at work. Even though he never showed it (and never will) he was grateful for those two for taking care of her when he couldn’t.

“You need to stop watching those survival shows on Netflix,” Levi said as Kate started wrapping up their purchases. “Next thing I know, you’re gonna attempt to eat your own shit.”

Hange let out a large bark of laughter. She then bumped her shoulder against his. “My shit would probably taste really good though, you gotta admit.”

“Here you go, sweetie,” Kate said as she handed Hange a paper bag. Levi started to take out his wallet when the old woman stopped him. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s on the house today!”

“But Kate--” Hange started to protest. The old woman placed a hand on her shoulder to silence her.

“You two come here every Sunday, and it always warms my heart to see how sweet you are. That’s very rare for couples these days.” Kate smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you pay next week, alright?”

Hange then gave her a big hug which made the old woman chuckle in delight. She returned the gesture and glanced at Levi, who nodded his head in gratitude.

They eventually pulled apart, and before they exchanged goodbyes, Kate walked up to Levi and whispered: “Take care of that one, okay? She’s a keeper.”

He glanced discreetly at Hange, drinking in her appearance and fighting the small grin that threatened to appear on his face. He returned his gaze to the old woman and spoke quietly: “You have no idea.”

It was after they purchased more food from the other stalls did Hange finally ask what the old woman told him.

“Oh, nothing.” Levi responded, the bright flower shop at the end of the hall catching his eye, “Just how much your shit would taste good.”

Hange laughed out loudly, gaining the attention of the people near them. Levi finally felt his lips turn upright at the sight of her happy face.

“I knew it.”

-------

They reached the beach after an hour-long drive that mainly consisted of fighting over playing yet another Hamilton song or Levi’s alternative rock and classical playlist. They eventually came up to the agreement where Hange was allowed to sing one Hamilton song and listen quietly to the rest. If she failed to do so, then she had to play Levi’s music. Suffice to say, Levi was finally able to enjoy at least some parts of the drive.

There was a park that was situated exactly next to the beach which was the perfect spot for lunch. Hange normally persuaded him to have a picnic in the sand, despite the obvious discomfort he had, but after seeing all the trouble she put him through last time with the fish situation, she was more than okay to eat at a picnic table at the park.

Hange felt herself instantly relax as the cool, salty air entered her lungs. She stretched out her limbs after being cooped up in the car for so long and closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze.

As much as she loved her job and the people she worked with, she was glad to have these nice days off -- especially with Levi by her side.

“Oi, instead of standing around like an idiot, why don’t you help out shitty glasses?” Levi called out as he opened the trunk and grabbed some of the bags of food they had bought.

Hange broke from her trance and did exactly that. They found a nice table and Levi got to working with placing a picnic blanket over it as Hange started to pull out and prepare the boxes of food and bottles of beverages. As they worked, Hange couldn’t help but discreetly glance at Levi as he neatly arranged the other boxes of food, his strong figure visibly relaxed, and his face calm, even though it had its usual stoic expression. The breeze picked up a little, slightly ruffling his dark locks as he concentrated on making sure nothing flew away.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he said without looking at her. Hange couldn’t help but laugh at being caught, and she shrugged before sitting down, her hands making its way to the first box of pastries. “Eh. I already have too many photos of your constipated face on my phone. It almost makes me look like a stalker. Though that would be an interesting concept.” She bit into the croissant and sighed at its wonderful flavor.

Levi scoffed and sat across from her before grabbing a sandwich. “It’s not hard to imagine. I bet you already have some weird fucking shrine of me in your lab or some shit.”

Hange gasped, a couple of crumbs falling from her face. “How’d you find out?! I thought I hid it so well.”

Levi pursed his lips in amusement as Hange grinned at him. They ate in silence for a bit before falling into an easy conversation about their respective work and what they had missed talking about the past week. Hange excitedly talked about the new developments in the lab and the experiments she was thinking of proposing soon. In turn, Levi updated her on how he and Erwin were close to securing a deal with one of their potential investors.

They finished their food and after cleaning up and putting some of it back in the car, they proceeded to walk together by the seaside. Levi wasn’t keen on stepping into the sand at all this time, and Hange conceded. It wasn’t long before their hands were firmly clasped together as they walked, and they went on, passing by surfers and other beachgoers who also enjoyed a rather gentle sun and cold breeze. They inserted some personal commentary on each person they found interesting -- which varied immensely from a street performer to an old couple who wore swimsuits that left little for the imagination.

“Look, Levi!” Hange stopped and pointed to a bike rental stall. “Can we go?”

It wasn’t as if Levi had much choice, so he simply agreed.

After paying the rent (and sanitizing the handles on Levi’s part), they rode their bikes and followed the convenient trail specifically made for them. Hange, with her strong and long legs, obnoxiously went faster than him. “Oi, Hange! Slow down will you?” Levi called out. “It’s not a fucking race!”

Though he commended the effort, there was still no way she could outrun the man who actually had a fixed gym schedule. “The fuck, four-eyes?” he said as they finally pedaled side by side.

“Why, I thought you’d actually appreciate looking at my backside, short stuff,” Hange said, not bothering to look at him. “Your loss, I guess!” she called out.

She smiled smugly to herself as Levi took the bait and slowed down behind her. After a few seconds, she called out again: “Take a picture! It lasts longer!”

-------

They left the beach an hour before sunset, and this time, the drive to their last location was a calmer one -- Hange filling the air with more comments about the people and things they observed.

Levi glanced at her from time to time, the colors of the sky lighting her face. She went on and on about the man on the beach whose lover looked more like his daughter, about Kate and how they should give her something special next week as a thank you present, about her work agenda tomorrow and how she wanted to set up Moblit with Nifa, and what their plans were going to be next Sunday. Levi took it all in -- the sound of her voice, how she chuckled and laughed, her thoughtfulness towards others -- he took it all in and felt an overwhelming amount of happiness just by being there and listening to her.

Hange couldn’t help but do the same. Every time she sprouted something, she looked at his reaction and was pleased to see his amused expression. He looked positively gorgeous there behind the steering wheel, and she knew that he was listening to her every word despite it being nonsense to him. The moment he placed his hand in between them, she grabbed it immediately. Though he said nothing, she knew he was as happy as her.

They had gotten to the Observatory by the time the sun started sinking, and they pulled up near a bench with an incredible view of Los Angeles laid out in front of them. Hange immediately went down and sat, but Levi had other plans as he mysteriously went to the trunk and took out something from a bag. Hange stared at him in amusement as he closed it and presented her with a bouquet of sunflowers that matched her sweater perfectly.

“You haven’t studied these yet, right?” Levi asked. Hange smiled warmly and took it, admiring its beauty. He then sat down next to her, his face neutral.

“They’re beautiful.” Hange noted, “and yep. I haven’t yet.” She loved to study flowers and plants as a hobby, and Levi almost always provides her with them, even if he constantly argued he got them for free somewhere.

“They were giving them out in the market while you were in the bathroom.” Levi shrugged, keeping his face expressionless. “Thought you’d need something to work on in your free time.”

Hange hugged his side, giggling at his obviously constipated face. He draped an arm around her and they stayed that way for a good amount of time.

“You’re too kind, Levi,” Hange said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “And you’re also a terrible liar.”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty glasses.”

Hange laughed again -- she seriously couldn't stop laughing when she was with him -- and pulled away, placing the flowers onto her other side. “So.” she started, now looking at the view that laid in front of them. “What are we doing next Sunday? I believe it’s your turn to pick.”

Levi already had the answer to that question. “We’re staying in.”

Hange raised an eyebrow, “Again? Don’t you want to try out that new tea place downtown?”

Levi shook his head and thought about how he seldom had the time to just laze around in bed with her -- especially given their often hectic work schedules. He thought about this morning, her calm and serene face, the drool from lips, her messy hair -- and he knew he wanted to bask in that silence, to stare at her face for as long as possible. Though today, he had to admit, was also a day well spent.

Hange understood and smiled softly. They wrapped their arms around one another, the cold air unable to penetrate the warmth from the love they deeply shared.

It was a day well spent indeed.

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1dffchallenges · 4 years ago

Photo

It’s All Happening

Written By: @luminescencefics

Characters: Frankie/Harry

Summary: If Frankie Goodhart had one secret in her life, it would be that she spent her summer writing album reviews to Rolling Stone, hoping one day they’d give her a shot. If she had a second secret in her life, it would be that she was constantly chasing love, never knowing what it felt like to be truly immersed in another person. She blames this on her ever-growing record collection filled with love songs.

Harry Styles had a lot of secrets in his life, but if he had to share one, it would be that he was trying his hardest to balance his life while being on the road with his band. Just as he’s starting to feel like he’s begun to balance the ever-shifting scales of his life, Frankie shows up, and suddenly he doesn’t want to keep his secrets hidden any longer.

Well, except one.

Inspired by Almost Famous, a 70s au about a girl whose job required her to ask the hard-hitting questions and a boy who did everything he could to avoid them.

March 1973 - entry no. 1

Most mornings in the Goodhart household typically started with some sort of screaming match between Frankie’s mother and her older sister, Mary. You see, Mary had a penchant for rebellious behavior, or so their mother believed. She liked listening to rock music and kissing her boyfriend Greg outside in his Chevrolet Nova past curfew. Mary graduated high school four years before Frankie did, and her mother had begged her to go to college. But instead, Mary took that time to “find herself,” and put off enrolling into schools on the west coast in favor of finding her own place in the world.

Cynthia Goodhart had a lot of rules in their household, but two that stood out the most (and practically ruined Mary’s life) were: no rock music and no popular culture influences. Cynthia believed that her children did not need those things to rot their brain, and instead played classical music and watched films that she had seen numerous times before to ensure they were censored appropriately and recently introduced soy to their diets.

“This is why dad left you!” Mary would say whenever their mother would find a hidden record that went against her arbitrary rules.

“You’re so ungrateful, I didn’t raise you to be so cruel!” Her mother would respond, and Frankie would sit on the top of the carpeted stairs and watch it all unravel below her.

Truth is, Frankie didn’t know why their dad left. She was too young to remember what life was like with him around, but Mary always told her that it was their mother who drove him away with her incessant rules and authoritative outlook on life.

“I’m never going to end up like her, Frankie,” Mary would say after their fight, squeezed beside her little sister in her twin bed. Frankie would just hold her hand tightly and agree, even though she didn’t really think her mother was all that bad.

A few weeks later when Mary announces that she’s leaving Santa Monica and going to San Francisco to become a stewardess, Frankie isn’t all that surprised. It was only a matter of time until Mary left. Their mother didn’t take this well, of course. She wanted Mary to go to college and find a nice boy to start a family with. She didn’t want her running off to San Francisco with Greg to travel a world so far from what she had known.

Before the Chevrolet Nova skids out of the driveway and Frankie never sees her sister again, Mary runs up to her and gives her the tightest hug she could muster. Frankie holds her with all of her grip, wishing that she didn’t feel that she had to run away in order to be her own person. But it was out of Frankie’s control, so she could only wish the best for her older sister.

“Frankie,” Mary whispers in her ear, “look under my bed. That suitcase is yours. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know, every question you have, the answers are there. I love you. I always have.”

After Mary is long gone and her mother has cried out all of her tears, Frankie slips into her sister’s room and lifts up the ruffled bedskirt to find an old brown leather suitcase. She opens it and inside is Mary’s secret cache of rock albums spanning decades. Frankie heaves it into her room and plucks Tommy by The Who on her record player and plays it softly, and in that moment she feels as if her life is finally starting.

***

May 1973 - entry no. 2

Frankie was sitting in her bedroom listening to

Exile on Main St.

by the Rolling Stones trying to clear her head. She was suffering from a bit of writer’s block, and she was feeling a bit uninspired at the moment.

During the middle of “Torn and Frayed,” Frankie hears the landline start ringing from the kitchen downstairs. Her mother was currently in the shower, and deeming the call to be rather important as it was after dinner time, Frankie trudges downstairs to answer before the ringing has ceased.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lester Bangs here. Is this Frankie Goodhart?” A deep voice says on the other line.

Frankie pauses, scrolling through the rolodex in her brain trying to remember if she knew anybody with that name. Suddenly, Frankie sucks in a breath, realization dawning on her.

“Hello? Do I have the wrong number or something?” The voice repeated, clearly losing patience. Frankie was currently speaking to the Lester Bangs, top music editor at Rolling Stone magazine. Also known as, the name she had scribbled on the past fifteen manilla envelopes she sent out to the magazine up in San Francisco.

“Er, yes. Hi, this is she,” Frankie mutters, trying to sound sophisticated.

“Awesome. I work at Rolling Stone and we just came across your review for Bowie’s Aladdin Sane record. Ace work,” Lester says quickly, and Frankie can feel her heartbeat in her throat.

“Oh cool. Thank you,” Frankie replies, quietly jumping up and down on the tile flooring of her kitchen.

“Are you currently writing for any other publication? Please don’t tell me those bastards over at Creem snatched you up,” Lester asks.

“No, uh, nothing like that. Just freelancing, at the, er, current moment,” Frankie says. She lowers her voice an octave so she doesn’t sound like the eighteen year old high school graduate she clearly was. She was sure that Rolling Stone would want nothing to do with her if they knew the truth.

“Good to hear. On the envelope in front of me it says you're based out in Santa Monica. Tonight there’s a show at The Troubadour. The Nocturnals are performing and if you’re up for it, we’ll give you fifty dollars to write a review on it. Eight hundred words.” Lester spoke so quickly that Frankie couldn’t even discern what he was actually saying to her.

The Troubadour. A live show. The Nocturnals. Fifty dollars.

The words replayed over and over in her mind like a broken record. She had no idea that this could even happen to her. Before she could reply, Lester spoke again.

“Fine. Seventy dollars, but I can’t go any higher,” he sounded exasperated with a hint of desperation laced in between.

Just as Frankie was about to respond with a resonant yes, she hears her mother’s voice on the other telephone from her bedroom through the tinny speakers.

“Francine? Who on earth are you speaking to at this time?”

Frankie’s heart drops.

“Uh… Hello?” Lester asks, completely confused as to why there were two voices on the line. Before her mother could blow her cover, Frankie drops the receiver onto the kitchen counter and sprints upstairs to her mother’s bedroom, slamming her fingers on the lever to end the call.

