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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years ago

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Dream SMP Recap (June 1/2021) - All Roads Lead to Rome

Ponk tears down one of the towers of L’Llamaburg for overshadowing his supreme fridge.

Tubbo creates a new outpost just outside Las Nevadas to overlook the country.

Techno has a birthday party with the Syndicate and Quackity comes over to bring a message.

Quackity speaks with Foolish in Las Nevadas about his future plans for the country and roads.

Niki finds out about Wilbur’s revival.

Bad asks for Techno’s help with destroying his enemies, as he’s upset about L’Llamaburg violating the buffer zone agreement. Puffy confronts Bad about the brewing war.

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VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tubbo

Technoblade

Nihachu

BadBoyHalo

Captain Puffy

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- Ponk tears down one of the towers of L’Llamaburg

- Ponk sends Foolish through the labyrinth he built

- Afterwards, they visit the turtle sanctuary

- Ponk shows Foolish that he tore down the tower for overshadowing his supreme fridge. Foolish points out that he and Puffy don’t have the best history. Ponk is still bitter over Puffy destroying Sacrifice’s shrine

- Tubbo creates an outpost on a mountain just outside of Las Nevadas to keep an eye on the country

- Quackity comes over and asks what Tubbo is doing. He says he’ll speak with Tubbo later

- If anyone asks, Tubbo will say it’s just a cookie outpost from Snowchester

- Foolish comes over as well and tells Tubbo that he sent Punz on the mission to find the nuke

- Tubbo asks why Foolish has left Snowchester. Foolish says he’s trying something new -- he’s joining Las Nevadas, actually

- Foolish takes Tubbo on a tour through Las Nevadas. He asks if Tubbo would want to join Las Nevadas, but Tubbo declines

- Techno starts off in his house. He walks outside to find Niki, Phil and Ranboo launching fireworks for his birthday! They also set up a table outside the house with some cake

- After they eat some cake, Techno asks what he’s missed. He’s gone off into the wild to train, while Phil thought he was hibernating. Techno asks if they found out Tommy actually died. Phil tells him he did, but Dream brought him back

- Speaking of things brought back...Wilbur is back too. Niki and Techno are both shocked. Phil tells them that he’s actually living in Phil’s house currently. He tells Niki Wilbur’s changed for the better

- Techno brings Steve out

- He notices the new forest, which the others say sprouted up. It just appeared

- The subject returns to the revival book. Niki says, if Wilbur and Tommy have been brought back, there’s one person left that can be brought back that they don’t want back: Schlatt

- Niki asks if there are any new governments. Phil says no, Snowchester is still there but nothing much has happened that they need to step in on

- They solved the government issue with brute force. Techno says it was “mild property damage,” but Phil disagrees, saying it was mass destruction. They agree to just blame everything on Dream

- While he was away, Techno studied the blade. He suggests a training session for Niki and Ranboo

- Techno has something to do. He leaves, noticing Quackity standing on a hill nearby

- Quackity says hello. Techno tells him it’s his birthday (he’s not sure how old he is, though) and Quackity thanks him for helping with the Egg. He asks if Techno has visited Dream (Techno hasn’t)

- Techno went to the Dream SMP equivalent of Italy on vacation

- Quackity tells Techno he’s been visiting Dream, and that while in prison Dream seems to be a completely different person. Techno asks if Dream’s been treated well, and Quackity says he’s fine

- Just a few days ago, Dream told Quackity that he wanted Techno to visit, that he finally wanted to call in a “favor”

- Techno explains that the “favor” is that he has to get Dream his favorite meal at some point, since they were at a restaurant once and Techno forgot his wallet

Quackity: “He’s changed a lot. If you walk in there, he doesn’t seem like the person he’s always been, which is weird, how a person can change just like that.”

Techno: “It’s strange what five months of near total isolation can do to a person...as we know, it’s always a positive effect.”

- Sometime during this weekend, Techno will visit. Techno asks if Quackity has any written message from Dream, and Quackity says he can probably get one. He only has notes right now

- Techno asks if Quackity is telling the truth. He would hate to be lied to on his birthday...Quackity says he’s not lying, and as he said, he’s glad they set aside their differences

Quackity: “At the end of the day, scars fade away, Techno...”

- Quackity says goodbye and leaves. Techno wonders if he can trust him

- He returns to the others and they celebrate some more

- Phil takes them all down to show off the training arena he made in the basement

- They go back up and talk some more

- Meanwhile, Quackity meets Foolish at Las Nevadas. He asks about Tubbo’s outpost, and Foolish says it’s a cookie outpost. Quackity tells Foolish not to trust it, realizing he actually hasn’t talked to Tubbo recently

- Quackity is bothered by how clear the view of Las Nevadas is from the outpost and questions why Foolish didn’t stop Tubbo from building it

- He asks the last thing Foolish did in Las Nevadas as they walk over there, and then whether or not he’s already discussed the possibility of a “contract” of formal citizenship

- Quackity wants to get to know Foolish better. He makes sure that he can trust Foolish, confide in him certain information

- Foolish remarks that Quackity seems like the kind of guy who would make a lot of enemies, and gives him a set of Netherite armor

- Speaking of making enemies, Quackity takes Foolish over to the lake to look out at Wilbur and Tommy’s headquarters. Someone paid them a visit

Quackity: “Have you ever met...Wilbur?”

- Foolish hasn’t. Tommy told him a bit. Quackity points out an empty spot in Las Nevadas where he wants something done. He tells Foolish he just paid a visit to an old friend and he went unprotected, so the Netherite is a good idea

- Only two people have just given Quackity armor, and one of them is Quackity’s “right hand man” at the moment: Sam. Foolish mentions Sam screwed him over with L’Sandburg

- Quackity points out Eret’s cobblestone ocean pyramid. This country needs more citizens, more things built

- He shows Foolish the gambling machine and gives him diamonds to try out. Foolish wins Linda!

- Their objective with Las Nevadas is to build the biggest, most powerful country, and Quackity’s read his fair share of Sun Tzu. He’s actually helped run a country before, which Foolish is surprised to learn (countries are before Foolish’s time)

- Quackity says he’ll talk to Foolish soon and leaves for a couple minutes before returning. He asks for PVP lessons, but Foolish hasn’t done much fighting for a while

Quackity: “I do all my fighting through dialogue, if you haven’t noticed...That’s my biggest weapon, Foolish, it’s the way I say things, everything, all that. But I think, you know, given what could come of all this...”

Foolish: “I was gonna say, I don’t know if that will work forever...unless you’re very, very good with your words, eventually you’ll say the wrong words.”

- Quackity suggests they make their own lookout outpost

- Quackity has some plans to show Foolish, a project he thought of when he was thinking about making Las Nevadas. His first plan was to build a highway system

Quackity: “They say all roads lead to Rome...in this case, all roads lead to Las Nevadas.”

- He shows Foolish some sign ideas and Foolish says it would be no problem to build up some roads

- Quackity shows Foolish an old idea for a path with rail lines on both sides, layouts for advertisements

- The first place Quackity thinks the road should go is the Spawn area, for when someone joins or dies. Quackity is annoyed that Tubbo blocked the route, but they can go around it

- They plan out the path of the road. Foolish asks if Quackity wants the road to go to Kinoko Kingdom. Quackity goes silent before saying he wants to focus on the main attractions right now

- Quackity leaves again to go check some things

Foolish: “When you choose a side, there’s always other sides...which means I can’t be buddy-buddy with everyone forever.”

- Foolish does the boat slime jump. Quackity comes back with food and continues to discuss plans. Besides connecting everyone, they also need to make cash off of this highway, so he wants to make sure there’s plenty of advertisement

- L’manburg is destroyed, but it also has a lot of history. Quackity’s noticed no one’s really claimed that area. Wilbur and Tommy are neighboring them now. Foolish asks if they’re enemies...Quackity says he’ll explain that in a bit

Quackity: “We can make L’manburg a main tourist area.”

- Foolish knows a few people might be against that. Anyone from L’manburg, maybe. Quackity reminds him he was in the cabinet, and proceeds to tell him the story of Wilbur:

---

When Quackity joined the server, L’manburg was the biggest nation. Quackity asked to join, and he was declined because he wasn’t British -- the one requirement. He didn’t like this, he felt left out, he wanted to be a part of something.The election rolled around, it was SWAG vs. POG.

(They walk over to the ruins of L’manburg)

Wilbur was going to run a “democratic” election with only one option available to vote for, which Quackity didn’t think was very democratic.

(Quackity gets interrupted by George calling him)

Each party had a Vice President. Foolish assumes that Wilbur’s was Tommy...and Quackity’s was George. Quackity points out King’s Court to Foolish in the sky, the place they had their debate. After their debate, Quackity and Wilbur had a talk, a conversation that stuck with him for a very long time.

Then it was Election Day. What happened was, each party had sponsors. Who endorsed Tommy and Wilbur?

Vikkstar.

Tommy accidentally posted the Vikkstar endorsement video in the Discord before deleting it seven seconds later, but that was still enough time for George to get the link and send it to Quackity, and Quackity needed the one person who could match that endorsement: KSI.

Unfortunately, KSI never replied, as it was quite last-minute.

That’s when the turning point happened, and Quackity calls it the worst day of his life. George slept through the event. Quackity had no endorsements, no Vice President. The other party was going strong -- but they made a mistake. Their second endorsement was Schlatt. However, Schlatt arrived drunk, and instead of endorsing Wilbur and Tommy, he made his own party on the spot. SCHLATT2020. Not only this, but Niki and Fundy also made their own party too: COCONUT2020.

The votes go out. POG2020 wins. But, Quackity had an idea, to pool votes with Schlatt. They ended up with 1% more votes than POG, and that’s how Quackity ended up as Vice President of the country. However, this was a big mistake. The policies Schlatt enacted were to exile Tommy and Wilbur, took down the walls, changed up things -- and to be fair, Quackity did join him on this. He was down with taking down the walls. Everything started going downhill. Schlatt would constantly undermine Quackity’s Vice Presidency, his policy ideas, and he did the worst thing to Quackity -- took down the White House that Quackity, Wilbur and Tommy built together.

Schlatt didn’t care. He started teaming up with bad folks like Dream, other people, and the rest is history. Imagine everything that had to happen to lead to this...

(he gestures to L’manhole)

Foolish: “Do you regret it all?”

Quackity: “...No.”

Foolish: “So, you would’ve let it all go the exact same way, down to Wilbur blowing it all up?”

Quackity: “I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing, Foolish...And let me tell you why...All these mistakes, all these things, have made me the person I am now, Foolish. All these experiences, all these bad moments in my life, have made me the man I am today.”

“And you never...you never mess with history. Because everything happens for a reason, Foolish. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t ever pander with history, you don’t ever try to turn it around or change it, because the way things happen are the way things happen at the end of the day. And that’s how we build character. I wouldn’t have Las Nevadas if not for all these...for all these...mistakes, maybe.”

After that, something happened with Wilbur. Quackity didn’t know much about it, but he changed. He was so obsessed with his country that if he couldn’t have it, no one could. He blew up the entire thing, and in that process he ended up dying, and that’s when Ghostbur came to be.

So many more things happened (Foolish finds out that this crater isn’t just from Wilbur), but...it is what it is.

“And if you dwell in the past, you’ll live in suffering your entire life. So take it from me, Foolish. Take in all the experiences you’ve ever had, and apply them to something greater than what you used to be. Take one last gander at...the country that never was.”

---

- Quackity shows Foolish his old house under Karl’s. He’s not seen Karl in a while. He sees that it’s been blown up, and there’s an old message to him from Sam. He’s not sure what happened.

- Quackity shows Foolish the message. Just as he’d said, Sam had given him Netherite armor once. Sam has a good heart. It’s in the right place, he just needs some guidance.

- He leads Foolish down the Prime Path, showing him the other buildings. He takes Foolish over to the museum.

- They look at the maps and discuss routes again. Foolish asks about a road to the prison, and Quackity says improving his “commutes” would be nice

- Quackity is glad Foolish is taking the chance on Las Nevadas. Quackity has to leave to address some business, but he’ll get on to help Foolish build the roads later.

- Foolish goes back to Las Nevadas, looking out over at Wilbur and Tommy’s headquarters.

Foolish: “It’s kinda been a while since I’ve really had enemies enemies...but I have the feeling that is gonna change soon enough...Maybe not even enemies, but certainly not friends. Kind of a shame, though, I’ve yet to really meet Wilbur...”

- He gets out his shulker box from an Ender Chest and looks inside. There is a stack of TNT.

“It’s been a while...”

- Niki is at the Arctic. Wilbur is back. She thought she got rid of him and doesn’t know why he’s back now, in the only place she feels safe

Niki: “Who are you going to manipulate next, huh? Because it’s not gonna be me this time! It’s not gonna be me this time.”

- Tommy? Tubbo? Jack? Jack wouldn’t fall for it. Niki is upset that Wilbur didn’t check up on her. Why would he change? He never changes or cares

- Why would Dream revive him? Dream was his enemy, but at the end he was pretty fond of him

- Niki heads back through the Nether to her secret city. Now the world revolves around Wilbur again

- She still hasn’t finished her city and hasn’t been able to sleep. She goes to a chest to find the diamonds Wilbur once gave her

- Niki saw the TNT when she broke the wall, but she didn’t tell anyone, covered it back up. But Wilbur still blew it up anyway

- Niki puts the diamonds in a chest buried deep in the wall and covers it back up

- She goes back to the main area, to L’manburg. When she was in Manberg, Wilbur promised that he would get her out of there, and she waited weeks. And then Wilbur wasn’t the same person anymore

- Niki thought maybe while Wilbur was still alive, he could still be rescued, could still be happy

Niki: “But you will never be happy, because all you want is what you can’t have. And when you have everything...what will you fight for?”

- Niki wants to see him, ask why he never came back to her. She walks back to the Nether portal and the stream ends

- Bad shows up to L’Sandburg and notices L’Llamaburg next door. He’s upset about the new castle and wonders why Foolish would allow this, as it violates the agreement

- He reads the purpose of L’Llamaburg and is enraged. There’s only one option, and that’s war. He sets fire to the walls of L’Llamaburg, builds an extension on top of his tower to make it taller than Puffy’s build, and builds a giant sign saying “LIAR”

- After visiting the main area to get some resources, he meets Antfrost on the Prime Path, who has a new skin for pride month!

- Bad goes to the Arctic to bake a cake for Technoblade’s birthday. After finishing it, he leaves a letter requesting Techno’s assistance:

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Dear Technoblade,

Greetings on this fine evening. I hope this letter finds you well and I hope your polar bears are doing excellent. It is with my sincerest apoligies that I disturb your peace but I must inquire about possibly obtaining your services.

Important matters aside I have built a delicious giant cake for you in honor of your birthday. I hope this cake finds you well and may you have many excellent birthdays to follow. If you would be interested in possibly destroying my enemies for me and salting the earth they call home so that they never find happiness again that would be most kind. If you would like to discuss this matter further you know where to find me.

Kindest Regards BBH

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- Later, Captain Puffy hears of this brewing war and comes online. She confronts Bad about the missing tower from her castle. Bad insists it wasn’t him, it was Ponk

- Puffy reminds Bad of Puffy and Ponk’s conflict from a while ago in which they destroyed each others builds, and says it’s only fair that, if Ponk really did destroy the tower, then she should destroy Ponk’s fridge

- Bad tries to reason with Puffy to not retaliate, while Puffy thinks tearing down the fridge would be doing the place a favor

- Bad brings up the buffer zone violation and they start arguing with each other over Foolish’s land, the turtles, Puffy blames Bad for killing her son, one thing leads to another and soon enough Puffy tells Bad that his L’Sandburg llama citizens are all into BDSM

- They go to the turtle enclosure and see Ponk’s ransom note. Bad says Ponk has to die. Puffy points out they could start with the fridge, and Bad says they should take his other arm. Ponk stole Shelly, they have to kill him

- Puffy gets angry at Bad not wanting to take down the fridge and brings up the death of her son again, how she thought Bad was going to turn over a new leaf at the Banquet and then that leaf ended up covered in blood instead

Puffy: “I should have taken your goddamn arm, Bad!”

- After talking more, the two finally work together to take down the supreme fridge

- Once finished, the two write a return note to Ponk. Bad wants to discuss things with Ponk, and there’s a place in Las Nevadas that he thinks would be good to meet

The note reads:

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Dear Ponk,

It has come to our attention that you’ve been responsible for some heinous crimes!

Not only did you completely demolish Puffy’s original mushroom house which she let slide. You now have destroyed a tower of her sand castle. BUT IT DOESN’T STOP THERE!

WHERE IS SHELLY PONK!? You’ve not only commited crimes against Puffy but Bad as well! You’ve kidnapped Bad & Sheldon’s dearest Shelly for ransom!

So me and Bad decided to return the favor and give you a taste of your own disgusting medicine!

YOU’RE FRIDGE NO LONGER SUPREME! YOU’VE MESSED WITH THE WRONG MUFFINS AND TAKEN OUR KINDNESS FOR WEAKNESS TOO MANY TIMES!

We all need to talk immediately before this escalates more then it already has.

Leave a book back giving us a time and a place and we will try to attend.

You’ve been warned!

With love, BBH & PuffDaddy

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- Bad still wants Puffy to move L’Llamaburg, but Puffy wants to stay and protect her son. Bad suggests an alliance: what if L’Sandburg and L’Llamaburg simply combine their territories? It would be beneficial for both nations

- Puffy is skeptical about Bad’s idea and decides that relocating is probably the smartest idea, as Ponk will probably retaliate against her

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Upcoming Events:

- The final Egg lore stream

- Technoblade’s visit (this weekend)

- Puffy’s lore

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

- Sapnap’s possible lore stream

- Awesamdude lore stream

#what a day huh #dream smp recaps #dream smp #long posts #hhhahfdsjajhdfja #sorry if I missed any details with this one it was A Lot

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loveazumane · 4 years ago

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— 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚.

summary: here’s a small head canon of how i think the karasuno team act when they’re in love

warnings: none. pure cavity giving fluff. gn!reader.

note: help, this was a pain in the butt to tag. anyway, this is based on how i view the guys. i hope u enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! <3

𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈. daichi’s very vocal and physical when he shows his love. in the morning, the first thought he has is to get ready so he can pick you up on your way to walk to school. he does the little things such as opening the doors for you, holding your bags, tying your shoes, and taking off a leaf that has fallen on your head. before you part, he kisses your cheek and tells you to have a nice day and he expresses how much he loves you. when you both meet again, he asks how your day was and if anything eventful has happened. most of all, he listens. he lets you speak no matter how long it is, and he can’t get enough of your voice. all the while, a soft smile is on his face and he finds tranquility with the way your eyes crease when you smile and go on about how wonderful your day was.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐀. suga does everything he can to show you that he loves you because he wants you to know. he doesn’t outright say it, but he does so much that makes it obvious. when you say you have back pain, he buys you massaging oils and pain killers and comes over to ease your muscles. when you say you’re thirsty and forgot your water bottle, from then on, he always brings an extra just in case you forget again. if you’re feeling cold because you didn’t get a sweater, suga gets you one and packs it in his bag in case you’re ever cold again. sugawara helps you with everything and anything, no matter how difficult it would be for him to achieve. the only time he really voices out he loves you is when you need to hear it from him, and he doesn’t mind at all because he has no shame in expressing how much he loves you.

𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐇𝐈. asahi treats you like you’re fragile, even though he knows you’re strong. when it’s raining out, he takes out an umbrella and holds it more over you than himself. when the sun is too hot, he takes out something to fan you so you don’t break a sweat. when you both walk out on the street, he’d nervously take your hand in his so he can have you close with him at all times. asahi, no matter how long you’ve been together, will always stutter or have a hushed voice when he tells you he loves you. at certain occasions, he’d get anxious about you falling out of love to which he begins to do things much more excessively. asahi services you more so than he does himself, and to express how much he cares about you, he loves to pamper you.

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀. tanaka would yell on top of a roof about how much he loves you. when he sees you, his heart races and it feels like it would jump out of his chest. he would sweep the floors you walk on, kiss you everywhere on the face, and protect you from anyone. he’d always have you close by your side, and when he gets very protective, he expresses that it’s because he wouldn’t know what to do if something bad happens. tanaka would never want to see you cry or frowning, and when he does, he does everything he can to cheer you up even if it makes himself look stupid in the process.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐀. just like tanaka, nishinoya would be very similar. however, he’d be much more boisterous and loud and express to everyone that you’re his beautiful lover. noya would express how much he loves you vocally without a limit. if you feel insecure about how you look, he’d immediately come to defense about how it was the most perfect and flawless part of you. he would kiss you in the places you hated, making sure that you’re reminded that every part of you is perfect the way it is. in his eyes, you’re the most beautiful being in the world, and nothing can change that.

𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐀. ennoshita is much more gentle with you once he’s in love. similar to daichi, before he parts with you, he bids you a good day and quickly kisses you on the lips, and once you meet again, he asks if your day has been well. ennoshita loves spending time more than anything else. he invites you to his place very often, or asks if you can go to his volleyball games/practices, just so he can be comforted by your presence. he enjoys the time he has with you and cherishes it as the most precious thing in the world. it could be as simple as sitting down in silence, watching a movie, and his heart is filled with glee. his love for you isn’t too obvious and he knows this. to cure your wondering mind if he was still infatuated with you, he’d write a little note and tuck it in your hand so when you walk away and read, you would smile at the words “i will always love you” written in neat handwriting.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐀. when kinoshita’s in love, he expresses it without outright saying it. he enjoys to cheer you on when you feel unmotivated. he enjoys to kiss you on your cheek and tell you that you’re doing great when you feel discouraged. he enjoys to help you with things such as homework, cleaning, and even paying for your meals. kinoshita always reassures you with anything, especially when it’s heavy on your mind. he could never let you be so negative, and when you can’t believe in yourself, you at least know that he would be there to believe in you.

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀. narita, before loving you, was calm and collected and could never waver. however, when he’s in love, the simplest things he used to do became one of the most hardest things. greeting you hello felt simple, but now he’d flush and shyly say it. holding your hand always made his palms sweaty. kissing you always made his ears glow a bright red. he’s unsure why you have such an uncanny effect over him, but the only way it calms is when he says he loves you. saying it, no matter how many times, always felt so new to him. he adores you so much that it makes him anxious if he does something subtly wrong. he wants to impress you and he does so by stepping out of his comfort zone, and he often does it when you’re around.

𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀. kageyama doesn’t really realize he’s in love with you until someone points it out, but gosh it’s so obvious that you can’t really help but wonder how he didn’t realize it himself in the first place. kageyama blushes when he hears your name called. his heart skips a beat when he sees you and he tenses up and stares in awe. tanaka has once or twice told him to close his mouth or he’ll catch flies whenever he’s gawking. once kageyama comes to the realization that he loves you, he tries to do things normally, but he can’t. he always gets so shaken up and nervous when he sees you cheering him on in the stands that he occasionally misses a serve. he always sweats profusely when you hold his arms as you walk down the street. most of the time, he isn’t conscious of the way he stares at you when you’re doing something as normal as eating. his expression is so dreamy whenever he looks at you that his eyes speak volumes when it comes to saying he loves you.

𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀. hinata, almost like kageyama, doesn’t realize he loves you. he just knows that you give him the same feeling volleyball does; excitement, determination, eagerness, passion, etc. he talks so much about you to everyone, even if it doesn’t correlate with you at all. someone could mention that they had carrots as snacks and hinata would blurt, “y/n had carrots as snacks this morning too!” even when he’s around you, he wants to let you know that he wants to see you support him when he plays volleyball. he goes on and on about how much he loves seeing you in the stands and how pretty you would look in his jersey. he can’t stop. amongst normal conversation, the words “i love you” would unintentionally slip up, but he doesn’t even realize it.

𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈. yamaguchi would be hopelessly in love. he’d do anything for you and treat you better than you could ever imagine. there’s not a chance that he’d leave your side, even if someone tried to pry him away. he enjoys listening to you talk, and whenever you both speak up at the same time, he encourages you to talk first. yamaguchi, when he’s in love with you, would constantly ask if you needed anything and come to your rescue when you did. he’d fix you a bento box without you asking, he’d buy you your favorite drink even when you didn’t want it, and he’d shower you with gifts at any chance he got. most of all, his expression brightens up whenever he sees you; his eyes twinkle and his smile grows—he just can’t contain the amount of serotonin that boils up in his body.

𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀. tsukishima has a hard time expressing his love when it comes to talking, so it’s hard to tell whether or not he’s actually in love with you. however, though he won’t admit it, tsukishima would think about you constantly. sometimes, he’d daze off during practice and mess up because his mind is clogged with you. when he sees you, he loves to make snarky remarks, but doesn’t do too much that’ll hurt your feelings. to express his love, tsukishima creates a mix tape of songs that reminds him of you and he gifts it to you when it’s your birthday. he doesn’t say anything, only hands it over and says that’s all he can ever afford, but even thought it’s small, it means so much to him. rarely does he say he loves you, but when he does, he gets a bit flustered and red faced and says, “don’t let it get into your head too much, idiot,” and it’s enough to warm your heart.

𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙚: unknown

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zhongliologist · 4 years ago

Text

Slowly, Deliberately | Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!!

Words: 3.3k

A/N: this was inspired by @genshin-fluff‘s headcanons! IT WAS SO HOT I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF!! thank you for the idea!!

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY*

It had been a fantastic night.

Zhongli’s gentle yet steady hold on you still felt warm on your skin as the lanterns above illuminated his face in a bright golden glow, creating patterns of light and shadow on his smiling face. His deep but sensual voice still ringing on your ears as you heard him whisper your name, leading you to his room.

He forgot to open his one last present he says. You wondered what it was.

It had been his birthday today, and the both of you enjoyed it thoroughly. A picnic by the Liyue cliffsides in the morning and a dinner date at the Wanmin Restaurant in the evening, then a small peaceful walk along the stone tiled streets of the harbor as the winter sea breeze kept the both of you huddled together.

It was one of days where you would hear him genuinely laugh out loud—a deep chuckle as he gazes at you with endearment, his fingers securing a stray lock behind your ear. He just makes you feel so many things all at once that you couldn’t really put a name to each and every emotion. But you were sure of one thing—you loved him.

And as the day finally draws near to its demise; the stars high up in the pitch black sky, twinkling brightly as ever before, he held you once more.

It hadn’t escaped your notice how your lover (not boyfriend, he says, because it is not the most appropriate label), has taken upon himself to buy you the most expensive and most intricate clothing he could find his hands on, and have you wear them even in the most common occasions.

The clothes were extraordinary in and of itself—complex lacing, sheer fabric, ribbons and blouses which attach to and fro, front and back and in everything and everywhere. It took you several tries to finally make sense of them, but no matter the complexity, they were still beautiful—a testament of Zhongli’s eye for high quality items.

Yet the most complicated and elaborate one was of course, reserved for his birthday. As soon as he had heard you prepare a surprise date (which wasn’t much of a surprise anymore), he immediately sent you the dress with the explicit instruction to wear it on that special day.

And you did. Now, as he stood right there front of you, his hands once again on your waist; his eyes bearing nothing but love and appreciation.

“Thank you for tonight, YN. It’s been a while since I have celebrated my own birthday, and I am truly glad I am able to spend it with you,” he whispered with a sweet smile.

“Me too. I’m glad you enjoyed it…” you replied, wondering what was inside his thoughts like most of the time.

As he leaned down towards you, a ghost of a smile on his lips, he captured yours in a gentle but sensual kiss, pouring every ounce of his feelings on that one single action—hoping that maybe you would understand what the deep recesses of his heart contained.

And maybe you did—knowingly or unknowingly—as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. You could feel it, at every nip, at every bite or touch of his lips; that this man has fallen hard, and you were not any better.

“Zhongli…” you whispered his name in between pecks and long drawn kisses, breathless and panting. You didn’t have to say it but Zhongli knew what you wanted.

“Patience, my dear,” he replied back as he pulled away, a mysterious smile on his lips.

You stood there dazed and confused, as Zhongli cupped your chin and tilted your head up, his bright amber eyes glowing with mischief. A shiver coursed down your spine as you bit the side of your cheek to stop you from mewling, but it had already made its effect.

“Tonight,” he began, his unoccupied hand now grazing on the sheer fabric of your blouse, feeling the ribbons against your collarbones with his every finger. “I’ll be unwrapping my gift.”

“G-gift…?” you asked as you felt his hands travel down your waist and to your hips and up again. “Haven’t I already given you one?”

At your question, the man only chuckled at you and smirked. Zhongli said nothing as he began to walk around as if encircling his prey, his eyes roaming but his hands never touching. It felt as if he was undressing you with his eyes, especially when you felt him stand tall behind your back, his digits now brushing your hair away from your neck.

“There is another gift I failed to mention,” he said, his hand slowly pulling the ribbons open on your back before leaning in to kiss your now bare nape. “And I shall enjoy this gift thoroughly to show my appreciation.”