“It’s a friend from school. Sorry it’s a late call, I’ll get off the phone in a minute,” Frankie rushes out, before turning back on her heel and grabbing the other telephone in the kitchen.

“Hi Lester, sorry, that was my, uh, assistant. Yeah. She’s sort of new at answering the phones and such,” Frankie shoots out quickly, lying straight through her teeth.

She needed this phone call to end immediately.

“No worries. I’ll expect a review mailed over by tomorrow so it’s on my desk by Monday morning. Any questions?” Lester asks in a way that sounded like he really didn’t have the time to answer.

“Nope. Sounds good,” Frankie says sounding completely out of breath.

“Expect to hear from me on Monday. Good luck,” Lester says, hanging up before Frankie could even consider responding.

Frankie’s first reaction was to start squealing in excitement. The second was, shit, what am I supposed to say to my mother?

***

Somehow, Frankie convinces her mother to drive her down Sunset Strip towards The Troubadour for the live show. If there’s one thing Frankie Goodhart could never do in this world, it would be to hurt her mother. Granted, she knows her rules are a bit obscene and that she can be a bit overbearing at times, but at the end of the day, she was her mother. And that was the main difference between Frankie and Mary—Mary thought running away was the answer to everything whereas Frankie believed honesty was most important.

Which is why Frankie was currently sitting in the front seat of her mother’s baby blue Lincoln Continental parked illegally across the street from the concert venue. She had spilled the beans about her writing cohorts to Rolling Stone, and even though her mother didn’t like the idea of it, she appreciated the fact that Frankie was trying to make something of herself. And there’s no denying that seventy dollars was a lot of money for any eighteen-year-old.

“Please make good choices. I’ll be here to pick you up at ten on the dot,” her mother says, staring at Frankie sharply.

“I will, mom.” Frankie makes a move for the door handle, watching as the crowd of teenagers and twenty-somethings huddle towards the front entrance. It’s loud and she can smell cigarette smoke and marijuana in the air. She knows her mother can too, and she knows that she’s about two minutes away from a full-blown heart attack, so before she can escape the confines of the car, she gives her mother a gentle reassuring squeeze.

With her tape recorder in one hand and her pocket-sized notebook in the other, Frankie starts walking towards the front entrance. Before she can get too far, she hears her mother bark out one last order.

“And Francine? NO DRUGS!”

Frankie feels her cheeks burn up as the people in front of her turn around and snicker at her mother’s frame hanging out of the Continental. They jokingly repeat her mother’s warning, with some even holding up a lit joint at her, cackling away.

If there was a hole in the pavement, Frankie would admittedly jump into it.

She makes her way to the front entrance with no luck. The show was sold out, and she didn’t have a ticket. Before Frankie can start to panic, she reassess the venue and sees that around the back there was some sort of loading dock. She turns the corner and is situated at the top of a ramp, with a group of three girls at the bottom giggling to themselves near a steel door.

“Are you new?” Frankie hears a voice from behind her.

She turns and is face to face with one of the most beautiful girls she’s ever seen in her life. Her blonde hair is long and curly, cascading over her shoulders and down her back effortlessly, ending just above two hollow dimples. The girl towers over Frankie, and when she looks down at her glittery go-go boots she understands why. Her long legs are toned and smooth underneath her leather mini skirt. She’s wearing a silver halter top that is so sheer Frankie can see her nipples through the thin layer of material. Over top is a pink velvet trench coat with frills on the lining, a garment completely inappropriate for the California heat in the beginning of summer.

That doesn’t matter though, because this girl emits confidence that is almost palpable. Frankie compares her own outfit to this girl’s, her long ivory legs and knobby knees hidden beneath her flared denim bell bottoms, her pointed boots with the small heel making her seem taller than she actually was. Her white cropped t-shirt is almost childlike compared to this girl’s daring choice, and when Frankie looks up she’s a bit embarrassed to be seen with her.

“Uh, I guess. I’m supposed to be writing an article about The Nocturnals for Rolling Stone, but I found out a bit late and I don’t have a ticket,” Frankie explains, holding up her tape recorder lamely. She really wishes she thought this entire thing through.

“Ooh, a journalist,” the girl echoes, reaching into her translucent plastic purse to grab a cigarette. She’s effortlessly cool in a way that should be intimidating to Frankie, but for some unknown reason she emits warmth.

“Cherry!” Frankie hears from down below the ramp. Suddenly the squealing trio starts running up the pavement and Frankie watches as the curly blonde skips down to meet them in a group hug. They’re all wearing some sort of sequinned ensemble, and Frankie can only assume that they’re groupies.

“Who’s this, Cherry?” A girl with jet-black hair and deep brown eyes asks, pointing at Frankie. Her long fingers are covered in jeweled rings and she has a fair amount of kohl liner surrounding her eyes. She’s wearing leather and is not as warm as the blonde girl.

“I’m not sure. I think she’s new, girls,” the blonde girl, presumably Cherry, says. She sounds much older than she looks and it’s almost obvious that she’s the ring leader of this troupe of glittery girls.

“I’m a journalist. I’m not a, uh, grou…” the words fall out of Frankie’s lips before she can finish the sentence. The girls in front of her hang their mouths open in shock, and Frankie feels as if she has said the wrong thing. The blonde girl has a hint of a smile on her face, as if the whole interaction is amusing to her.

“Don’t you dare say groupie!” The black-haired girl shrieks, practically jumping out of her skin.

Frankie feels bad, suddenly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I mean I just—”

“—Assumed?” Cherry finishes for her.

Frankie shrugs her shoulders because she isn’t sure what to say. She feels bad for assuming the worst out of these girls, but she really couldn’t blame herself considering they were standing at a back entrance wearing far too much eye makeup than they should be. Frankie hated to judge people, because she didn’t deem it fair. But, she genuinely didn’t know any better. And she really didn’t think that these girls would be offended.

“You’re talking to Cherry Bomb here. She changed the groupie way of life forever. Before Cherry, girls were just throwing themselves at rockstars and sleeping with them just for the hell of it. Cherry here inspires people, man. They write songs about her! It’s much deeper than just sex, honey,” the girl with black hair says, pointing at Cherry as if she was a fine painting in a museum that you weren’t allowed to touch.

In some ways, she sort of was like that.

Cherry just smiles. “It’s about the connection. You’ll see,” she says.

Before Frankie could apologize again and leave, the large steel door opens and another pretty girl with brown hair and shiny pants comes out, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and a cluster of backstage passes in the other. The girls all start running towards the door, and Frankie is about to turn around in defeat before she feels a small hand latch onto her forearm.

“Aren’t you coming?” Cherry asks with a grin.

Before she could respond, Cherry tugs on her arm and the two girls are running through the steel door into the large venue. The other four girls start walking ahead, sharing sips from the large bottle of champagne, but Cherry hangs back, slowing her strides so she’s matching Frankie’s slow gait.

“So, what do I call you?” Cherry asks as they continue walking down a long hallway.

“Frankie,” she responds, looking up into Cherry’s silver eyes. “What do I call you?”

Cherry laughs. “Cherry should be fine,” she says, her words twisting as if they were a riddle.

Before Frankie could respond, they’re suddenly being thrust into a much smaller room. The air is stale with cigarette smoke and the effervescent scent of boy. Inside the makeshift dressing room, Frankie recognizes the girls from outside lounging around men of different ages. They’re laughing and drinking straight liquor from the bottle and Frankie tries her hardest to conceal her uneasiness.

Because in front of her were The Nocturnals, and she had a job to do.

She notices the drummer and the bassist, Jett and Rod, sitting on a torn up leather couch sharing a joint between the two all while entertaining Cherry’s friends. A girl with hair as dark as coals sits in front of a mirror applying red lipstick and Frankie recognizes her as the keyboardist and backing vocalist, Veronica—the only female in the band. A man with dark green eyes and long brown hair looks up and smiles when Cherry walks into the room, and Frankie realizes that he is Eddie, the lead guitarist.

Frankie did her research.

Before she could start conducting her interviews, a husky voice from the other side of the room calls out, stopping Frankie dead in her tracks.

“Cher, who’s your friend?” he asks.

Frankie’s head snaps up and immediately her blue eyes latch onto a pair of green. They’re much lighter than Eddie’s, and if Frankie was standing closer, she would be able to see the turquoise ring that outlined his pupil. His hair is shorter than the rest of the men in the band, albeit still curling around the tops of his ears. He’s the only member of The Nocturnals with a bare face, sans facial hair, and Frankie is taken aback by his youthful features. He’s wearing white wide-legged trousers and a bright pink shirt tucked under the waistband, barely buttoned up, showcasing his toned stomach and chest. His sleeves are rolled up and Frankie can almost make out the shapes of his tattoos, but before she can inspect them further, she’s completely aware that she’s been staring at him far too long.

Him, also known as Harry Styles, the lead singer of The Nocturnals.

Cherry hasn’t said anything, but with one look in her silver eyes, she’s said an entire string of words to Frankie without even opening her mouth.

Frankie suddenly feels a fire start to grow in her stomach.

“Harry, this is my friend Frankie. She’s a journalist,” Cherry announces loud enough for the rest of the room to hear over the beginning riffs of the opening band’s first song.

“A journalist?! Who let her in? She’s the enemy!” Eddie yells over from the couch. It’s clear that the rest of the band feel the same way about having a reporter around, and Frankie’s confidence suddenly starts wavering.

“Oi, calm down Eddie. She looks harmless enough,” Harry says slowly, suddenly appearing right in front of her. His voice is low and his eyes have a twinkle to them and Frankie’s throat has become increasingly dry.

“Hi Frankie, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you,” he says, towering above her from his stance.

Frankie shoots her arm out for a handshake. “Hi Harry. Nice to meet you, too.” His hands feel warm in her grasp and she’s shaking his so hard that the bangles on her wrists clang together like tambourines.

“If you have the time, I’d love to ask you a few questions before you—”

“—Five minutes!” A voice interrupts. Instantly, the band starts standing up and running around the room, grabbing various instruments and beginning to tune them accordingly. Roadies come in to grab amplifiers and microphone stands, and everything starts twirling together like a whirlwind and Frankie is losing grasp on what she’s supposed to be doing here in the first place.

The band starts walking towards the stage and Cherry grabs Frankie’s arm again, giggling a bit to herself. They catch up to Jett, and Frankie can see through his red-rimmed eyes and his glazed over stare that he’s stoned out of his mind, but he smiles at her and gives her a small nod, and Frankie feels a bit more welcomed.

“So who do you write for?” he asks, grabbing his drumsticks from the back pocket of his blue jeans and running his fingers over the shiny wood.

“Rolling Stone,” Frankie replies quickly.

He stops walking for a moment and looks up with wide eyes. “No shit? I’ll come find you after the show. Give ya a real interview,” he says excitedly, before giving her one last parting nod and approaching the rest of the band.

Frankie feels a bit out of sorts, but Cherry is still standing by her side and she feels an odd sense of comfort in that. The band is doing some sort of pre-show ritual and Frankie starts scribbling it all down in her notebook because it seems like the right thing to do. She watches the huddle break apart in front of her, and the band starts walking out onto the dimly lit stage.

She can hear the roars of the crowd, can practically feel them vibrating through the thick leather of her boots. And just before Harry steps on stage, he looks over his shoulder and gives her a wink, and the fire inside Frankie’s stomach turns into a full-blown blaze.

***

The show is everything and more. Frankie started by lingering in the background, letting the rest of the friends of the band stand closer to the side stage viewing area. After their first song was over and the crowd was cheering louder than anything Frankie had ever heard before, she feels Cherry drag her towards the front where she can get a better view of the band.

“How are you supposed to write an article standing all the way back there?” Cherry asks with a grin. They’re standing so close together that Frankie can feel the frills on her jacket tickling her cheekbones, but she doesn’t mind.

“Good evening, everybody,” Harry says after they’ve finished their first song of the night. He’s nothing but confident up there, a true frontman, and Frankie is a little bit in awe of him. “We’re The Nocturnals. I hope you like this next one,” he says and the crowd cheers. He looks over towards Eddie with a nod and he starts picking at the fret, playing a loud solo before the drums crash in and the second song starts.

It’s the third single off of their album and Frankie isn’t ashamed that she knows all the words. She would be lying if she didn’t think it was a good album. She remembers running to the other end of the boulevard into Tower Records before they closed to purchase it. Frankie must have played it for a week straight on the record player in her room.

Frankie starts scribbling in her journal, balancing on one foot while her knee is raised in a ninety degree angle acting as a makeshift desk. Her head is darting up, down, making sure not to miss a moment, but also making sure she’s capturing it all for the article.

“Enough of that, Frankie. Just watch,” Cherry says, whispering in her ear. Her small hands put pressure on the notebook over Frankie’s thigh, pressing down so her boot-clad feet touch the ground again.

“But I have to—”

“—Just watch. It’s the best way to experience the music.”

And Frankie does just that.

***

The show finishes with an encore of their number one hit single, “Too Much.” It’s electrifying and Frankie is glad that she listened to Cherry’s advice and watched the entire thing with wide eyes, remembering every moment of it. She could feel everything—the thumping of the bass, the rattling of the cymbals, the zing of the keyboards. But Harry’s voice—that was something she couldn’t wait to write about.

Frankie’s raking through the thesaurus in her mind trying to think of other words to describe his voice. She scribbles down guttural and gravelly, grating and gruff, throaty and raspy before she’s hearing it right in front of her.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, and Frankie is trying her best not to stare at the sweat dripping down the sides of his forehead, past his cheekbone, and pooling at his deep collarbones.

She blinks.

“It was amazing. Perfect, almost,” she replies.

“Almost?” Harry repeats, tilting his head downwards. Frankie watches as a bead of sweat travels down the bridge of his nose and she feels the warmest she’s ever felt this entire night.

Frankie reaches out to grab her tape recorder. Just as her finger is hovering over the record button, Harry shakes his head, tutting in disapproval.

“Not now.” And with that he walks away.

Frankie searches around for Jett, remembering that he promised her an interview after the show. Surprisingly, it goes a lot better than her attempt with Harry, and not long after, Rod decides to pitch in and add some remarks about the performance. Reapplying her makeup from the vanity behind the group, Veronica agrees to speak to Frankie and somehow she’s surprised that this group of people who once called her the enemy suddenly have an inkling to speak to her.

Harry reemerges suddenly, swapping out his pink dress shirt for a black one. It still isn’t buttoned appropriately, and he’s still looking at her with a twinkle in his emerald eyes that Frankie has never seen before. She watches as one of Cherry’s friends tries to give him attention, but his eyes are locked on Frankie’s, and she knows that this is the moment she needs to get his interview before the clock strikes ten.

“Do you have time to talk?” Frankie asks, approaching the pair cautiously.

The auburn haired girl rolls her eyes, but Harry just nods, shooing her away. Frankie feels bad.

They sit in the farthest corner of the room, her notepad and pen at the ready, her finger hovering over the record button. Harry’s watching her intently, inspecting her close enough that he can see the nervous shake of her hand, the small quiver of her lip.

“So, what has inspired you to make music?” Frankie asks, wasting no time.

Harry blows out a breath. “That’s the first question you ask me?” He reaches his hand out for the bottle of whiskey on the table, slugging it without pouring it into a glass.

“Well, on your debut album your song ‘1969’ clearly comes from personal—”

“—What inspired you to write?” Harry asks, completely ignoring Frankie’s question.

“Excuse me?” She says, completely thrown off guard.

Harry just shrugs his shoulders, smirking at her from his position on the leather seat. He takes another swig from the bottle and Frankie tries not to stare at his bottom lip that has become shinier from the liquor.

“I’m the one meant to be interviewing you, Harry,” Frankie says shyly.

“What if I want to know more about you, Franks?” His gaze is unwavering and Frankie is sure he can see the flush working its way up her neck, before settling over her freckled cheeks.

Before she could respond or even begin to pry into the mysterious mind of the frontman of The Nocturnals, Frankie chances a glance over at the clock and sees that it’s 9:58.

Shit. Her mother.

“What?” Harry asks with a chuckle.

Shit. Frankie said that outloud.

“Nothing. I just have to go,” she says quickly, closing her notebook and tucking her pencil behind her right ear. She presses the pause button on her tape recorder, holding it tightly in her hand until her knuckles turn white.

“You have to leave? Already?” Harry’s eyes are wide at Frankie’s fumbling, and for once he’s actually confused that a girl who looks like her isn’t throwing herself at him.

“Yeah. Thanks for the interview, even though I can probably only quote a few words,” Frankie says offhandedly. She stands up and Harry follows suit. She’s not sure what type of parting she should give him, so she settles with an awkward wave, before running out of the dressing room and back through the steel door.

She can hear the honking of the Continental from the same illegal parking spot, and Frankie sighs as she starts picking up her speed on the loading dock, knowing that the longer she takes to reach her mother, the more frantic the honking will become.

“Frankie! Wait up!”

Frankie turns around and sees that Cherry and her wild blonde hair are running up to her. Frankie looks at Cherry’s hands, wondering if she had left something backstage. But when she’s standing in front of her, she is empty handed. Cherry reaches a small hand out and grabs the pencil behind Frankie’s ear, before stealing her notebook from her hand and flipping open to an empty page.

“You need to call me,” Cherry announces once she’s done scribbling her phone number down. She returns all of Frankie’s items back to their original place.

“Really?” Frankie asks, completely shocked. She couldn’t picture a world where a girl like Cherry would ever even consider being her friend.

“I need a new crowd,” Cherry says with a shrug.

Frankie just smiles, nodding her head with a promise to call her. She hears the Continental honking again but chooses to ignore it. Instead she watches Cherry walk backwards down the loading dock, giving Frankie the most infectious smile she’s ever seen.

“Can’t you feel it, Frankie?! It’s all happening!” Cherry’s arms are outstretched and she starts twirling around, before giving one last wink and walking through the steel door once again.

Frankie can feel it. It’s all happening.

***

June 1973 - entry no. 3

On Monday morning Frankie receives a call from Lester Bangs praising her for her review about The Nocturnals show. It went so well that Lester and the other music editors at Rolling Stone wanted to send Frankie on their West Coast tour for a month. They wanted her to follow the band on the road and write a featured article piece about the mysterious new British rock band that was taking over the industry by storm. It was scheduled to be printed in the middle of the magazine, spanning over three pages.

And they wanted Frankie to write it.

“How are you going to pay for it? Who will you stay with? Is it even safe?” Her mother asks after Frankie gets off the phone with Lester. He still didn’t know that she was an eighteen-year-old girl living with her mother. And her mother didn’t know that Lester offered to pay an eighteen-year-old girl still living with her mother a lot of money to write this piece.

It was just easier that way.

“The magazine will cover my hotel expenses. I’d obviously stay with the band, but in my own room. It’ll be safe, you know me—I stay out of trouble,” Frankie says, answering each of her mother’s questions one by one.

“But, Francine, how will you—”

“—It’s my dream, mom.” Cynthia Goodhart purses her lips. She’s thinking so hard that Frankie can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. After a few moments, her mother walks over and hugs her tight.

“You better call me every night. I want to know where you are and know that you’re safe. And for the love of god please—”

“—No drugs,” Frankie finishes for her mother. She hugs her back even tighter.

Three days later, Frankie’s mother has just dropped her off at Long Beach Arena in Los Angeles. Her duffle bag is swung over her shoulder, and for the first time in her eighteen years of living, Frankie Goodhart is alone.

And she’s shocked at how excited she is.

The Nocturnals are scheduled to play a gig at the arena tonight, and Frankie remembers her instructions. She’s meant to seek out their manager, Bryan Greenberg, and retrieve her all access pass for the next month. Then, he’ll show her the hotel accommodations, give her a room key, and she’s off to start her assignment.

The band has been informed of her role. She remembers Lester telling her that a few of them were not keen on the idea of having a journalist follow them around for a month, but after hearing that they were going to be featured in the next publication of the magazine, their outlook immediately changed.

“Rockstars,” Lester said over the phone, “They’ll do anything for some decent fuckin’ press.”

On her way into the arena, Frankie bypasses a behemoth of a vehicle. It’s monstrous and gunmetal grey and looks like it’s about to fall apart at any moment, and when she squints she can make out the lettering spelling BERNIE on the side near the door. It reeks of marijuana and booze and she can only assume that this is their tour bus.

Before she can continue to walk by, she hears her voice.

“Frankie!” It’s Cherry and Frankie is surprised that she’s actually happy to see the tall blonde girl. She’s wearing another outrageous assortment of clothing, full of frilly layers and white patent leather. Her lips are stained red and she’s wearing opaque pink sunglasses and when she wraps her thin arms around Frankie’s neck, she instantly hugs her back.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Cherry says, and Frankie’s glad too.

When they untangle themselves, Cherry grabs onto Frankie’s arm and drags her towards the arena, mumbling something about the lingering smell of sex inside of Bernie. Frankie doesn’t bother to ask her what she means, instead allows Cherry to drag her inside the venue.

Frankie tells her that she has to find Bryan and Cherry just shakes her head, explaining to her that Bryan isn’t any fun before five o’clock. Frankie takes her word for it, and not long after have the two entered a backstage area filled with tables and chairs and an assortment of food. Various crew members lounge about eating craft services, and as her eyes sweep over the room, she sees the band in the far corner.

“The enemy is approaching,” Frankie hears Eddie call out ominously from the table. Veronica and Rod snicker beside him, and Frankie tries not to let their words affect her.

She has a job to do.

Cherry shushes them before sitting next to Rod, running her fingers through his long blonde hair that falls past his shoulders. Frankie watches them, fully aware that the only reason Cherry is here is because she’s sleeping with the bassist. But then she remembers her conversation with Cherry’s friends outside of The Troubadour, and she pushes those feelings deep down, only hoping for Cherry’s sake that Rod cares about her the same way she cares about him, even though he has a rumored fiancée back home.

Frankie is trying not to judge.

Before she can say anything, she hears shuffling behind her. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up because in front of her is four-fifths of the band, so that only leaves Harry, who has suddenly appeared behind her. Frankie hates that she can feel his presence before she can actually see him, and when he gives her a throaty hello, she can practically see the goosebumps prickling her skin.

“Heard you were comin’. Glad you’re here, Franks.” Frankie is fully aware that Cherry’s eyes are on her, and all she can do is stare at her new friend, completely out of her own element.

“Hi, Harry,” Frankie offers shyly, finally allowing him to enter her frame.

Before she could examine him fully, another man approaches the table. He’s shorter than Harry, a stocky little man with a permanent frown etched onto his face. His hair is thinning, practically balding in some spots, and he looks utterly exhausted.

“You the journalist?” He asks Frankie. His accent is high-pitched and squeaky, and Frankie blinks once, twice, before realizing that he’s actually addressing her.

“Yeah, hi. Frankie Goodhart.” She extends her arm even though he makes no effort to try and shake it. Frankie suddenly feels small, even though she’s taller than the man in front of her. His eyes are raking up and down her body, and Frankie squirms under his gaze.

“Christ, Rolling Stone hires kids now?” He chuckles to himself and Frankie really wishes the ground would swallow her up right then and there.

“Enough Bryan. They wouldn’t have sent her if she wasn’t good, right?” Harry comments, finally taking the spotlight off of Frankie. She’s grateful that the attention is off of her now. All she wants to do is start gathering quotes for her piece.

If only things could be that easy.

***

The show was once again incredible. Frankie watched from backstage, standing on Cherry’s side. She followed her advice again, only jotting down pivotal moments in her notebook. Most of the show, she spent mouthing along to the lyrics.

She didn’t want to admit that she was a fan.

“You can’t let them know you’re into their stuff,” Lester told her on the phone three days earlier. “They’re gonna want to buy you shit, be your friend. All of that. You can’t let that happen. Once they’ve got you, you’re fucked.”

After the show is over, the backstage area of the arena is buzzing with people. Cherry’s friends showed up right after the opening act was finished, and currently they were traipsing around the green room as if they owned the place. Jett sat sandwiched between two of them, sharing a joint and sips of champagne right from the bottle. Frankie had just finished talking to Veronica, who surprisingly was a vessel of knowledge. Before she could finish making her rounds, Rod storms in angrily, with an annoyed Harry trailing behind him.

“You really had to stay out on stage the longest when we were giving our bows, Harry?” Rod asks, and suddenly the entire room begins to grow quiet.

“What’s going on?” Bryan asks.

“Fuckin’ Harry’s out here craving all the attention, that’s what’s going on! And you’re so far up his ass you can’t even see it!” Rod’s full on screaming now, and all Frankie can do is just sit and watch.

“Everybody says ‘oh look, it’s Harry’s band! Look how talented Harry’s band is! As if we’re not a fuckin’ unit!” Frankie watches as Harry’s eyes grow darker. Bryan is trying to calm Rod down, but it’s no use. He’s completely uncaged.

Before he can say anything else, his eyes suddenly fall onto Frankie’s.

“I’m not sayin’ anything else with the enemy around.” It’s final, absolute. The words resonate in her brain and for the first time since arriving, Frankie’s second-guessing taking this job in the first place.

Rod storms out after that, and Frankie tries to ignore the green eyes trying to search for hers. She doesn't want the attention right now. What she wants is to retreat back into her hotel room and reevaluate how the next month of her life will go.

While everybody else heads back to the hotel, Frankie notices that Harry stays back, choosing to spend the night in the bus.

***

June 1973 - entry no. 4

The entire bus ride to Tempe, Arizona is uncomfortable.

Tensions are still high from Rod and Harry’s fight after the show in Long Beach last night, and Frankie watches as they sit on opposite sides of the bus, eyes covered in sunglasses facing the windows.

Eddie sits close to Harry, automatically taking his side because he’s his older brother. It makes sense, and Frankie watches it all unravel in her seat beside Cherry. She’s thankful that the blonde girl has decided to sit with her instead of Rod, because Frankie is still struggling with fitting in. This whole enemy ordeal is really starting to make things difficult for her.

Once they hit a rest stop, Jett offers Frankie some of his potato chips and for the rest of the ride he talks to her about music and the process of recording their first album. Veronica joins in, recounting the story of how she joined the band after watching them play a show in Phoenix.

“They were decent,” she tells Frankie, her American accent standing out.

“She makes us better,” Jett says, nodding at Veronica appreciatively.

In the dressing room before the Tempe show, battle lines are drawn up. Harry and Eddie stand on one side, chain-smoking cigarettes and keeping to themselves. Rod and Cherry sit on the other side, and Frankie watches as Cherry soothes Rod’s anger by running her small fingers down his back. Veronica and Jett play the roles of peacemakers, alternating between each side, trying to get everybody in the mindset for a great show.

And as Frankie watches from the sidelines, she’s shocked that it is in fact a great show.

During their last song, Frankie watches Harry grab the water bottle resting on the riser where Jett’s drum set was. She almost misses the dramatic eye roll Rod gives him, seemingly annoyed at whatever Harry was planning on doing. As the lights are dimmed low and Eddie starts playing a riff, Frankie watches Harry fill his cheeks with water.

He can feel her gaze on him. As soon as Jett starts hitting the kick drum, Harry’s green eyes meet Frankie’s. He gives her a quick wink before turning over towards the crowd, leaning back on his legs and spitting the water up into the air as the instruments all clash together.

Frankie tries to ignore the tingling beneath her skin.

After the post-show adrenaline rush has worn off, The Nocturnals retreat back to their pre-show state. Eddie tries to entertain Harry while the rest of the band keep Rod as far away from him as possible. Frankie just observes, scribbling notes down in her journal, before Cherry approaches her cautiously.

“Do you think you could do me a favor, Frankie?” Cherry asks. Her voice is soft and her eyes show a little bit of apprehension, and Frankie immediately snaps her journal shut.

“Of course. Everything okay, Cherry?” Frankie is concerned because for the first time since being introduced to Cherry, she’s asking Frankie for help.

“Could you talk to Harry, maybe? He seems to be fond of you. Maybe you can get through to him about the whole Rod situation.” Frankie suddenly understands that the only reason Cherry is concerned about Harry is because Rod is involved.