Zhongli kept you still by wrapping his arms around your waist as he continued to kiss down your back at every skin he exposed. Often he would stop at one area, just to suck and leave his own mark which often made you shudder.

Slowly, deliberately.

Zhongli would remove one layer of clothing at a time, and then leave a few lingering kisses to the places he touched.

As he took off your outer wear, his hands roamed your arms and to your digits, kissing the knuckles and every finger. He would then look at you with those lustful eyes when he popped the buttons off your sheer outer blouse one by one, his tongue taking no time to explore the newly exposed area with fervent desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered on your skin, each word punctuated by a kiss. “Every part of you is a work of art—your voice, your eyes, your mind…your body. You make my heart beat race ceaselessly.”

“W-wait…I—ah…!” you moaned, unable to keep it in anymore as his touch became bolder and more adventurous.

He was behind you again after he removed the first blouse; admiring the straps of ribbon holding the dress up. His lips now upon your bare shoulder, peppering small light pecks on your skin as his hands on your waist moved to fondle your breasts.

“It seems I have made the right decision to buy you this dress,” Zhongli told you as he nibbled on your ear, his tongue following after. “I simply wish to devour you tonight.”

Mind in utter chaos, you couldn’t think of anything but his slow and sensual progress of undressing you. Each time his lips or his tongue or his hands ravished you, it seemed like fire has been ignited on your skin; the heat surging down to your lower parts.

You could feel his large hands on your chest, stimulating your clothed nipples—only making you lean against him, moaning. Glancing up, you caught his attention with your sultry half-lidded eyes.

“Zhongli…please stop teasing me…”

He chuckled, his deep voice making his chest rumble. Looking down on you with his lips just a few centimeters away, he replied.

“Forgive me, darling yet I am not yet done with enjoying my present. Perhaps you can endure it for a while, hm?”

“Zhongli…!” you whined and was about to retort when a sudden gasp escaped your lips.

Biting your shoulder, Zhongli gave your shoulder and neck a thorough inspection as he sucked and nipped on your most sensitive points. He raked his lips up your jaw, leaving a wake of splotches of colors on your skin. It seemed to quell the possessiveness in him, seeing those marks he left on you—reminding him, you and everybody that you are his and his only.

“Will you be a good girl for me, YN?” he asked, his deft fingers now untying the knots holding the sash in place as it fell down on the floor in one swoop.

“What…?” you asked while he kicked the spent clothes away and led you to a corner of the room beside his bed.

When he finally stopped, you immediately realized what was in front of you. A mirror.

Zhongli was once again behind you, his head nuzzling on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Look at how aroused you look, my love,” he muttered just behind your ear, a smirk on his lips. “If only I could take you right here, right now, and bend you towards the mirror and thrust into you sharply. Make you scream my name and how good I make you feel until my seed drips from your cunt. But it would end just like that, wouldn’t it, YN?”

Pressing you against him, you suddenly felt his erection poking your back which only drove your arousal to new heights. You were still dressed but the way your skin flushed with heat and the way your breath ragged seemed like he had kissed you senseless over and over again.

“Do you understand now why I want to enjoy you as much as I can?” he asked, a growl escaping his throat as his hands dipped further from your waist and towards your thighs.

The dress was cut just a little above your knee—the cloth the only thing separating your bare skin from his sensual touch. It drove you crazy. Unable to look at yourself in the mirror, you looked down on the wooden floor yet that didn’t save you as much as you had hoped.

“Darling, look at you.”

Forcibly propping your head up with his hand, you had no choice but to gaze into your reflection—a moaning mess of ajar lips and half lidded eyes as he groped your body tirelessly. You could feel the dampness soaking your underwear when you found his eyes—smoldering amber swirling deep with desire.

Zhongli smirked.

“Oh? Did you like what you see?” he muttered as you saw his eyes glint. “Then don’t dare remove your eyes from me.”

At this point, you could hardly understand anything as the pleasure of his touch drove your thoughts somewhere else. But when he walked in front of you and knelt down, you instantly knew what he was about to do and you weren’t sure if you can actually stay true to his orders.

“Allow me to undress you, my love,” Zhongli whispered with a conniving grin, removing both your shoes and setting them aside.

Without waiting for you to reply, he raked his finger up the calf of your leg and to your thighs—the ticklish sensation making you utter such dirty sounds. He was testing the waters, watching your every reaction as he kept on moving his hands up and down your stocking-covered legs.

“Z-Zhongli…”

You gasped, your hands tightly grasped his head as you felt his lips kiss your thigh. Slowly, gradually, his thumb meandered lines on the boundary of the knee-high socks and your bare skin, threatening to go further up at any given time.

Zhongli relished all the sounds you made as he pushed the dress up, finding the seam of the sock with his lips. Gazing up, he met your eyes as his teeth sunk on the garment, pulling it off with his mouth and making sure you saw it with your own two eyes.

Struggling to keep your balance from your weakening knees, you leaned one arm on the mirror as Zhongli kept on assaulting your leg with fervent and feverish kisses which sent jolts of pleasure towards your cunt. He of course, left his marks on your skin.

“You’re mine. Only mine.”

Even without you noticing, he had already removed the other sock from your leg; his head slipping underneath your dress. You could feel his breath on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your dripping cunt as he suckled on your sensitive skin, earning a mewl and a shudder up your spine.

“Oh god…Zhongli…!”

He could hear you struggle to maintain yourself, but in his opinion, you were already too far gone—as much as he is anyway. He could feel his dick straining against his pants; the desire to fuck you getting stronger and stronger at every passing second. But he had to wait, he had to be patient.

He had to prepare you.

Pressing a finger on your clothed cunt, he could already tell how wet you were even without hearing your moans. As he poked your hole with his finger, he could feel your legs shake which made him steady you with his hands.

“P-please…please…Zhongli….!”

You begged as you kept your eyes tightly shut, feeling the sensation of his fingers tightly gripping your hips and his breathe on your cunt.

Unable to resist himself, Zhongli pushed aside your underwear and began licking the fluids dripping down from your hole, making sure he got every last drop. You clenched a fistful of his hair as your knees buckled at the pleasurable assault on your cunt.

And when you thought you had enough pleasure for tonight, Zhongli began sucking on your clit, forcing a cry from your lips, as his tongue lapped and suck at the sensitive nub. You couldn’t take it anymore; you were definitely close to climax—the string hold you together was so tightly wound that it could snap at any time.

“W-wait…please…! I…I’m—!”

As if reading your thoughts, he pushed you even further by inserting a finger inside of you, pumping in and out as his tongue drew circles around your clit. You groaned loudly, almost bending over as you felt your climax wash over you in multiple waves of pleasure—electrocuting you from your toes to the ends of your fingertips.

At exactly the same time Zhongli finally emerged from underneath your dress, your legs finally gave up on you, making him catch your delicate and still sensitive body in his arms. Brushing the stray locks on your sweat stained face, he gently kissed your forehead as a token of his love.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he praised you, setting you on the bed with a sweet smile. “Allow me to clean you—”

You pulled on his sleeve before he could leave. “…wait…I—”

Zhongli gazed at you from where he sat on the bed, your implication beginning to dawn on him.

“Forgive me, I haven’t realized…” he began as he shifted closer to you. “…that you wish for me, as much as I wish for you.”

With his hand on the back of your head, Zhongli pushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss; tongues on one another as he explored every bit of your mouth. It took him some time to realize that it wasn’t enough; concerned that you were far too exhausted to continue, but now that he had your permission, he wouldn’t be holding back any longer.

With the slow and teasing foreplay replaced by a burning desire that was never there before, Zhongli quickly divested you of your final clothing; tossing the dress uncaringly towards the floor. Hooking his fingers around the sides of your underwear, he then removed it as he kissed down your stomach as he worshipped every curve of your body.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, “I have never laid eyes on such beauty before.”

Kneeling in front of your lying figure, Zhongli raked his eyes all over you as you visibly saw how they instantly got clouded with lust and hunger. You could feel his domineering presence towering above you as he hurriedly removed his coat, tie and shirt—everything, except his pants.

“Zhongli…please,” you coaxed him, all bare and naked in front of him. “I want you…”

An easy smirk crept up his lips.

“I see you have asked so nicely of me,” he started as he removed his impressive dick from its constraints. “I shall grant you your wish then.”

Pressing the tip on your wet entrance, you gradually felt him enter; stretching you to amounts you have never expected. To distract you, Zhongli captured your lips into a kiss, his tongue once again rendering you speechless, as his hands found themselves fondling your breasts. In time, he had buried himself into you to the hilt, whispering sweet nothings to your ear.

“Zhongli…! Please move…” you muttered, your breaths shallow as you tried to accommodate his size. Even after so many times, it still took some time to get used to him inside you.

Slowly, Zhongli began to move; watching your every expression to see if you were in pain. He knew he was bigger than normal and he had to be patient when it comes to you, but eventually, you both would find a right rhythm and pace for it to start feeling good.

“You take me in so well, my love,” he whispered to you, his lips just above yours as he thrusted into you sharply.

“F-fuck…Zhongli….oh god!” You cried as he kept on hitting your sensitive spot, your nails raking down his back.

You could feel the electrifying-burning sensations underneath your skin once again as the sounds of skin slapping against on another echoed across the room. You could hear your insides squelching as his dick rubbed against your walls; making you clench on him tighty.

Zhongli growled. His intense eyes on yours in an instant; his hand finding your clit to rub as he kept on pounding you over and over again. You could feel him so deep inside you, filling you up entirely, even more so when he placed your leg on his shoulder; allowing for a much deeper access.

“S-so good…! Ah….Zhongli….! Z-Zhongli…! Harder…please!”

Not one to disappoint, he shoved his cock harshly inside of you as he quickened his pace; still rubbing your clit to push to even further to climax.

“YN…! Ahh….you’re so tight…” he whispered, his eyes also sultry as he kept on pounding inside of you; the girth of his dick stretching you wide.

In a moment’s impulse, Zhongli turned you around on your hands and knees and then went back inside of you in a sharp thrust that only elicited a loud moan from your lips. He kept on fucking you from behind, relentlessly and rapidly until you were reduced into a mess on the bed, drooling and biting on the sheets as he continued on.

“Z-Zhongli…!” you uttered his name over and over again as if you were under a spell.

He leaned down towards you, lapping on your shoulder and your nape. “Are…are you close, my love? I’m close to climax as well…”

With ragged breathes, you forced out a yes from your throat. “Oh god…p-please…! Y-yes! Zhongli…cum…p-please cum inside!”

Upon hearing those words, you could hear him groan beside your ear, his hands on your waist holding you in a tight grip. Just by those words, he has been pushed to the brink of climax. He had never thought he’d love to hear those words from you.

“F-Fuck…YN…! I’m going to come…! I’m going to come inside…! Take all of my seed!”

As his pace began to become more manic, you could feel him twitch inside of you. Just one sharp thrust, and the both of you were gone; convulsing as your orgasm washed over you for the second time while Zhongli groaned and emptied himself inside of you, the warm pumps of his cum filling you to the brim.

Spent and exhausted, you slumped back on the bed as Zhongli pulled out from you, making you mewl at the sudden emptiness. He could see his cum beginning to drip out of your cunt, unable to hold everything inside.

Absentmindedly, he scooped it up with his fingers and pushed his cum back inside your hole, smearing his seed on your slit as he continued; earning a protest from you.

“W-wait…I’m still sensitive…!”

Zhongli flinched as he removed his hand, face flushing. “Oh, forgive me. I…I simply do not wish to see it like that…”

As you heard his words, you grinned at him as you laid on the bed. “Could it be that you really want to get me pregnant?”

He could feel the teasing lilt in your voice which made him smile at you. Leaning down, he gave you a quick peck on your forehead and then a small kiss on your lips.

“If you are not yet exhausted tonight, we can make sure of that.”

#genshin impact #zhongli #rex lapis #s!ns

1K notes · View notes

writella · 4 years ago

Text

Around and Around and Around

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Requested? Yes! My first finished request! Thank you for the idea anon. Original ask: Could you do a present day... Alive!Luke x reader fic where him and his girlfriend (the reader) are just trying to spend some alone time together at one of Carrie’s parties? (I’m so sorry I didn’t make it Carrie’s party anon, I forgot.)

Summary: It’s a New Years Eve bash! The gangs all there, but the only thing Luke wants to do is spend time with his girlfriend. Unfortunately though, his friends constantly need their help which causes them to lose each other in the crowd. Around and around and around they constantly go... Can Luke meet up with her in time for a New Years Kiss? We shall see, my friends. We shall see.

Word Count: :)

Warnings: Kissing? Two curse words? I don’t think any of that counts. Oh! Over explaining? Neediness? An over use of the same words?

A/N: Hello everyone! IT IS A CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS MIRACLE! I finally finished a new fic. I really hope you enjoy it. I think I did a little too much, but this request just got my head turning and included the whole gang, so I just couldn’t help but give them all their own little moments! I had fun and I hope you do too. I’m taking you on a bit of a rollercoaster here, I will admit, but don’t worry though, I think I gave it a good ending.... You tell me.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?”

“Luke?”

“Where are you?”

“Luuuke!”

“Luke!

“LUKE, COME LOOK!”

“Y/N, I need you.”

“Her shoe broke!”

“Luke, did you see his dog? It’s so cute! And he even likes pizza!”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to give pizza to a dog, Reg.”

“Well it wasn’t chocolate… Wait where’d he go? Wanna help me find him?”

“Well can she wear yours? Do you have an extra pair?”

“Where are they?”

Hey, Luke?!”

“Y/N?!”

Boom the bedroom door slammed shut, and an out of breath Luke and his girlfriend, Y/N, filed in with a sigh: “Finally,” Luke said, his eyebrows and the corner of his lips rising with excitement. Throughout the hour and forty minus they had spent at the party thus far, they had found corners, almost empty areas, and even tall trees in the backyard, but none were as private as this.

Still standing close to the door, Y/N looked around the walls that glittered with posters of rock bands and athletes. “Do you really think we should be in here? It is the birthday person’s room. Maybe we should be nice and leave it alone.”

“When you throw a party you get what you get,” Luke reasoned, a hint of humor tracing throughout his words. “People travel, and we’re not going to do anything crazy on the kid’s blue basketball sheets if that’s what you’re worried about.” He ended, teasing Nick, the party host.

She softly gave him an ‘alright,’ waiting for him to make his next move. Though they had been thrown around by their friends plenty of times by now tonight, the night was still young, and she knew Luke was adamant on spending time with her. Even more so, it was her first party after living in Los Angeles for almost a year now. (She was a Molina from Julie’s father’s side.) Back home she didn’t have the friend group that she had now, nor did she have someone like Luke specifically in her life as a significant other. After all this time in high school not experiencing these regular social events, a party— especially at this large of a house— seemed daunting, but as always Luke made it seem, as he always does, like it was the most spectacular adventure you couldn’t miss. Apprehension and excitement filled her spirit for what was to come of tonight.

Following his gaze as she watched him survey the room, Luke’s eyes fell most notably on Nick’s guitars. “God, I wish I had this many.”

“He definitely has the collection,” Y/N agreed, still wondering what they were going to do, “but you’ve got like four, right?”

“Half of those were Bobby’s, and the acoustic is the one my parents got me… way back when, so really I only scrounged up enough money once in my life for one electric of my own.”

“So two. Still more than most.” She gave him a sympathetic smile, messing up his hair a little bit while doing so. He rubbed his head into her palm, enjoying the feeling.

There was a wonder in his eyes as he looked at the guitar rack that Y/N found quite charming. “Can’t believe he could spend all his time with these babies and he decides to balance it with sports.”

“I guess we all have our hobbies… but honestly I can’t believe we’re using this moment to ourselves to stare at guitars.” She laughs, “I’m just saying! This is what you wanted!” She corrects herself, “They are beautiful guitars though.”

“Yeah, you’re right. One of them could barge in any minute now,” Luke says, moving closer to Y/N till her back leans against the door. His fingers trace her jaw, then the side of her neck, ending as he swirled one finger around the tips of her hair. “And I could be looking at a much prettier sight.”

“Stop,” she blushed. Y/N was fine with tending to all her friends needs. She enjoyed being the first one Julie, Flynn, and now even Alex or Reggie went to for advice or help. Besides running the jatp social media account and co-running their YouTube page, making her friends feel better was what made her feel needed, but she had to admit, she liked this too.

As they traveled backwards to the door, Luke pecked her lips a few times, then the corners of her mouth, then doing both again making her giggle and move her head to either side his lips fell. Finally, he moved centimeters back, looking in her eyes, ghosting her lips, “Stop doin’ what? Tellin’ the truth?”

The rosy color on her face became more prominent. Her eyes traced between his own emeralds and his smile— his face made her mind fill with wonder. It was so bright, so positive, so warm, so close to her own. She could stay there with him, looking at her so endearingly, forever.

“Y/N?!”

“Ow!” she screeched as Flynn pushed the door open on her leaning stance, bopping her head on the wood.

“Oh my god, sorry!” Flynn gritting her teeth with worry, a fist coming to cover her mouth. “So yeah, ha ha,” the girl tried to build some relief, “Well there you two are!”

Luke grabbed the side of Y/N’s head, placing his hand over her own that covered where the impact landed, “You okay?”

“Yeah…” She sighed, she was more concerned about whatever Flynn had to say.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I need you, like for real this time.” Flynn said, her voice filled with urgency.

“Haven’t you needed her and looked for her ‘like’ everywhere three times tonight already?” Luke argued, a little disgruntled that their first truly private moment got interrupted in the matter of minutes.

“Was I talking to you, Patterson?” Flynn retorted, head tilted with a closed smirk on her face. “No, the answer is no.”

“You didn’t have to say the answer, okay? Got the gist.” His movements became dorkier by the second, his fingers coming to his face. “It was rhetorical- I knew that!”

“Wow, learned that big boy word from your girlfriend?”

“Big boy?! I- That’s not even-“ before Luke went on, Y/N cut in: “Alright,” she lifted her hand, “What happened, Flynn? What do you need?”

“It’s Julie-“

“Don’t tell me she broke another shoe. I don’t have an extra-extra pair.”

“No.” Flynn’s eyes widened, “I actually- I don’t know what it is. She just told me to get you and come to her together.” The girl sighed, “She looked sad.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, a frown coming to her face. A sad Julie is a Julie that should never be in this world. Other than thinking about the absence of her mother, Y/N’s cousin knew how to smile even when things got tough, so if she was feeling down now, and it was evident, it must’ve been important.

“Yeah. So come? Like now?” Flynn grabbed Y/N’s hand and Y/N looked at her own opposite hand that was currently attached to Luke’s, trailing her eyes up to his face.

“Well, I’ll just go too.” He insisted, “I want to help Julie, and,” He spoke directly to Y/N, “I don’t mind.”

“She didn’t ask for you.” Flynn snapped back.

“It’ll be fine.” Y/N decided, “It’s not like we all don’t know her well anyway, right?”

“Yeah, let's go. And then we can just get back, hopefully. I want to spend tonight with you.” Luke said that last part more softly, but apparently not quietly enough.

“Oh god!” Flynn vexed. “Haven’t you spent all week stuck to her mouth?” Through snickers she said, “Let her come up for some air, bruv.” Then, letting go of Y/N's hand as she turns, leading the couple to the staircase, she continued: “And really you should be relaxing all those throat muscles or whatever. I've got you in two open mic night cafes next week and that kids party at the restaurant tomorrow, AND on Sunday Julie said she wanted to record that new song for the YouTube channel.” She slapped the side of her hand to the inside of the other, creating a chopping effect, “We got things to do! I’m trying to make sure you guys stay safe and have fun, but we shouldn’t be here all night.”

Luke rolled his eyes, as much as he loved playing, he hated being bossed around like this. “It's New Year’s Eve!” He complained, yet there was still a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Mind you, this is being said by the girl who agreed to DJ at this party.”

“I didn’t agree! I got reeled into it— Difference, see! This kid comes out of nowhere to bring me onto his home stage— man, he’s rich—- and asks me if I could change the tracks, put something fun on. How am I supposed to say no? It is his birthday and everything that was on before was terrible!”

“That we can agree on,” Luke noted with a laugh.

Y/N added on, after her long silence of listening to the two go back and forth, “You finally got everyone dancing.”

“I did! Thank you!” Flynn appreciated the acknowledgment, especially from Luke, but nonetheless, she persists on her earlier claim, “That being said, I really think we should leave by 10.”

“10?!” Luke repeats with annoyance. “Tomorrow’s gig starts at six. PM. And might I remind you again: it's freakin New Years Eve! We have to stay till the ball drops!”

“We have to practice one last time and we have to get there bef-“

“Alright, alright, boss.” Luke was done arguing (for the time being.) Instead his eyes followed Y/N’s who was no longer listening, bored of her best friend and boyfriend’s little fighting game, as they looked for Julie in the clusters of kids all around the room on the main floor. “Let’s just look for Jules so we can get back. And can we make it to midnight at the least? Please? I mean, come on, there no food at the Molina house to celebrate with and you were having fun up there with those turntables.” He started to smile cheekily at Flynn, “Don’t deny it.”

Flynn took in a sharp breath as she thought. Nick did have access to some sick equipment and has always been so kind enough to share, so it would be fun to play around some more. “We’ll see how I feel at 11. And by the way, we do have things to celebrate with at the garage. I bought stuff specifically so you guys wouldn’t complain when we left,” she went on, the three taking another turn, “We’re going to have some fun here till 10, or 11 I guess, get back to the garage, celebrate New Years— woo-hoo!— and then you guys are settled down by 12:15, 30 the latest. I don’t care if you’re not asleep, just not outside.” Seeing Luke’s face rise up again she defends herself, “It's not my fault you phantoms have terrible time management skills! You guys literally have transportation powers and you’re either late or not present. It’s crazy! I need to make sure you’re there and we get paid. Period.”

Luke suppressed a grunt as Y/N rubbed his shoulders, laughing a bit at the truth of Flynn’s statement.

Then, to console Luke, she whispered in his ear, “No matter where we are, I’ll be there. Plan still intact.”

“True.” Luke whispered back, rubbing his nose on the side of her head.

Luke liked his freedom. He was used to calling the shots when it came to the band, only taking on co-captain position as Julie challenged him with just as much leadership star power as he contained. This made Flynn appointing herself as band manager not something to be desired exactly, especially when she made decisions like this on their down time. He didn’t quite enjoy being told where to go and when, but on the other hand, he couldn’t help to admit to himself that the tech savvy skills both her and Y/N brought to the table were tremendously helpful. The 90s boy was used to walking around town trying to find the next cafe for the guys to play at that he didn’t know how easy it was in this digital world to find venues he never even heard of through the internet. This made him never forget to say thank you after a gig she or Y/N would find from their endless online searchings. And on Flynn’s end, she never forgot to commend Luke on his writing skills when he happened to be the scribe for one of the band’s songs she happened to enjoy, but other than that, they did not have that much to say to each other.

Despite the natural banter and quips that would suggest they were well acquainted, they were actually still quite awkward. Luke was used to admiring her relationship with Julie and Y/N from afar, and for Flynn, after the boys came back to life she didn’t know exactly how to fit herself into the group. Of course she was a part of it, Y/N made certain of it as she herself had also felt strange about her placement in Julie’s new friend group before Julie formally introduced her to them, not knowing that her cousin could also see ghost like she could, but overall, Flynn felt just the tiniest bit embarrassed that the boys she once called ‘cute ghosts’-- more than twice-- heard her say that and all the other things she’d say not knowing they were around (Julie told her they could sometimes snoop in unbeknownst to even her at times. ‘They don’t know boundaries,’ she would say.) Flynn especially felt this way when one of those ex-ghosts was Luke who knew he was ‘cute,’ as she once said, and would bother her about it endlessly when he was first able to communicate with her.

Were they friends? Or was it simply that Luke was just a friend of her friends and that Flynn was just the friend of his girlfriend and mutual friend. Neither of them knew where their relationship stood. This caused Flynn to use her wit as a defense mechanism or to only begin a conversation with the guy when it was about something band related. ‘You kind of act like siblings,’ Y/N would tell them when they were at it. Both of them gawked at the word. ‘Siblings?!’

Around another corner the three went, passing the open space below the home stage that was being used as a dance floor. They went to the room adjacent to it. It was another rather large area, though this one was filled with more furniture, a lot in fact, perhaps to make space for the makeshift dance area. There was also an unused fireplace which caught the eyes of Y/N who yanked on the connected hand of Luke’s and then Flynn to take notice of who sat on the ledge.

The water bunching up in her eyes sparked white from the room's fluorescent gleaming lights, making her tears look much bigger and shinier. It made the group feel bad they didn’t find her sooner.

“Julie!” They all exclaimed in unison though Luke’s reaction was filled with the most apparent fret: the glow of the lights and his wide eye expression showed clearly how his eyes were growing greener with questions and worry. “What happened?” He tried to ask softly, not knowing how to react to her tears. The attempt at softness then immediately changed into one of starting frustration as he sat down next to his poor bandmate, hand on her knee, looking toward Flynn, “Why didn’t you tell us she was like this?”

“Because she wasn’t like this when I left!” Flynn countered, coming to sit down next to Julie on her left side as Luke had taken the right.

“Why do you always-“

“Enough guys,” Y/N silenced them for the third time that night. She noticed how Julie was shying away from both of their faces, not wanting to show them her tears. Julie was strong; a fighter; she sometimes much rather fake out her friends by smiling through her problems before she was ready to talk about them. Y/N knew all of this, related to it in fact, and could sense the possible embarrassment she must’ve been feeling. Not only did she create a movie moment for herself by being the girl crying at a party, but she was crying in front of her friends, when she was typically the person who tried to inspire hope, for she was the front man of her own band after all.

Y/N could also sense— guessing by the way she mostly was turning her face from Luke— that it was a boy problem. Not that Luke’s jittery expression, or close proximity to her face was helping her open up either.

Luke was trying to work on being more helpful in moments where his friends were in tears, but sometimes he could be a little too aggressive, or ‘extra,’ as Flynn would put it and Alex would agree, adding the new slang term to his vocabulary.

Y/N took a seat in front of her on the ground, rubbing her friend's arm. “It’s okay, Jules. Nobody cares what you look like. You can tell us.”

“I know, it’s just-“ she sucked her teeth, looking up, head still tilted to Flynn’s side. “It’s stupid.”

“No ones going to judge you,” Y/N promised, pointing her head to Luke’s direction for Julie to see.

“Yeah, and I bet it’s not ‘stupid’ anyway.” Flynn added.

“Nothings stupid if it made you cry, Jules.” Luke chimed in, finally agreeing with Flynn on something for the second time this night. “Who was it? I’ll beat them up for you.” He joked.

“Oh my god, no!” Julie tittered just a little while trying to wipe away all her tears. “And please never say something like that again. You sound like a dad.”

“Well he is supposed to be like 40 or something,” Flynn said, making the both of her best friends laugh. Julie specifically shook her head at this moment of Flynn and Luke’s typical banter, it was the first time she was getting a whiff of it tonight. Although she appreciated the entertainment they brought when in a room together, she agreed with Y/N that they were relentless.

Luke let that one go, seeing how it finally brought a smile to the girl’s face, “There she is.”

Julie rolled her eyes at him, sighing as her fit of giggles passed, “Okay,” she started slowly, “Well... it was Nick… and I know it’s stupid-“

“-Not stupid.” Her friends finished.

“But you know, he invited me to this party. Directly! Said he wanted to hang out- to dance. When we came, the party just started so he had to say hi to people, that made sense, and he told me to stay near the main floor, so I waited. And then my shoe broke, and then some girl spilled some of that fondue on the bottom of my dress which I had to get out with bathroom wipes, so that was annoying. Then next thing you know it’s an hour later and all I’ve done is eat pizza and watch Flynn at the turntables…”

Julie went on. She explained that finally Nick showed up again , but as he was walking to her, Carrie had just arrived at the party, stopping him in his tracks. Apparently her gift was too heavy to bring inside, so she wanted to take him to her car to show him right then and there. “He said he’d be five minutes tops. Told me to come here by the fireplace, so again, I waited. Then five minutes turned into fifteen, so I got up.” She sidetracked, “That’s not me. Just sitting there, waiting, waiting, waiting. I felt dumb. That's when I walked to the backyard to see what was going on out there, find something to do after all this time, but funny enough that’s where I found Nick and Carrie, laughing, dancing, having a great time.” She wipes a new stray tear, “I decided to look for you,” she nodded to Y/N, “And it’s no offense Flynn, you know I love you, it’s just that I didn’t want to hear you tell me that ‘he’s not worth it’ at the moment.” She gave herself a pity laugh, “I’m currently feeling a little bad for myself as you can see.”

“I’m so sorry Julie.” Y/N started. “But Flynn only tells you the facts like that because she thinks you’re so worthy of more.”

“So much more,” Flynn added on, moving closer to Julie.

“But I get it, it's not fair.” consoled Y/N. “I try to always consider his actions in those instances with Carrie as him just being a pacifist, but if he said he wanted to be with you and continuously told you he would, then he should’ve been here.”

“Agreed, but also, being a pacifist doesn’t mean to always stay quiet though, you can find a way to keep the peace and still do what’s right.” Luke spoke up. “He shouldn’t let Carrie always take him away like that.”

Y/N gave Luke a smile, “Insightful.”

“Strangely,” Flynn chimed in, “but exactly right. Not to mention how it’s not fair— no matter how nice he is— for him to just let Carrie keep saying whatever the hell she wants without calling her out.”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t be so beat up. It is his birthday after all. He can do what he wants.” Muttered Julie.

“No!” Y/N told her. “You feel like you wasted your time, I get that! It’s his birthday, but your feelings are still important.”

“Also,” Luke started, “Julie, I mean, come on! You could do so much better. So what? He’s like 18 now? Well I’m 18 now too, supposed to be 40 something apparently and I look like this! This! Compared to Nick? Julie… girl!” He stated her name again, smiled wide, “I know Molina’s have better taste than that. Not to say what you didn’t want to hear, but, it’s true: he’s not worth it. Period.” He mimicked Flynn with the last word.

Both Flynn and Julie gagged, “Oh my god,” they said in union. Y/N just put her face in her hands.

“You were actually doing well, and then you just go and screw it up like that?” Flynn sighed.

“Now you went from a dad to sounding like a whole ratty teenage boy.” She rolled her eyes teasingly, trying to conceal her laughter at his conceited remark, “Disgusting.”

“Well as long as I got you to stop crying, that’s all that matters anyway.” He laughed goofily, invading her personal space once again.

“Yeah,” Julie realized with a contented sigh. It seemed all the company she really needed was her friends.

“Well, I think the only thing to do now is make up for all that time wasted, huh?” Y/N spoke with a smirk. “If he doesn’t want to be your dance partner, it looks like you’re going to have to take on three instead.”

“Fuck yeah,” Luke said, jumping up, grabbing Y/N and Julie’s hands and running to the dance floor.

Flynn called to the group, as she parted from them, heading to the stage, “Lemme change the song!”

“OOOH!” Luke roared as the ooos and aahs of Donna and the Dynamos filled the room. “One of the best things to come out of the 2000s!”

Julie and Y/N laughed at the surprisingly grand amount of love Luke had for Mamma Mia!

Luke imitated the hustle, sticking his tongue out, shaking his hips, and making Y/N dance along with him, moving around Julie who looked at them incredulously.

“Come oooon,” he said to Julie’s direction, “Nobody can NOT like this song.” And after that Julie gave in, agreeing that a Mamma Mia and ABBA song was too good not to dance to. Flynn came up right behind her, making the dancing trio into a group of four.

From jumping, to slides and shoulder grooves, and even forming their own little dancing circle the four lived in the song, seeing the last of Julie’s worry wash away as the speakers blasted the words “Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen,” to which Julie’s friends made sure to spotlight her on as their hands sprinkled up and down spirit fingers as she twirled, enjoying her title that fit perfectly with her age.

“Thanks guys,” Julie smiled sweetly, still jumping to the beat.

“WOOOO!” Luke hollered into the crowd, taking Y/N’s hand, swaying and jumping with her exclusively now.

“WOO!” She yelled back.

“LOUDER, LOUDER!” He yelled in her face, shaking his head, his hair imitating a lion’s mane as he gritted his teeth, getting closer to her face.

“WOOOOO!” She yelled, trying to match her boyfriend’s energy.

“YES, Y/N. WOOO!” They kept jumping and he spun her around, letting her twirl into his grasp. He held her closer, one arm tightly around her waist while the other still held her hand, stepping and swaying side to side in a fast pace in order to keep up with the quick musical tune. Her laughs of surprisement to his actions filled him with pride. She was usually so focused on making her friends smile, she could sometimes forget to just have fun for herself. She dropped anything to tend to their needs, which is why tonight was important. At her first party he was going to make her smile and have fun, and that ended with a New Year’s kiss. Hopefully, he could find a way to hide from Flynn— and his friends for that matter— till that time to make it happen.

Finally the song died down and a rush of endorphins filled the floor as almost everyone in the area, even those who typically didn’t dance joined along to the jumping motion the four started at the beginning of the song. “Should I change it?” Flynn asked Julie as the next song started, noticing how different the vibe of this song was from the last: slower, more romantic.

“No,” Julie told Flynn as she watched Luke take his arms closer into Y/N’s sides, “Let’s let them have their moment.”

Y/N arms went around Luke’s neck, and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling each other closer while swaying in a circular motion. He connected their foreheads. His eyes fixated on her own. They were so gentle, so sweet, so comforting, he felt safe looking in them. He could stay that way forever.

“Luke?”

Luke sighed, once again just minutes of feeling release ruined. “Yeah, bud?” It was Alex.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but this kid Reginald-“

“Don’t tell me he lost the dog again. I don’t want to look for it.”

“It’s not the dog! Well, not this time. I think he’s finally realized that we can’t take it home with us. It’s-“ Alex started snickering which then turned into great belly laughs he couldn’t stop, “I just- I can’t- I can’t- just please,” he had no control. “Please I need your help!”

“What the hell, Alex?”

“Just-“ Alex put his hand over his mouth, trying to conceal his laughs. He motioned Luke with his other hand, walking away.

Luke kept his hand in Y/N’s, bringing her along with him, “I don’t want to get split up again, like last time with the dog.”

“It’s not the dog!” Alex exclaimed, still laughing.

The three were now on the right side of the house, near the pool door that also stood to the right and in the area sat a couch and pool table. The wall on the left side had a small vent near the floor which is where they found Reggie, hip deep in the square hole.

“HELLO!” Reggie wagged his butt, for his friends to see, “Did you bring Luke?”

“Yeah!” Alex answered “Do you see now? He’s stuck!”

“How and why?!” Y/N asked, now joining in with Alex’s uncontrollable laughter as Reggie kept shaking his butt. Quickly Luke couldn’t help himself either.

“No! Y/N is here?” Reggie asked, “Y/N I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I haven’t been doing my squats recently. I know I don’t look in the best of shape-“

“I think that’s the last thing I’m worried about, Reg,” Y/N said, still losing her breath along with Alex who yelled an incredulous ‘what?!’ at his words.

“No one cares about your glutes, bro.” Luke shook his head, laughing with the two.

“Well I do!” Reggie fought back. “I don’t wear these skinny jeans for nothing!”

Alex’s laughter from Reggie’s wackiness turned into one of apprehension. “Well there are more important things to worry about! Like my date being almost two hours late and also how I don’t even know what to say to him because I haven’t seen him in like two months and it's New Year’s Eve and yeah, okay, okay- Stop shaking your ass!”

“Okay,” Y/N held his shoulders, still losing her breath, “Willie is going to come, alright? It'll be fine, but-“

“Let’s deal with gluteus minimus first.” Luke finished.

“That’s not even-“

“I don’t care.” Luke finished for Alex this time. “I’ll take the right leg, Alex, take the left. Pull!”

Ow! Ow! Ow!” Reggie yelped.

“PULL!”

“Ow! Stop!”

“It’s going to hurt till we get you out, Reg” Alex explained. “And why isn’t Y/N helping?”

“Oh, sorry,” She was caught up in the hysterics.

“Oh that’s right,” Luke noticed. “Take the right, I’ll hold onto his feet and pull from the back. On three. 1, 2, 3, PULL!”

“WAIT!” Reggie yelled.

“WHAT?” Alex yelled back.

“Luke said on three, but you pulled at ‘pull’, or really after pull, so is it really ‘on three’ or do you want it to be ‘on pull’ or ‘after three’ or ‘after pull’?”

Alex shook his head, “Does it matter?!”

Reggie’s voice cracked, “Just asking!”

“Okay, ON pull!” Luke clarified, “1,2,3, PULL”

“NO! WAIT!”

“WHAT?!” The three pullers yelled.

“I felt a tear in my jacket, I love this jacket.”

“Oh god,” the boys complained.

“I think it’s just going to have to tear for us to get you out,” Y/N told him.

“But you gave it to me!” Y/N heard the sadness in his voice. It was a brown leather jacket with long strands of fringe on either side. She thought it went perfectly with his banjo and love for country music. It also had big inside pockets that could hold all his little treasures, and whatever he had in his pocket today is probably the reason why it was so hard to get him out.

“Maybe Victoria knows a good dry cleaner that can give us a discount,” she reasoned.

“Tía does always have very nicely pressed clothes,” Reggie agreed, as an honorary Molina— self appointed, but appreciated by most— he felt that it was okay to address Victoria as such.

“Yeah,” She laughed at his words, “So are you going to tell me how you got stuck?”

“Well I knew there was going to be a pool table here so I brought my lucky gold eight ball-” Reggie had a lucky every- “And it kind of just fell in here.”

Alex corrected him, “You mean you were getting too cocky at the game and knocked the ball so hard that it fell in there.”

“Potatoes, tomatoes, uh, spaghetti! It doesn't matter now, I got my ball and now I need you guys to help me get out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Luke nodded, “You ready Reg?”

“...No!”

“You want to make out with the rats? They have diseases.” Alex sarcastically noted.

“They’re misunderstood creatures!” Reggie stated on their behalf. Reggie’s butt buzzed, “Oh that's my phone, that feels weird, “ he laughed.

“Phone!’ Alex's eyes widened, “Where’s my phone?” He dropped Reggie’s leg

“Alex!” Luke exclaimed want to get this over with.

“Willie texted, he said he’ll be here in thirty- thirty minutes!”

“Anything else,” Y/N asked.

“He’s excited to spend the New Years with me” He said softly, unsurely.

“That's great.” Everyone agreed, happy for the boy.

“Are you going to text back?” Y’N asked excitedly, happy with the idea of Alex’s romance coming to life.

“Oh yeah!” Alex’s face faltered, “Shit. It just died.”

“Just get Reggie’s,” Luke shrugged, “But after we get him out!”

After 3 more tries at “ON PULLS,” Alex, Luke, and Y/N were able to get Reggie out, only tearing his jacket on the left side.

“Thanks guys” Reggie said appreciatively.

As Luke patted Reggie back Alex spoke: “Um, hey, Y/N?” He asked quietly, hands in his pocket, “Mind if I steal you for a second?”

“Sure,” she smiled sweetly at him, turning the corner so they could have a little bit of privacy.

“I’m nervous.” He sighed, “ I already spoke to Luke about it before we left for tonight, so he’s already given me all the inspiration he’s got, but I’m still not sure of it all… He took the whole coming back to life hard, but I didn’t think he would take it so hard that he would separate himself from us, from me. ” The boy frowned.

“I think he really liked being a ghost,” Y/N started.

“Yeah and we ruined his whole life,”

“We didn’t ruin his life, we saved it. He’s free, just like you guys. And…” Y/N trailed off trying to find the words, “Hm, well, I think he was just a ghost so long it became a part of his identity, and now that part left him, it must’ve been hard to take in. Should he have been more verbal about needing space? Yes. You deserved that. If you want to tell him that, you should, especially if it’ll help relieve whatever thoughts you’ve got suck up there. I’m sure he will be apologetic if you ask calmly, try to see it from his perspective. And that way he can be empathetic to your perspective as well, you know? On the other hand, you can also take this New Year in stride and just like go to the past and have a good time with him. Or do both!” She put an arm on his shoulder, giving him a warm closed smile.

He nodded taking in her words, trying to remember what she said as she said it.

“You got this, okay? What does Luke say? Step into your greatness?”

“Heh,” he laughed, “Greatness is usually for Julie, awesomeness is mine, not saying that I am awesome though, it’s- it’s just what he says.”

“Well it’s because it’s true. You’re awesome, Alex. Just be open hearted and your awesomeness will shine through.”

“But.. how?”

“Didn’t I- Never mind. Okay, from what I know, Willie already knows you, and likes you, and enjoys talking to you, so there are no awkward first encounters to be made. You’ll see him and all you need to do is be prepared to say hi, that is unless you want to talk to him about the past, and then it will go off from there. I feel it ending up well, I promise. And even if it doesn’t? Show him the food. Everyone loves food.”

“Hi- maybe past- food- got it.” He turned, but Y/N quickly grabbed him.

“Wait, but don’t just think about that. Remember: He’s coming because he wants to see YOU. He wants to spend New Years with YOU. That’s what his message said right?”

“Right.” It seemed Alex forgot.

“So believe it. Live in that message.”

“Okay,” he started to smile lightly, though still a little wearily. “Thanks… He wants to see me, he WANTS to see me, live in it.” He repeated her words.

Alex gave her Reggie’s phone, asking her to message Willie one last time stating that he would be waiting for him by the front of the house by the band’s van. She did so and turned the corner hoping to find both Reggie and Luke, but unfortunately the latter person was not in sight.

“Reg, where’s Luke?”

“Y/N! Meet Amelie Laurent,” Reggie introduced the girl sitting next to him, imitating a French accent as he said her name. “She’s a foreign exchange student from France. She likes my jacket.” He said with a smirk.

Y/N guessed he didn’t hear her question.

“Nice to meet you,” the girl said giggling at Reggie’s antics. “Comment tu t’appelles?” She asked.

“Uh, yes.” Y/N stared blankly, watching the girls face fall, “I’m just kidding, it’s Y/N. I know that much at least.” Both you and the girl laughed.

“Aw look, my girls getting along!”

“Your girl?” Amelie questioned.

“Well maybe not yet,” Reggie winked while wiggling a brow.

“You should get Luke and come hang out with me and Miss Amelie Laurent.” Reggie once again pronounced her name with the most fake sounding French accent he could muster, having fun with how the name rolled off his tongue.

“Speaking of that,” Y/N handed him his phone, “Do you know where he went?”

“Well he didn’t go through the pool door because that’s where my Amelie Laurent came from, so I’m guessing back there,” Reggie pointed his thumb behind him.

“Alright, then I guess I’m going that way. Nice to meet you Miss Amelie.” She giggled, attempting her own French accent.

About 10 minutes had passed. Y/N had walked around to the backyard, upstairs to some rooms, to the dance floor, the kitchen, stopping along the way when Julie and Flynn caught her in their sight till she found herself back by the pool table. Reggie’s banjo and doggy friend was present but not he nor his lady friend, or Luke. Y/N wondered if she should finally try the pool door till she heard a sound, a voice actually. As she walked down the hallway she was just minutes before, she heard his voice.

It was Luke, his tones muffled by the music and talking inside, but she could hear it, it filled her senses, making her heart flutter to hear his singing as it belted a tune much more soulful then the usual pop or rock songs the band sang. He was outside, in the backyard, one of the first places she looked. As she almost reached the back door, she was pushed rather harshly, by someone with wheels, skateboard wheels.

“Whoa! Sorry!” It was Willie. “You’re Y/N right?” He smiled, running his fingers through his hair as he took off his helmet. “I know we’ve never really spoken, but we know of each other.”

“We do,” Y/N said pleasantly.

“I’m glad I finally found one of you, I’m totally lost.”

“Well I think Luke was just outside there, actually.”

“Oh really? God I was going so fast I wasn’t even thinking. Or looking would be correct, right? Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, sometimes I still think I’ll just go through people. Can’t believe I have to walk indoors now.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Life of the living,” she tried to joke, “I’m sorry. I know it must be strange.”

“Yeah, better than being under Caleb though.”

“Right,” Y/N nodded.

“Oh, sorry,”

“No don’t be. I’ll never know him like you did. No emotional tie here.”

“Um,” An awkward silence erupted, “So since you’re the only one in the group I’ve found you want to play a game?”

“A game?” She asked, confused.

“Yeah!” He raised his brow.

“And what game would this be?”

“The Where’s Alex game. If you have the answer I’ll love you forever. I already know I’m super late.”

“Oh!” she laughed at the realization, “He’s at the front! You didn’t see him? Or see the text?”

“My phone died,” He pulled out the device as proof, the glass was severely cracked, “I’m not sure how to properly take care of it as you can see. No wonder I make it die so fast.”

“His phone died too, strangely enough. But he’s waiting for you at the front entrance. You didn’t come from that way?”

“No, I didn’t know if someone would stop me if I went that way because I wasn’t actually invited. I never really did this kind of thing in the past. It’s my first time.”

“Really? It’s my first too, but for you? You seem so cool to me to never be invited.”

“Well the actual definition of cool and high schoolers definition of cool is wildly different. We’re obviously a different breed, you and I. Better.” He joked.

“Well thank you.” She could tell why Willie liked him. “Alex is by the white van, it has ghosts painted all over it so you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you!”

“Of course!”

As he was about to walk away, skateboard in hand, he stopped, “Can I be honest?”

“Sure.” She smiled nodding at him to continue.

“I’m a little nervous. I know that’s his thing so I should try to get over it, but I can’t help it. This not being a ghost thing has been hard, you know? Is he mad? I didn’t mean to separate myself…” he faultured. Although Y/N knew Alex’s half of the story, Willie and her were still newly acquainted, it made sense why he felt the need to stop himself from possibly over sharing.

“He can’t wait to see you.” She reassured him, ending the silence. “It’s literally why he decided to stay by the front. He wanted you to find him right away. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

She confirmed, “Absolutely positive.”

“Alright, thanks again. And nice to meet you! You know, not just by me peering through windows and being creepy. Sorry.”

“Ghosts will be ghosts.” Y/N shrugged. She watched as Willie gave her a laugh and started to walk away.

“Y/N,” the sweet voice from the backyard called for her again, this time saying her name.

“Luke,” her eyes brightened, turning around.

“Found you.” He grinned, intertwining their fingers on both sides.

“Well really I would have found you first. I heard your voice, from the backyard, but Willie stopped me before I could go.”

“Ah, you heard my call for you.”

“For me?” He hummed in response.

“I’ll pretend that’s true.”

“Good,” Luke brought one of her hands up to his lips, kissing it softly. “So where have you been in the last twenty?”

“Well I was looking for you. Reggie said you didn’t go through the pool door so-“

“I did.”

You did?”

“I did! He probably didn’t mention it because he was so focused on-

“Miss Amelie Laurent!” You both said in unison, French accents prevalent.

“He said you went back here so I went to the backyard, but you weren’t there, so I went upstairs back to Nick room, and you don’t want to know what I saw in there-”

“Ooo tell me,” his eyes were eager.

“Anyway, I went back down stairs, found Julie near the kitchen— we shared a cupcake— and then she asked me if I would go to the dance floor with her and find someone to talk to so I did that, but then Flynn can said she lost her bracelet so we three had to look for that one, then I came back to the pool table, heard you singing, bumped into Willie, asked me where Alex was, and then I think he needed some advice— he and Alex are literally having the same problem, it’s kind of cute— and then you finally came. That’s my story.”

Luke's mouth was open, eyes going around in a circle as she went on her tangent, hanging onto every word, he thought it was pretty adorable. “Well, my story is much shorter. When I picked Reggi up, you disappeared.”

“Oh, Alex asked me to speak to him, all we did was turn the corner.”

“I didn’t know, but then some guy from the pool came up to me asked me if I could show him some cords from a phantom song and before I could say yes he was pushing me out the door. I helped him, went back inside, met Miss Amelie Laurent, walked to the backyard because Reggie said you went that way, and there I stayed.”

“If only I went back.”

“We’re good now.” Though a smile still ghosted his face he felt a sudden suppression wash over him, “Are you having fun, Y/N/N?”

“I- Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know… I just know it’s your first party here and I wanted you to have a good time, but at every second someone needs you, or someone needs me, and we’ve been pulled around and around and around,-“ Luke moves his head left to right, a rasp in his voice like a motor engine as he repeated the word for effect, “-that I feel like you’re not letting yourself get into some trouble like everyone else.”

“Trouble?”

“Lack of a better word,” he smiled smugly. “I’m just saying, you’re not Julie and the Phantoms glorified assistant-”

“Neither are you. You’ve done just as much as me tonight.” She reasoned.

“Yeah, but that’s because I was trying to stick with you and lessen the load. You know you do so much for us all the time.”

“I guess I just like you guys too much.” she shrugged, matching his playful tone from before.

“Like just me a little bit more then.” He moved closer, placing his fingers on her jaw, “Hmm?”

He finally kissed her, a real kiss this time. His other hand moved to her neck as her hands moved to his arms. The hand on her jaw lifted her chin higher, deepening the action.

“People are watching,” she said through a breath, eyes alert.

Before going back in he said, “No one's watching,” Then after a peck, “And no one cares.” His hands slid to her waist, head tilting to the other side, he hummed, causing Y/N’s hands to fall to his cheeks, quickly sliding her fingers against his chest; she was lost in the moment.

Slowly Luke’s feet moved backwards, moving one of the hands that was wrapped around his waist to her hip as he motioned her against the wall. “Ow,” Y/N yelped, the black and blue Flynn gave her earlier pulsing again.

Luke’s hand came to her head, cushioning it against the wall. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“So did I,” she laughed.

The both smiled at each other, Luke forehead connecting with hers, he rubbed his nose against her own etching more bits of laughter out of her. He relished in the noises, the closeness, the feeling.

Looking down he noticed their shoes, Y/N’s original chucks in the middle of both vans. He didn’t care what shoes she wore, but he much appreciated how she had to change her footwear for Julie because now they matched… somewhat. The black and white pallets, but different designs; similar, but different; individuals, but connected. He liked it. “Nice shoes, kid.”

“Thanks,” she laughed, “Not what I originally intended, but they work.”

“Work better, in my opinion.” He moved back, extending her arms out as he held her hands. He was surveying how her black dress with white polka dots perfectly matched the color scheme of the converse. “Perfect.”

Once again she blushed, but didn’t respond. Instead she made a remark about his own shoes. “You know, I don’t understand how you wear those everyday, yet they aren’t all dirty like mine.”

“Well I used to be a ghost, when I was walking my feet weren’t actually treading on the Earth.”

“Well that was three months ago.”

“Almost three months ago,” he corrected, for that’s when their official relationship started. Luke always thought she was pretty, right from the moment he saw her, but it wasn’t love at first sight, not even like. She was a little quiet, at least with him and the boys and they all noticed. With Julie and Flynn she smiled brightly and chatted constantly, or that’s what he would hear when he would come to Julie’s room, hearing her voice through the door. It was a sweet voice, empathetic, understanding; he thought it sounded like music, and not only did he wonder how his name would sound on her lips, but he felt connected to it. He understood the desire to make others feel good. Through his singing he tried to make people feel seen, make their problems validated, and he could tell she tried to do that with her words.

For Y/N at first, she wanted Julie to have the band for herself. She thought that this was one of the few things making her feel happy during this dark time of Tía Rose’s passing, so she didn’t want to step in too much, not to mention the realization that she could see ghosts wasn’t exactly the easiest things for her to get her head around the way Julie did. But her elusiveness only made Luke more curious, and when Luke was curious, he was persistent in finding out whatever it was he wanted to know.

First, he would ask Julie to bring Y/N down for their rehearsals and she would, sometimes, but nothing gave. Y/N would most give Julie feedback, shying away from the ghosts gaze, still unsure how to interact. Then, he just started asking Julie about her cousin, little questions here and there till Julie finally got tired and told him to just go talk to her himself. This is where he was at a stand still as he was unsure how to approach her. Finally, after noticing how her room lights would shine quite far into the night, he decided to go up there, telling himself he would just ask her why she sleeps so late, that he only noticed because he likes to take walks at night. It sounded reasonable to him.

This is when he realized how similar Molina’s are: Always trying to be brave for others. After she told him she always had trouble falling asleep unless it was specifically her bed at home, but didn’t want to tell anyone else because it would bother them. She wanted to stay here for Julie and for the friendships she was finally making at Los Feliz, so Luke decided to start a tradition with her: late night bike rides. It was a way to tire her out and a way for him to get some alone time with her. Him taking a bike from the garage, and her using her own she brought from her old home. They rode separately, but together, letting the quiet road open them up to the other. Telling each other stories, discussing interests, consoling each other when they were feeling down. Luke never knew how close you could feel to someone else by just conversation until he had to do it with Y/N. It made him appreciate her in a way he’d never felt before.

They were not friends, they knew that fairly quickly, but they didn’t hurt each other by talking about being more. It was just an unspoken agreement that they hung out with each other exclusively in the way that they did, but they never spoke of romantics. Their rides were special, only for them. That’s why when he became alive the first thing he wanted to do, after celebrating with everyone, was take a ride with her. One bike this time. Her heels on the bars and she heads onto his shoulders, showing her where he used to grow up. That’s what he always wanted to do.

“Not enough time,” Luke said in response to Y/N who mentioned that wearing the same two pairs of shoes for 3 months had to have made them a little messed up, but he was talking about them, thinking about how short of a time ago it was that he got got be with her this way. It was a long year of just knowing her without the sense of touch. He felt lucky. Once again, he dipped his hands on the side of her face, starting to go in till-

“Hey, Y/N! And oh, Luke! Hey man.” It was the New Years Eve birthday boy.

“Oh, hey, Nick,” Y/N said, maintaining a kind disposition although she knew how his actions made Julie feel.

“Um,” he laughed awkwardly at Luke’s stoicism, it was unnatural for his character and even Nick knew that by now, “Well I was wondering if you knew where Julie was. I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Really?” Luke questioned.

“Yeah, I promised her a dance,” he laughed, “or really she promised me one because we all know I suck.”

Y/N laughed kindheartedly at his deprecation. She was still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Carrie does have a dominating attitude, and with someone as tender Nick it would make sense that he got roped into whatever it was even at his own party, but looking at Luke’s face and knowing how she felt earlier, she decided to to be upfront, “Look Nick, you don’t have to say anything, but I think you like Julie, and I don’t know if Julie likes you, but let’s say she does: You’re sending mixed signals. I get you and Carrie have a history and that she can be bossy, but you make your own choices. If you want to hang out with a certain someone, I think you should put your foot down and make it a priority to do that.” She tried to be ambiguous, obviously failing throughout.

Nick sighed, “I know… I have no excuse. But that’s why I’ve been trying to find her. I want to hang out with her, do a- I don’t know-“

“‘I don’t know?’” Luke intervened, restating his words, unsure about the possible actions behind them.

“I mean like... New Year's kiss, I- don’t laugh at me Y/N!”

“No! I think it’s sweet. I'm only laughing because I’ve understood your pain, Nick.”

Nick laughed alongside her albeit he was still mostly laughing at himself. Luke kept his grumpy face, eyebrows twitching. “Well if that’s what you want, go get it before the Carrie snatches you up again”

“But even if she does,” Luke started.

“Put your foot down.” Y/n finished “You know, Stand Tall, like the phantoms song.”

“‘Whatever happens’ he snickered, waving his finger as he said the lyric in hopes to ease the tension with Luke, but he was not amused.

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled, paying her boyfriend's chest.

“Right,” Luke agreed, he was really only saying it for Y/N. “Nice basketball sheets by the way”

“Hey, come on, my dad got those for me. It’s nostalgic, you know? Anyway, so I know you guys were busy and I’m sorry that I interrupted anything, but do you think you could help me find her? I really want to find her.”

“Listen Nick,” Luke started once again, it was getting late and he still had a plan he wanted to maintain.

“Y/N! So there’s this gu- Nick, oh-“

“Julie, I’ve been looking for you!” Nick exclaimed, happy to see her.

“You have?”

“Apparently,” Luke answered.

“Well Nick, actually I-“

“Wait. Julie, wait. I- um, I was also looking for all you phantoms actually. I mean I was going to find you and talk to you first and the ask about this later but hey two out of the four are here so,”

“What are you talking about?” Julie asks, hoping he’d get to the point.

“I was wondering if you could play a song? Just one. I don’t have a bass but I’ve got a drum kit on stage already and I’ve got plenty of electrics. The party’s coming to a close and I thought this would be one last thing to bring it all together to make a great night. I know it’s last minute,”

“Nick-“

“Julie.” He stopped, stumbling with his words, till he finally felt sure of what to say, “I’m beating around the bush. What I really need to say is I’m sorry for leaving you. You’re the only one I wanted to hang out with tonight. Carrie- Carrie’s just lonely. If I’m being honest and I promise I don’t mean this in a rude way, but Kayla is just more of her henchman. I know we used to date so it looks strange, but I think I’m her only friend right now. She bought a really grand present and took me away to show it to me, that’s all. I should have stopped to speak to you first though. That’s on me.”

Julie looked down, nodding, “I appreciate that.”

“You don’t have to sing and you don’t have to give me any more of your time tonight if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here either way.”

“I don’t mind hanging out with you... if you actually stick around this time-“

“I will!”

“But singing? I guess I’ll leave that one to you Luke.” Julie said, noticing his expression, lips scrunched up together.

“I- It’s your choice, Jules. Whatever you want.” He said lessening the intensity that was in his eyes, Nick did do what Y/N said after all.