“Uh, I don’t know if I’m really the best person—”

“—The thing is, they’re both alphas. Harry takes control and Rod doesn’t know how to function without it. They need each other, Frankie. The band needs them. Sometimes it’s tough getting through to Harry, but do you think you could try it just this time? For me?”

Frankie doesn’t know how to say no to people. Which is why she finds herself approaching Harry outside of the hotel while the rest of the band grab beers from Bryan’s cooler and stretch out around the pool outside of the building.

“I don’t want to do the interview right now, Franks,” Harry says quietly once he realizes that Frankie has stayed back to chat with him.

“We can just talk. Completely off the record,” Frankie says, throwing her journal and tape recorder deep into the depths of her messenger bag around her body.

Harry looks at her with his eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah? So what, we’re just gonna talk as friends?” He’s teasing her now and Frankie just rolls her eyes.

“If that’s what you’d like, sure. Friends,” Frankie agrees, surprisingly meaning every word.

“Alright. Come with me.” Harry leads them to a quieter area away from the pool. It’s a makeshift smoking area, and when Harry reaches into his denim pocket for his pack of Winstons and offers one to Frankie, she shakes her head no. Harry gives her another long look before shrugging his shoulders and lighting the stick between his cherry lips.

“Are you here to try and make me feel better?” Harry asks smugly.

Frankie shakes her head, growing annoyed. “No. Cherry just asked if I could—”

“—Oh so Cher put you up to this?” Harry interrupts, and Frankie has decided that this is just something she has to get used to around him. The constant interrupting, constant avoidance of questions, constant staring.

Frankie just sighs. She’s not quite sure why Cherry thinks Harry is fond of her, considering they can barely get through a conversation without him ignoring her questions and directing them towards Frankie instead.

They’re quiet for a few minutes. Harry finishes his cigarette, stubbing it out with the sole of his boots before Frankie opens her mouth.

“Why do you put up with it?” It’s quiet and she’s not sure if she should have even asked him that in the first place, but she’s curious.

“I thought this wasn’t an interview?”

“It’s not. Off the record, strictly.”

Harry stands up straighter, no longer leaning on the fence surrounding the smoking area. His shoulders turn so he’s standing directly in front of Frankie, eyes falling past her uncovered shoulders to her thin yellow tank top, before falling down the lengths of her ivory legs under her jean shorts. She screams of innocence and Harry suddenly feels like he can drop his rockstar façade and finally be truthful for once in his life.

“I do it because I have to,” Harry says slowly.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Harry,” Frankie replies, blue eyes staring deep into green.

Harry just laughs to himself quietly, shaking his head.

“Sometimes you have to do things because they’re expected of you. Like love, for instance.” He’s speaking as if he has all of the answers in the world and Frankie can’t quite fathom how that could possibly be true.

”What do you mean?”

“Well. You’re expected to love your boyfriend, right?” Harry’s asking her in a way that doesn’t come across as fishing for information. Frankie suddenly wonders if he thought she was the type of girl that would have a boyfriend. That she was capable of enthralling the other sex.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Frankie’s suddenly shy, and Harry looks at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time.

“Well, any of your boyfriends. You were expected to love them.” Harry doesn’t need Frankie to tell her that she actually has never had a boyfriend in her entire life. Her silence tells him more than he needs to know, and Frankie hopes he can’t see her fidgeting under the moonlight.

“I wouldn’t know.” Frankie says it so quietly that Harry almost missed the words leaving her lips. He suddenly feels his age for the first time—twenty-three and hyperaware of the pretty girl with freckles on her face who has never been in love before.

“You’ve never been in love?” He sounds shocked, and Frankie starts wondering if there’s something wrong with that. Sure, she’s had a few opportunities to try and fall in love, and sure, she was almost close to it with her prom date a few months prior, but the truth still stands. It’s a feeling that Frankie’s heard endless times play over in the songs on her record player.

It’s the one question that she’s never found the answer to in Mary’s collection.

“Not truly, no. I mean, every song I’ve ever heard has talked about love as if it’s supposed to be this monumental explosion of feelings. It’s supposed to be all-encompassing. We’re supposed to crave it, chase after it, live for it. So when you say that you’re expected to love another person, I don’t know what you mean. Because you shouldn’t be expected to do something that’s supposed to consume you.”

Frankie chances a look over towards Harry and finds that his eyes aren’t set on hers. Instead, they’re looking over her head, fixated on the trees behind her. He has a distant look in his eyes as if he understands exactly what Frankie is telling him.

Suddenly, his eyes lock back on hers. But this time, the glint is gone. Instead he looks sad almost, nodding absently at whatever Frankie had just said.

Frankie has another sleepless night.

***

June 1973 - entry no. 5

Frankie began to grow quite fond of Bernie on the drive from Tempe to Las Vegas.

Somehow, The Nocturnals had a strong affinity for the nearly broken down grey touring bus they’ve been sequestered to for the past few months. Jett proclaimed that Bernadette had magical powers, and they preferred to travel to each venue by bus because they performed much better after sitting in the bristling heat for hours on end.

Frankie thinks that Jett needs to lay off the weed.

Each band member had their own little corner of the bus. Eddie always preferred the middle so he could jump from conversation to conversation wherever he was needed. He didn’t like feeling left out. Veronica was happy towards the front as long as she always had a window. She always said her lack of a penis allowed her prime window seating. Nobody disagreed.

Rod liked the back of the bus because that was where he could sneak off and make out with Cherry without anybody else watching. Sometimes he would sneak his hand down her skirt and Cherry would giggle as if he was telling her the funniest joke in the world. Harry on the other hand always chose to sit in the front seat behind Bryan who was always driving. It was an unwritten rule that nobody else could sit there. It was also an unwritten rule that Harry always needed to be close to Bryan.

That is where Frankie finds him when they’re about twenty minutes away from the Las Vegas Convention Center. His long body is taking up two seats with his head leaning against the glass window. He has his black sunglasses on but Frankie can see that his eyes are open through the tinted frames.

“Starin’ is impolite, Franks,” Harry says after a few moments.

Frankie blushes, looking down at the floor. “I’m still waiting for your interview, Harry.”

He shuffles a bit while he’s mulling this over. In the two week span of Frankie’s time on tour with the band, she’s gotten one on one interviews with everybody but Harry. Whenever she attempts to reach out to him, he always wanders off. Lately, he’s been switching the roles and asking her questions instead.

She doesn’t like feeling vulnerable around him.

And with her deadline approaching soon and the final three shows looming in the distance, Frankie was starting to grow impatient.

“After the show. I promise,” Harry says, before turning his attention back out towards the window.

Frankie ignores Cherry’s gaze as she slinks into the seat in the back left of the bus. But Cherry is anything but adamant, and not even ten seconds later, Frankie can feel the tips of her blonde curly hair grazing Frankie’s exposed shoulders.

“He’s making this extremely difficult,” Frankie admits, slumping down further into the seat.

Cherry nods. “Give him time, Frankie. He’ll come around eventually.”

Frankie only wishes that were true.

***

The show in Vegas is nothing short of a disaster.

Frankie notices the mistakes more so than the audience members mainly because she’s been watching The Nocturnals perform the same show for two weeks now. From the second they walked onto the stage, there was a disconnect amongst the band members. Jett and Veronica did the best they could trying to appease both Harry and Rod, but it began to crumble halfway through their set. Rod began to overdue his solos, throwing the timing off for Harry. The worst part was when he started oversinging the backing vocals, almost making Harry sing the wrong lyrics.

The dressing room was quiet after the show. And for the first time since touring with the band, Frankie had no desire to ask anybody questions.

“Well guys, that was—”

“—A fuckin’ shitshow,” Harry says, interrupting Bryan.

Eddie stands closer to Harry, trying to calm his little brother down. Everybody knows that it was bound to happen, because Eddie always puts Harry first. But this seemed to spur Rod on, because immediately after Eddie puts an arm around Harry, Rod flies out of his seat and points an accusatory finger at the both of them.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of you two. Every time there’s a disagreement, Harry is never at fault in your eyes, Ed. It’s about fuckin’ time you realize that your brother is singlehandedly ruining this band.” Rod’s words are venomous and Frankie practically flinches with each syllable.

“Well, maybe if you stopped being so jealous of H, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Eddie retorts, stepping in front of Harry and squaring his shoulders towards Rod.

“Jealous?! Of that prick? That’s fuckin’ rich.”

The rest of the argument seems to blow up in front of Frankie, but for some unknown reason, she chooses not to stare at Rod and Eddie yelling at each other in the middle of the room. Instead, her blue eyes fall onto Harry, who hasn’t said a word throughout this entire exchange. He looks as if he wants to be anywhere but here, and as if he can feel the heat of Frankie’s gaze on him, he tilts his head towards her and stares right back.

“If you don’t get your ego in line, Harry, I’m fuckin’ walking,” Rod says. Frankie watches Harry’s eyes snap back towards the bassist, and instead of responding, he just shakes his head slowly. Suddenly, Harry starts careening towards the exit, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and Frankie in the other.

“Harry…” Frankie says, but it’s useless. He’s walking so quickly and swallowing back whiskey so fiercely that Frankie has no choice but to hold onto his hand tighter and allow him to lead her out of the arena, past Bernie, and down a few roads until the flashing lights are fading into the distance and the honking of vehicles has practically ceased.

Frankie isn’t sure what to say because up until this point she hadn’t really considered her and Harry friends. Their conversation in Tempe only made Frankie more confused, and every time Cherry tells her of Harry’s fondness of her, she thinks that her friend is seeing things.

But now, standing hand in hand with him, Frankie begins to think differently.

His hands are shaking when he drops hers, and instead of speaking, he just takes another swig of the bottle. His cheeks are flushed and Frankie isn’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or something else, and then before she can dissect him any further, he stops abruptly and turns to face her.

“Do you ever feel like you need to get away? Like things are just happenin’ too quickly?” He’s back to asking her questions again, and Frankie isn’t sure how to respond.

“Shit, I shouldn’t be tellin’ you any of this.” He suddenly runs the hand that used to hold hers through his curly hair out of frustration. Harry starts pacing back and forth in front of Frankie, and she’s very aware that they are far from the venue.

“It’s fine, I won’t—” Frankie cuts herself off because she isn’t quite sure what she’s trying to tell him. She already promised to talk to him off the record back in Tempe, and deep down she really wants to tell him this again. But she’s losing focus on her assignment, and she’s doing everything that Lester Bangs told her not to do.

Harry’s green eyes are back on hers and he’s suddenly a lot closer to her than he was previously. But before he could say anything, a car pulls up and his eyes shift from blue to the approaching vehicle.

“Whoa, you’re Harry Styles!” A boy with straight blonde hair says. He’s driving a car and looks to be a few years younger than Frankie, and the rest of his friends seem to be as shell-shocked as the driver.

“Just Harry, s’fine,” Harry replies, stepping away from Frankie and smiling at the group of boys.

“Would you wanna come to a party? My parents are out of town and my house is down the street,” the blonde kid offers. Immediately, Frankie starts to shake her head, expecting Harry to follow suit. Instead, she bafflingly watches as Harry grins at the group before jumping into the backseat of the car.

“Harry!” Frankie shoots out, beginning to chastise him.

“C’mon Franks, let’s have some fun,” Harry says, grabbing her from the sidewalk and pulling her into the van. The group of boys cheer and begin asking Harry a million questions, but it might as well be white noise because Frankie’s eyes are looking into green and she finds herself agreeing to this ridiculous plan because she’s found that she can’t say no to Harry no matter how hard she tries.

And when he hands her the whiskey bottle and promises that she’ll like it, she drinks it without even thinking, smiling back at Harry when his eyes go wide.

***

A few hours later, Frankie finds that Harry is impossibly drunk. He’s stumbling throughout a high school party, fluttering from the living room to the kitchen and back. The teenagers are handing him plastic cups filled with a concoction of various liquors, and while Frankie has only had one cup, it was enough to make her feel warm and light, so she stopped after that.

She has just walked out of the bathroom when she realizes that Harry is not where she had left him. Nervously, Frankie begins checking each room in the house, praying that she didn’t just lose the frontman of The Nocturnals at a high school party in Las Vegas. Once she rounds the stairs, she hears his laugh from the first door to her left, and when she walks in she finds him sitting on a desk chair surrounded by a group of kids with glazed eyes and a bong sitting in the middle of a circle.

“And that is why you shouldn’t mix acid with vodka. It’s just—Franks! There you are! Thought I lost ya.” Harry blindly reaches out for Frankie’s hand, pulling her towards the group. She stumbles until she’s sitting right beside him, and he’s grinning at her with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“I made new friends,” he says softly, gesturing towards the group of stoned teenagers on the floor below him.

“I can see that,” Frankie responds, seemingly unaware of their close proximity. Harry’s arm is resting lightly around her shoulders, and if she leans in just an inch more, she could smell the whiskey on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll start a band with them. What d’ya think? They’d probably be more fun, anyways,” he mumbles, his slurred words meshing together.

Frankie isn’t sure what to say, so instead she just drunkenly laughs, standing up when Harry grabs her arm and leads her out of the room and into the backyard.

They walk further until they’re sitting at the top of a hill under a mesquite tree. The party is barrelling on below them, and when Frankie looks up at the sky and notices that the inky night has turned into a deep blue, she can assume that it’s the early morning.

Harry sighs contentedly beside her, sitting down close enough that their sides are touching. Frankie can feel his hip rest with hers, her shoulder pressed against his bicep, their thighs touching. The warmth from the alcohol flowing through her body suddenly becomes warmer, and Frankie can feel the flush on her neck begin to creep upwards.

“I never get to do this,” Harry says after a few minutes of silence.

“Do what?” Frankie asks.

“Act like a kid. Drink with my mates in our parents house. Be young, I guess.” Frankie cocks her head to the side and acknowledges the sadness on his features. She’s suddenly aware of the fact that Harry is the youngest in the band but never gets to feel like it because he’s constantly on the road, working with people much older than him, arguing about ridiculous things that shouldn’t matter in the long run.

She begins to feel bad for the rockstar who she believed had everything.

“You really didn’t miss much,” Frankie says, nodding her head towards the group of high school students surrounding a keg.

“No? Isn’t high school supposed to be the best years of your life or summat?” Harry asks, genuine curiosity dripping from his mouth.