“Let’s sing then. This party has been a little hectic and I think we all need to get our emotions out. Let the New Year come in with good vibes. Right, buddy?” She said tapping Luke’s cheek. “Y/N, help me find the others?”

“Sure,” she said with a sympathetic smile to Luke who she noticed didn’t seem to enjoy that little buddy comment, nonetheless, she joined in: “See ya soon, buddy,” Y/N laughed, letting the ends of her finger tips brush against his till she was pulled away by Julie.

On stage, Julie and the Phantoms rose, singing Finally Free. It had become quite the party anthem for them. The repetition in the chorus made it such a good song for them to engage with the audience. Every time Julie sang ‘I got a spark in me’ the crowd would sing back, throwing their hands up in the process quite literally making the next lyric, ‘hands up if you’re with me’ come true in the most perfect way.

Y/N wished she brought her camera, instead she opted to take out her phone, taking some iPhone shots of the band, hoping the fans would enjoy these raw candid pictures, but then Luke caught her attention through the screen, he sent her a wink, one that the people in front of her probably thought was for them. As he strummed his guitar he yelled a ‘WOOO’ her way, bouncing with Reggie. Y/N decided to put her phone down. This performance was a New Years special, one to only be viewed in person; in the moment; no thinking of anyone else. Finding Flynn in the crowd who was also trying to catch some snapshots of her own, Y/N passed on the energy Luke had given to her: “Lets just have fun!”

Soon after, the song had ended, and despite not being the ‘hologram band’ anymore the Phantoms vanished from the stage, still giving the audience chills as Julie was the one last standing, thanking everyone for being such a great audience. When the gang realized the guys still had some ghosting abilities, Julie wondered if they should stop the whole disappearing thing, saying it would be harder for people to believe, but honestly, seeing the guys at school, at this party, and still watching them turn to dust when the music and cheering ended still amazed the crowd and made it just that more of a spectacle; no one cared for reason, it was simply that cool to see.

Y/N hoped Luke would pop up alongside her, saving her the hassle of searching for him again, but alas, he did not. It made sense to her though, for she was right in the middle of the dancefloor.

She decided to travel back around to the hallway where Nick and Julie had stopped her and Luke before. Walking down the hall, a hand snaked around her arm, pull her into a small closet under the staircase. “What the-” She stopped herself as she looked up and the light illuminated the small area with a click and a pull. Her eyes traveled slowly from the buttery yellow glow of the small light, the hand which pulled on the silvery chord, the shimmering skin of Luke, whose eyes followed her gaze till she met his own. “Howdy.”

“Hey there, partner” she said softy, small breathy giggles coming out of her. “Nice hat.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady,” he responded with a wink, tipping the brown leathered cowboy hat he’d found.

“So what are we doing in here?” She asked, watching him take off the hat.

“Wanna play seven minutes in heaven?”

“Like in 13 going on 30? Is that the kind of game you played in your 90s parties?”

Luke rolled his eyes at her comment, moving on, “I decided that our friends are not going to leave us alone tonight, so I want just seven minutes. No interruptions, just us.”

“I’d like that.”

Luke took out his phone starting a timer on his phone, “Yeah,” he nodded as he moved closer to her face, “me too.”

Lips on her own, he moved his hand to the back of her head, remembering her black and blue and he softly placed it against the wall of the small space, removing it once there.

As her head leaned eagerly against it, the rest of her body was slanted, legs in between his own, he moved his arms to her waist, hands going up her back, while hands went up to his neck, going in to play with his hair.

“Y/N?”

The sound caused her to jump, banging her head for the third time. “Ow.”

It was Flynn.

“Luke!”

It was Reggie.

Now Julie came over, “Is Y/N and Luke in there? Guys?!” H-“

“No!” Luke yelled.

“Hey!” It was Alex, hand in hand with Willie. “Are they coming out? It’s-“

“Five minutes!” Luke yelled out again. He slid out his phone from underneath the door. “In fact, reset it to seven, give us seven.”

Reggie took phone, “But Luke you didn’t notice the ti-“

Luke bagged on the door, “When it rings, that’s when you can give us your requests.”

Y/N covered her mouth, giggling at his aggressive tone.

“Come here,” he motioned her with his hands on her hips, lips once again reconnected. As they started to move backward again, Luke moved his hands higher, picking her up, motioning her to wrap her legs around her waist, Y/N tried to catch her breath as their lips fell a part in the action, “Not this time,” he whispered in her ear, the vibrations of his voice making her shiver. He crashed his lips onto hers again as his hands went lower on his hips, supporting her on his frame. He swiped his tongue on her lower lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss further. Thereafter, their lips were connected in open mouth kisses, Luke taking control of the action.

“We just wanted to say Happy New Years, it’s 12:03.” Reggie uttered quietly at the bottom of the door, petting Nick’s dog that found him again. Y/N and Luke didn’t answer him, he figured they were too busy engrossed in each other.

“Happy New Years, beautiful.” Luke sang to Y/N, sighing out, admiring the way her eyes looked into his, realizing that he completed his mission after all.

“Happy New Years, Luke.” She breathed out, planting her lips on his once more. One hand on the side of his face as the other went back to his hair, rejoicing in their closeness, finally, uninterrupted.

Thank you for reading!

Tag list: @lolychu @marinettepotterandplagg

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke jatp #luke jatp fic #luke jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms fic #luke julie and the phantoms

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adorehs · 4 years ago

Text

changing your tune

Hi I just wanted to mention that a lot of this might be inaccurate. This is based off of my time in my city's youth orchestra so while I’m sure some things transfer, but not everything. Kinda bad at the end per usual <3

Summary: Classical Musician!Y/N has created a simple life for herself consisting of herself, her music, and the boy she loves. Friends to lovers. (15.6k words)

Warnings: mostly fluff, slight angst, mentions of smut, minor character death.

“I just think I need to have a fuller tone to really get the dark undertone of the music. Like, it’s so clearly meant to be this dark, horrible travesty but if I can’t get the tone right then it’s just this light and airy travesty. But I can’t bend the note just right, my air is, like, gone,” you vent out.

Harry watches you intently from where he sat in your study with a hand holding his chin up and an elbow on his knee, “I think it sounds great.”

You look at him unimpressed, “It’s all chalumeau. Of course it sounds good, it just doesn't sound right.”

“Right, so it’s in the lower register,” he mentally reminds himself, “What’s it supposed to sound like?”

You let out a sigh and pick up your clarinet from the stand it rested on, “It sounds kind of different without my custom, but the r13 will work for now,” you mumble, adjusting the reed and ligature on your mouthpiece, a nervous tick you picked up in school.

Your eyes flicker up to Harry, waiting for his glance of approval before you start. Your cheeks expertly swell and decompress in size as you circular breathe through the measures, your mind concentrated on the smooth transitions between rhythms and the registers, cutting the triplets short as you’ve written them.

The soothing noise of your clarinet fills the large room immediately, your forte becoming all too loud to process any thoughts. The victorian-styled room had low hanging lights that streamed a warm orange tone over the patterned chairs and built-in bookcase that held hundreds of music books with etudes you’ve mastered since your youth.

Though the warm tones made the room feel homely, the curtains were drawn back and the windows were opened ajar allowing a short breeze to flow in every two minutes. You knew better then to turn on a fan around your hand-crafted instrument. You understood the fluctuation it would cause if the temperature changed drastically day by day. This is why you were careful to turn the air conditioning off before you opened the window, keeping the temperature relatively steady through the day.

Harry watched you in pure concentration- he was truly enamoured by the way you lost yourself in music. He wanted to understand what you were saying but it was hard- he enjoyed music but was completely deaf when it came to describing the mood of a piece.

He worked with numbers, and loved it. A born accountant in your presence, watching you play your clarinet with what seems to be ease. But you seemed so distant from him. A whole world away. And how was he going to sweep you off your feet when he can hardly understand your career?

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as the technique became more difficult, effectively making you let off your clarinet and huff a breath of disapproval. Your heart was clearly pounding after the page you played at full tempo for effect, but you tried not to show the effect the music had on your body.

You reached for your pencil before erasing a note you had written and writing another one in, a higher register G#. The graphite smeared on the yellow-tinted manuscript book that sat on the music stand before you, everything shaking lightly as vigorously colored in the line and drew in a staccato articulation above the sixteenth note.

Forgetting Harry’s presence, you picked up your clarinet once again and played the same measure in sets of five, increasing the tempo by four beats each time, before deciding it is satisfactory for now.

Your face only showed a slight upturn, as you wrote in a new measure, testing how the chord would resolve with some soft air and incomplete vibrations through the wooden block. Minor chord or major? you asked yourself.

Harry’s eyes watched yours as they darted across the room from your clarinet, to your manuscript, to your metronome, which was silently flashing a red light at a tempo of 180 and a subdivision of eighth notes.

He wondered who taught you so harshly- he’d never seen someone so critical of their own work. You liked to make everything very perfect in a meticulous way- you knew just when to linger on the seventh of a chord to leave an uneasy feeling in the pit of one;s stomach and you were stellar when it came to expressing a story and emotion through your music. At least that’s what Harry thought.

“So where does your tone need to get fuller?” he asks again.

You looked up at him, slightly shocked. You had forgotten he was there, “When I get higher, like, near the F#. It has no depth to the note and it sounds like a playground piece,” you explain softly, watching as his eyes furrowed in confusion.

“So you want it to sound darker when the octave goes up?” he confirms one more time.

You nod, “Yeah. Want it to sound more emotional and thoughtful. It also makes me sound like a stylistically competent player,” your eyes flicker back to the page in an instant.

“I think your style is good. You have a good variety in the symphony, too. They’ll like this one. Get the solo down and then ask some people to come and play with you,” Harry comments, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants as he sits back further in the chair. The heavy fabric makes a dissatisfying pulling noise as Harry moves around in the chair, resting his hands on the dark wooden arms with ornate carvings on the ends.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “They haven’t taken my last three. If I can just make one good one, I can take some more risks and possibly compose a whole symphony,” you pause, making eye contact with Harry again, “But that’ll take years. Probably only when I retire from the orchestra.”

“They are good,” Harry argues weakly. He doesn’t know how to convince you because all he knows is that he likes it.

“Well clearly they’re not as good as you and I think,” you counter with a huff, picking up your clarinet once more before playing the same piece from the beginning.

After an overextended work week, Harry was excited to go out and have some fun with his friends. He was still a ripe twenty-six year old, working long and hard hours as a starting budget analyst, hoping to be promoted higher within the job and lighten his workload- at least that's what everyone promised will happen. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed the simple pleasures of going out and celebrating his friends.

It was an all too familiar setting- a sticky, trashed bar with little to no care given to the seats that were falling apart at the seams. He found himself thinking of the frat parties you had described to him when he asked what Greek Life was.

But, he was there to celebrate one of his colleagues' birthdays. It was her twenty-fifth, so he found himself understanding the want for a big party. The bar might have been trashed but it was large and suitable for the hundreds of people she seemed to invite.

And among the hundreds, he only viewed one. You.

You wore a dress that you pulled from the back of your closet and hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in college. You wore it to special events and networking parties, but you found it all too nice to wear to most other situations you found yourself in.

Harry had definitely forgotten your connection to his colleague, or better known as your sister. He watched as you greeted her with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek, an awkward side hug was exchanged as everyone around you both cheered in excitement. You were pretty loved.

“Happy birthday Mon,” you repeat for the second time that day, “Hope the year treats you well.”

Your sister smiled in response, “Off to a great start,” she eyes the party reviving behind you, “I’m glad you could make it. Thought you’d have a performance tonight.”

You shook your head, “Nope. Requested this day off a year ago. Couldn’t miss my favorite day of the year!”

Your sister glances at you with a look of amusement, “Happy Monica day is your favorite of the year?”

“Yup, love happy Monica day,” you reiterate.

Monica opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off by a deep British accent, “Happy birthday Mon!” you hear from behind you.

You turn around quickly, side stepping to allow Harry into your conversation. He leans into your sister before granting her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “How are you?” he asks, replacing your spot in front of her.

You smile at Monica and halfheartedly wave a goodbye as you slowly make your way over to the bar to order some food. You decided a year ago that you were going to stop drinking. At first, it was a hard choice to make. You were used to having a drink in most social situations, especially being a young adult working with people of all ages. It was a common scene to find you in- an after party with hundreds of musicians having a glass of champagne or white wine in celebration.

You sat yourself on a deep crimson stool, swirling slightly as you waited for your sliders to be given to you. Watching as people met and reconnected was isolating for you. You knew very few people Monica worked with and found yourself just shy of saying hi to someone who looked friendly every time you were at a gathering such as this one.

Nodding a silent thank you as your sliders were placed in front of you, your attention shifts. It was the loud talking and blaring music that made your brain want to go into overdrive, never quite getting used to noises you couldn’t control.

“Hi, Y/N,” you feel a body slide into the seat beside you. You couldn’t exactly pin whose voice it was at first listen so you shift your body towards them and slide the plate between you two as a peace offering.

“Hey,” you reply, making eye contact with one of Monica’s friends you met when she first started working at the firm.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m alright, Louis. And yourself?”

“I’m quite alright. Been working a lot. Itching to get promoted,” he lets out a small laugh, “But who isn’t.”

You shoot him a grin, “Not sure, I love my job.”

“When’re you playing next? Love to come see you play. Haven't been to the new show yet,” he leans in towards you and takes a slider before leaning back again.

“Play Thursday to Sunday every week until November. Then we switch to Christmas ballets,” you tell him with a grin, “I recommend Thursday or Sunday, though. Best prices and best crowd.”

He nods in confirmation, “I’ll have to take Harry with me, know he’s been bugging me to go with him for a while.”

“Yeah, bring him! It’ll be fun, we can all go out after too!” you counter, dismissing Louis' comment about Harry’s insistent nature. That was just him, you thought.

“Definitely,” he agrees, “Plus it’s a nice way to unwind. I’ll definitely see if I can come soon.”

“Oh, please! I love seeing a familiar face. Feel like I play better,” you laugh, “Still get nervous, but Harry always tells me I’ll do amazing.”

“Harry’s good at that,” Louis agrees, “Always makes sure you don’t undersell yourself. And he’s right! You’re amazing.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, “Thank you! He’s definitely everyone's biggest cheerleader,” you joke. Turning around entirely in your stool, your eyes sift quickly through the crowd in search of Harry. “See, there he is,” you chortle, “Hyping up Niall as he chugs a,” you squint.

“A beer, probably,” Louis completes for you.

You both laugh and watch as Niall shoots up from his spot on the ground in victory before immediately falling back onto the ground with great dramatics. The room roars as Harry helps his friend stand back up and walks him over to the bathroom before swinging the door back open, “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pauses for effect, “The boy lives!”

The room once again falls into a unison form of laughter as Niall appears behind Harry moments later, “Where’s the beer?” he shouts over the laughs, which quickly turn into cheers at his sportsmanship.

While Louis lets out a loud laugh at his friend's antics and moves towards the crowd to see more clearly, you looked up towards Harry. He dressed himself impressively well considering his lack of knowledge in the arts. Though he wore a simple outfit consisting of a red button up and black jeans, his confidence soared higher than anyone else’s you’d seen in a while.

His smile was infectious and seemed to fill his whole face and as his eyes raised to meet yours it grew to a tenfold. Speaking with his body language, you somehow sensed that he wanted you to get up and join him.

You shook your head with a smile and mouthed ‘I’m fine here!’ only to receive a ‘What!?’ in response. You shook your head in defeat and stood up, mouthing the same phrase only slower.

Harry replied with a look of realization and instantaneously, a pout replaced his smile. You frowned at your effect on him, not wanting him to feel upset because of you of all people.

You stood up and slowly started making your way over to him, allowing the smile to rediscover its place on his lips. He was watching you near him, when his head suddenly snapped towards a high pitched scream coming from your sister, “It’s midnight!” she shouts.

Harry chuckles at her dramatics and smiles when he feels your body press up against his side. He didn’t have to look to know it was you, he could smell your distinct perfume as you neared him and he was happy knowing you found comfort around him- though that should’ve been clear from the nights upon nights you spend together, him listening to your music and you listening to his rants.

Monica was handed a bottle of champagne and she stepped into the middle of the corner you all occupied, people filing in suit around her and forming a circular crowd.

“Hey everyone! Uh- thank you so much for coming- I mean it. It means a lot to me to be surrounded by a bunch of people I love on my favorite day of the year!” She jokes, earning some light laughs and a few words of endearment thrown back at her. “No, seriously, thanks a lot, and,” she trails off, her thoughts too blurry for her planned speech, “Here’s to twenty five!” she cheers, shaking the champagne bottle, allowing it to pop and spray all over. She quickly spins in an attempt to spray everyone, but the champagne bubbles over and only gets half the group.

You and Harry both laugh, shaking your hands to get the sticky substance off your bodies. “She tries every year and never succeeds,” you tell him.

He chuckles in response, “She gets too drunk to remember.”

“Or she just thinks that she’s sober enough to get it this year,” you laugh back.

Harry laughs and nods, “Definitely. She thinks she’s perfectly fine,” he points at Monica who is going around the circle and hugging everyone in thanks. “To be fair she looks okay,” he adds.

“She always does,” you agree with Harry.

The two of you fall silent and you stand back watching your sister make rounds. Harry’s hand creeps onto your back as he steps closer to you, bringing you in front of him. He hums along to the song you couldn’t remember the name of that was blaring on the speakers and he basks in the glory of being in your presence.

Soon enough, your sister had made her way over to the two of you, hugging you both and exchanging her thanks for coming and just as quick as she came, she left you two alone.

“So, uh,” Harry starts.

“Hey, um, I’m gonna leave. Got an early start tomorrow,” you tell Harry, pointing at the door.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Yeah, you should go,” he stammers.

You smile at him, “Okay, cool. I’ll see you later?” you asked, stepping towards Monica to say a final happy birthday and goodnight.

“Yeah, definitely,” he nods in confirmation.

You wave before finding your sister and saying goodnight, then driving yourself back home.

Harry was sitting in bed with his laptop on his lap and a blanket covering his legs. He was doing some research in an attempt to find books that could teach him about music theory.

He told himself he wanted to be more involved in his friends' lives and further his education in one of his weakest subjects- music. But in reality, it was clear to those around him that he wanted to impress you and be more involved in your life and yours only. They had never seen him pick up a book on physical therapy or take a quick online course on python- he was doing it all purely for you.

He was contemplating if he should invest in a book or just take a free online course, both seemed like viable options but he wanted to optimize his time. He wanted to make it click faster.

He decided he’d try the online course and take his chances and if he still didn’t understand he would invest in a book.

So there he was on a Tuesday evening sitting in bed with his headphones in learning how basic chords were made. He wrote notes as if he was still in school and studied them after each lesson. He wasn’t fully immersed in the world like you were, but he felt as though he could carry a bit more of a conversation with you about music, especially when compared to before.

Harry was learning slowly but surely and in about a week he could, in theory, explain how to develop a minor chord from it’s major among various other basics (that you would probably think were common knowledge) but he had no recollection of learning.

As per usual, he spent every Monday and Wednesday evening with you. On Mondays, you would have movie night and on Wednesdays, he would get some work done in your office while you played. It never truly distracted him, either. Honestly, it made him feel very peaceful and he found that the routine was more about being in the presence of each other rather than making memories.

One Wednesday, he had completed his work early and as usual, he would sit and see what you had composed to help give his limited input on your compositions.

Typically, he would sit and listen silently with a slight tilt to his head while he thought up a thoughtful comment about your playing. You would always sit there anxiously, with your posture beginning to slouch since you were not playing anymore, waiting for a comment that you both knew would be neither helpful or negative.

Harry was good at that. He was good at making you feel like you were doing good with absolute sincerity and not a single waiver of his voice. His face would stay straight and he would find the good in it all. It was probably your favorite part of the man who sat with you on the particular day.

This time, unlike the last, your window was shut tight and you were trying your hardest to keep your hands steady. You couldn’t make the piece sound right. It sounded okay but that would not get you signed. It needed to be calculated and perfect in a theoretical standpoint. It also needed to be simple enough to split into parts for larger groups but difficult enough to have solo excerpts from each instrument- in case a full orchestra didn’t work.

And that was difficult to accomplish.

Harry knew that and he agreed- how could one person who hadn’t ever been signed make such an elaborate piece? He thought it was absolutely absurd that to maximize your chances you had to make the piece a combination of just about everything.

You sat with the same face as you usually did, one pleading for some sort of advice or criticism. What you weren’t expecting was for Harry to deliver.

“Think if you made it a minor chord instead of a major and ended on the seventh it could bring some edge,” Harry eventually says.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion, “Yeah, uh, let me try that,” you stammered.

You covered what you had written with a sticky note, drawing on the new scale. You showed Harry the note and asked him if that was what he was thinking, to which he replied yes. You nod lightly and play the piece once again from the beginning, swaying slightly as you approached lyrical bits and narrowed your air stream to control your volume.

Harry nods along with your playing, pausing slightly in places he could tell you didn’t like much. Eventually, he watches as you play what he had suggested, anxiety rising up his throat in fear of not being accepted.

“Think I like it. But I need to fix some of the other stuff too,” you told him once you finished. “It would definitely feel right that way.”

Harry nodded and stood up. He rounded the long desk and joined you where you sat by the window in an uncomfortable chair made to help keep your posture near perfect. He crouched down so he could be eye level with your music and furrowed his brows.

You watched as he read the notes carefully, taking his time as he took in each technically challenging measure and the lyrically soft measures in contrast. You grew anxious for his approval so you busied yourself by taking the sticky note off of the manuscript and erasing and redrawing the notes for the new scale Harry advised you to add.

You took your time, slowly coloring each eighth note, the graphite crumbling down the page, leaving a light smear as you wiped it away with the side of your hand.

Harry looked up at you, “I think you should change this,” he points, “Make it flat and get rid of this note entirely,” he spoke slowly. You watch as his finger indicates each note and you nod along softly.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you agree.

He nods in response and rests his hand on your thigh, you hardly notice the action that felt natural in the moment.

You temporarily wrote in each suggestion and played the piece again from the beginning, a process the two of you were becoming increasingly annoyed with. As you approached the measure he had pointed out, your mind wondered: how did he know all this and why didn’t he mention any of it before?

Your air slowed down as your mind wandered and your fingers followed closely after, a ritardando, Harry noted. He hadn’t mentioned tempo but he found that bringing the piece down to cut time brought a new feeling that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Abruptly, you stopped, and Harry knew you didn’t realize. You both sat in silence for a moment before Harry stood up and moved back over to where he was sitting previously. He cleared his throat, “I’m gonna head out. Good luck Y/N,” he rushed out.

You shook your head in disbelief. You truly didn’t understand what just happened. But, you shook it off and tried again, keeping the ritardando.

Harry on the other hand, was in a state of panic. He had realized what he had done and he thought she did too, resulting in her abrupt stopping point.

Harry had begun to understand that he was in love with you. And he didn’t know until just then. But he had done everything just for you.

The following Sunday Harry finally managed to drag Louis out of his city apartment and downtown to the Meyerson Symphony Center where you were to perform Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Neither Harry or Louis have seen you perform this particular show so they were late to learn that you had auditioned for and successfully got the clarinet solo in a particular piece from the Symphony named Scherzo.

You had explained to Harry your appeal to this particular symphony- you found it to be unique of all the others that accompanied Shakespeare's work. Instead of relaying a difficult emotion or putting a satirical spin on a human issue like his other works did, you found Midsummer to be a pure romp into romance and the abnormalities of love.

And though you hadn’t been in love for a while, you found yourself feeling the emotion wholly through both the piece and music in it of itself.

Harry had read midsummer before- in fact he had seen it live with his mum and sister when he was younger, but he never understood the effect the music had on the play. He never looked into the contextualization of the play, let alone the deeper aspirations of it.

He understood music theory but he still had trouble analyzing music itself. He couldn’t pinpoint moods by just listening- he needed to see it written out which he believed hindered his ability to enjoy music to its fullest extent.

Needless to say, Harry entered the theater with Louis with a thought of determination. All he wanted was to find a way to understand the music and appreciate it as you did. They were both clad in matching suits, a simple black and white for the symphony, and made their way to the middle where their tickets directed them. Harry sat in the aisle and Louis sat right next to him, whispering in excitement of the show.

“I fucking love this story,” Louis says.

Harry lets out a quiet laugh, “I hardly remember it.”

Louis joins Harry in laughter and shrugs, “Oh well, it’ll still be good.”

Harry nods in agreement and turns away from Louis as the curtains open and the lights dim.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you on this stage, but he found himself mesmerized as he found you with his eyes. He watched as you scanned the crowd quickly, your eyes jumping past him and Louis a few times before you recognized your friends. You shot them each a relieved smile and sat up straighter in your chair.

The conductor cast a smile at everyone before beginning the first piece, the Overture making its debut in the room. Just as Harry was used to, the melodic sounds filled the room to the brim, every last corner feeling the pure emotion that was put into the piece.

Harry couldn’t describe the feeling but he knew he was proud. He understood that watching you in your element is probably the worst thing he could do for himself, but he had to. It was pure torture to watch you fall in love with something that wasn’t him, but he loved the way it happened.

You lost yourself so easily and he felt as though you were the loudest in the room. He could hear your sound over everyone else's, your instrument being isolated from all the others in his mind. Harry could swear he had never been so proud in his life to see someone do what they love.

As the overture came to a close, his hands met in applause and he felt the need to stand up just so you would know how much he loved it. But as quickly as he started, he stopped his applause and the next piece was beginning.

No. 1 Scherzo. It was the second piece on the track and your personal favorite for reasons you would not disclose to Harry. He had heard you practice it a few times before, nodding along as he recognized fragments of the piece.

It was around three minutes into the piece when Harry learned why it was your favorite. Because it was just you. You were the only one playing- your solo bringing tears to his eyes. It was just that moment when you looked up and made eye contact with Harry, him nodding with a large grin on his face with reassurance, you’re doing amazing, it read.

When you looked back up at your music, your eyes narrowing in concentration, you failed to notice the look on Harry’s face. His phone had buzzed and he found himself confused- he was sure he put it on silent. The feeling that was elicited was nothing but good, so he decided to go check just for some peace of mind.

He stood up, pointing at his phone when Louis questioned him silently, gaining a nod of approval as Harry exited the theater in a rush.

The second he exited the room that was beginning to become overly stuffy and constricting, he took a deep breath and told himself you’re probably just overreacting.

Harry was anywhere from overreacting. It was that exact moment that he had received a text that was pushed through do not disturb. The text was from his mum and read nothing but horrible news. The five words that found themselves on his screen that illuminated his face as he stood right next to the door called him a coward. They read: This contact has dialed 999.

Harry understood the severity of the situation but he didn’t know what to do. All he knew is that she called- he didn’t know why or where she was. He didn’t know if he had to book a flight back home or not.

Just as Harry was getting up and leaving for his own agenda, you had finished your solo. You looked up once again, hearing the applause and searching for Harry once more. But this time, you found Louis sat alone with a large grin creeping across his face and his applause filling the space next to him.

You had never felt as hurt as you did in that moment. He had left you. Harry, the man you now realized you love, found something more important than you and your aspirations, and there was no physical way that it wouldn’t sting. What you didn’t know was that as your heart was breaking, Harry’s mum’s was.

It had taken two hours for someone to answer the phone. Two hours for Harry to spend most of his savings on a red eye to the London airport. Ten hours for him to touch down in London. Three to make his way to the hospital next to his childhood home.

He was distraught to say the least.

He had left without mention of what was happening, his phone exploding with texts from Louis and Monica making sure he was okay, but not a word from you. He felt betrayed, but he understood. You had things going on too and he wasn’t the center of your universe.

The hospital looked sterile, not a single thing out of place. The walls were coated in a pristine white color that nearly blinded Harry’s bloodshot eyes, and he spent a few minutes catching his breath before he asked where his dad was.

He walked sluggishly onto the elevator, the weight of reality crushing him as he waited for what seemed like ages but really was hardly forty seconds for the elevator to jolt to a stop. When it stepped off, he saw what he imagined to be organized chaos.

People were walking quickly up and down the lengths of the corridor and he found himself passing by far too many crying people to think anything good could ever happen in a hospital- not revival nor birth.

He walked the length of the corridor in silence, taking in his surroundings. He was in shock- he could hardly even process that he was in England, let alone why he was there. It was only when he stopped shortly at the sight of his mum and sister sleeping, their heads resting on each other's, that he realized the severity of what was happening.

And so, with a deep breath, he sat down on the floor before them, resting his back lightly against the leg chairs and he rested his forehead on his knees. It didn’t seem like his life that he was living- he felt like this was all a vivid dream, but it wasn’t. It was less than twenty four hours ago that he was with Louis watching your performance and now he sat with his family outside of his father's hospital room praying he would be okay.

Harry was one of hopeful thinking and that was made apparent when a doctor exited his father's room with a stack of papers.

Harry was the first to stand, followed by his mother and sister, who were unsure of when he had arrived. He shook hands with the doctor, who he learned was named doctor Wilson. He was clad in the same scrubs as every other doctor but Harry found his to be a special type of unattractive- or maybe that was his subconscious distracting himself from the situation at hand.

Doctor Wilson cleared his throat as Anne made her way next to Harry, Gemma shielding herself from the news from behind him, “So,” he cleared his throat “Mr. Styles came in about a year ago to have his lungs screened, as you may know, and he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer,” he nodded.

“Well, Mr. Styles seems to have,” he left a pregnant pause in his sentence, “He seems to have the cancer cells spreading rapidly. We would like to put him on a self contained respirator and monitor him closely to give you some more accurate information about his cancer and give you some answers within a few hours,” he says slowly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief- his father had never mentioned cancer let alone a screening.

“Thank you doctor,” he heard Anne speak from behind him. He sent a last glance at the broken family and moved back into the room.

It was the first you had heard from him in about half a week. He had called you on Wednesday after not answering your messages asking if he will make his way over on Monday for your movie night.

“Hi,” you answer softly.

“Hey- uh,” you heard some shuffling, “Hey.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, “Are you coming over?”

There was a long pause on Harry’s end and you just about opened your mouth to confirm that he could hear you when he replied, “No,” he said shortly. “I- uh- I’m at home.”

“Do you want me to come over?” you asked in confusion.

“No, like, I’m in the UK,” he quickly corrected you.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, leaving a pregnant pause on your end, “Oh,” you replied.

“Yeah, I-” you could hear a few other voices in the background and you imagined they were his mum and sister, “My dad- he’s not doing so good. He has stage four lung cancer.”

“Oh,” you let out again. “I- uh- sorry, I really just don’t know what to say right now.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, which you could tell had bitter undertones, “That’s alright… don’t exactly know what to say myself.”

“I- uh- I’m really sorry,” you tell him sincerely, “God I feel like such an ass,” you expressed.

Harry’s eyes furrowed in confusion and he looked up at his mum to ensure she wasn’t listening, “No need, I promise it’s fine you don’t have to say anything.”

“I just- I was so mad at you for leaving and not saying anything and ignoring me. Thought I did something wrong or you were mad at me,” you explain. “Didn’t know what was going on and I was scared that I lost you.”

“Couldn’t lose me if you tried,” Harry laughed softly, you joining his laughter momentarily.

“Are you still mad I didn’t tell you I was going?” Harry asked after a long moment of silence.

“No- not at all. Was mainly just worried,” you reassure him, “I totally understand,” but you didn’t. How could he not tell you? Did he not think you deserved to know why he left when you were playing for him?

“I’m really sorry. Kinda just fell off the face of the Earth for a few days. Was anticipating the news and trying to stay strong for my mum and Gemma,” he explains.

Before you could reply, Harry starts again, “Hey, uh, we’re going back to the hospital so I’ll talk to you later, alright?” he says quickly before hanging up and leaving you alone in your study, clarinet in front of you.

You truly didn’t know how to cope with what just happened- it felt like heartbreak on two spectrums- family and lover. But he was neither, which hurt even more.

You picked up the piece of handcrafted wood that sat in front of you and tried your hardest to pour your heartbreak into the piece- adding pain, edge, and suffering to the nearly- done piece in an attempt to exert your feelings into something productive.

It worked like a charm, which was something you felt bad mentioning. You found yourself falling in love with the piece, fractures of your heart making up every line and the composition falling right into place as your muse fell right apart across the world.

It was the next morning when you received the message from Harry: He’s gone. In his sleep. I’ll be home in a week. Gotta sort some things out. -H

Harry arrived home that following Tuesday and he was exhausted but grateful to be back to his tiny townhouse in the middle of a city with his friends surrounding him.

He felt as though coping wasn’t an option anymore- he had taken up a whole week for that and in this moment in time he felt as though he had already done enough coping.

There was a memorial service the weekend after his father died and to say Harry’s family were crushed would be an understatement.

Anne, Gemma, and Harry each had prepared a speech for the service and none of them felt as though they could do the senior Styles any justice. He was a good man and they couldn’t even begin to explain that to everyone there. Nobody could understand the pain in the same way as they did, so they did their best to remember him in the best light.

Harry was mainly happy for one thing- the following day was Wednesday. He had taken off the rest of the week so he could recover from any jet lag and start the new week back with a fresh start, so he knew that tomorrow would be a great day to catch up. With work and with you.

He hadn’t seen a single person since he was back but upholding the tradition was important to him. He favored you over most all his friends anyway, so when he parked his old car in the driveway of the large house you inherited from your grandparents, he was excited.

He knocked twice and rang your doorbell once,queuing you to open the door in shock less than a minute after. “What are you doing here?” you ask confused, pulling Harry into a long hug. You had missed him on his ten days of abstinence from you.

“Got back yesterday, can’t skip out on tradition,” he shoots you a smile, letting go of your warm embrace. You took a moment to look at him before deciding he wanted a distraction from everything going on in his life.

You open the door further, beckoning him to come in, “Well come on, I need your opinion on my piece,” you gesture towards your office dramatically.

Harry chuckles and bows in thanks, “After you,” he says with a posh accent.

You both laugh, heading inside to where your things were set up and ready to go. He sat down in the same chair as he always does and you round the desk to sit where your clarinet was standing and your manuscript laid.

“Okay, so I added, kind of a lot, while you were gone,” you warm him.

He nodded and gestured for you to play, “Well go on then. Show me what you added,” he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at Harry and your music a few times each in an attempt to correlate the two in your mind- this was your Harry and he would never hurt you. You began to play the piece that you had become sickly familiar with but Harry found himself utterly perplexed at the sound of a new beginning. You had nearly changed the entire beginning and Harry loved it.

He found it to be oddly comforting to listen to you for what felt like the first time ever but in reality it was just another sense of stability in the world you two had created- the world that was exclusively Harry and Y/N.

The moment you reached the end, a bit he had helped you with, you found yourself stumbling over your composition, making Harry's brow furrow together. You were a perfectionist when it came to music- you loved the control that came with being able to play flawlessly and change how it all came together and he found it odd that you of all people were messing up something you had written in for weeks.

“Sorry,” you let out a huff, running a hand through your hair, “I’m really stressed and it’s really making this all worse.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “You should take a break,” he tells you with full seriousness.

You look at him with a blank face for a moment before bursting out into laughter, “You can’t be serious.”

Harry looked at you confused, “I’m serious.”

“Harry this is my job. This is equivalent to me getting a promotion. I can’t stop!” you explain harshly.

Harry nodded, “I understand. Just-” he paused, “Just come with me, okay?”

“No, Harry, I can't, I have to do this,” you stood your ground.

“Y/N,” he spoke firmly, “If you hate this and want to kick me out for a week and let you compose on your own after this, you can. Just come.”

You let out a sigh and deliberated your options, “Fine. But there is a high chance you’re not showing up at my door for a week,” you point an accusatory finger at Harry.

He raises his hands in defense, “Okay, noted. Let’s go slowpoke,” he teased.

You flashed him your middle finger and a toothy grin before packing up your clarinet and setting it on your desk. You follow Harry out to his car and get in the passenger seat as he starts the car and makes his way out of your neighborhood.

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry replied, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“You’re so annoying,” you reply.

“You love me,” he states smugly, making your eyes grow the size of saucers.

“Not right now I don’t” you tease once you recover from your previous state of shock.

Harry shakes his head and says, “Home Depot. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

You wondered why he could be taking you to Home Depot of all places- not getting food or going shopping to find another piece of clothing you don’t need.

Harry parked easily before exiting the car, you follow after him in a haste. You have to job to catch up with Harry who seems to be walking a mile a minute to get into the building, “What the fuck are we doing here?” you ask again.

“We,” Harry says, pointing at the two of you, “Are going to paint that white wall in your office,” he says with a smile.

Your face mirrors his, a grin of your own making its way across your face. You had mentioned to Harry months ago that you were itching to paint the room but you never made the time for yourself to do that.

This time, it was you who took the lead, teasing Harry for taking too long to make his way into the store. You find your way to the back of the store where you see a few employees mixing paint for customers and you find your way to the pantone swatches, Harry immediately picking up a brown one, “I think it’ll match the wood, no?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No I want it to be your hair color.”

Harry’s mouth opens in realization before grabbing another strip. He squints, reading the name aloud, “Werge,” he says confused.

You fall into a fit of laughter before moving down the wall to look at the blues, the color you were actually hoping to get.

With Harry’s unwillingness to be serious and your contagious laughs, it took you forty five minutes to find the color you had seen online a few months ago and had screenshotted on your phone.

You make your way over to an employee and ask for a gallon of the deep navy color, paying and making your way back into Harry’s car within a few minutes.

Your knee was bouncing in anticipation on your way home and you didn’t realize until Harry rested his palm on it, asking you, “What’s got you so nervous?” to which you reply:

“Not nervous, just excited.”

Harry chuckled and kept his hand there for the rest of the ride to your house, which you found to be far too close then you wanted it to be.

You both found yourselves in your garage loading your arms with painters tape and tarp to ensure your room is painted to perfection and not too messy afterwards.

You spilled some paint into the tray and used a roller to begin putting the fresh paint on the middle of the wall. Harry gasps when he sees the color in contrast with the wood that covered every other wall in the room, “It matches so well,” he comments, using a smaller brush to begin on the bottom strip of the wall where the painters tape stuck.

He sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, and you stood a few feet to his left, the paint sitting between the two of you.

You nod, “I know, it compliments the wood really well.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not the wood. I meant it matches my eyes,” he draws out.

You roll your eyes and let out a shut up before looking at him.

“Seriously,” he persists, setting his head next to the gallon that sat on the floor.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded slowly, dipping your roller back onto the tray, allowing the residue to fall off before you rolled a bit on his face and shirt.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up immediately.

“I had to check!” you exclaim innocently. “You know, now that I look, I think you’re right. It does match, we should use more,” you conclude.

“Now that I look,” Harry starts, with an evil glint in his eye, “I think this is the color your shirt is missing,” he concludes, flinging his brush in your direction allowing the paint to fall on your face and shirt.

“Oh my god!” you shout as Harry doubles over in laughter.

You bring your brush into the paint once more, taking a threatening step towards Harry. He flinches, making you chuckle and redirect the paint onto the wall again, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

He begins again on the bottom edge and before you could think you're safe, Harry gets paint on your ankle from where he sat on the floor.

You let out a loud gasp, “This is war!” you exclaim.

“Or you can just admit that you needed a break,” Harry shrugs, “It’s quite simple.”

You narrow your eyes and look at him, “I am going to cover you in paint. It’s quite simple,” you mock him childishly.

He shakes his head with a laugh before painting the rest of your ankle, making a ring around your foot.

It had taken two hours to complete painting the wall and to complete your paint war. You and Harry found yourselves in your backyard while your sprinklers were spraying the grass.

“Best way to clean,” Harry breathed out.

“You say you’re one with nature but what are you going to say when my grass is blue?” you ask him as you scrub at your legs to get off the paint.

“I’ll say part of me is really with nature this time,” he says shaking the water out of his hair as he walks towards the hose that was attached to the side of your house.

You shake your head in disbelief, “I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say, looking at Harry as he walks towards you with the hose gushing water out.

You step towards him and let him spray you down and you watch as the paint falls off your skin and into the grass, your shirt clinging to your body.

Harry tries to keep his attention on your face and not on the black bra that begins to show from your wet shirt that stuck to your body like a second skin.

You fiddled with the fit of your shirt, trying to make sure you were comfortable, before scrubbing your arms and legs clean.

Harry and you had decided after the first hit that you would do your best to avoid each other's faces just to make everything easier when it came to cleaning.

You rinse your hair fully before deciding you're as clean as you’d get without using a proper shower (which you didn’t want to turn blue from the paint), so you stepped towards Harry with your arm extended towards him.

“My turn,” Harry says softly, handing you the hose before spreading his arms out and letting the water hit his entire body, “This feels nice,” he comments.

“You’re crazy,” you reply. Harry shakes his head and takes his shirt off in an attempt to get everything off and you almost look away instinctively- you weren’t supposed to see your friend like this.

He allows the pressure of the hose to get most of the paint off his body but he seems a bit carefree about the cleanliness of his body at this point- you’re assuming this is the distraction you both needed from your mundane lives.

Harry finishes off with the hose and you run inside to grab the two of you towels, opting to stay outside for the rest of the night.

You both sit outside on the back porch swing that sat in your yard, wrapped in towels so you don’t get too cold in the autumn air. “You were right,” you mutter, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

“About?” Harry edges you on and you can practically hear him smiling through his words.

“I needed a break.”

What felt like a year was only two months and in those two months you had accomplished what you had been attempting since eighteen. You finished what seemed to be the perfect piece from a technical standpoint.

It told a story of betrayal and heartbreak and it included a plethora of twists in tone and changes in tempo and unresolved keys to add edge and lead the listener on. The piece, in theory, was among the most perfect ones written.

At least that's what Harry told you and that's what you tried to tell yourself.

You had just finished the process of getting it all recorded, recruiting some of your friends from the orchestra to take home your manuscript that you wrote in harmonies and new melodies to.

You spent a week editing the music together, sending recordings back, asking for retakes, and adjusting volumes, tempos, and tone before you were satisfied with the music.

All in all, it was a musically complex and fundamentally difficult piece that could be extended into a show or turned into a series of simpler solos- whatever would get your music sold to a publisher, you were willing to do.

You had contacts from your previous attempts at selling your compositions, contacts that rejected you but told you to come back if you had something new. You did not take the suggestion lightly.

You had mastered an email with your pitch- stating your name and your credentials, attaching a file of the piece, along with the score which separated individual parts and showed their dynamic together. It was your life's work and a story you were excited to sell, and that is why you were particularly excited when you received an email back the following week.

The email, in short, explained that a publisher would like to meet with you and is interested in helping you publish the music and help you get on the radar of a symphonic orchestra.

You were a giddy mess leading up to your meeting, your leg shaking in anticipation and your heart beating so loud you swear you could feel it in your throat. So, when it arrived it felt surreal.

You stepped into the tall building in a haze, your hands clutching onto your score and your body clad in your favorite orchestral dress that you find to be the one you wear to the majority of your auditions. You call it your good luck charm.

The receptionist was short and directed you to the fifth floor and gave you strict instructions to wait to be called in by Flynn Bradford’s assistant. You sat in the waiting room with a warm overcoat covering your body in the meantime.

When you got called up your hands began to sweat. You find your way into Bradford’s office and with a nervous step forward, you take your jacket off and sit down on the small chair before his desk.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself with a handshake, Bradford immediately recognizing your name.

“Flynn Bradford, a pleasure,” he returns with a friendly smile.

He was a middle aged man with a few silver hairs peeking through, but he wore a friendly smile and seemed very composed nonetheless. He took your score and opened it immediately. He looked over it in silence for a few moments, you sitting on the edge of your seat.

“I do have to say, Ms. Y/L/N, I was waiting to meet you so I could go over this with you. I think you’re a brilliant composer,” he speaks slowly.

You swallow harshly, “Thank you so much,” you gush, “I’ve been at it since I was a kid so I’m glad you liked it.”

He nods again, sifting through the pages, “And I have to say I’m impressed by the tone in the demo and the overall markup of the piece. I think there are a few minor changes that we’d like to see done but all in all I think it’s good.”

You nod your head quickly, “Of course and I was expecting to do so. I- uh- how many changes are we thinking about here?”

“Well it’s still your piece, so quite minor ones just to increase your chances of having it sold to a school or a symphony. Or, you could keep it how it is but that might not be the easiest to sell.”

“Right, so hypothetically, if I get all the changes done and we’re satisfied within a few weeks, it can go off to you?” you ask in shock.

“It seems to be that way, yes. I’ll send you a contract and some markups once I get to talk with my team about this. It would be best to get your own lawyer to look over this for copyright purposes and to make sure you’re alright with all the fine print,” he advises.

“Yes, I will definitely do that, yeah. Thank you so much,” you reiterate.

He hums a reply and hands you back your score with a tight lipped smile, “So this meeting was a bit quicker and the other might be too depending on what you like and want. Remember all the corrections we send are suggestions so you do what you want and we’ll be alright with whatever you choose to do,” he reminds you.

You nod and shake his hand once more, leaving the building with bright eyes and a winning score in your hands.

The first instinct you had as you sat back into your car was to call Harry but you were so overwhelmed with excitement you decided that going to see him at his house would be a better idea.

After all, he deserved to be the first person to know because he helped you so much when it came to the composition of this piece.

You were smiling incredibly wide as you made your way over to his townhouse in the city. His complex was very modern, a clear juxtaposition to your victorian styled home, but you welcomed it warmly. You enjoyed the prospect of having a place to go that is more minimal in comparison to your cluttered property.

It was hardly fifteen minutes before you parked outside of his home, your car finding its normal spot in the driveway of his garage.

Your legs carried you faster than you could have imagined, rushing you to the front of his house and your hand pounded against his door with a sense of urgency.

Harry took his time making his way downstairs, a towel around his waist and an impatient girl he had hardly met waited in his bed upstairs.

He opened his door slightly, allowing his head to peek out of the small crack he created, “Hey!” he exclaimed when he realized it was you.

“Hi! Can I come in?” you ask excitedly.

“I’m not exactly decent,” his hand scratches the back of his neck, “Can you wait down here as I get some clothes on?”

“Sure, take your time,” you nod in understanding, allowing Harry to make his way back upstairs.

“Who’s at the door?” the girl asks from her spot on his bed as Harry changes quickly into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“Just a friend, she should be gone soon,” he replies.

“You sure? She seemed really excited to see you.”

Harry lets out a sigh, “Logan, I promise she's just a friend. And what does it matter anyway?”

“Well I don't want to be the other woman,” she pouts, “But if you say she’s just a friend then I believe you.”

“Thanks,” he called over his shoulder briefly as he made his way back downstairs to where you were waiting on his sofa.

“So whats up?” he asks, “Want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. I have some news, though,” you say, enthusiasm raising once again.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Harry joins you on the sofa.

“So I met with Flynn Bradford today,” you lead on, hoping Harry could understand what the news was.

“No way,” he exclaimed after a moment of silence. “He picked you up? That’s amazing holy shit! Congrats!”

“Thanks! You helped so much, I thought you had to be the first to know. And on Wednesday you can help me decide what corrections to add, too. This is all so exciting! It’s happening so fast!” you ramble quickly, standing up and pulling Harry into a hug.

“No you did that all on your own! I knew they’d pick you up, too. So fucking talented,” he mumbles, returning your embrace.

“Thank you oh my goodness! Okay, I just wanted to come over quick to tell you that. I have to work on some audition music so I’ll head out in a few,” you say.

Harry opens his mouth to reply when you both hear his bedroom door open. Harry’s eyes widened in realization and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Harry?” you hear an unrecognizable voice, “You done?”

You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes as you start to realize what was happening. He was with someone. He found someone and it wasn’t you.

She walks down the stairs and your head immediately turns in the direction of the girl. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your tears in the ducts of your eyes as you see her in a t-shirt you know Harry absolutely loves.

“Hey, uh Logan. This is Y/N,” he trails off lightly, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” you smile falsely and extend your hand for her to shake.

“Hey, I’m Logan. You’re Harry’s friend?” she presumes, looking at the two of you.

“Yeah, we’re pretty close,” you pause, “Sorry, I didn’t know H was seeing anyone. This was kind of unexpected.”

“Oh that’s alright, I was going to leave soon anyway. Have to meet some friends for dinner,” she shrugged carelessly.

“No, no, you can stay. I feel bad. I can be out in a few minutes,” you tell her with a soft smile.

She looked at you and Harry intervened before she could get a word out, “That’s alright, you can both stay if you want?” he suggested.

“I really do have to go,” Logan trailed off.

Harry quickly jumped at this, “Oh! Sorry, love. Yeah, go ahead, don’t mean to keep you here if you need to be somewhere.”

“I’ll just grab my stuff,” she smiles at the two of you and heads back upstairs to where you assume she was staying in Harry’s bedroom.

You and Harry stand in silence for a moment, “Sorry I should’ve asked to come over. I’ll go, you can spend some time with her before she leaves,” you finally stammer with a slightly wavering voice.

“No!” Harry exclaims a bit too loudly, making you flinch at his tone. “You can stay,” he whispers.

“That’s alright, I have to practice anyway,” you say in a rush, leaving his house at once without looking back at him.

It was two days later when Logan showed up at Harry’s house with a soft smile on her face and her eyes filled with lust.

Not only two minutes after Harry opened the door, his lips were on hers and they were making their ways upstairs to his bedroom. Logan had come to Harry’s for a quick fuck and Harry was there to provide.

It had taken them a few weeks to get into a flow and get a general idea of each others bodys and needs and now that they were getting good sex, they didn’t take many moments to stop and catch their breath.

There were a few moments, though where Logan knew she fell short of your company. She could tell with a quick glance at Harry that he was a lovesick puppy when it came to you and it became more and more apparent the more time they spent together.

When they weren’t fucking, he spent most of his free time talking about you. The girl of his dreams and the funniest, prettiest, nicest, person he’s ever met.

She had her hands in his hair and he had his hands tugging on her waist when his phone began buzzing from his bedside table.

Logan sat up from where she laid, straddling Harry’s lap. He let out a soft groan and ran and hand through his hair as he checked who had called him.

His lips fell into an effortless smile as he answered your call, leaving Logan breathless and unfulfilled. She resulted in getting up from his bed and walking out of his house once she realized it was you he was talking to.

That following Monday, you watched as Harry made his way into your home, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the two of you as you sat on your sofa.

“How was your date with Logan?” you ask eventually.

“Oh, it was- it wasn’t a date,” Harry tried to describe, leaving you confused. Harry wasn’t one for casual hookups.

“Then what was it?” you ask timidly, hoping for an answer you can understand.

“Just meeting an old friend from college,” he coughs.

“A friend?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, uh, a friend,” he emphasized.

“Oh,” you let out softly, “Why’d you get back with her?” you ask.

“I don’t think the girl I like likes me back, so I wanted a distraction” he replies vaguely, turning on your TV in search of a new film to watch on Netflix.

You swallow the lump in your throat before replying, “I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Harry looks at you for the first time that day, “Well she doesn’t act like it at all, so I think I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me.”

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” you shrug, “What is there to lose?”

“A person who I value a lot in my life,” he replies almost instantly.

You didn’t reply after that, allowing the film Harry chose in a haze to begin and you sink further into the sofa.

It had been an eventful week. You had sent back your manuscript twice between today and your original week and yesterday you had auditioned for the live orchestra for the annual Nutcracker production.

This had been your fifth year playing in it- you were very confident in your ability to get a spot in the orchestra- but it was the solo that brought you grief. Every year, each section had a competitive fight between musicians for the solos that are littered through the production.

You found that the busy week that had followed you around became the main reason you were able to get your mind off Harry. No matter what you did he meandered his way into your thoughts and you were beginning to feel pathetic that your mood relied on him.

It was when you came home from auditions on Tuesday evening when you got a phone call from Harry. You hesitantly picked up the phone and allowed him to speak first.

“Y/N? You there? Can you talk for a second?” he asked.

“Yeah, what’s up,” you reply.

“I need your advice. I think Logan wants to start seeing someone but she won’t admit it to me so I don’t know what I should do because I don’t want her to hold back on it just because of me,” he pushes quickly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Well why wouldn’t she admit she wants to see someone? She probably likes you, H, don’t worry. She’ll talk to you if she likes someone else.”

You heard a heavy sigh come from Harry’s end of the line as you picked up all your belongings from your car, your phone sitting between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, I just- I don’t think she wants to tell me for some reason.”

What you didn’t know was that Harry was trying to prolong this call in an attempt to see if you would tell him to cut it off with Logan. It had only been a few weeks, and to be fair he hadn’t hooked up with her more then three times.

He knew he loved you but he needed confirmation that you liked him back. Logan insisted that you did but he didn’t trust her judgement as much as he trusted his own.

As you learned through numerous conversations with Harry, he is a charming man, but he is also a confusing one. He isn’t direct and he seems to beat around the bush when it comes to serious things in his life.

“Okay,” you say, confused, “Well just tell her that if she can’t be honest then she’s never going to be able to break it off with you. And if she says the same thing and you still don’t believe her just cut it off,” you advise selfishly.

You wanted to help Harry, you truly did, but you were also a human. You were selfish and needy and you wanted Harry to yourself. So, you did what a selfish, and jealous, girl would do and you hinted at breaking it off.

“Thanks,” he let out a huff of air, “Sorry, I have to sort some stuff out and I’m really stressed so I wanted your opinion about this,” he apologizes.

“It’s alright. Let me know how it goes, yeah? I gotta run some errands but I’ll see you tomorrow?” you confirm.

Harry hums in agreement and you hang up first, leaving him with the dial tone on his phone.

The first thing you do when you get in your office is check your email. You were waiting on a reply from Bradford- you had just sent in another round of corrections and asked him for minor technical critiques to finish off the piece. You were proud of where it was and you were thoroughly in love with it.

Just as you opened your laptop, you saw the taunting icon saying you have an unread email. You attempted to calm your nerves before opening it, preparing yourself for almost all senders.

But calming your nerves turned into a loud scream. Bradford had replied and informed you that he loved the piece and accepts it as your final draft. He also mentioned that he will fax over the legal documents to look over before meeting with him officially and signing all the necessary contracts.

Just as he said, later that night you received a thick stack of papers to sift off to your parents to help you look over and make sure everything was alright for you to sign.

You bind all the pages together with a few paperclips and make a quick drive into the suburbs to give your parents the good news and ask them to help you find someone to look over all the papers for you.

Your parents weren’t the most enjoyable people to live with but they were great to see in moderation. It was a large showcase of love every time you or Monica came home- they cooked, cleaned, and helped with just about everything you asked.

So, when you arrived home, you got the full treatment. Your mom had cooked a nice dinner for you all and your dad helped you look over the contracts in their entirety as you waited for dinner to be served. You deemed the papers safe and the three of you decided you could sign on them as soon as possible and get all the proper licensing.

You were overjoyed on your drive home and the moment you arrived back, you sent Bradford a quick email from your phone saying you can meet anytime to sign and that you had looked over the contracts.

The following morning, you had gotten back a response stating he was free later that afternoon and you took him up on his offer to sign on the fine Wednesday.

You met him back at his office, similar to the first time, and you had brought all the papers he had sent you, giving him a solid rundown of what you were expecting and negotiating royalties.

You had taken half an hour to settle on a final deal and Bradford had gotten the contracts readjusted for you to sign.

It was nerve wracking but exciting to be holding the pen in your hand and you signed page after page, ensuring your music could be sold and would be given proper care and proper copyright laws.

“Last one right here, Y/N,” Bradford encouraged you. Your wrist grew tired but you refused to complain considering how much you wanted this and how long you waited.

“Okay,” you grunted, signing your name sloppily and allowing Bradford to pull all the papers out from under your hold.

“So, what this all ensures from our relationship standpoint is that we are the primary distributor and we will be helping with copyright and making sure you get your money's worth,” he briefs with a chuckle. He straightens out the stack and stands up with a smile on his face.

You follow in suit and stand up at the desk, straightening out your pants, “Thank you so much,” you gush.

“Thank you for thinking to work with us,” Bradford countered, making you shake your head.

“Of course,” you say kindly, “And I appreciate all you’ve done for me these past few weeks. Been a huge help.”

“Oh it was our pleasure, Y/N. You're a wonderful artist. I think we all enjoyed working with your piece.”

You shake Bradfords hand and exchange pleasantries as you exit his office with a smile on your face.

It was the rush of relief that went through your body that helped you realize the gravity of what just happened. Your music has been sold and now has the opportunity to be in music shops, orchestras, and played all across the globe. And that was a great feeling.

It was indescribable, to say the least. It had taken over a year to compose the piece and you had multiple failed attempts prior to this one. The piece you named Domicile was quite literally a love letter to your life.

The piece went through the ups and downs of love. Domestic love, platonic love, romantic love. It was all encompassed in the piece you titled home.

Written from the back of your mind, you had no idea how to articulate how proud of yourself you were. It was self expression and it was beautiful.

Later that evening, Harry arrived at your home as he usually did. He held a small calculator and his laptop in his arm as he abandoned his car in your driveway and made his way up to your door.

He knocked before opening it, knowing you always forget to lock it when you came home from work, and he followed the noise of soft jazz down the hall and into your office.

The paint smell had finally vanished the room and he found you sitting comfortably on the floor with your legs folded beneath you. “Hey, how was your day?” He asks, walking in and sitting across from you on the floor.

“Really fucking good,” you grin, making eye contact with him.

“Care to explain?” he asks with wide eyes and an encouraging smile.