Frankie just shrugs. “I sure hope not.”

Harry shifts his position and Frankie misses the warmth when she can no longer feel his body pressed against hers. His big hands reach out towards her forearms and pull so that she twists to the side, their knees knocking together. Harry’s sitting in front of her and his eyes are twinkling brighter than the stars and Frankie isn’t sure where else to look.

“Why are you so different from every other girl I’ve met?” Harry asks. Frankie tilts her head down, trying to hide the blush forming on her cheeks. She feels Harry squeeze her forearms, and she’s suddenly aware that his hands haven’t left hers.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Frankie says shyly.

His hand reaches out towards her chin, tilting it up so that she’s no longer hiding from him. Frankie watches his heels dig into the grass, allowing him to heave himself forward so that their legs are slotting, his knees surrounding hers. They’re much closer now, and she can see the glint in his eyes has turned into adoration and she suddenly feels frozen.

“Frankie Goodhart,” he whispers, “That would make for a good song.”

His fingers drop from her chin and Frankie can feel him getting closer. He’s angling his torso towards her and his shiny lips are getting closer to hers and she’s instantly panicking because shit, she thinks, this shouldn’t be happening.

And just before his mouth can close around hers, she backs away, and the look in Harry’s eyes fades. Instead, he’s staring at her, dull green eyes and all, and she suddenly feels empty inside. He stands up abruptly and begins walking down the hill back towards the street. Even in his drunken stupor, Harry somehow remembers how to get back to the carpark where Bernie is waiting with the rest of the band. They’re silent as they walk into the bus, the yellows and purples of sunrise filtering through the windows.

Harry chooses to sit near Rod, a sign of a truce. Frankie sits in the back, ignoring the looks Cherry gives her. For once, she just wants to be alone.

***

July 1973 - entry no. 6

Everybody besides Frankie seemed to be in high spirits on the journey to the San Jose Civic Center. The feud between Harry and Rod seemed to be an anecdote, something they could joke about during the long drive. Frankie watches from the back of the bus, a permanent scowl on her face, completely confused at the last ten hours of her life.

She was confused by the almost kiss, for starters. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss Harry, because of course she wanted to. But when his mouth was inching closer towards hers and his irises were so wide all she could see was mossy green, the only thing running through her mind were Lester’s warnings.

“Don’t get lost in the madness of it all. They’re gonna eat you alive if they know that you’re a fan. They’re gonna want to be your friend, lure you into their world. Stand your ground. The second they hear you write for Rolling Stone they’re gonna shit their pants. Don’t let us down.”

So she panicked. And when Frankie saw the frown on his face, she could feel her heart fall towards her feet inside her body. Frankie was never the type of girl that boys chased after, especially boys that have the world at their fingertips with blonde/auburn/black haired beauties throwing themselves at him. What would Harry want with a freckled-face eighteen year old high school graduate who had little to no experience with the opposite sex? It would be utterly laughable for the two of them to end up together.

But she would be lying if she hadn’t been kicking herself the entire journey to San Jose, regretting ever pulling away from him.

“Why are you so pouty?” Cherry asks from beside her. She opted to sit with Frankie mainly because Rod and Harry were rekindling their friendship with inside jokes and bottles of beer, and Frankie wasn’t all that mad that she was a second option.

“I’m not,” Frankie lies, sinking her head against the cool window. She needed her brain to stop replaying this morning's events over and over whenever her eyelids closed.

Cherry just hums beside her, knowing fully well that Frankie is lying. “I’m assuming it has something to do with Harry. He’s been looking at you like a lost puppy ever since we turned onto the freeway hours ago.”

Frankie ignores her friend the same way she’s been ignoring the warm heat of Harry’s gaze from the front of the bus.

She needs the silence to remember why she was even here in the first place. But there’s no denying that she’s so close to losing the point in the first place—feet dangling at the edge of the mountain, practically about to freefall below.

***

The San Jose show was the best one Frankie had seen yet, even better than the first night at The Troubadour three weeks earlier. The energy radiating from the stage was tangible, a thrumming of excitement Frankie could feel from the tips of her toes all the way up to the roots of her light brown hair. If she reached out to touch the handle of the steel door leading to the green room, she was convinced she would feel a zap of electricity from what The Nocturnals left out on the stage.

Harry was the best she had seen him yet. His voice was unmatchable, a perfect concoction of rasp and grit with a beautiful falsetto. Frankie was in awe, to be fair. Normally she takes turns watching each member of the band, but tonight, her blue eyes refused to move from his body.

Harry could feel her gaze. With Frankie’s eyes locked on him, he knew that he had to put on the best show of his life. He made sure to interact with the crowd, singing in a different octave so he could hear the gasps from the audience, leaning against Rod and Eddie with his head thrown back, shaking his hips to the pounding of Jett’s kick drum. Frankie’s hot gaze on Harry gave him a newfound sense of confidence, and it was palpable throughout the entire arena.

“What a fuckin’ show!” Bryan hollers from the doorway of the green room. Frankie watches as he interacts with each member of the band, even offering to take a hit of the joint Jett extends towards him. Rod even gives him a hug, and Frankie is just as confused as ever.

“Let’s celebrate!” Rod agrees, grabbing Cherry by her hips and bringing her towards his front. He drowns her giggles with a bottle of whiskey.

The band convenes in the middle of the green room, passing around a whiskey bottle and planning on throwing an after party in their hotel rooms. Eddie asks Bryan to upgrade their rooms so they can fit more people, and Jett agrees, telling Cherry’s friends to invite anybody in the area they know. Frankie ultimately feels like an outsider, having no desire to go out and drink with people who barely even wanted her around in the first place.

As she begins to gather her belongings and throw them into her tattered messenger bag to retreat to her own hotel room for the night, Frankie sees the tips of black leather shoes touch her white sneakers. She looks up slowly, her breath practically catching in her throat when she notices Harry peering down at her, a faint trace of a smile on his lips.

“Fancy that interview, Franks?” Harry says softly, and Frankie suddenly is at a loss for words. She’s unsure if it’s from his close proximity to her face, or the fact that he actually is ready to allow her to interview him, but she just nods slowly.

“You don’t want to party? I think you earned it,” Frankie mutters back, offering him an out.

Harry doesn’t take it though. “Nah, let’s get out of here,” and with that, he loops her messenger bag around his broad shoulder and places a large hand at the small of her back, tracing her out the door.

Frankie offers to conduct the interview inside Bernie, but Harry just shakes his head, “I’m sick of sittin’ on the bus.” When she mentions her hotel room being on a different floor than the rest of the band’s, Harry just wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, “Tryin’ to take me to bed already?” Frankie just rolls her eyes, wishing her skin was a darker shade so her blush wasn’t so prominent. Harry smiles, enamored that he can get her riled up so quickly, and drags her towards a small staircase on the top floor, a sign reading NO ENTRY in bright red letters.

Frankie pauses and Harry just laughs, opening the door with his hip and grabbing her wrists with his long fingers. “Live a little, Franks,” he whispers, dragging her up the staircase and onto the roof of the hotel.

The dark sky looks so vast from the roof, and Frankie cranes her neck back to take in all of the glittering stars above. She never gets to see the constellations through the LA smog, so from this vantage point, Frankie doesn’t hesitate to take it all in, her hair shining in the moonlight.

Harry doesn’t hesitate to take Frankie in, either.

“Ready, Franks?” Harry’s voice bursts Frankie’s imaginary bubble, and she fumbles around trying to grab her notebook and recorder before sitting across from Harry over a skylight. She doesn’t meet his eyes because she’s scared that if she does, she’ll forget everything she wanted to ask him.

“So, Harry. Why music?”

And it’s as if a dam has broken, split completely in half, and Harry’s words are the water that flows from the cracks. He tells Frankie that he started the band with his brother in small town Manchester, England, and they were shit at first. Tells her how the idea of a band came from the 1961 Ice Blue Fender Musicmaster their dad left behind when he left his mother when Harry was a boy. How the first few songs he wrote were about his fear of abandonment, and when he lost his virginity, all he could write about were girls and hearts and lips and feelings. He tells her things that Frankie didn’t even need to pry from him, instead, he willingly tells her how he was nervous to have five members in a band, nervous to leave England, nervous to be the frontman of a group when he was the youngest one. And when they were sat on the forty-fifth floor of a high-rise building with walls of windows in New York City, signing their recording contracts, Harry never felt more out of control in his life.

“You seem to be so confident on stage though, so in control. I mean, you just look so cool up there,” Frankie mumbles, realizing that she isn’t asking a question anymore. Instead she’s prodding for more information that she isn’t sure Harry feels comfortable doting out to her.

“I promise you, I’m entirely uncool. It’s all an act. I’m far too in my head most of the time,” Harry says with a chuckle, shifting his body closer to Frankie’s. “Sometimes, I think you’re the only person in this world who’s seen me properly. I’m just as uncool as you.”

Frankie feels herself shifting closer, too. Her finger unknowingly hovering over the STOP button on her tape recorder.

Harry notices just like he notices everything about her. He can feel the shift in their conversation, and he turns his body closer towards Frankie, asking her the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue the entire day.

“Why didn’t you let me kiss you?”

His voice is uncharacteristically shy. Frankie’s never seen this version of him—so quiet, so unsure. It startles her.

“Um,” she pauses, pressing her finger down on the button, her mind suddenly confuddled. “I’m technically not supposed to.”

“Franks,” Harry shakes his head, his mouth practically inches from hers. “When are you gonna realize life is more fun when you do the things you aren’t supposed to?”

With his mouth so close to hers, Frankie feels like she can’t breathe. His eyes are sincere and she can feel her heart beating so loudly she’s sure her ribs are bruised. And for the first time in forever, Frankie doesn’t want to follow the rules anymore.

She wants to break them.

Specifically, she wants to break them with Harry.

Frankie brazenly drops the tape recorder into her messenger bag at her feet and wraps her hands around Harry’s neck, bringing his lips to hers. He stills at first, not entirely sure if this is actually happening or he’s just imagining her kissing him. But then she starts to nibble at his lower lip and he finally reacts, wrapping one hand into her brown hair and another around her stomach, fingers spread over the ivory skin uncovered by her cropped shirt.

Frankie shudders when Harry whines at the contact, and when he feels like he needs more more more, he drags her legs and hoists them over his thighs so she’s straddling his lap. Their teeth knock together hungrily and it’s literally better than anything Harry’s ever had, and he’s had almost everything there is. Harry feels dehydrated, and Frankie’s lips are the only thing quenching his thirst. He’s never been so enraptured by another person before, and just having her body wrapped around his is practically careening him towards the edge.

When Harry’s hand in her hair pulls back exposing her neck towards him, she moans when his lips lick a thick strip from her sternum towards her chin. She tries to think of love songs that explain how she’s feeling, and when her mind becomes blank, she figures that they can write their own song, fuelled by pink lips and hungry bites and satisfied breaths.

“Jesus, Franks. You’re everything,” Harry mumbles against her lips. Frankie just nods, her hands pushing open his unbuttoned shirt and fanning against his chest. When his head falls back in a blissful sigh, Frankie marks the part of his skin where his shoulder meets his neck, and she can feel it too. That this is everything.

When Harry tries to take her shirt off and lower his hands into the waistband of her jeans, she stops, fully aware that this is her first time ever having somebody this close to her. Of having somebody want to get this close to her, to feel her, to have her in every sense of the word. And she’s terrified.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Franks. I blacked out, I forgot. You’re just—fuck. Can’t fuckin’ think straight when you’re lookin’ at me like that with your mouth all pouty and your hair all messed up. I’m losin’ it,” Harry says hurriedly, his forehead falling against her clavicle. He’s completely breathless and Frankie is in awe that she brought him to this point.

When she feels his hands running a comforting line down her back, she’s fully aware that she wants nothing more than to feel closer to Harry. It’s inevitable at this point—all of the lingering gazes, the interrupting questions, the way he can feel her gaze on him when he’s performing, the way she doesn’t want to look anywhere else. He wants to tell her his secrets. And she wants to keep them, hidden away from the world, just for her to hold.

So she reaches down and places her hand over Harry’s, dragging it down her chest and stomach, over her stomach, against the button of her pants. Harry sucks in a breath and Frankie can feel it against her neck, his lips pursing in shock.

“Frankie, it’s okay, we don’t—”

He’s silenced by her popping the button open and unzipping her jeans. His head shoots up, eyes latched onto hers, arms wrapped around her hips protectively.

Frankie shushes him with a gentle kiss. “It’s okay. You’re everything.”

And with that, Harry reaches inside of her pants, and the both of them fall apart, seeing stars that rival the constellations twinkling above them.

***

July 1973 - entry no. 7

Frankie spends the next day trying to quell the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

After her night with Harry on the rooftop, she feels as if she’s floating through thin air. She can’t stop the grin growing on her face whenever Harry is in a five foot radius of her, and she can practically feel his smirk from a distance. When they leave San Jose and travel to Palo Alto, Frankie practically forces her body to the back of the bus, trying to put as much space between them as possible.

Because if he was any closer, she wasn’t sure if she could keep her hands to herself.

Frankie has never felt like this. She feels as if Harry is her newest addiction, and no matter how hard she tries, she just can’t fucking stop thinking about him. It’s infuriating and infatuating at the same time, incredible and unknown and so new that she’s practically shaking in her seat from the excitement whenever his green eyes find hers.

Harry feels like he’s sixteen again. He feels so light and bubbly and giggly and the whole thing is reminiscent of a first crush, that he doesn’t even recognize who he is anymore. The most surprising aspect of it all is that he actually likes it. He feels his heart swell with every longing gaze, every secret smile, every phantom touch. He can’t get enough of her. Just one taste of Frankie wasn’t enough to soothe his ever-growing appetite, and he’s not sure if he can contain himself any longer.

After an entire day of almost touching her skin, Harry feels like he’s about to burst. Twenty minutes before the show, while the rest of the band is warming up, Harry finds himself sneaking off to find Frankie. She’s on her way back from the bathroom and when he sees her he practically jumps out of his skin, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her into a utility closet across the hallway.

Harry quiets her shrieks with a mouth-watering kiss, and he practically implodes at the feeling of it. He’s been waiting for this moment all day, and he would be lying if he didn’t admit that it was the best kiss of his life.