“Yes,” you say dramatically, “I, Y/N Y/L/N, am officially,” you pause for effect.

“Oh come on,” Harry groans in anticipation.

“I am officially a signed artist,” you squeal in excitement.

“No fucking way,” he says softly, “No fucking way!” he yells. “I knew you would oh my goodness! This is amazing! We have to celebrate-” he rambles on.

“Harry!” you exclaim with a giggle, “No need to celebrate this is enough!” you assure.

“No, no, no,” Harry says, “We gotta do something. Even if it’s just a dinner with Mon and I. We gotta.”

“No,” you reiterate firmly.

“Fine,” Harry says, “But you’re coming with me,” he says standing up. He extends his hand out and helps you stand before leading you to your living room.

He gently tugs your arm towards him and he presses his chest up against yours. “Play it on the speaker, love,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you say softly, pulling back and using your phone to play the symphony over your speaker system per Harry’s request.

Harry smiled at you and gently put his hand up to yours, interlocking your fingers and holding you tightly. “Dance with me?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“Of course, sir,” you tease, stepping into his hold, his arms wrapping around your waist and your hands draped over his shoulders lightly.

“I’m really proud of you,” he whispers, swaying back and forth.

“Thank you so much,” you hum, “Seriously, you helped with so much of it. I really appreciate it.”

Harry ducked his head in a bashful manner, unsure of how to reply to your high praise, “I’d do it again if I had to.”

You shake your head, looking out the window next to you two. The sun was setting and the sky was a painting of oranges and pinks, “God, Harry.”

“What,” he chuckles, following your gaze.

“I cannot believe you’re real,” you whisper, you hand moving to meet his jaw. You graze your thumb over his skin in utter disbelief.

“Harry?” you call out softly. He was zoned out, staring at your profile.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“Can I kiss you?” you breathe out timidly. You don’t know where exactly you got all the courage that consumed your body at that current moment, but you were thankful for it.

Harry swallowed thickly before his eyes met yours, “Yes please,” he whispers back at you.

Your hand that rested on his jaw caressed the skin for a moment before you leaned into his warmth. Your lips met his lightly, you pulling away too quickly for his liking. Harry looked at you once more before leaning forward and allowing his lips to meet yours heavily.

You smile into his mouth, absolute joy coursing through your veins as he kissed you so carefully but so harshly. Your bodies stilled into the kiss, your mouths moving in sync slowly, absorbing every inch of each other.

Harry lets out a small groan as you grind slowly against him, his head threatening to roll back if it weren’t for your hand holding his head still.

His hands moved along your back comfortingly making your body melt into his expertly. You pull away again, Harry looking at you with dimmed eyes, you completely out of breath, “Songs over,” you whisper.

“So restart it,” he replies with a small grin.

Harry ended up seeing the full performance of Midsummer the last night it was performed at the theater. He apologized profusely and insisted he’d see the last of the show if it was the last thing he did, so you let him come and sit right in the front as he wished.

Just as the first time, he sent you smiles of luck before your solo and a few more afterwards to show he was proud of you. Just as you anticipated, he is the best person to cheer you on during a performance.

You knew Harry would be waiting for you in the lobby, so you held off on putting your overcoat on and allowed yourself to step out of the backstage area with your black dress and short heels, your clarinet and jacket in hand.

He held his arm out for you once you became close enough for him to wrap his fingers around your waist and you walked into his hold, “I got something for you,” he tells you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you ask with a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

Harry smiles at you before handing you the flowers that sat in his other hand. It was an assortment of long stem red roses, what he read to be the traditional rose to give after a performance.

“Thank you,” you whisper in awe, your eyes meeting his as he looks at you.

Harry hums in response and tugs you closer to his body before leaving a quick peck on your lips and pulling away just as fast as he approached you.

You and Harry were confused to say the least. You had both confirmed you liked each other the night you got signed but you found it difficult for the two of you to label what was going on. Harry wanted it to be exclusive and you wanted to give it a trial run to see how it would work. And though you did give it a trial run, the two of you were yet to discuss what was going on.

You assumed this would be like any other relationship you had been in- after a few months and a handful of dates, you’d consider yourselves partners- but this was vastly different. You have known Harry for a few years now and he has always been a part of your life. So what counted as a date and what was as normal?

Well, tonight constituted a date. Harry had told you before he arrived that he would be taking you out for a nice dinner after your show and to be ready for the best night of your life. You rolled your eyes at his antics and humored him by showing him the outfit you had picked out- the dress you found yourself wearing every Sunday- and a different jacket then you usually wore- this one more flattering for the body.

Harry nodded in approval at this and made his way to the theater, you asking one of your friends to give you a ride so you could go home with Harry later that night.

Now you sat in Harry’s car with his hand resting on your knee, your hand covering his as he drives you both to dinner. He was clad in the same suit he wore the first time he saw you and it subtly matched the black dress and white coat with pleats that you wore next to him.

Harry informed you when you got in the car that he would be taking you to his favorite (fancy) steakhouse in the next city over. Before you could protest her told you it was in celebration of your final performance and being signed, therefore your protests would only further encourage him.

“Will these flowers be alright sitting in the car during dinner?” you ask him.

“Not sure,” he chuckles, looking over at you, “I’ll get you new ones if they aren’t.”

“No!” you’re quick to stop him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what if I want to? You gonna stop me from fulfilling my inner desires?” he asks you teasingly.

You roll your eyes at him and look out the window. The soft sounds of Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac fill the silence as Harry exits the highway and turns into the parking lot of Del Friscos, the steakhouse.

Harry exits the car first, rushing to your door so he can open the door for you. You smile at him as you step out of the car and walk in the building hand in hand.

The restaurant was dimly lit and had high, round booths around the perimeter of the room, tables with pristine white tablecloths among the center. Harry met the host with a small smile and a, “Styles, party of two,” before being led to a corner booth with you in toe.

You smile at Harry as you slide into the booth, your hands making their way to the hem of your dress and tugging on it, “This place is really nice,” you comment your voice laced with insecurity.

“Yup, that’s why we look really nice,” Harry reminds you.

“I feel like this is normal,” you chuckle, “I wear this every Sunday.”

“My girl looks this nice every Sunday and I never knew? Might have to make a pit stop Sunday nights too,” Harry compliments.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “I’d be alright with that.”

Harry smiles at you as a waitress comes over and asks what drinks you’d like.

The dinner was filling and well-made, you found yourself laughing harder than you ever had and eating the best food you’ve had in awhile.

Harry held your hand as you left the steakhouse and he opened the passenger seat door for you, rushing to the other side to turn the heater on for you, “One more stop before I bring ya home,” Harry tells you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Alright, where?”

“Oh, Y/N, you should know by now that if I don’t tell you it’s a secret!”

“Well it was worth a try,” you shoot him a smile, your hand finding its place in his.

Harry hums in agreement, “Just know if I want you to know, you’ll know.”

You let out a laugh at his stubbornness, “Alright sir,” you say in a posh accent.

Harry lets out an exaggerated hey before saying, “That’s what I sound like when I talk to my boss.

You burst out in laughter and Harry goes on to tell you an embarrassing story from the first time he met his boss.

When Harry’s car reverses into a spot, your eyes shoot up in surprise at your arrival at the hardly-built riverwalk in your town. It was a new location and half the restaurants were still in the process of being built but it was still a nice place to go.

You catch the door before Harry can, you send him a smug smile and take his hand as he tugs you gently towards the ice cream shop he seemed to be eyeing.

The location was dimly lit with blue tinted lights and a few wall sconces that gave a warm orange glow.

“How did you know I wanted to come here?” you asked him finally, coming to a stop and stepping inside the building.

“It’s just about the only thing you’ve talked about for about two months,” Harry teased you with an accusatory finger.

Your lips curve upwards as you exhale a laugh, “Okay, you got me there.”

Harry smirks at you as you look at the menu before you, stepping up to the teen worker who looked far too tired to be awake, “Can I get a scoop of chocolate? And he’ll have,” you point at Harry.

“Uh- I’ll have a scoop of vanilla with graham crumbs please,” Harry gives the worker a cheeky grin and wraps his arm around your waist as you wait for your cones.

You smile in thanks as Harry pays, heading out of the building almost immediately to be met with a gust of wind and a lit up river beside you.

Harry stays by your side as you both walk in silence taking in the scenery, eating your ice cream peacefully. It was a really nice way to spend your evening and you found yourselves enjoying each other's presence more than each other's conversation.

“Okay,” you swallow the last bit of your ice cream, “What’s your dream travel destination?�� you ask.

Harry's eyebrows raise in amusement, “What, did you look up first date questions?”

You stifle out a laugh, “Maybe, I didn’t know if it would be awkward.”

Harry lets out an exaggerated, “Ha!” before redirecting you back in the direction of his car, “That’s cute that you care so much.”

“What and you don’t care?” you tease.

“I care just not enough to google first day questions,” he pokes your side playfully.

You laugh out a “Fine!” and redirect the conversation to your performance from earlier that night.

It was a full week apart from Harry and you were excited to reunite with him. Your week had been full with auditions for different parts in the Nutcracker every day so you found yourself unavailable to spend your Monday and Wednesday with Harry, having little to no time to yourself.

Now, the following Sunday, the only thing between Harry and yourself was your front door.

Harry was officially invited to your orchestra’s gala in celebration of completing Midsummer. You both had decided that Harry would arrive promptly two hours before you needed leave and you two would get ready together.

He was lying down on your bed as you leaned over your bathroom counter in an attempt to perfect your eyeliner, “Don’t know why you bother with that,” you hear him grumble.

You let out a chuckle and stood back to decide if it was even enough, “Me neither it’s too fucking hard.”

Harry lets out a snort, “That's what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at him through your mirror, “You sure you’re not fifteen?”

Harry smiles, “You sure The Office is only for fifteen year olds?” he shoots back.

Your face matches his and you lean into the mirror once more to perfect your eyeliner before moving to your closet to change into your dress for the night, prompting Harry to begin getting into his suit as well.

Today, for the nicer event, you wore a nude dress with navy accents towards the bottom and a leg slit Harry thought made you look absolutely ravishing. And, in perfect coordination, Harry wore a navy suit with a white half-buttoned shirt underneath and his favorite red boots that reminded him of an old western movie you’d watched a few months back.

He held your hand as you stepped out of your closet and let out a dramatic “Oh damn!” at first sight before spinning you around so he can get a full idea of your outfit.

You fall into a fit of giggles and collapse into his hold and he sways back and forth, “I really like you,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you reply with a grin, “I like you a lot back.”

“Well how lucky am I?”

“So damn lucky,” you tell him as you let out a silent giggle, “Come on, let's head out.”

The drive to the theater seemed all too short for the both of you. You were sitting in a comfortable silence enjoying each other's company on the way there, stealing a few kisses at a red light or a longing glance while Harry was concentrating on changing lanes during rush hour.

When you arrived at the hotel the gala was held at, you both found your way inside and to the tables that were set up with your names on small place cards. You both sat there in soft chatter as you awaited the arrival of your friends who were to sit at the same table.

Eventually, you were met with a crowd of people around your table and your voices raised in volume and excitement. It was merely 8:00 when your ears were greeted by the sound of a disconnected microphone.

“Hello, everyone, I’m Jordan Pennington, the conductor of the Midsummer Night’s Dream orchestra performance and I’m here to recognize each performer for their outstanding work over the course of these past months,” his voice cut through the room like glass.

Jordan then went on to state each performer and his favorite memory with them through the course of the orchestral production.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jordan introduced, an image of you as a baby and you now making their way onto the screen behind him, “Y/N is a strong clarinetist we are blessed to have in our group. She works very hard in the theater and outside and has recently been signed as a composer so I’m hoping I’ll be conducting her work soon,” he paused as people congratulated you. You didn’t publicize your signing, so a lot of people were in shock and impressed.

“She’s been with us for a while so we have a few good memories with her at this theater but I think everybody's favorite is just about any time Y/N brings lunch,” he pauses as everyone starts laughing. You bury your face in your hands as Harry looks at you with a confused smile.

“When Y/N brings lunch she without fail trips on one of the steps and spills something,” Jordan informs. You let out an exaggerated groan, eliciting more laughter and Harry covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Can we move on?” you call out.

Jordan lets out a laugh and obliges, moving onto the next person on his list.

You glance at Harry who is taking a sip of wine and you raise your eyebrows at him, making him nearly spit out his drink, “Sorry, love,” he coughs out, bringing you in for a hug, “Just sounds so much like you it’s impossible,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes at him and continue to listen as Jordan goes through the rest of your orchestra.

When he finishes, your food is devoured and the middle of the room is opened to allow people to dance. You glance at Harry and take his hand, reminding him of the night you first kissed, “Come on,” you mutter.

He allows you to take him to the center of the room where some of your colleagues have begun to conglomerate and dance slowly to the tune of Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud, you two joining in the mass.

Unlike last time, you knew exactly how to act, your arms immediately finding a home around his shoulders and pulling him close so your flesh is against his.

Harry smiled at this and squeezed you at the waist as a silent way of saying I love you, his head leaning in towards yours and your foreheads resting against each other.

“How is it that we always end up dancing?” he asks you.

“Not sure, I was never good at it either but here I am,” you chuckle a reply.

Harry’s eyes shoot up in disbelief, “There is no way you weren’t a good dancer.”

“Swear on it,” you say, your lips tugging upwards to make a smile.

“No. I refuse to believe that, you’re so good,” he says, his eyes shooting down to your feet and then back up to your eyes making you giggle.

“Nope,” you say confidently, “Just found you and you were good. By association I’m good.”

“So what you’re saying is you found the right partner?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You fall into a full belly laugh at his antics before agreeing, “I found the right partner.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Will You Take Me Home?

Here is some heart-warming fluff to make up for what I did with the cancer fic. I would do it again so I’m not sorry but I do feel remorse for hurting you

Word Count: 5055

Retired Hotch’s Birthday

The normal temperature of the room outside his nest of throw-blankets and heating pad causes goosebumps to break out over his exposed arm. He groans, not even bothering to check the caller ID as he puts his phone to his ear and answers “Aaron Hotchner”. His voice has taken on the gravel of disuse, fogged by the painkiller-induced nap he’d accidentally fallen into. If he was following his doctor’s orders, that wouldn’t happen. His body would have acclimated to the drugs and the pain wouldn’t leave him so exhausted that he can hardly keep his eyes open when it dulls to throbs. Which, he’s not aware of just yet, but is the very nature of this call: his detrimental habits.

“Sleeping beauty,” the other person greets and he leans back against the pillows behind him, rolling his eyes. The phone rustles and Hotch shakes his head as he hears the faint scratching and rustling of keys at his door. “I knocked four times,” he’s informed. “I was starting to think--” the door comes free and Hotch doesn’t even look up. “I thought I was going to find you dead in here.” The call ends and from the other side of the couch, he hears, “which, by the way, would be a hell of a thing, you know? Dead on your own birthday.” He closes his eyes but feels the cushions get pushed down, the telltale sign she’s leaning over the back of the cushion overtop him. “Speaking of which,” she beams. “Happy Birthday, old man.”

He looks up at her, taking in the full effect of mischief he could only hear before. The expressive lines of her smile spread across her face and it’s a distinct moment when all he can think about is how truly awful things had been between them at the beginning. How mean he was, really, because it wasn’t her. It was his own inability to trust. Yet, here she is before noon on his sixtieth birthday leaning over his couch and no doubt about to start a pot of coffee that she’ll consume over three-fourths of. Suppressing the smile tugging at his own lips, he raises a more important matter at hand. Far more pressing than why it is that she’s letting herself into his home. “How long until they come?”

Retired doesn’t mean born yesterday (whatever the opposite of that is, really). He’s not around the office anymore but given Garcia’s questioning last month of his favorite cake flavor, Dave’s inquiry into his schedule for this week, and Emily’s early arrival he knows exactly what they’re doing. To her credit, Emily pretends she doesn’t and she might be more convincing if he didn’t know every tell she’s had for the last two decades.

“Who?” she asks. “How long until who comes?” He just looks at her. A stand-off, really, to see who caves first. They’re assholes so this could go on forever and if she were looking for the thrill of watching him break and she would press on. She cracks but not because he’s better at this game, just because she’s excited. “You have an hour. I’ve been sent to get you ready so you’re not a crabby old bastard when they arrive.”

He groans, sinking back into the couch and pulling his blanket up over his head. Effectively locking her out. Well... not really. She just leans further over him, not caring when he grunts tries to burrow farther away. “Come on,” she shakes his shoulders. “Aren’t you the least bit excited? Penny made you those cookies you like and Derek is bringing Hank, who, I might add, is very excited to see Hops.” And she’s only buttering him up because-- “I’m not supposed to tell you this because it’s a huge surprise but Dave left this morning to go pick up Jack. He’ll--” she can’t even get it out. He peaks out, just the top of his head so he can narrow his eyes at her. To see if she’s just fucking with him, using his feelings against him but he sees only sincerity. She grins, she knows she’s won. “So up and at ‘em old-timer! You’ve got a gaggle of people to entertain!”

Old-timer? He’s four years older than she is. That’s not what he comments on. “Gaggle?” he repeats back to her, grunting as his knees protest his standing. “Really showing your age there,” he mumbles and steps out of the way of the pillow she throws at his head. “What?” he defends. “You said it, not me.” He shakes his head, heading back to his room and leaving her to entertain herself. Which she will and he can hear her rustling around the coffee machine. Nearly surprised that she doesn’t complain he still hasn’t set up the Keurig she got him for Christmas (which they are rapidly approaching him having owned now for a year).

Though he isn’t sure how to express it anymore, he’s excited to have them here. Even if he knows that it will get overwhelming, he can’t deny that the night will end far too soon and he’ll find himself missing them all over again. But that’s not what’s important. In an hour (less than that knowing Penelope and her strict party-throwing agendas) he’ll have them all right here. Reid with his never-ending knowledge, quizzing him on the book recommendations that Hotch has been slowly working his way through. With Derek and Savannah and Hank, the latter of which can’t pronounce Hotch and it makes his heart do a funny little thing when the toddler sees him and screams in pure delight “Hops!”

JJ will pour in with Henry and it’ll be like old times watching Henry and Jack slunk off together (and they all pretend like they don’t know they’re smoking pot in the backyard). Emily and Dave force him to mediate the same four fights that they always have and then they’ll stick around long after the others have gone home to talk about whatever comes to their minds.

And Penelope.

His house is about to be flooded with baked goods and meals in containers because despite being alive as long as he has, she denies the notion he can feed himself. She’ll organize them in specific ways and each will be labeled in her neat handwriting so he can tell what’s in each. Most of them will be vegetarian because she’s worried about his cholesterol (and the environment) and a few will be spicy and chicken will make its way into a few of the dishes. He’ll thank her and kiss her cheek and she’ll remind him like she always does, that all he has to do is ask. He won’t but he does appreciate how much she cares. As smothering as it can be.

He showers quickly, giddy in a strange way to get out and be properly ready when the others arrive. Not too quickly, the last thing he needs is to bust his ass while Emily is here. She is far too comfortable with herself and with him and he knows that she will come in here if she hears him. The other thing about that woman is that she might have a distaste for constantly being touched but she can put that aside to annoy him. Which has created this weird mind-game thing he knows he’s losing when he doesn’t even notice her encroaching on his personal space.

Everything is a battle with her.

He decides to save himself the trouble of being bullied and searches through his dresser for a pair of jeans. He owns maybe two pairs of jeans both purchased forever ago and just to help him fit in with the parents at Jack’s school during field trips and soccer games. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he was a kid and he knows he still does but he won’t be the reason Jack gets weird looks. Emily had raised an eyebrow at that (why he had even divulged this to her is beyond him) so evidently it didn’t really do the trick but Dave assures him he looks fine and Garcia thinks he looks like a DILF so… he’s fairly certain that’s good. He’s not really sure what that means but he’s learned it’s better not to ask her to clarify.

Emily is fixing the couch when he comes out, the apartment filled with the scent of the coffee she’s brewed while he was showering. “You’re going to burn the house down with this thing,” she tells him. She holds up his heated blanket as it offends her. “You need to go to the doctor, there has to be something they can do.”

What surprises him isn’t her apparent anger-- with Emily, it’s a diversion. Her anger is rarely that, it’s to distract, and right now he knows he’s to perceive her anger and not the way she fears for him. The way that she can’t say “I love you” like the others but can, instead, be outraged that his body has been working against him for so many years. She’s not angry at him for needing to be tucked up in that blanket all the time, she’s afraid of a vascular issue that might kill him or that he’ll leave untreated until they’re all being reunited at the closest general hospital. Waiting for a doctor to tell them that he waited too long or that his heart can’t handle another surgery or a million other things.

He takes the blanket from her, clumsily folding it over and tucking the cords into the folds. “I have gone to the doctor,” he assures her. Not for that specifically but he did bring it up. He leaves it at that for now and she understands that means maybe later. It’s not worth getting into and he doesn’t feel like thinking about George Foyet and his knife today.

“Hey,” Emily hums, smirking at him. “Your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

He stops dead in his tracks, frowning as he looks back at her but just as he’s about to inquire what, no doubt, awful thing she’s done to make her feel the need to compliment him to compensate for it, the apartment door opens. They both turn to the noise and Garcia steps in and freezes when she notices the two of them standing there.

Looking at the bags full of things she has in her arms and then to Emily and then to Hotch she sheepishly smiles. “Happy Birthday?”

With a sigh, having accepted this defeat a while ago, Hotch steps to help her with bags. He tries to hide his amusement but he cuts Emily a glance, three bags in his left hand and more still coming, and he can’t help it. Garcia turns back just as the smile eats its way up his face and he shakes his head. For a split second, he can see her apprehension, the way that her fear of going overboard or embarrassing herself washes over her before she carefully masks it (and to think he gets all the shit about masking). “Thank you,” he whispers so sincerely that he has to avert his eyes. Adding softly, “you know, you’re the only person who ever cares to make me celebrate it?”

Which just makes her sad. “Sir,” she whispers frowning. “You deserve the world, do you know that?”

He blushes, shaking his head, but he can’t get the words out in his shock.

“Oh,” she tsks. She stands on her toes and pulls him down so she can wrap her arms around him. “I love you.”

Emily makes a sound of disgust behind them and he’s glad for the distraction before all this undue attention gives him a heart attack. “Bleh,” Emily rolls her eyes. But she brightens when she sees the red Tupperware container holding the cookies. “Are those the--”

Garcia sees Emily zero in on them and hands them right to Hotch, holding them to his chest. “Are not for you,” she says to Emily with a nod of her head.

So Emily just looks to Hotch and he passes them to her with a shrug and weakly defends, “they’ll go stale if she doesn’t eat half of them.” They’re his birthday cookies but she’ll get her hands on them anyway. If not today then the next time she lets herself in. If not her then Reid when he gets bored and wanders over here for entertainment. If not Reid then Dave then Derek… you get the point. He’ll never finish them on his own.

Garcia lets it go because she knows that’s how he is and because she has a crapload of other things to make sure he eats. He leaves her to mess with his fridge, it’s better to let her do her thing. She’ll move his almond milk to the side door because that’s its proper place (even though he’ll move it right back) and come in about five to ten minutes to fuss with him about a specific something she notices he’s lacking. Today it will be the complete lack of breakfast foods in this house when she knows for a fact that his doctors are giving him hell about eating more than once a day.

He’ll have no excuse, never does, but she won’t give him a chance to provide it either way.

Reid arrives next and actually knocks and waits for someone to let him in, something none of the others will do. He sheepishly offers Hotch the books he’s artfully wrapped in a newspaper and Hotch ignores it for a moment to hug him. If they don’t do it now Reid will just wait in anxious anticipation for it because he knows it’s what people do and he likes being hugged by Hotch but he doesn’t know how to initiate it himself.

“The Sultan of Brunei spent $27.2 million on his 50th birthday,” Reid tells him as soon as Hotch lets him go. “Michael Jackson was there,” he says with a nod. And Hotch smiles and listens to him anxiously work his way around the point that he’s trying to make. Which is that by the standards of the Sultan of Brunei, this party will be exceptionally small and quiet… the way Hotch would want it to be.

They are still standing at the door, talking about what the act of giving a card means. The way that the stories get warped and it thrills Reid to slide the pieces of that puzzle together through-out various cultural ideals until you have them. And that America has a very strange, above-average affinity for birthday cards.

Derek nearly hits Reid with the door when he comes in. Too distracted with a squirming Hank on his hip and Savannah behind him fussing with him for not knocking. He brightens the second he places his eyes on the two of them, a face that Hank matches perfectly upon seeing his favorite people.

“Weed!” the toddler greets throwing himself into his godfather’s arms. Reid takes him happily, laughing at how tightly Hank holds onto him. He just loves that Hank never gets tired of him. He could still see Hank every day for a month and Hank would still greet him with the same enthusiasm as the first day.

Derek is kicking his shoes off, offering Savannah his hand so she can do the same when he notices Hank still excitedly talking to Reid. That’s by all means not abnormal but-- “Hey,” Derek mumbles Hank. He nods his head to Hotch who is standing watching Reid and Hank with a bright, wide smile. “Don’t you have something for Hops?”

Reid puts Hank down before the toddler can start to squirm and Hank immediately glues himself to Hotch’s leg. No one knows why it’s just what Hank likes to do but not just, in general, he only does it to Hotch. He stands for a few seconds, both arms wrapped around one of Hotch’s legs, face pressed into the material of his jeans, and Hotch stands still to allow him to do it. Hops is a nickname he has no control over, the same way that Reid doesn’t fight that he’s been “Weed” now since Jack was two and stumbling over his name.

Hotch got off easy. When Henry was younger he just sort of kept his distance from Hotch. Hank… just really loves him.

“Is that a hot wheel?” Hotch asks softly when Hank finally peels himself away enough to offer the bright toy clutched in his hands. Hank beams up at him and stretches to hold it higher, trying to get Hotch to take it. “Oh wow,” Hotch gasps, shaking his head and pretending to just be so impressed by this toy so severely dwarfed in his hand. “Do you know what colors these are?”

Derek holds his hand out for Savannah to take and guides her through the house. Moving them to the kitchen to talk with Garcia and Emily knowing that he won’t be getting his son back this afternoon. Both because Hank won’t want to leave Hotch or Reid’s side and because Hotch and Reid won’t want him to leave. The Hotwheels was entirely Hank, they spent twenty minutes finding the perfect one when all Derek needed from the store was stain. Though they all agreed to no presents because Hotch would already hate them invading his home with cake, they all got him presents.

The others all got him books because that’s what they know he likes and he really does love to receive books. They’re fun entertainment and they all say something about how not only they perceive him but also the sorts of things that they like and he… well, he loves that.

Derek built him a new bookshelf. It’s sitting in the back of the truck and he’s waiting on Will to get here to drag the thing in here. Derek had noticed two weekends ago that one of the shelves Hotch uses in the hall was bowing under the weight of the books on it so he’d made something to replace it. Thin but heavy-duty-- he’d considered all the ins and outs of the current shelf. Things he didn’t like about it until he has a higher shelf that doesn’t stick out so obscenely.

Which doesn’t matter, really, Hotch will love it either way.

Hank keeps “Hops” distracted while the others pull dinner together. Emily is set to ice the cake but she’s awful and she’s sent to sit in the living room with the other three. Hotch is sitting in the recliner, Hank sitting on his knees and telling him about what he did in preschool this week while Reid pokes through the bookshelf Hotch keeps by the door.

JJ knocks as she comes in but still lets herself in. Henry is bummed to see Jack isn’t here yet but he’s quickly distracted and swept right back out the door to help his father and Derek move the bookshelf into the house. They don’t really need Henry’s help but it’s an effective way to ensure Hotch doesn’t try to help. Not because he can’t but because… he’s old and they don’t want to break him.

They’re just buying time, anyway, until Jack and Dave get here.

With them comes the party…

Hotch only puts Hank down to hug Jack, biting down his tears when he realizes that his son now stands just as tall as he is. Probably bound to be taller. He’s grown out his blonde hair in college and just as Hotch is opening his mouth to ask about school, how seeking out that Master’s Degree is treating him, he spots--

“A puppy!” Hank shouts.

Jack smiles timidly, stepping back to show his father the dog still held back by Dave’s hold on her collar. “Her name is Scout!” Jack kneels down, beaming up at his father while the thrilled puppy licks his face. “Do you get it?”

Oh, he gets it alright. Emily had snitched him out two weeks ago (to his own son, of all people) and admitted she was a little worried. He still doesn’t think there was ground for her fears. It’s not abnormal for him to shut himself out and if his therapist doesn’t think he’s any crazier than normal then that should mean he’s fine. At least, that’s how Hotch feels about it. That’s ignoring the way that everyone else feels. Which is that he’s visibly more on the edge and jumpy. That he gets irritated in public spaces and his anxiety is getting worse despite starting therapy and medicine he swears is helping.

Jack had done his best to get through to his father but sometimes Hotch makes those conversations like talking to a brick wall. That conversation had ended rather badly, honestly. Jack had yelled, shouting mindlessly that he’s twenty-five and he’s too young to have to be taking care of Hotch like this. Too young to have to fear that each day he’ll receive that phone call and the crazy thing is that Jack wouldn’t even be surprised-- everything about Hotch’s life is damning proof to the fact that he acts impulsively, reckless, and without care to his own well-being.

Jack had called later and he’d apologized, they both had. It had been careless on Jack’s behalf, Jessica had explained to him at sixteen some delicate things about his father. He’d come to understand just what it means for everyone around Hotch to love him. The way that his mother had tried to stifle that urge in his father and Jessica and Dave and Emily and Derek and everyone who has ever loved a man like Aaron Hotchner has tried to walk him back off that ledge. But it’s as if he was born there and you can move him but you can’t take that fundamental calling away. Can’t wash his darkness away.

Jack had spent his entire childhood likening the characters around him to his father, just pulling at strings to understand the man. Sometimes he’d earn himself a smile and other times a grunt. He’d bring his father the books or replay scenes in movies all to just see his reactions to know if the man he sees his father as is the same one Hotch sees himself as.

Freshman year of high school they’d read To Kill A Mockingbird and he’d thought his father to be a man like Atticus Finch. In many ways, he is but he keeps coming back to that book. Until during that heavily apologetic phone call, Jack had laughed and realized his father might be a bit like Atticus Finch but he’s a Boo Radley. The recluse that always represents unwavering good.

Hence Scout.

What had driven Boo Radley from his home? Little Scout Finch.

He lets them into the house, not really sure what to say. “You know,” Hotch mumbles, shaking his head. He watches the puppy eagerly work her way around the others. Snaking between legs and nearly knocking Hank over in her excitement but the boy is around enough dogs to only laugh harder. “You could have just got me a… gym membership of something.”

Derek huffs at that and now, he’s sitting in his living room watching his closest friends snickering at his son’s clever book reference. With a sigh, he leans down and offers his hand to the puppy, frowning when her first instinct is to lick him. “Hi, Scout.”

Jack squats down, petting Scout while she continues basking in Hotch’s attention. “You don’t go to the gym, dad.” Jack rubs behind her ears, smiling when Scout doesn’t divert her attention from Hotch. She’s zeroed in on him and he’s fairly content with that. “Besides I got Scout from that program that they run in Richmond.” There’s this dog training thing they do down there that his friend actually works at. Scout failed her training-- as it turns out she’s a bit of a reject. They’d tried to start her out as a service dog but she’d been too smart for that too. Too eager.

Hotch raises an eyebrow at that, not liking the sound of what he thinks is happening. Those dogs are expensive and it’s already enough that she’s a German Shephard. “What do you mean?”

Jack glances at Dave, “well…”

Dave steps up and soothes it out. “I made some calls and Jack’s friend helped us out. Scout is a reject from two academies, a failed service dog and from the police dog academy in Richmond. So she’s too smart for them to just send anywhere.”

Great, Hotch thinks.

“It’s perfect,” Emily snickers. “Hotch loves to take care of things and now he’s essentially got a toddler again.”

“She is potty trained,” Jack offers quickly.

But Emily is right and the idea is brilliant. Hotch does like to take care of things and having Scout will prompt him to start taking walks in the morning again. It might help him implement a strict eating routine, place him in the kitchen to feed her. He won’t go do things for himself but he will take her to the dog park and sit there until she’s tired. Throw balls for her to retrieve and (what had been the killing stone) is that she’s far too smart for her own good. She’s got other training. Senses anxiety and depression and is very protective.

Hotch frowns down at Scout, she’s placed her head on his knee watching him as he takes this in. Hank is leaned up against her side, fingers trailing through her short fur, and she’s entirely unbothered by it. She’s only worried about Hotch and Hotch is worried about her. He’s never had a pet before. Jack had a goldfish he fed occasionally but… there’s no way that counts.

“Thank you,” he says softly, rubbing at his fingers anxiously and frowning when Scout smacks his hand with her nose. He sighs and puts his hand on her head, scratching like he thinks she wants. Too distracted to note what she’s effortlessly just done. Put off by her clinginess, he’s not even thinking about the curling hot ball of nerves in his stomach. His mind does wander but she nudges him again and he sighs and keeps patting her head.

Dinner goes well and Scout and Hank are glued to his sides. Hank to his left feeding him chips and Scout green beans which Hotch sees and chooses to ignore. Her immediate allegiance to him is a little strange, she’s not too bothered with Garcia or Derek no matter how hard he tries to win her over (feeding her green beans just like his son). Scout does like Hank, Henry, Jack, and Reid. She takes to them like it’s nothing. She’ll go from ignoring Derek’s attempts to get her to sit to trot right over to Reid and lay over his feet.

Hotch does enjoy that, it’s funny.

They funnel out slowly after eight. Hank has already fallen asleep in Hotch’s arms and Savannah has to wipe his tears up and shush him back to hazy contentment with the promise he’ll see Hops soon. Derek will probably be over in a day or two to make sure that the shelf is holding up well and to transfer the books and he’ll bring Hank along to distract Hotch to do it.

JJ and Will trickle out not too long after. Henry and Jack conspire together to get Dave to take them for ice cream and he caves-- Jack promises to text him before he falls asleep to tell him where he landed for the night.

Garcia takes Reid home, won’t let him take the subway back at this hour and Hotch doesn’t even have to ask they just know to text him when they get home safe. He promises to eat the food Garcia left and she already has the date in which he should run out marked on her calendar. She’ll give him a week to bring back the Tupperware before coming over here herself and seeing what he has and hasn’t eaten.

Emily sticks around until ten. The two of them picking up meager things and she promises to come by early tomorrow and the two of them will go to PetSmart to figure out what kind of food Scout should be eating.

And before he knows it…

“I guess it’s just me and you then.” Scout tilts her head at him. “You want to… go to bed?”

He’s not really sure how the dog thing works. TV has shown him plenty of times they’re not supposed to sleep in your bed so he makes her a blanket bed of her own and marks down a dog bed on his list of things to get tomorrow at the pet store. He tells her goodnight and then blushes at how silly that sounds.

He’s in bed, changed into pajamas, and yawning into his book but he’s committed to reading a chapter every night. He hears her get up but he still jumps when his bedroom door is opened. She doesn’t wait for a command and doesn't listen to his “no” before jumping up into the bed alongside him. He’s trying to grumble, to get up but she lays right across his hips. Turning her head to look up at him and he gives up. “Only tonight,” he says.

Tonight turns into the way she sits between his legs, when they’re listening to the guy at PetSmart help them pick out food. To the way she looks up at him when he tries to estimate how big she’ll be to get her a properly sized bed. Which ultimately turns into him giving up and Emily hiding her smirk at just how whipped he already is.

Tonight turns into every night and if his nightmares stop coming as frequently because she’s laying atop him he doesn’t say anything. If he starts going out more and the team starts picking out pet friendly places to meet him for lunch or to have a coffee break then he also doesn't say anything but Scout is right there.

So… what exactly does it take to draw Aaron Hotchner away from the ghosts? A puppy.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jack hotchner #hank morgan #savannah hayes #jennifer jareau #will lamontagne #henry jareau #david rossi

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fenristheorem · 4 years ago

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New Era Lance Headcanons

I told myself I wouldn’t do this before episode 4 came out... but here I am.

I originally wanted to wait until ANE episode 4 was out to post any of my own headcanons for Lance, but I know they had a fire at one of their locations recently and that has delayed the release of the episode (my heart goes out to them), so I figured I should just go ahead and post some headcanons because I’ve been dying to do so.

~Headcanons under the cut because these are long~

General:

Twice a year, on their birthday and the anniversary of his death, Lance brings Floppy (because I theorize he adopted Floppy) to visit Valkyon’s grave. Really, this can happen at nearly any time of the year - but seeing as Lance is busy as Chief of Obsidian Guard, he can’t always make time to visit his brother’s grave. However, Lance always makes sure to find time to visit the grave with Floppy on these two special dates. He'll even specifically ask Huang Hua to try and make sure his schedule isn't too busy on these two days. He never says why, but it's not hard to guess.

Lance occasionally talks out loud... to his brother... distantly hoping that - despite the fact that he’s dead - Valk will somehow hear him and by some miracle respond to his brother. He doesn’t do this very often, only when he finds himself caught in a low moment where he feels truly isolated from everyone and the ache to have his brother by his side again echos through him like thunder through a mountain valley, but when he does it means he really needs the comfort. No one in the guard knows this about him; he makes sure that he never does this in public or where anyone could find him doing this. Valkyon’s death effected nearly everyone in the guard, but Lance was still his brother and doesn’t believe most people would understand the full extent of his regrets and, further more, his ways of coping with this great loss.

Lance never visited the re-formed crystal created by Leiftan and Erika. Not once - in all 7 years. He never felt he had the right to because this situation and all his pain was primarily caused by him and, therefore, he needs to bear the pain as part of taking responsibility for his actions. The crystal room became a symbol of hope and forging forward into a new era, and while Lance is grateful for being given a chance to redeem, he's aware that he has a long way to go before he has made up for everything he's done, if he ever could. He feels he needs to find his own hope from within and help guide the guard with it, not rely on the guard and the new crystal to provide him with hope for the future.

Romantic:

Lance is very used to being alone by now. Because of this, he keeps his romantic partner at a distance when they first start off. It’s not that he’s not interested - it’s just that he’s settling into the idea that someone actually wants to be closer to him after everything he’s done, especially the woman he threw off a cliff. He’s not entirely sure how to react to a woman finding romantic interest in him, hell he’s not even sure he deserves it. It's been years since he's allowed himself to consider romantic companionship, so he's widely used to being his own rock. However, once they’ve been together for a while, he’ll trust himself (and her) a bit more and actually allow himself to be a bit more comfortable and minorly impulsive around her. Slowly he’ll allow himself to throw a few jokes around, he’ll allow himself to share his opinion on things around her more, and he’ll find it a little easier to smile each day. Now he’s not one to hide his emotions, but he certainly keeps himself in check to avoid causing damage or pain as he's painfully aware that heavy emotions can influence people. However, this disappears when he begins to trust his partner more; he's less hesitant and more confident that she won't shun him for having strong emotions and opinions on certain things.

Once they’ve been together for a while and his romantic partner has effectively torn down the walls of isolation he built around himself, she’ll find he’s... a bit territorial. After all, he’s allowing himself to become attached to someone for the first time in years; why wouldn’t he be attentive and watchful with his newfound companion? He’s not openly aggressive towards others when jealous or feeling territorial (in the rare case that he is, as he’s learned later on in the relationship that he has nothing to be insecure about), he refuses to bring that sort of disruption to the guard, but he’s certainly not above throwing Guardienne over his shoulder (without his armor on, of course) when he’s reminded of a moment earlier in the day where another man seemed to be just a bit too interested in what she was saying. Pair that with a kind, naive smile from her and a few jokes, and perhaps an encounter with a Leiftan at some point, and you have the perfect combination for a semi-jealous ice dragon who suddenly craves attention from his lover. He’ll take her over his shoulder and saunter over to the nearby bed in who-ever’s room they’re in, lay her gently down and rest himself beside her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close to his chest as they settle in to stay like that for minutes to hours depending on how long they have together. She better not hope to leave anytime soon then. Unless they have somewhere to be, Lance is unlikely to let her go for any reasons; he wants her attention and he's going to get it.

Lance is an ice dragon. This is well known by now and he's proud of his heritage. However, with this also comes all the responsibility of being an ice dragon; specifically the instincts. This is also something his partner needs to learn to deal with if they hope to maintain a relationship with him, because he's certainly not about to rebuke himself for having natural instincts (unless it truly begins to become a problem or he accidentally hurts someone). These instincts can range from being very territorial and possessive at certain times and situations, to keeping a special watch on her to make sure she isn't hurt at times where she could be prone to it, or treating her like a living goddess merely because the mood strikes him and he wants to show appreciation for her presence. These are only a few examples. When do these instincts hit hardest? He's still trying to figure that out, seeing that he hasn't been with anyone for a while. However, they can effect him in different degrees. Some days he'll hold her for an extra five minutes longer before she leaves to hang out with Mathieu, Koori and Karenn, other days he'll request that Huang Hua allow him to escort her on a minor mission in the forests surrounding HQ because he wants to do everything he can to protect her and give them time alone together. If they're interrupted on their mission by someone else, Lance will be deathly quiet and still as his partner and the newcomer carry on their conversation, only speaking when spoken too, and he won't be mean, but internally he'll be quite irritated at the fact that their alone-time is being interrupted when he planned for them to be alone for a while. Ideally, his partner will pick up on his distance and wrap up the conversation, and once the newcomer leaves Lance won't hesitate to take his partner by the wrist (gently) and briskly drag her away from the direction of her conversational partner. When he feels they're far away enough, he'll abruptly turn around and press her against a tree, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck with a faint growl. The best thing his partner can do in this time is hold him. He doesn't need comfort or reassurance, he just needs time alone with her. However, that's one of the extremes of his instincts. Most of the time he acts on subtle instincts. He'll pull her into a secluded corner of the guard for a few minutes to talk privately and share a few kisses, or he'll be passing by and see something in the market that she said she needed, or perhaps he sees something he thinks she'll look good with or he knows she'll like, and then track her down after purchasing to gift his find to her. At the end of the day, he just wants her to know he appreciates her, and when the sudden urge to do something with or for her strikes he has a hard time letting it go. And while Lance is very independent and doesn't wish to oppress or suffocate his partner, his instincts can become a bit overbearing at certain times. All his partner needs to do is confide in him about this and he'll try and make them a bit more comfortable (after all, his instincts tell him to care for her before anything else) but she will need to try and tolerate this as much as possible, if it's even an issue to begin with. However, Lance is quite confident that she'll enjoy the intimate side of his instincts more often than the domestic instincts, no matter how she feels about the domestic side...

I’m considering making Lance headcanons a routine post on my page - maybe one or two posts every couple of days. I have a few more headcanons that I can post, and I’m sure I’ll have more after ep. 4 is out, but I’m always open to writing specific headcanons upon request.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #Eldarya Lance ane #fenristheorem writing #eldarya lance headcanons

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monsieur-guimauve · 3 years ago

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VnC Birth Chart Analysis: Vanitas, February 7, 1871 (Part 1)

Up to analyze your problematic neighborhood vampire doctor, Monsieur Vanitas!

Disclaimer: This is just for fun, and my opinion. Please don’t take everything on here seriously! (I also doubt MochiJun had the time to individually research appropriate birthdays to fit the character’s personality but I wanted to see where this post would go lol.)

February 7, 1871 - (time unknown, location is assumed as Paris)

Chart is Locomotive Shape (Shape that has more planets covering 2/3 or 3/4s of a chart)

Moon Phase is between Full Moon and Waning Gibbous

Moon sign would have been in sign of Virgo regardless of time born

Inner planets have no fire element

Jupiter and Uranus are in Retrograde

Has a Morning Star Mercury, and an Evening Star Venus

His Mars is in Detriment (Libra) and has only difficult aspects to it

Notable Characteristics of his birth chart to significant points in the story:

1) Noe asks ‘What is Love, Vanitas?’

Vanitas’s answer on not being sure and using his impulse decisions to declare love is quite similar to a scenario when people confuse their real feelings versus their emotional needs. (He has his Virgo Moon opp. Pisces Venus) In the case of VaniJeanne, the story is treating is as character growth and slow burns, but it has yet to be confirmed whether it will remain canon given MochiJun’s direction of all the characters personal discovery, other romantic prospects and strangely imitate platonic relationships.

2) 'I will save you without fail!’ and Vanitas/Noe fight from Memoire 50-53

I’m still perplex on Vanitas’ revenge and his complicated hatred toward Luna Blue Moon, but we do know his secretive feelings are quite extreme. When I noticed that his top aspect was a Mercury Opposing his Uranus Retrograde, it reminded me about Noe’s ruminations about Vanitas’ choice of being ‘free’ or bearing loneliness by himself. This aspect indicates extreme views (or personal values) and a need for a high degree of independence. With Uranus retrograde, it a more severe example of needing to change or adapt, else face death (in a creative sense). You can see Vanitas’ desperation of survival in Memoire 50-53, but his inconsistent nature is also a survival instinct to prevent others getting the upper hand over him. This aspect indicates chaos, but it’s not suggesting the individual is chaotic, but encounter many scenarios where they must deal with it, less they encounter a ‘death’. (Not a literal sense.)

3) Vanitas’ problematic behaviour when dealing with anyone really (and freaks out when he doesn’t have control of the situation)

Remember how he lied to Noe to kidnap Luca while he tried to beat Jeanne? Then he tried to hold Maria hostage and Noe got annoyed? Vanitas’ Sun square Pluto aspect helps him being decisive in solving issues and dealing with it in an efficient manner, but he can be a manipulating jerk (as Dante, Johann and Riche said) This aspect is described as: “

This aspect often creates stubborn and decisive people. However, they also tend to tell others what to do and they try to persuade them about the need to change their behaviour. People with this aspect may encounter death or other profound changes in their surroundings more often then usual. They have a tendency to influence others through effective manipulation at subconscious level. At first these people seem kind but in reality they are manipulating and controlling. However, they are often unaware of it.

^Also think about when Jeanne confronted Vanitas keeping a secret for her and he gave her two conditions. That face he made kind of gives of Sun square Pluto vibes. (Cause he’s manipulating her, but at that part of the story, it seems that he was doing it to tease her.)

Disclaimer again

I’m not a professional and just doing a little chart analysis to better understand a mysterious character make me enjoy the VnC story better. feel free to share your thoughts in the post below! :D

#vanitas-no-carte #les memoires de vanitas #vanitas #vnc vanitas #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #astrology #birth chart reading #birth chart #anime astrology #vnc

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thedarklingxalina · 3 years ago

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A Darklina fic I'm playing about with but not committing to yet. This would be the first chapter. I need to finish Dark Guardian first but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Eclipse

Summary: Alina is an investigative journalist, investigating the death of her childhood friend, Mal.

Alina is reunited with her other childhood friend, Aleksander - known to the world as Kirigan, a famous actor and grisha rights activist. All too quickly though, Alina begins to discover Aleksander is hiding a dark secret.

Modern Grisha AU. Everyone has their powers. Mentions of suicide. Mild torture.

Saints, give me strength.

Alina stared at the rusty mesh gates through the rain speckled windscreen. A barrage of warning signs prohibiting entrance were pinned across the fencing. Keep out. Danger. Risk to life. On one fence was a display of withered flowers entwined around the metal, with hand-made laminated pleads to stay away, to remember that someone out there loves you.

It was a somber sight. Careful reminders of the danger that lurked behind that run-down gate, past the abandoned warehouses, looming at the end of decrepit wooden bridges. Even from here Alina could see the mass of swirling shadows, an endless stretch of darkness that tore Ravka in two.

And here she was armed with wire cutters, ready to break in. Foolish, reckless, stupid. Exactly what she had been told not to do.

This is for Mal, she reminded herself.

Alina took in a deep breath and left the warmth and safety of her car. She put on her medical face mask, slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and tucked her camera inside her satchel.

She didn't plan on staying here long, but seeing as research into the side effects of prolonged exposure to the Fold was ongoing, she decided to err on the side of caution.

Gravel crunched under her boots as she approached the fence, making her way to a part hidden by the treeline. There she cut a reasonable size hole for herself to squeeze through.

So far, getting into the site was easy. Too easy really, considering the dangers of this place.

Abandoned heavy equipment littered the rubble ridden grounds. Metallic, battle-worn Skiffs (centuries ago once manned by Squallers before new technological advancements replaced them) laid in ruins around the site; rust-encrusted, dented and torn up. The warehouses were dilapidated, weathered down and overgrown with weeds.

And that wasn't even mentioning the bridges that crossed the ten foot moat, giving unhindered access to the Unsea and the monsters within.

This place was a death trap.

"Why in the Saints name did you come back here, Mal?" Alina asked.

He had loathed this place. Everyone in Os Atla had. There had been vocal opposition from the public for decades, demanding the site be shut down. The residents of the city uncomfortable with an access point to the Fold being right on their doorstep.

This skiffyard's infamous reputation for being the most dangerous, certainly hadn't endeared it to people, no matter the flow of trade it provided. It had the highest fatality and injury rate of an skiffyard. Budget cuts producing poorly made Skiffs that broke down frequently and were east pickings for Volcra. Breaching person capacity on each trip to increase profit. Bribing of safety inspectors. Understaffed. Overworking their employees to exhaustion.

The place had been a nightmare. The stories Mal had told Alina about it over the years still made her recoil.

The final nail in the coffin for Skiffyard 13 had been when three urban explorers had snuck into the docks, using it to bypass the the forest and ten foot moat separating the Fold from the city - deterrents erected over a century prior, to keep the public safe. The three individuals, the youngest only fourteen years old, had never came out again.

The dock had been shut down. Workers like Mal had been relocated to other docks outside the city.

Yet despite this, the site had never been dismantled. It was too expensive, was the frequent excuse. The go to excuse for all failures in protecting the general public from the dangers of the Unsea.

Now, it was the easiest access point to the Fold. No workers to sneak past, no checkpoints, and no maintenance to the gates and various deterrents. There wasn't even video surveillance or electrical fencing, as electronics were unreliable this close the Fold. And much to the people of Os Atla's grief, no armed patrols or guards dogs to keep trespassers like her out.

Oh, the mayor promised they would upgrade the security on access points to the Fold regularly. But those promises seemed to be forgotten after the elections had passed. Funny that.

As Alina scanned the deserted skiffyard, the Fold a short walk away, she realized the bitter irony of it all.

It didn't take long for Alina to find the place she was looking. Dock Six. The last place Mal had last been seen alive.

Alina took a shuddering breath, her grip on her satchel tightening. she closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes.

Another life lost to the Fold, the news reporter had said. A tragic suicide, the police had decided, he left a farewell note on the dock.

A farewell note that doesn't mention me? His childhood best friend. That doesn't mention his girlfriend Lucy who he had planned to propose to on her birthday?

But Alina's protests had fallen on deaf ears. She was nothing but a grieving girl in denial to them. Even Lucy had tried to discourage her, wanting her to accept-

No. Alina wouldn't hear it. Mal didn't take his own life. He hadn't. He wouldn't. Alina had spoken to him days before. There had been something he had wanted to tell her, something he hadn't felt safe discussing over phone or email. A story, he had said, that people need to know. Then that phone call the night he vanished. That desperate, breathless voice pleading with her through a breaking line.

Alina... don't... Atla... away-

Mal? Mal, is that you? I can't hear you, the line is terrible. Where are you?

Distant shouting, five loud bangs, more static.

Mal? Mal!

Stay away... sorry... sorry...

Something had happened to Mal that night. Something awful that the police were refusing to look into. Alina was sure of it. And come hell or high water, she was going to find out what. She owed it to Mal, to Lucy, to herself.

Alina scouted the area, alighting her hand with a soft glow to light her way.

It took a while, but the Saints finally took pity on her and Alina found something. Something that she suspected to be the source of the bangs in that final phone call. Gouged into a floorboard of the dock, into a post, and a concrete wall.

Bullet holes.

They weren't old. The moss overgrowing the post and floorboards having been blasted off with the impact, yet to have grown back.

Alina snapped some photos.

After an hour prowling around each bullet hole site, sometimes on hands and knees, getting caked in dust and mud, Alina was ready to give up when an idea sprung to mind. She summoned her light, shining it across the ground until something silver glinted back.

A bullet, hidden among the overgrown weeds. Alina took more photos before putting the bullet in a labeled ziplock bag.

Suicide in deed, Alina mused bitterly. Had the police even bothered to check the scene?

"I'll find out what happened to you, Mal. I swear it."

Alina rose to her feet, dusting her trousers.

Mal had come here for a reason, and whatever it was, someone had killed him for it. But what could be here that was worth killing over?

There was only one warehouse stable enough to enter. Warehouse three. Alina didn't bother to pick the lock, just melted it off its hinges then crept in.

The warehouse was massive and surprisingly well maintained. Everything was clean. There was no debris. Creates and boxes were stacked high and neatly.

Alina frowned, extinguishing her light in favor of using a battery powered torch.

If there were people here, she didn't need them knowing she was Grisha. That element of surprise could be the difference that mattered. Besides, there were too many out there that despised her kind; having people know you were Grisha was like walking around with a bullseye on your back.

Alina crept behind a row of shelves, occasionally taking photos. She stopped at an easy to reach pile of boxes and pulled back the lids.

Oxygen canisters, boxes of personal protective equipment, bullets (but not the same as the one that she found outside; these were longer and bigger, meant for something... larger.)

This is all essential items for crossings, Alina realised. And it's all new.

Someone had to making illegal crossings across the Fold, using these docks as their access point.

Alina closed the lid, a dreadful unease settling over her.

What are they taking across the Fold that requires all the secrecy?

Maybe the answer was in another crate. Alina moved to open another-

A sharp tug on her heart stilled her, making her choke for air. Alina fell to her knees, the energy in her body bleeding from her.

As darkness consumed her, one though flickered through her mind.

Saints above, she hated Heartrenders.

☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑

Alina was no stranger to danger. Her investigative journalism had gotten her into many a difficult situation. But nothing ever quite this bad.

When Alina had awoken, it was to find herself tied to a chair, her hands separated and bound to a steel bar (rendering her powers useless). She was blind folded; inconvenient and certainly unnerving, but it gave her some hope. Whoever had assaulted her, cared if she saw their faces. If they were going to kill her a blindfold wasn't necessary.

"Who are you?" A man asked. Middle aged by the deep roughness. Ravkan by the accent. A grumpy git, by the tone.

Not the person you're looking for, Alina wants to snark, but thinks better of it. They might not be fans of Star Wars references and honestly, she is too exhausted to try and be smart. Besides, snarky quips and teasing here would only charm her way into a pair of cement boots and a dip in the river. Or the Unsea.

Alina tried not to shiver.

"I said who are you?" Grumpy demands.

"Alina Starkov. Investigative Journalist for the Ketterdam Express News."

There's no point lying. They probably already know who she is with a quick internet search. Lying will only make them mad.

"What's a small-time news journalist doing in Os Atla?"

Alina twitches at his comment.

This time the man who speaks is younger. He has a scratchy voice and bratty attitude that made Alina want to kick him in the shin.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Nothing more. He went missing three months ago and was last spotted working at the docks you snatched me from."

Wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you? Put a bullet through his head perhaps?

"Name?" Grumpy asks.

"Mal Oretsev."

"Never heard of him. Seems you've wasted your time, Nancy Drew," Bratty said.

I doubt that, Alina mused bitterly. She had clearly stumbled onto something if they were willing to kidnap and interrogate her.

"That's a shame," Alina said with exaggerated glumness. "Well, if you could just untie me I can head off. Wouldn't want to keep you guys later than need be."

Grumpy snorted. Bratty let out a nasty chuckle (Alina would wager a week on gossip column duty, that Bratty had a very punchable face).

"We can't have snoopy reporters buzzing around here," Bratty says.

Don't panic, Alina tells herself. Don't-

Alina hears the rustle of fabric, then the dreaded sound of a gun's safety clicking off.

-starting to panic.

"And you think a dead one will prevent that?" Alina swallowed down the hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, but there was still a frantic edge to her voice. "There are people who know where I am and know to call the police if I don't make it back soon. Within an hour this place will be swarming!"

"She's bluffing."

"You think I'm stupid enough not to have a back up plan in case something like this happened?"

If she said it strongly enough, maybe even she would believe it. Because really, a smart journalist would have done that.

"You were stupid enough to get caught."

Prick.

"You have a heartrender, that's cheat-"

Someone slapped her, Bratty she would bet. Alina cries out as pain flares hot on her cheek.

That'll leave a bruise, Alina muses bitterly.

"That's enough," Grumpy snapped, his footsteps loud as he got closer. "Tell us, what information do you have on Project Likhoradka?"

Alina frowned. The name rung a bell, but it was too distant to make out. Likhoradka... why would they think she had any information on it? Was it because she had mentioned Mal? Did it have something to do with the illegal Fold crossings?

"I don't know anything about-"

Someone slapped her again, worse than before. Where his hand had connected, her skin burned and ached.

Bastard, bastard, bastard, Alina thinks, gritting her teeth.

"I don't know anything! One of you is a heartrender, you know I'm telling the truth!" Alina snarled.

Alina strained against the bonds on her wrist, tied behind her back. If only she could melt through them. She could distract them with a flash of blinding light, turn invisible, then flee into the night. Had they known she was Grisha and that was why they bound her this way? Or was it just a precaution?

A phone buzzed, cutting the interrogation short. A moment later, Grumpy spoke again. "The boss is here."