His hands are everywhere and Frankie feels overwhelmed, but in the best possible way. She’s breathing him in and feeling every inch of his skin on hers and it’s crazy to think that in her eighteen years of life she waited this long to experience this feeling.

She’s just so happy she’s experiencing it with Harry.

When they hear Bryan give the five minute call, Frankie breaks away breathlessly, laughing when Harry whines at the loss of her lips on his.

“Just one more kiss please Franks,” Harry begs, wrapping his hands through her hair and pulling her closer to his mouth.

She obliges but only momentarily, before pushing him back towards the door.

“Go,” she whispers, biting her lower lip to conceal her giggles.

Harry just groans, holding onto her for dear life. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Franks.”

She watches him walk away, blowing him a kiss and laughing when he catches it and tucks it into the pocket of his trousers.

When Frankie goes to claim her spot sidestage, she’s interrupted by Cherry grabbing onto her shoulders. She can see the band rustling around in the background, grabbing their instruments and getting mic'd up, but Frankie can’t focus. Because Cherry’s eyes are blown out and she’s holding onto her so tightly and Frankie knows that whatever is about to come out of Cherry’s lips next is either going to be monumental or devastating.

“Frankie! I need to tell you something,” Cherry whispers through her brightening grin.

“What is it Cherry? Are you okay?” Frankie is worried.

“I’m amazing. Better than amazing, actually. I’m gonna tell Rod that I love him after the show. I’m gonna jump into his arms, tell him that he’s the only one for me, and that I’m so far in love with him that I can’t even breathe.”

Frankie sighs. It’s devastating.

“But… Cherry. What about his fiancée? Kids? Did you think this through?” Frankie asks, watching as her friend’s eyes fall and her mouth form a straight line. Frankie hasn’t seen this look on Cherry’s face since the night she almost called her a groupie. Immediately, Frankie feels the twisting feeling of guilt in her gut.

“He’s leaving them for me. He told me last night.” Cherry’s voice is so low that Frankie isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince her, or herself.

Frankie just shakes her head. “Cherry, you can’t think like that. How could he promise you something like that? You can’t just—”

“—I can’t just what, Frankie? What are you even trying to say? I love him! That should be enough! It’s always been enough!” Before Frankie could even get another word in, Cherry just shakes her head, stepping away from her. “I don’t even know why I bothered telling you. You wouldn’t even know what love is if it slapped you right in the face.”

Frankie pauses, mouth falling slack. “What are you even talking about?”

Cherry laughs, and for the first time, Frankie hates the sound of it. “Because you don’t even give it a chance. I see the way Harry looks at you, and all you do is keep your head down, ignoring the entire thing. All you care about is your stupid article. Well ya know what? At least I let Rod close enough to give love a chance.”

Frankie isn’t sure what to say. Part of her wants to tell Cherry about the night she had with Harry on the rooftop, or the words he spoke to her, or the way he grabbed her no less than five minutes ago. But she doesn’t. Because saying them in an argument makes it less genuine.

“Cherry, I’m just trying to help. You deserve better than Rod,” Frankie says, reaching for Cherry’s hands to squeeze in reassurance.

But Cherry just jumps back as if Frankie’s hands are scorching. “You know what, maybe you and Harry are perfect for each other. Both lonely and selfish.”

And with that, Cherry walks away, and Frankie hangs behind the crowd sidestage, feeling her chest constrict in anger. Cherry couldn’t be more wrong about Harry. He let her in, he told her things he promised he would never tell anybody else. Frankie would never let him near her if he acted the way Cherry just described.

So when the show is over and Frankie feels herself retreating back into the hotel without a word to anybody else, she practically combusts when Harry shows up at her room. His eyes are blown wide and he has concern written all across his face, because all he wanted to see after the show was her. Just as he’s about to ask if she was okay, Frankie grabs him by the back of his neck and drags him through the doorway, crashing her lips onto his.

“Franks, wait, babe, what’s goin’ on?” Harry asks between kisses, and Frankie just sighs, noticing the way her head clears and her heart feels lighter whenever he is close to her.

“I just don’t want to think right now. I need you,” Frankie says, and Harry practically drops through the floor when she utters those last three words.

I need you is the closest thing to I love you Harry has ever felt. Love to him always felt compulsory, a feeling that was expected between two people. He never had to work for it, and whenever he said the words, they never meant anything to him before.

So when he hears I need you fall from Frankie’s chapped lips, he’s floored at the way those words feel inside his chest. If words were tangible, they would be pumping the blood through his chest cavity, propelling his heart up up up until it was lodged into his throat.

He never thought I need you would mean more to him than I love you.

Not until now.

“I need you all the time,” Harry responds, grabbing Frankie and pulling her onto the bed. They kiss until they’re both only wearing their undergarments, Harry clad in tight white boxer briefs and Frankie wearing a boring nude bra and matching cheeky panties. They make her feel childlike, and she wishes that she owned something black and lacy and sexy.

But Harry could care less what she’s wearing. Just the fact that she’s laying next to him, completely opening him up until he could feel like he was properly breathing for the first time in three years is enough for him. And when they kiss until their lips feel bruised, Frankie just lays her head on his chest, revelling in the feeling of his warmth.

“Thank you,” Frankie whispers against his skin.

“For what?” Harry asks, running a finger absentmindedly through her hair. Just one touch is never enough for him.

“Being here. Being you.” It’s trivial and shouldn’t really mean much, but to Harry it means everything, and he sighs blissfully at the thought that just being himself was more than enough for this beautiful girl.

“God, Franks,” Harry says slowly, resting his chin against the top of Frankie’s head. “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life.”

And when she’s wrapped around Harry in every sense of the word, she can’t help but think that if this is how she were to spend the rest of her nights, she wouldn’t want it any other way.

***

July 1973 - entry no. 8

The term bittersweet comes to mind when Bernie rolls into the Fillmore in San Francisco.

Bitter because it’s her last show with The Nocturnals. Bitter because Cherry hasn’t looked at her in two hours, and she doesn’t want to leave with her friendship falling to pieces in front of her. Bitter because she feels like she’s truly found herself, and she doesn’t want this feeling to escape when she arrives back in Santa Monica. Bitter because she won’t be spending her nights wrapped with Harry anymore.

The sweet part is all Harry, Frankie hates to admit. His sweet smile, the taste of his sweet lips, the way his hands feel sweetly wrapped around Frankie’s middle, the way she won’t hear him say her sweet nickname Franks.

Frankie looks over towards her right and smiles at his sleeping frame tucked next to hers. Her heart practically stilled when he chose to sit near her in the back of the bus instead of his usual spot behind Bryan in the front. If anybody felt a certain way about it, nobody mentioned it, which made Frankie relax into the ripped leather seat. When Harry’s warm hand latched onto her thigh, Frankie’s heart almost stopped beating.

“Franks, ‘m tired. Can I use you as a pillow?” Harry asks, his voice thick with sleep.

Before Frankie could reply, Harry’s head was already resting in the crook of her neck, his chestnut curls ticking the underside of her chin. Frankie just smiles, knowing that this would probably be the last spare moment they have together before she has to leave after the show to write her piece for Rolling Stone.

“So soft. You’re the sweetest, Franks,” Harry mumbles before drifting off into sleep.

The hotel is conveniently across the street from the Fillmore, so while the band unloads their instruments, Frankie slinks into her hotel room to deposit her duffle bag and sort through the endless notes she had taken during her summer with the band. Most of them are scribbled in her notebook that was practically ripping from overuse, but the most important tidbits, the ones that Frankie didn’t want to forget, were written on bar napkins and setlist pages. On room service menus and gas station receipts. Frankie makes sure to stuff those into her folder, making sure they stay with her forever.

On her way back to the concert venue, Frankie hears screaming from the room Cherry and Rod share. Part of her wants to knock and make sure that her friend is okay, but after their last conversation, Frankie’s convinced that she’s probably the last person Cherry wants to see anyways. So she saunters back to the Fillmore, rushing to try and find Harry to lift her spirits once again.

But what she sees does the complete opposite.

Bleach blonde hair. Pretty red dress. Deep hazel eyes. Brand new patent leather pumps. A handbag that definitely cost more than the entire ensemble. Matching red lips.

Red lips that were attached to Harry’s.

Frankie freezes. She can feel her heart burst, but not in the way that it has been used to doing the past few days. Instead, it’s a painful burst. She can feel shards slice through her beating flesh, ripping her open and spluttering on the concrete flooring.

Suddenly green eyes are latched onto hers.

And suddenly, they’re the last thing she wants to see.

“Oh, hello! You must be the reporter everybody has been telling me about. Frankie, right? It’s so great to meet you! This is such a great opportunity for everybody,” the pretty girl is saying, but Frankie isn’t registering anything.

All she’s registering is Harry’s hands jumping away from the girl’s waist. His green eyes wide and pleading. His uncomfortable shuffling behind her.

Frankie snaps her mouth shut, trying her hardest to pull herself together. “Hi, yes. I’m Frankie. Nice to meet you, er…”

“Roslyn. I’m Harry’s girlfriend.”

Frankie tries her hardest to keep a straight face, but she’s practically breaking at the seams. She doesn’t even register two sets of feet stopping short behind her, doesn’t even acknowledge her shaky hand slipping into Roslyn’s, doesn’t even feel the heat of Harry’s eyes on hers, of everybody’s eyes on hers.

She feels like the biggest idiot in the world.

Before she could sink into the floor, Frankie feels a small hand settle on her back, blonde ringlets falling onto her bare shoulder. She shuffles back, feeling the warmth of Cherry’s embrace behind her. She knows that Cherry’s heard everything, and with one look into Frankie’s eyes, Cherry can see her reflection through the tears that threaten to fall.

“Frankie, did you bring the necklace you borrowed from me last night?” Cherry asks. It’s an out, an excuse to drag her away from the absolute nightmare unfolding in front of her. Frankie can barely shake her head back, instead she’s gripping onto her friend for dear life, feeling that if she wasn’t anchoring her into the cement flooring she’d be sinking.

“Wait, Cher! Franks, I—”

“—Don’t. We’ll see you after the show,” Cherry says. And for the first time since knowing her, Frankie shivers at the coldness dripping from her mouth.

The two girls don’t bother to hear a response. Instead, Cherry whips through the exit door of the venue and drags Frankie back into the comfort of her hotel room. Once she’s sitting on her flimsy mattress and the door is deadbolted, Frankie finally cries, painful sobs ripping through her chest. She hunches over, feeling her chest constrict at the lack of oxygen rushing through her respiratory system. But she doesn’t care. The hurt she felt watching Harry kiss another girl feels worse than this.

“Frankie, shush, it’s going to be okay,” Cherry says sadly, wrapping a thin arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

“It’s not going to be okay. Cherry, I can’t breathe. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Wait, I should be apologizing, Cherry I—” Frankie’s rambles are cut off by Cherry kneeling in front of her, holding her glistening face in the small palms of her hands. Cherry smiles, and when Frankie looks hard enough, she can see that it doesn’t meet her eyes. And she instantly knows that something is wrong.

“Wait, Cherry what’s wrong. Did something happen?” Frankie whimpers, holding her hands on top of Cherry’s, trying to squeeze the truth out of her friend.

“I think we should get out of here. What do you think? Let’s get away from it all,” Cherry says, gesturing at the front door where Frankie’s duffle lays untouched. Frankie feels herself nodding, grabbing Cherry in one hand and her bag in the other, walking outside of the hotel with a shattered heart.

Before they can get too far, she hears his voice. And that’s all it takes for her to feel the shards rip through her skin again.

“Franks! Please you’ve got to listen to me, please!” He’s pleading and Frankie feels disgusted that he’s calling out for her when his beautiful blonde-haired girlfriend is waiting for him inside just as she’s been waiting for him at home while he’s been wasting his time with Frankie.

“Cher, please let me talk to her, I’ve gotta—”

“—Goodbye Harry,” Frankie says softly. It’s final. Absolute.

She’s not sure who’s heart is breaking more, and honestly, she can’t bring herself to care. All she knows is that she feels as if Harry had shown her a world unlike any other—bright and unknowing and enticing and full of new wonders and surprises. But at the same time, he introduced her to heartbreak and pain and suffering and emptiness.

Frankie doesn’t look back as Cherry drags her towards the street, hailing a taxi and shoving them both into it. She doesn’t look out the window when the tires peel from the pavement, falling into traffic on the motorway. If she did, she would see Harry’s heart crumpling into the ground, his chest heaving in pain, his eyes watering.

Because they were both the closest to love they had ever felt in their lives. And Harry had ruined it. And the worst part of it all?

Frankie should have known better.

***

Inside the departures terminal in San Francisco Airport, Frankie finally wipes all of the water from her eyes. She’s pretty convinced that she’s cried all of the tears her body could produce, so with one last shaky inhale, she lifts her head from the crook of Cherry’s neck, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Cherry,” Frankie whispers to a girl she never thought she would ever call a friend.

“I should be the one thanking you, Frankie,” Cherry admits, laughing softly to herself. It isn’t genuine, and Frankie can see the pain hidden behind her silver eyes.

“What happened?”

“You were right.” Cherry doesn’t need to explain more, but Frankie feels her heart aching for her friend. She feels horrible about their fight, but she feels even worse at the fact that Rod hurt Cherry.

“Why doesn’t he love me?” Cherry asks, and Frankie wonders how the two of them had gotten to this point. Both broken and scarred over two men who couldn’t love them the way that they needed to.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Cherry. But I do know that you never needed his love. Because love doesn’t feel like this. Love is supposed to be the thing that people write songs about, and you’ll find it one day. We’ll both find it one day.”

Cherry just nods at her brown-haired friend she’s grown to love in the span of three weeks. She hugs her tightly, hoping that this embrace will help heal their shattered hearts. Because even though they didn’t find love with Rod and Harry, they found love between each other. And that’s something worth remembering.

“Thank you,” Cherry mumbles against Frankie’s hair.

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you, Cherry,” Frankie replies, squeezing her friend a little tighter.

“I know that, and I will too.” Cherry stands up, grabbing Frankie’s hand one last time. Her suitcase is in the other, and she has a distant look in her silver eyes. “I just can’t do it here.”

Frankie smiles, knowing all along that Cherry was too good for this place. “I know. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she says with a promise.

Before Cherry runs off to purchase a one-way ticket to a city far away from California, she turns back around, her eyes glistening. She reaches down to grab Frankie’s hand one last time.

“Aubrey Lennox,” she whispers.

“What?”

“My name,” Cherry replies with her infamous grin. “Is Aubrey Lennox. I’ll call you when I’ve found a place.” And with that, Aubrey walks off, giving Frankie one last parting glance.

An hour later when the hollowness inside Frankie seems to slowly start dissipating, she sees Mary in her stewardess outfit, a million questions at the tip of her tongue. With one look at her little sister, Mary knows something is wrong, and when she tells her that she’ll take her anywhere she wants to go, Frankie only has one place in mind.

She wants to go home.

***

August 1973 - entry no. 9

Frankie writes the Rolling Stone article the night Mary finds her in the airport in San Francisco. After promising her little sister that she’ll bring her home after she checks in with Greg and feeds their cat, Frankie stays up all night, clacking away on her sister’s old Smith Corona Classic 12 typewriter, writing three thousand words about her time with The Nocturnals.

She writes about their origin. She writes about their dazzling stage presence, the way they build off of each other, the way they trust each other wholeheartedly throughout each show. She writes about their growing tension. She writes about their poor management. She writes about how they’re debut album was incredible, chart-stopping, and the main reason why they’ve been successful. She writes about the promise of their second album being better than the first, and how she couldn’t imagine them breaking up any time soon, and how their music is for all the uncool people in the world.

It’s amazing and honest and truthful, void of spite or hatred or bias. She tells their story the way it should be told—open and honest and real. When she delivers it to Rolling Stone, they tell Frankie it’s going to be on the front page. They love the way she portrays The Nocturnals as normal people, chasing the high they provide for those who pay to watch their show.

But when they make out the call to fact check her piece, they deny everything.

“Did you talk to Harry Styles?” Frankie asks, growing frantic. She figured the least he owed her was to be honest and allow her to write their story.

“He was the one who denied everything.”

After that phone call, Frankie returns home with Mary. Once she’s opened the door and said hello to her mother, she locks herself in her room for three days and doesn’t leave.

Frankie didn’t think her heart could withstand any more pain, but she was wrong. She feels a bone-aching tiredness shiver through her body, the hollowness making her feel as if she was just barely there on most days. She can’t sleep because her pillow isn’t the rising and falling of Harry’s bare chest, the soft snoring from his mouth, the gentle caress of his hands over her arms.

Her anger overrides her feeling of emptiness in regards to her heart. She’s crushed at the fact that Harry lied to her about Roslyn, but even more so, he continued to lie when he denied her story from Rolling Stone. She hates him in these days, wishing she could tell him how much of a coward he was to his face.

And when she can’t sleep at night, she hears Lester’s words reverberating through her brain, don’t get too close, don’t get too close, don’t get too close.

Frankie wishes she just fucking listened.

***

The next morning, Frankie is lathering a thin layer of butter over her charred toast when the doorbell rings. She doesn’t make a move to answer it, and when Mary approaches the kitchen with a twinkle in her eyes, Frankie knows that whoever is at the door is waiting for her.

“Mary, no—”

“—Go answer it, Frankie.”

Frankie gulps her dry toast down her throat, letting it fall onto a paper towel with a soft thud. She walks slowly to the front door, hoping that whoever it is could see the state of disarray she was in and would presumptively leave her alone.

Once she reaches the foyer, she hears a gruff laugh, a noise she’s never heard before.

“Holy shit, you’re a fuckin’ kid.”

When she looks up, it’s no other than Lester Bangs in the doorway. His long hair is parted to one side, brown eyes covered in black wayfarer sunglasses. His brown leather jacket hangs off his arms, and she’s shocked that he would come all the way from San Francisco to talk to her.

“Cat’s out the bag,” Frankie shrugs, realizing that she’s too tired and too hurt to keep up her adult façade. She’s fully aware that her plaid pajama bottoms and high school t-shirt give away the fact that she is actually eighteen years old.

But somehow, Lester doesn’t seem to mind.

“Had a feeling. You write like you’re experiencing shit for the first time in your life.” Frankie tries to ignore the truthfulness to his words.

“Yeah, well… What are you exactly doing here, Lester?” Frankie asks.

Lester holds up his left hand and clutched inside is the August edition of Rolling Stone’s magazine. On the front cover is a picture of The Nocturnals: Harry, Eddie, Veronica, Jett, and Rod, posing in front of a red backdrop. On the left hand column reads THE NOCTURNALS: Sex, Drugs, and Life on the Road. And right under that, in glossy red print, reads Written by: Frankie Goodhart.

Frankie starts to feel the hollowness inside of her fill up.

“Harry Styles called and told us that everything you said was true. And that he’s sorry, for some reason,” Lester says, holding out the publication for her to keep. She runs her fingers over the words, smiling for the first time in a week.

“Wow, uh, I don’t know what to say,” Frankie says, floored.

Lester laughs and produces a second copy, holding out a Sharpie in the other. “Mind if you sign mine? Figured it’ll be worth a lot once you make it big, kid.”

Frankie laughs, before shakily reaching out and signing her name in big swoopy letters. Before Lester leaves, he tells her to keep sending him her album reviews, and that whenever she figures out what she wants to do with her life, he’ll always be waiting for her call.

A few days later, the hollowness doesn’t feel as painful anymore. Frankie distracts herself by hanging out with her sister, spending time with her mother, listening to new records, telling Mary the in’s and out’s of her time on the road. She leaves out a certain curly-haired boy with green eyes that broke her heart, but Mary knows that Frankie will tell her over time, once she’s finished mending the scars he left her with.

When Mary announces that she’s heading back to San Francisco, her departure isn’t as sad as the first time. Cynthia and her daughter seemed to have found common ground with Mary’s outlook on life, and with a promise to be back for Thanksgiving, Frankie starts to feel like the ground isn’t as shaky as it was a month earlier.

“Want to go to Tower Records with me? One last time before I go, for old time’s sake,” Mary whispers in her sister’s ear when their mother is busy making lunch.

Frankie nods, and the two girls set off across the boardwalk.

The sun warms Frankie to her core, and she suddenly starts to feel the weight being lifted from her shoulders. She feels more in control of her life now than ever before, and walking side by side with her sister, she no longer feels hollow. Instead, she feels excited. Excited for her future. Excited for the idea of endless possibilities and newness.

“You should come with me to San Francisco, Frankie! I can get you a stewardess position and we can travel the world together. Live like we never have before. What do you say, kiddo?” Mary asks, rifling through the “M” section of the new releases in the record store.

Before, Frankie would have done anything to be closer to her sister. But now, in the after, she feels a new sense of home in Santa Monica.

“I think I’m gonna stay here. Go to college at UCLA. Probably study English, if they’ll let me,” Frankie announces. And for once, she actually means what she’s saying.

Mary smiles at her sister, her thumbs crossing over towards the “N” category.

“Whatever you end up doing Frankie, just remember that you’re doing it for yourself. And that no matter what, I’m in your corner. Always have, always will.”

Frankie reaches an arm around her sister, holding her close. She hopes that Mary can feel the love she has for her through her embrace, and when Mary smiles, she knows she can feel it.

“Oh, I haven’t seen this before,” Mary says, coming to a stop on a record in the middle of the “N” bin.

Frankie watches as her sister pulls out a black vinyl wrapped in a pink and blue sleeve. The band she spent weeks on the road with is written on the top, with the picture from the Rolling Stone cover in the middle. When Frankie’s eyes scroll towards the bottom of the record, she can feel her breath catch in her throat when she reads the name of the title.

GOOD HEART.

#1dff #movies challenge #harry

99 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

01 & 02 | home; juice ortiz.

Notes:

.... and apparently, my brain yearned to write angsty and kind of tragic things. I really haven’t written much for sons of anarchy beyond a few little short things here and there so.. be warned. I’m gonna loosely follow some of the things that happen on the show timeline, but.. this one might take longer to write / post / update because I’m going to try to watch SOA again as I do this. Try being the operative.

So uh.. buckle up?

Also.. I haven’t made a cover for this yet. or a soundtrack. And this is c

Pairing:

Teller Morrow OFC x Juice Ortiz.

Summary:

“Home is where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends.” “A house is made of bricks and beams. A home is made of hopes and dreams.” “Home is not a place…it's a feeling.”

“Home is wherever I’m with you.”

Years ago, Hazelynn Teller (Morrow) left Charming behind. She turned her back on everything in search of something.. anything that felt like it fit. But nothing ever did. After a series of events cause her to re-evaluate and she finds herself returning to Charming, can she fix everything she broke when she left?

And again I ask.. why must my summaries suck? I swear this might possibly be better than the summary.

Warnings:

Injury / accident tw - for this chapter only. Mentions of a genetic heart defect / a newborn in NICU. fighting / violence tw - duh, this show was pretty damn violent and there’s no way I can escape having at least some of the major stuff that happened present. slow burn and angst. because people don’t just fall back together and feelings aren’t magically healed. eventual filth. any other triggering things that arise I’ll warn in those chapters. These are just the ones I can think of, immediately, right now.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@sassymox

@twistnet

ONE.

The phone ringing had Jax Teller sitting up in bed. He grimaced at the pounding hangover and he reached for his cellphone, answering.

“Are you family of Hazelynn Teller Morrow?”

“She’s my baby sister, why?” Jax wasn’t getting a good feeling at all. The woman on the other end of the line sounded so formal and her tone was so clipped. Unconcerned. It was his own personal experience that usually, when you got a call like this in the middle of the night, nothing good ever came of it.

What the nurse told him next left him reeling.

“There’s been an accident. She’s been admitted to Santa Monica General. Her daughter is in the NICU.”

“You said Santa Monica General, right?” Jax was sitting up in bed now, trying to get his heart down out of his throat. He was slipping out of bed, grabbing for his jeans on the floor. “Are you sure there isn’t some mistake? My sister, she… She doesn’t have a kid. Not that I’m aware of..” He was hoping against hope that there was a mistake somewhere, but the nurse spoke again.

“Your sister was in labor and on her way here to give birth when the accident occurred. We had to induce labor. Given the state your sister is in, we’re calling the family since we have no way to know who the baby’s father is… Just to err on the side of caution.”

Jax’s stomach rolled. Tara hugged against him from behind. “What’s going on, Jax?”

Jax shushed her, listening to the nurse detail his sister’s injuries and the fact that while they were trying to save his niece she slipped into a coma and had yet to wake up. When he hung up the phone, he swung at a wall.

“Jax?”

“I have to go pick up my mom.” Jax grabbed the keys to his bike and rushed out of the house, firing it up.

The entire drive across town to his mother’s house passed by in a daze. He didn’t even remember what color the stoplight had been when he went through it, only that he was sitting in his mother’s driveway only three and a half minutes later. Rushing to his mom’s front door. Pounding on it to wake her up.

Gemma threw the door open, a brow raised at Jax when she saw him standing on the other side. “Jax?”

“Mom, it’s Hazelynn… The hospital in Santa Monica called me.”

Gemma’s mouth opened only to close again. It was probably one of very few times over the course of his life that Jax Teller had actually seen his mother speechless. Or about to cry.

“What happened? Jax, talk to me. Talk to me now.” Gemma demanded, her voice shaky. Jax took a few deep breaths and put his arms around his mother, explaining what the nurse told him when she’d called. Gemma’s tears started to fall and she bolted back into the house, shaking Clay awake.

Clay grumbled at the early hour but sat up.

Looking as if he’d vomit as Jax repeated everything the nurse told him for a second time that night.

“I’ll drive. Neither of you are in the shape.” Clay was up and getting dressed on auto pilot, stopping at one point to question, “They say whether she had anybody there with her?”

“The whole reason the nurse is calling family is because she was coming to the hospital alone because she’d gone into labor. They can’t track down a father.”

“Oh, I’ll find the bastard.”

“Clay…”

“I’m not kidding Gemma.” Clay’s fists clenched and he took a few deep breaths.

“We’ll just get there and assess the situation. Go from there. She needs us.” Gemma gave Clay a firm look of warning and it seemed to get him reasonably calm.

The next few hours were sitting in silence in a waiting room. Endless pots of shitty break room coffee. Gemma jumping every time someone coded.

And finally, around 9 am, a doctor got around to them.

Hazelynn was awake. And her vitals seemed steady.

“Can we go back to see her?”

“In an hour. We want to make sure she’s up to it.”

“What about my niece?”

“One at a time. I’ll send a nurse over to get you prepped to go down to NICU.” The doctor promised, setting off to go and track down a nurse.

The nurse showed up a few minutes later and Gemma stood, the shock starting to subside but only slightly. As they walked back to the NICU nursery, the nurse told Gemma that they’d detected a heart defect and Gemma explained that both herself and her granddaughter’s uncle suffered from similar.

“We’re not supposed to let anyone back here that isn’t a parent until 8 pm.. But given the circumstance…”

Gemma thanked her and stepped into the room, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. The nurse brought over her granddaughter and Gemma took her in her arms.

“Oh sweetie. Everything is going to be okay.”

But Gemma was afraid. So very afraid.

XXX

“ You don’t have to leave town, Haze.”

It was the last thing my brother said to me. He’d hugged me. Then my mom hugged me and wiped at her eyes. Made me promise a thousand times to call and come back to visit. I promised her I would, even though I knew deep down I’d be limiting myself to calls only.

If I went home to visit, I might not ever leave again.

And I didn’t want to be like all the other girls I went to school with, settling down and settling for whatever came their way.

I left town with all these big ambitions and plans. And one by one, life knocked them right out from beneath me. Life tried again and again to break me but I was too stubborn to be broken.

But this last blow.. This last blow was too much.

The nurse came in to check on me and the first thing I demanded was to know if my daughter was alright. The second and a half it took the nurse to tell me that my daughter was alive and currently down in NICU was the longest second and a half of my entire life and the second I heard the nurse tell me that my daughter was alive and I hadn’t lost her, I broke.

Sobbing. Grateful.

If I’d lost her… I shoved the thought out because I just couldn’t.

“Wait.. NICU… What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my baby?”

“The doctors detected a heart defect.”

I took a shaky breath. I’d been warned by my mom that there was a possibility that any children I had could end up with the heart defect, even though it managed to skip over me. At my last checkup, my doctor had been concerned about the genetic heart defect present in my brother and my mother. Nothing had shown up in any of the tests they’d been able to do at that point, so I’d been hopeful.

I nodded. Taking a few deep breaths. Moving to sit but wincing when a wave of pain washed over me.

The door to my private room opened and my brother stepped in. My birth father Clay standing behind him.

Jax rushed over to the bed, putting my legs back into it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going to see my daughter. I.. She needs me, Jax.”

“She needs you healthy, darlin.” Clay spoke up quietly.

Awkwardly, I let him hug me. Things had always been tense between us. More so when the truth came out that he was my actual father. It had thrown my entire life in a tailspin back then and while I’m not proud to admit it at all, I’d went full on rebellious. Refusing to acknowledge him.

But he’d kept trying.

“I couldn’t even keep myself from crashing a fucking car. I failed already. She could’ve died.” I was full on sobbing now as everything hit me. I looked from Jax to Clay and asked quietly, “Where’s mom?” I.. Need to see her.”

“Your mom’s down in NICU.” Clay explained, doing his best to give me a reassuring look. Wincing at the way my forehead was stitched. “Least you got the Morrow hard head, huh?” he tried to joke. Jax gave him a warning look, but rather than stubbornly refuse to go along with it like I used to in all of Clay’s past attempts to bond with me over the years, all I could do this time was nod. Mutter quietly, “Thank god.”

My brother cleared his throat.

“What about the father?”

“What about him? He’s married. Dropped me like a bad habit when he found out I wasn’t getting rid of the baby. Only after he tried to pay me off.”

Jax’s fist clenched and I shook my head. “I’m better off… I.. I mean I think I am.” my words fell away and I leaned my head back against the pillow behind me gingerly.

“You didn’t have any friends you could get to drive you?” Clay questioned. I shook my head, not bothering to open my eyes. “I’d just moved here. I was.. Working up the nerve to come home. I didn’t really know anybody.”

“So the kid’s dad is elsewhere?” Clay questioned further. I could just tell by his tone that he was already thinking of the best way to make the situation right. To make the father of my child pay for being an actual piece of shit.

“Clay, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Leave it alone, sir. Not everybody has to pay for their wrongs your way. The bastard will regret it one day when she grows up and she’s amazing and she didn’t need him. I don’t want the guy near me.”

It didn’t stop the look in his eyes and I sighed. Appealing to the last card I held that I thought might work. “If you care about me at all and you still want to be a part of my life, sir.. You’ll leave this alone. I just… I want to put it behind me.”

I let out a ragged breath and searched his eyes. When he seemed to relax and grumble while shaking his head, I relaxed. It felt as if he were going to let it go as I asked. Maybe going away had changed things just a little.

Jax spoke up quietly.

“ You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Try being me.” I muttered quietly, letting my brother hug me, holding on just a little tighter.

The door to my room opened again and my mother stepped in. She didn’t look like the same carefully put together woman I remembered. She looked like she was drained. Scared to death.

Suddenly, I wanted to go back in time and punch my younger self in the throat. How could I have ever thought that just because I was a reminder of the affair my mom started with Clay Morrow before Jax’s father passed away that she cared less.. Or that me being around was just painful for her to begin with?

I felt worse than I’ve ever felt before.

Jax stopped my mom, asking if she thought they’d let him go back and sit with my daughter. My mom led him back out in the hallway, probably to go find the NICU nurse on duty and find out the answer, and this left me and my birth father alone together.

“I know we never got along real good, kid.”

“I’m sorry.” I blurted it out before he could say anything else. “I was messed up, okay? The way it came out… The way it made everyone fight… I just.. I don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to the thin white blanket over my legs and Clay sighed.

“If you want to come home… It’d make more sense, I’d think. Gonna be damn hard to help out with my grandkid when you’re all the way in Santa Monica. And I’m not about to let my daughter take all this on by herself. We clear, Red?”

I mulled it over. It wasn’t something I’d already been heavily leaning towards for the better part of a month now. I’d just been too scared to pull the trigger and do it.

“Yes sir.” I answered, managing a smile.

My mom stepped into the room, door shutting behind her quietly.

“I cannot wait until you are away from this hospital. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to get anybody to answer a simple question?” my mom muttered, leaning down, hugging me tight. Fussing over a stitch on my forehead, grumbling “They didn’t even attempt to close this properly. I’ve seen bikers at Sturgis do a better sew up.” and making me laugh. Just a little.

She pulled away from the hug and brushed some hair away from my forehead. “Sweetie, I..” she started to say something but I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you felt the way you felt until your brother threw it up right after you left. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t start crying.” my mom was reaching for a tissue, gingerly dabbing it at my eyes. “The important thing is it’s behind us. Okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re moving back to Charming.”

Normally, my mother making demands would’ve set me on edge. But I wasn’t that same angry rebellious girl anymore. And deep down, I was starting to realize just how much I loved and needed my family, especially right now.

Warts and all.

“Okay.” I managed a weak smile.

“Was she okay?” I asked quietly after another tight hug that had me wincing just a little and reminding her gently that I was one giant ache. My mom smiled and nodded. “She’s as beautiful as you, sweetie. And despite the family flaw striking again, I think she’s a fighter already. Have you got a name?”

“ Emma Sophia.”

My mom smiled at that. I figured she would because Emma was basically just Gemma, shortened. And Sophia in tribute to all the old movies she used to make me sit through with her when I was younger, after an actress named Sophia Loren.

“I like that, sweetie.”

When she was sure Clay wasn’t actively listening, she whispered quietly, “And the father?”

“Is not an issue. Nor will he ever be one. I got him to sign away paternal rights.”

“You’re sure.” My mom asked again and I nodded. “He was married, mom, I... “ I trailed off, waiting for a lecture. Instead, my mom sighed and nodded. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

And for the first time in years, I really believed she was right. Maybe everything really would be okay now.

The doctor came in to check on me again and check my vitals and after doing that, he turned to address my mother and Clay.

“Mother and baby’s vitals are holding strong and steady. I’d say that if the pattern continues, we can release Mother by the weekend.”

“What about my baby?” I spoke up quickly.

“We want to keep your daughter for observation. I’d say at least another two weeks.”

I took a few deep breaths, starting to panic a little. Wanting to cry. My mom grabbed hold of my hand and repeated calmly, “Everything will be fine. They kept your brother just as long.”

I nodded, even though the thought still scared the hell out of me.

TWO.

The Welcome to Charming sign passed by and I smiled a little. Emma was sleeping in the carrier. I was almost home.

And hopeful.

Just as I turned down the road my mom lived on, my cell phone buzzed. I switched the call so that it went through my radio to answer.

“ Exactly how big is too big for a stuffed animal?” Jax asked and I groaned, shaking my head at the question. “What have you done, Jax?”

“There was a unicorn.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.. Remember that one Clay won you when you were twelve? This one makes two of that one.”

“Where the fuck am I putting this?”

My mom spoke up from the background. “We got it in the nursery. Barely. I told your brother he’s not allowed near the stuffed animals anymore.”

“In my defense ma, it’s my niece.”

I parked behind the motorcycles lining my mother’s driveway. Tensing just a little when I recognized Juice’s Dyna Glide parked next to Tig’s motorcycle.

And as soon as I saw him, it was like everything froze. I wasn’t ready to face him. Especially not when I considered that it felt like someone had just knocked the breath right out of me. As I walked past him, I didn’t dare look over.

I couldn’t do it, no matter how badly every part of me wanted to. My brother and Opie came over, arguing about the unicorn, Opie nearly lifting me off the ground in a hug. I reached back into the car, killing the engine and shutting the driver door. Making my way to the backseat and unbuckling the carrier.

“Awww. She’s even got the same chubby little cheeks, man.” Opie chuckled, elbowing Jax who nodded. I smiled and as soon as Emma started to wake up and cry, I dug around in my diaper bag for the bottle I’d pumped for her at a rest stop.

Sitting the carrier on the trunk of the car, I unfastened Emma, pulling her out.

Instantly drawing over at least ten gigantic bikers. Watching them fuss over her had me laughing and smiling a little.

Juice hung back. Leaning against the tree in the yard with a tire swing. Watching. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to come over with everyone else.. Near me. Or whether he wanted to just leave.

When he started to make his way over after Chibs stopped to whisper something in his ear, I swallowed hard. The guys had gone back to the grill set up behind the house by now. It pretty much left me sitting in the passenger seat of my car finishing up feeding Emma. Humming softly as I did so.

Humming what used to be the song that Juice and I dubbed ‘our song’.

“Visiting? I’m surprised your man let you come by yourself.”

I glanced up at Juice, taking a deep breath. Bracing myself for all the anger and bitterness I thought I’d find waiting in his gaze. Surprised when all I found instead was concern. Maybe a little hurt.

But deeper down, the same way he always used to look at me.

“Juice..” I started, but I went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. There was so much I wanted to say but it was probably beyond too late for that.

More than anything, I wished I had a rewind button.

What if I hadn’t left town? Ran from the way I felt about everything back then?

“I had a while to get over it.” he muttered, gazing at me. Going quiet. “Jax told me why you had to go. I fuckin hated it, but I had a while to get over it.”

I nodded.

Somehow I got the feeling that he was pretending it didn’t kill him. To save face.

Kind of exactly like I was right now.

“You could’ve said somethin, ya know?”

“Juice..”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. Leaning against my car. Staring up at the bright blue of the sky overhead. “It’s over and done with though.”

My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if what he was saying was a good or a bad thing. Seeing him again after all this time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to be over.

Because when I left it all behind, I hadn’t just left behind a family that actually loved me, I’d left him behind too.

And looking at him now. With a more adult perspective… I suddenly found myself wondering if leaving him behind had been the biggest mistake of my life…

“Do you want to hold her?”

Juice eyed me but nodded, reaching out for her. “Hey pretty girl.” he muttered, smiling a little. After he held her for a few minutes, he placed her back in my arms.

And as he did so, the touch lingered as we locked eyes.

“I missed you.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I barely survived.” Juice answered, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something else. He turned and walked away and I spent a few minutes trying to pull myself back together again.

It had been harder seeing him again after all this time than I thought.

Harder to resist him. Harder to shove down the surge of emotions. Harder to try not to think about just how much I still loved him and harder to swallow the fact that by now, it was probably too late.

I got the feeling that it was only going to get so much harder.

And I sighed, because every part of me wanted to hold out hope that there was still something there but I had to accept the fact that I’d probably lit a match and set everything on fire when I left town back then. That there wasn’t any hope to be had.

That Juice was done with me.

And that hurt more than I was prepared for.

I shoved it all out of my head, wandering over to where my mom sat. Giving Tara some serious side eye.

“He had to bring her.” my mom was glaring in Tara’s general direction. Rolling her eyes as Tara carried Abel around. Everything Tara Knowles did annoyed my mom. That much hadn’t changed at all.

“In his defense, mom, she’s kind of his old lady.” I pointed out quietly. Taking a sip of the pink lemonade she’d pushed in my direction.

My mom shrugged, grumbling under her breath. Probably something to the effect of she wouldn’t be if my mom had her way about it. I sat down next to her at the picnic table and she peeked in the sling I had Emma strapped into. “Hey sweetie.” she cooed.

Emma grinned up at her, sleepy eyed. After a few seconds, my mom spoke up.

“Speaking of old ladies… If you’re wondering. Juice doesn’t have one.”

“Mom, I.. we both know I ruined everything there when I left.” I sighed, shaking my head no. Trying to cut whatever crazy idea she was formulating out before it took hold. Somehow I got the feeling that it was too late for that. My mom, being the meddling mom she’s known to be at times, she was going to try to shove me right through the ‘healing process’ over the end of my last breakup.

My mom shrugged, shaking her head. Quick to protest, “You never know.”

I didn’t say anything. For one thing, I was trying to get my head around my mom seeming to push me towards Juice. I hadn’t really thought she liked him all that much back then. I know Clay didn’t particularly care for him.

XXX

Juice wasn’t listening to a word Chibs said. Chibs caught sight of the direction he was staring in and he chuckled to himself, nudging Juice in the side, nodding in Hazelynn’s direction. “Go over n’ try t’ talk.”

Juice shook his head. “Every time I think about it, I remember that she’s the one who thought she was too good for any of this and left. Without a good bye. What’s done is done. I wasn’t good enough for her then, why do I wanna be good enough for her now, huh?”

“Maybe it wasn’t that at all.” Chibs butted in. Grumbling as he took a drag of his cigarette. The kid wasn’t listening. He wasn’t stopping to think about everything that unfolded prior to Hazelynn’s decision to leave. Chibs went quiet. He knew better than to try reasoning with the kid. Juice was a hard headed little shit.

“Look at me, Chibs. We both know it was.” Juice insisted, shaking his head sadly. “I tried to be good enough man.. I just fuckin wasn’t.”

Chibs brushed off the statement, putting it down to Juice’s recent downward mood swing and tension. The guy had been down about a lot lately. Like he had a million things on his mind. If Chibs ever tried to bring it up, Juice dismissed it. Stating he didn’t want to talk about it.

Juice bit his lip. Staring at Hazelynn. Sighing as he stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking. Every part of him was still drawn to her. If he could, he’d go over. He’d tell her that he still loved her, he’d never stopped.

But there was so much going on right now.

The biggest part of it being the secret he was being forced to keep. Just the thought of the betrayal he was currently being forced to carry out against men he thought of as brothers was enough to have him tensing up all over again. Any second, they’d figure out it was him. None of the guys in Samcro were that stupid. Even the ones who acted like they were.

Sooner or later, everything would come out.

And Juice Ortiz was living with the weight of that dread and his secrets and decision every single day.

,, I just have to stay away. Keepin her at arms length is keepin her safe.” the solemn thought weighed heavily and he tore his eyes off of her.

Somehow, he got the feeling that would be easier said than done.

#juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fic #my writing ; juice ortiz #my fics ; juice ortiz #my fanfiction ; juice ortiz #// HEAVY ANGST WARNING #injury / accident tw

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