Alina heard the whirling grate of the warehouses large doors lifting. A brief wind tickled her face. Then a new set of footsteps, slow and precise, made their way closer.

Damn it. How many of them where their now? Three inside, but could more be waiting outside? More heartrenders or maybe other Grisha? Infernis, Squallers, more heartrenders?

Alina swallowed hard, sniffing back the tears welling behind her eyes. Hope of making it out of this alive was dimming like a setting sun.

"And what is this?" A voice asked. He had a pleasing voice; gentle, smooth, young, yet firm. The boss, she'd guess. Boss of what though?

"Nosey reporter from Kansas-"

"Ketterdam, I'm not Dorothy," Alina muttered. But Bratty would certainly make a perfect Scarescrow; no brains and all.

Bratty smacked her again; this time across the head, more chiding than malicious. Speak when spoken to, the message was clear.

"Does she know anything?" The leader asked.

"Don't know yet. But she said she's friends with Oretsev." So much for not knowing him. "We figure she has to know something about-"

Bratty stops talking. Footsteps come closer and Alina holds her breath as someone takes a delicate hold of her chin. She gets the impression they are studying her features intently. Long fingers brush aside the hair from her face, lightly tracing the scar on her forehead.

A scar she had gotten when she was a child, when a group of bullies found out she was different from them. Witch, demon, freak... stones flying through the air... frightened shrieks and tears... and a little boy with onyx eyes, arms out stretched, shielding her from it all...

The man inhales sharply.

The heartrender knocked her out again.

#darklina #the darkling x alina #aleksander x alina #im still debating whether or not to expand it as ive never done a mystery fic before

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hood-ex · 4 years ago

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Part 2 of the Dimension Switch Fic.

“Grayson, what on earth are you doing?”

Dick turns his attention away from the meat lover's pizza he’s slicing to look over his shoulder at the kid who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and giving Dick a disapproving glare. The kid, Damian, has his arms crossed over his long-sleeved shirt, and the way his shoulders are slightly hunched makes him look like a prickly, uncomfortable little cat. Dick would like to think the discomfort comes from the pair of beige chinos the kid is wearing, but if there’s anything he’s learned during his short time in this universe, it’s that Damian isn’t just any ordinary kid. That seems to cross over into how the kid likes to dress himself.

Dick motions to the pizza with the pizza cutter in his hand. “Making pizza. Want a slice?”

“What I want,” Damian says with a curled lip, “is for you to stop prancing around here in an indecent state.” He looks pointedly at Dick’s bare chest as if Dick’s exposed pecs are an offensive faux pas.

Dick cocks his hip against the counter and mirrors Damian’s crossed arms.

“That’s what’s got your thong in a knot?”

It’s only after he’s said it that Dick remembers that particular expression isn’t used in this universe. He’d found that out real quick the other day when he’d used it.

Tim had given him a confused look and asked, “Don’t you mean ‘don’t get your panties in a twist?’”

The kid had then started rambling about how the original phrase involved knickers and was created by the Brits and, well, Tim had reminded him so much of an excited puppy that Dick had just ruffled the kid’s hair after the explanation and gone on his way.

“Richard would never walk around without a shirt unless he was downstairs or in his apartment!” Damian says hotly.

Oh, Dick thinks, he just misses his big brother.

He’d been informed about his 27-year-old counterpart—who he’s secretly been referring to as DG in his head—by Damian the first night he’d arrived in this universe. From what he’d heard, DG did sound kind of awesome. At least, Damian had made him sound that way after explaining that DG had been his Batman. What was less awesome was learning the reason DG became Batman in the first place.

Dick’s only slightly ashamed to admit that when he’d been left to the guest room he’d been given, he’d teared up imagining his dad dying and taking all the comforting warmth from the manor with him.

Even now, the thought of his dad’s death makes his mood sour. He tries not to let it show as he turns back to his pizza to move a few slices over to the plate he prepared.

“When your brother gets back, you can sing his praises for wearing a shirt. Me? I’m gonna keep doing my thing because no one’s gonna die from me not wearing a shirt.”

Dick doesn’t even have to be looking at the kid to know he bristles about one of the things Dick just said.

“Father and Pennyworth will not be pleased!”

Dick shrugs and moves to place the pizza cutter in the dishwasher. “They can tell me if it’s a problem.”

“I’m telling you it’s a problem,” Damian says, and Dick smoothly evades the fingers Damian tries to grip his arm with. Dick returns to his spot at the counter and grabs his plate in one hand and a single piece of pizza in his other.

“And I’m telling you to take a slice of pizza. Last chance.” Dick holds the slice out like some kind of peace offering.

The look of disdain Damian gives him reminds Dick of a wolf with its teeth pulled back in a threatening snarl.

“I’m a vegetarian,” Damian says through gritted teeth.

“You are?” And now Dick kind of feels like an asshole. “My bad, kumquat.”

“Tt!”

Damian marches out of the kitchen with all the rage of a thousand women scorned, and Dick breathes a sigh of relief once he disappears.

He can’t wait to be an only child again.

It’s only when he’s settled in the living room with his pizza and drink sitting on the coffee table that he tries to imagine himself being a big brother. As Starling, he had to deal with kids all the time. Comforting them when they were scared, entertaining them when they needed a distraction, giving them first aid when they were hurt, and holding their hands while waiting for the parents to collect them.

The only kid he knows personally that he’s always been fond of is J’onn’s daughter, K'hym. He’s taken her to the trampoline park a few times, always given her over the top gifts for her birthday, and will gladly give her a piggyback ride when she shyly asks for one. He likes teaching her things too. His chest is always filled with pride and purpose whenever she learns something she didn’t know before all because of him. And the smile he always gets whenever she excitedly wraps her arms around his legs and loudly proclaims how much she missed him? There’s nothing better.

He tries to imagine doing all that and more with four siblings and… he thinks he might like it. He thinks he might be good at it if given the chance. Hell, DG seems to be pretty good at it if the way Tim and Damian talk about him with affection and admiration is any indication.

A frown crosses his face as he thinks about sharing his dad and Alfred with a bunch of other kids. It’s always been just the three of them since he’d been adopted at 4-years-old. Dad’s never shown interest in adopting more kids, probably because Dick’s always been a bit of a handful. Dad’s always been good at combating that by challenging him and keeping his mind sharp, but would he even have time to do stuff like that with Dick if there were more kids in the picture?

Dick wishes he could use this universe’s version of his dad to get some perspective on that. The problem is that Bruce is so different from his dad that he doesn’t think it’ll be a fair comparison. Plus, Bruce’s DG isn’t here so it’s not like Dick can watch them interact anyway.

It simmers on the back burner of his mind as he digs into his pizza and flicks on the TV. He surfs through the channels and ends up stopping on some show called Supernatural that’s got bad acting and janky special effects. He’s only able to watch it for half an hour before his leg starts bouncing out of boredom.

He spends the rest of his day in the cave alone while Bruce is at someplace called the Watchtower to finish making plans with Zatanna. There’s not anything productive for him to do since Bruce doesn’t trust him enough to use the big ass computer or the multiple other monitors that are down here.

Dick takes his time checking out all the cars and motorcycles that come in all different shapes and sizes. Most are sleek and black, and a few have red or white accents. He mostly finds himself drawn to the bikes. He can appreciate a good bike, and he wonders if DG is the same way.

Damian comes down from time to time, claiming to be keeping Dick company. Dick’s not fooled by the lie. He’s come to realize that Damian is just as wary of him as Bruce is, and he knows Damian just wants to keep an eye on him. Dick doesn’t blame the kid. It’s smart not to trust him. Smart, but annoying. He just wishes Damian would at least pretend to hide his intentions better by actually interacting with him rather than awkwardly skulking in the darkness.

Dinner ends up being a lonely affair. Damian congratulates him for finally putting on a shirt and then makes himself scarce. Alfred busies himself with baking a German chocolate cake rather than sitting to eat with him. Yesterday he’d at least had Tim to sit and talk with at the kitchen table. Tim’s not at the manor anymore though, and Dick doesn’t think he’ll get a chance to see him again before he goes back home.

Dick’s not prepared for the feeling of nostalgia that consumes him while he stuffs his mouth full of steak au poivre. He doesn’t know if it's the sight of all the empty chairs at the table or the silence that gets to him. He just knows that he misses his dad. He misses his Alfred. He misses them all sitting together at the table and talking about their days. He misses his dad’s morning hugs. He misses making dinner with Alfred. He misses having his dad’s undivided attention as they talk about everything and nothing. He misses singing dramatic renditions of Bobby Vinton songs with Alfred in the cave.

He feels like there’s some integral piece of himself missing. Like these days don’t matter unless they’re shared with his favorite people. It’s ironic considering he’s surrounded by people who look and talk the same as his family but aren’t them in all the ways that matter. It’s almost worse being around his family’s counterparts because it feels like normalcy is close within his grasp when in reality, it’s far away.

At least the steak here tastes good, Dick thinks as he takes his last bite of meat and washes it down with water.

There’s the sound of soft footsteps coming closer, and Damian suddenly appears in the doorway. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed, pointedly not looking in Dick’s direction.

“Pennyworth,” Damian says, and he waits for Alfred to look at him before continuing. “Father has returned to the cave and requests his dinner be brought downstairs.”

The homesickness and boredom that’s been swelling in Dick’s chest all day finally come to a head, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s already on his feet.

“I’ll take it to him!” he says, and if he sounds a little too excited to do such a menial task, well, sue him. He really wants to see his dad. Even if said dad isn’t technically his real dad. They’re both still Bruce Wayne, and that’s enough for him. For now, at least.

Alfred blinks at him in surprise. Dick’s not sure whether it’s because of the offer itself or the enthusiasm behind it.

“Are you sure, Master Dick? As our guest, we certainly don’t expect you to—”

“I don’t mind,” he assures, waving off Alfred’s concern. “You’re busy making the cake and it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Alfred stares at him for a moment longer, and Dick’s not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, it makes his eyes soften and his smile stretch.

“Very well, sir. I’ll put it all on a tray for you to take down.”

“Tt.” Damian rolls his eyes, pushing off against the frame and disappearing from sight. Dick kind of hopes he’s not going back down to the cave so that Dick can talk to Bruce without feeling Damian glaring daggers into his back.

Dick shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels while he waits for Alfred to put everything together. He can’t help but think about how his Alfred always hates it when he rocks like this in the middle of the kitchen, claiming that Dick’s restless energy gives him anxiety.

“Here you are,” Alfred says a minute later, offering the tray to him. Dick’s relieved to note that this tray has a cup holder to keep the drink from spilling. He’ll have to tell his Alfred about it when he gets back home. “You can leave the tray with Master Bruce.”

Dick takes the heavy load that makes his arms strain a little. “Thanks, Alf.”

He props the tray up on one hand, preferring to pretend he’s a waiter. He used to love pretending to wait on Bruce and Alfred when he was a kid. He would grab a random notepad and pen from Bruce’s desk, and he would take Bruce and Alfred’s orders. Bruce usually ordered some kind of fruit, and Alfred would typically request something easy like a bottle of water. Dick would happily carry the items to them on a tray, and once the items were accepted, Bruce and Alfred would pretend to pay him and tip him excessively. It was one of Dick’s favorite games to play.

He’s still smiling from the memory when he gets to the cave, and he tries to tamp it down as he approaches the chair Bruce is sitting at in front of the big computer screen. From what he can see, Bruce is wearing the batsuit without the cowl, and even though his eyes are glued to the screen, Dick can see how his shoulders tense the closer Dick gets.

“Hey, Bruce,” Dick greets as he places the tray down on the table’s limited free space. “I got your dinner.”

Bruce stops typing while he looks over the food on the tray with an impassive look. The dark circles under his eyes make the action look more intense than it has any right to be.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, resuming his typing.

Dick waits for some kind of follow up and frowns when there is none. It creates an awkward tension in the air, and for a brief moment, Dick thinks about slinking back up the stairs without another word. The eagerness in his chest won’t let up though, and he decides to poke and prod a little more.

“The steak is really good.” He leans against the side of the computer chair, his right hand dangling so that his fingers barely brush Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce stills at the touch for the briefest second. “You guys eat like kings here. Not that I don’t back home or anything. My Alfred’s an amazing cook too. He usually lets dad cook a few nights a week, and dad’s a good cook, y’know? He’s just not Alfred level good. So sometimes dinner can be kind of hit or miss.”

Bruce finally stops what he’s doing and cranes his head up to look at Dick with an unreadable look that makes Dick shuffle in place. He’s not nervous per se. He’s just… a little unnerved by how hard it is to read Bruce. It’s never this difficult to get a feel for what his dad is thinking.

What Bruce finally ends up saying is, “I don’t cook.”

Dick raises a brow. “Ever?”

“Almost never.”

“Because you suck?”

Dick swears he sees the corner of Bruce’s mouth tilt up just the tiniest bit.

“Hn. That’s what I’ve been told.”

Dick pats Bruce on the shoulder consolingly, the material of the cape feeling rough and heavy against his fingers.

“I guess we can’t all be Gordon Hamsay’s.”

Bruce’s brow furrows. “Hamsay? It’s Ramsay in this universe.”

“Ramsay?” Dick says incredulously. “That sounds so weird.”

“Hamsay sounds wrong to me,” Bruce shrugs.

Dick clucks his tongue. “This universe fuckery is too much.”

“Speaking of which,” Bruce says, and any trace of lightheartedness is snuffed out of his tone. Now he’s all Batman, and Dick feels himself straightening out of habit. “We’ll be able to send you home this time tomorrow.”

Dick smiles, his heart leaping. Images of hugging his parents, sleeping in his own bed, and going out as Skywing flash through his mind.

“Really?”

“Zatanna pinpointed your universe a few hours ago. We decided to wait to make the switch until tomorrow when Doctor Fate is available to help us.”

Dick curls his fingers in his hair and tugs on the strands, trying to ignore the way his eyes sting. Home. He’s going home! He’s going back to his life! To his people! To his… everything!

“How are we gonna do it?” he asks a little breathlessly.

Bruce turns away from him and looks back at the computer.

“That’s classified.”

“Sorry… what?” He doesn’t mean to shout, but he can’t help it because… what? “I’m not allowed to know how I’m getting home?”

“You know Zatanna is involved. What more do you need?”

“How about some details so I know you’re not just going to punt me off into the abyss!”

“That would require trusting you,” Bruce says, and okay, Dick knows as much. But still. Ow.

“And I get that! I just—” He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “Look. I’m not asking you to give me the exact damn spell we’re going to be using, okay? I just want to know the gist of the plan. Am I going to have to do anything? Am I going by myself? Is Zatanna—”

“The plan is to take you back to your world tomorrow. End of story.”

Dick can feel something dark and ugly start to bubble up inside of him. He crosses his arms over his chest and holds on tight to keep himself from doing something childish like shoving Bruce’s rolly chair.

“What? You think giving me even the smallest bit of insight is going to be enough for me to blow up your whole world or something?”

“It could be. You could have sent yourself here to kill us for all I know.”

“Bullshit! If you really believed that, you wouldn’t let me stay here!”

“Wouldn’t I?” And now Bruce is on his feet and using his height advantage to loom over Dick like a dark shadow. “You think I’d rather have you out in the city where I can’t monitor you?”

“What I think,” Dick spits, “is that you’re a control freak.”

Dick thinks maybe Bruce has heard that before based on his lack of reaction to it.

“How many experiences have you had like this back in your world?” Bruce asks, stepping closer. Dick stands his ground, and they’re so close that he can feel Bruce’s body heat. “How many times have you had people from other universes invade your own?”

“I—” Dick scowls. “None.”

“Well, we’ve had our fair share of experiences with evil counterparts coming here to kill us and destroy our universe.” Dick blinks at the fury laced in Bruce’s voice. “So you need to understand that I won’t compromise our safety by giving you information you could use against us.”

Nothing’s funny, but Dick laughs anyway, and it’s like the grinding of a car that won’t start.

“You know what?” he asks, raking his fingers through his hair so hard that his scalp stings. “My dad would have trusted his friend with the truth compelling lasso to make any alternate counterpart’s intentions clear. But not you, right? You won’t—”

Bruce slams his hand on the table so hard that the black pen holder falls on its side and sends a handful of pens clattering to the floor.

Dick doesn’t even flinch.

“We’re done here. Upstairs. Now.”

Bruce’s face is cold like a blank mask that’s hard and unforgiving.

He’s seen his dad look that way at criminals before. Never at him. Never at his son.

Except he’s not this Bruce’s son, is he? And this Bruce isn’t his dad. This Bruce could never be his dad. Not with a look like that.

A knot forms in Dick’s throat. He should have stayed upstairs. He would have been bored, and he would have made himself so homesick he probably would have cried, but at least he wouldn’t feel like this.

Dejected. Sad. Miserable.

Lonely.

The worst thing is knowing that the way he feels is partly his fault.

He came down here looking for his dad, and instead, he got Bruce.

#Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #my fic

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wendystales · 3 years ago

Text

Memories - lrh (Chapter Thirteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Twelve ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fourteen

I position myself in the center of the panel, making the 104th pose that morning. Brandon guides me from one shot to the next, making everything easier.

Six makeups. Six hairstyles. Six changes of clothes, even though the focus was on my face. Why did I get into this?

The photo shoot was for a cosmetics brand, for which I was the cover girl. It wasn't a 7-headed bug, as I had been thinking all night, which resulted in an irritating insomnia. And even though I arrived shy and lost, when I saw my look all produced, I felt like a great hottie, which gave me the confidence to go to that studio and rock.

I was having fun, as Leah advised me. I threw my hair, made faces and danced. I shifted my attention between Brandon's camera and my cell phone, where Nico, one of the helpers, was filming behind the scenes and stirring up my social medias.

It's fun, but after the fourth change of clothes, I was exhausted. After all, that spotlight doesn't leave me and the light gets too hot.

“For you.” Nico hands me a pink lilies bouquet. I open a smile, confused.

The team that was with me today, the agency, the brand and my parents had already sent me some bouquets earlier today, congratulating me and celebrating my return to the fashion world. So whose would it be?

I hunt for the card, opening it in a rush. Nico rested his head on my shoulder, wanting to read along with me. The handwriting didn't make me doubt, they were Luke's.

“To make your day more beautiful.

Congratulations on your return.

Love, Hemmo.”

I open a smile completely shaken by that. I burst out laughing when I see under his name “and the rest of 5sos” written in a different hand.

I ask Nico to take a picture of me with the flowers and send it to him, who quickly responds with a Petunia figure with heart eyes. I know I need to drop the bouquet and go back to the photos, but it feels so difficult.

Finally, I leave the flowers to the dressing room and I focus myself. Brandon praises my goofy smile and begs me to keep it up.

I knew everyone wanted to come today and watch the photo shoot, but I begged so hard not to. If without anyone I was already terrified of, seeing everyone there, staring at me, I wouldn't leave the dressing room.

[...]

Leah and Kiki were at my house, getting ready for Ashton's birthday, and of course, to gossip. They were both super curious to know how my first shoot was and how I was feeling.

besides telling about work, I comment about Luke's flowers and, finally, I tell about yesterday's dreams that still haven't left my head, taking root in my mind, blooming when I least expect it and leaving me out of breath.

“Oh, you naughty one!” Hastings tosses me the pillow. "Are you going to tell him?" she sits up in bed.

“No! How do I tell this?” I question, not understanding.

“Luke, I remembered when we were like two pervert rabbits and we were always having sex in the corners. Simple.” Kiki shrugs, going back to making up her eyes.

“Kiki!" I reprimand her. I hide my face, laughing embarrassed. "We weren't like that…I think…were we?" I look quickly at both of them.

Kiki looks at Leah, holding back her laughter. The brunette stares at me in disbelief. Oh my God, we were! It takes time to sink in, because with Stephen, I avoided sex at all costs. It was so cold and awkward, that most of the time I was bruised and, in all cases, unfulfilled.

I remember the touch of the dream and how it felt so soft and intense, and so good. However, I still find it hard for me to have been so turned on that I started having sex everywhere.

“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, honey! I will have to tell you about my dad's birthday, have I?" Leah hugs me, making Kiki laugh.

"What about your father's birthday?" the same way I was feared of Luke when he started telling me about the day I threw up at his feet, I get with Leah.

“Well, it was my dad's 50th birthday. A big, big party and of course I invited all of you. We had just got back from Milan, you were away from Luke for a couple of weeks, so you’re kinda getting crazy by missing him.

"Make it crazy." Kiki comments.

“The plan was for us to arrive in the morning, you'd have time to see each other, and then in the evening we would go to the party. But our flight was delayed and you didn't have that time. So you decided to open the bathroom.” Leah gives a fake smile.

I took a few seconds to understand, and then I widen my eyes, wanting to sink into the ground. I can't believe we did this.

“Calm down! She didn’t told the best part”. Kiki leaves the bathroom, joining us.

“Oh, that's cool, is there a better part?” I look at them both desperately.

"Of course, there is a best part. Leah escorting you guys out of the bathroom" Kiki throws herself on the bed, laughing. “Oh God! Your faces were the best.”

“Was after that our friendship beat all the limits and you know, we got really close.” Leah smiles to me.

What was my problem? Oh Lord, I never, ever, in my all life, thought I'd give one of those. If anyone asked me, who would be most likely to do this, I would definitely say Leah, Kiki, and even Bethany, but I would never say my name.

What did Luke do to me?!

I look at my friends, shocked. They both start laughing, amused by my reaction. A few seconds later, I give up, starting to laugh too.

"Is there any other similar situation that I should know about?" I inquire with fear.

"Yes, but we don't have time right now." Kiki gets up from the bed, slapping my foot, asking me to get ready.

We turned on the music and continued to get ready. Leah goes down to the kitchen, returning with three beers. The subject changes and we start to gossip.

After hours of producing us, I come down wearing my silver sequin jacket, finding Leah with another beer in her hand.

“Well? Good? Great?” I take a stroll, showing off the leather pants and black tank top that valued my tattoo.

"I definitely would ask for your number!" she replies, making me smile.

"Do you think people will like it? I mean, isn’t that much?” I stop in a few poses while she watches me.

“Rephrase the question.” she leans against the table. I stare at her without understanding. “What you want to know is whether Luke will like it." I open my mouth a few times.

“Perhaps.” I answer softly. Hastings snorts, hiding her face.

“You two should pay for my therapy. Because it's not easy to take it.” she takes a deep breath.

I give a guilty smile. I head to the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila and flipping it quickly. I would find Luke in a few minutes and I still don't know how to face him. I close my eyes, letting the alcohol burn my throat and warm my body, along with the memories. The flashes come back to my mind, clear as water. I can hear the girls' voices again, telling them about Mr. Hastings' 50th birthday.

“Let's go?” Kiki's scream brings me back. Standing near the door, they wait for me to down another shot of tequila before we go.

Along the way, we took several photos, already moving our social medias. At the door of the restaurant, the swarm of paparazzi was already in place and as soon as we got off the car, they surrounded us. Hands and arms linked, the three of us entered, being saved by the huge walls that didn't let them see anything that happened inside.

We went to the back of the restaurant, in a more reserved space, where a long table took up half the back wall. Right away I spot Luke, laughing as he chats with Jack and another guy I don't recognize. I analyze your look, social pants and a black t-shirt.

How can someone look so beautiful, so simple?

I swallow hard when he notices our approach and looks directly at me. I look away, unable to hold on; the images screamed in my mind.

Irwin approaches, already quite excited, trying to hug the three of us at the same time. When Leah and Kiki go to greet the other guests, I calmly hug my best friend, congratulating him once more.

“Make yourself comfortable and behave” he leaves a kiss on my forehead, going to welcome other guests who have just arrived.

I turn in time to see Hemmings approaching, one glass in his hand and the other in his pants pocket. How? I hold my breath, giving a terrified smile. He opens his smile even more.

“Hey!” he says excitedly, close enough for me to hear. Those lips… what have they done… I close my eyes quickly, shutting my mind.

“Hey!” I answer awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” he hugged me, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes again, feeling it radiate with amazing speed throughout my body. I let out a breath in a sigh. I manage to catch his eyes as he walks away, hiding a more mischievous smile.

“Well!” my cheeks catch fire and the jacket starts to bother me. "Thanks for the flowers earlier today." I thank, while Luke leads me to the bar. His hand firmly on my waist reminds me of that hotel room. I bite my lip, holding back the urge to bang my head on the counter. "A shot of tequila." I ask desperately.

Luke raises his eyebrows in surprise but says nothing. I turn it over without a single thought, asking for another one, just in case. The heat that spreads through my body is the result of three doses ingested. I take off my jacket and, through the bar mirrors, I see Luke shamelessly sweep my body.

“It was nothing!” he says after clearing his throat. "I'm glad you liked it. So, how was your first shoot?” he leans his elbow on the counter, propping his head on his hand, visually interested.

The effect of the alcohol starts to kick in, and so I feel lighter in his presence, not bothering with the memories between the two of us, nor the fanciful situations that my mind starts to create. I tell about the rehearsal and how fun it really was to do it. In the middle of the answer, I get enthusiastic, telling everything in minute detail. Luke looks at me smiling and interested, without interrupting me.

“I’m sorry!” I cover my eyes, laughing. “I'm talking too much.”

A few more people had already arrived, but the two of us were still there, sitting at the bar. The most interesting thing was, everyone who arrived didn't dare come here and interrupt us.

“No! I love hearing you talk.” he smiles before taking another sip of gin. I lower my gaze, totally ashamed.

"I think we'd better go sit down." I comment, seeing everyone settling into their chairs.

“Let's go?” he offers his hand, helping me off the stool. I hold into his arm, walking to the table. "Should I keep an eye on you today?" he laughs. I repress the urge to say yes, but that's not the answer to his question.

“No! I won't drink that much.” I press my lips together in a thin line, embarrassed by Ash's party.

We sat next to each other, with Calum and Noah in front of us. Luke leans his arm on the back of my chair and I'm not shy about getting close to him, even with everyone in our group staring at us curiously. We embarked on a lively conversation with everyone around us.

Michael rushes in and apologizes for being late, taking his seat next to Hemmings.

"Was she with her?" I hear Luke ask, taking my full attention.

“Yep!” Mike gives a shy smile.

“Who she?” I almost walk through the body of the australian beside me, wanting to get close to Mike.

“Nobody special.” he shrugs.

“Yeah! Go for it.” Hemmo lets go, laughing. Michael slaps him on the head.

“It's nobody special. Just a friend. I swear!" he closes the matter, but he doesn't convince me.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." I whisper, complaining to the blonde at my side.

“Sorry, there was no time. Also, I didn't even know it could lead to anything.” he shrugs. I stare Luke, waiting him to continue, but he is easily distracted by the napkin holder. I slap his head like Mike. “Ouch! What was it?” he looks at me shocked.

“Tell me!” Luke turns to face me, rolling his eyes.

“Her name is Sophie. They met at a Fortnite stream. She beat him and he went to congratulate her on the match, so they started talking and apparently it’s hitting something.” Luke shrugs, finishing the story.

“This is so cute. I hope it works!” I see Michael laughing over Luke's shoulder. “Is she pretty?” I question.

“This is a dangerous question.” I look back at him, confused. "Is there a chance you slap me?" I laugh.

"No." I don't get why I would hit him for finding someone pretty.

“She is pretty!" I hit him. “Hey! You said I wouldn't be hitten.” he accuses me.

“Sorry, it's just funny.” I defend myself by laughing. Luke turns forward, annoyed. I wrap my arm around his, which were on the table and come closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Are you going to be mad at me?" I question laughing.

"And I can do it?" he turns to me. His eyes drop to my lips and mine to yours. It would be a perfect time for a kiss, but I don't feel comfortable with all these looks on us.

Hemmo seems to understand my internal battle and just leaves a kiss on my forehead. I open a grateful smile and once again guide my attention to the conversation between Noah and Brian.

After a couple of hours of eating and drinking. We started to spread out through space, forming several conversation circles. I was having a blast with everyone. We sing, dance and record videos that we'll definitely regret later.

After starting to eat, I stopped drinking alcohol, after all, trauma still reigns inside me. So I wouldn't feel like the only sober one at the party, Hemmings decided to join me, stopping drinking too.

Relieved, of course, is the word to describe this night with him. I thought it would be hard to look at it with everything I remembered, but it was so light and fun, I admit I freaked out over nothing. As usual!

All through dinner, I try not to pay too much attention to everyone's eyes on us. We simply could not do anything that someone just needed to die of love. Luke was amused, while I just wanted to sink into the ground.

Yes, I may have had a clue as to how much I feel about Luke, but I still want to take it easy. I want to be sure, and for that, I need to stop being afraid. I know he's been realizing how I've changed and I'm letting him get closer and closer.

Our kisses, touches and smiles. Everything is falling into place and the fact that he doesn't put pressure on me helps me a lot. I already totally trust him, it just makes stronger.

Considering it was easy to stay close to him, without letting the shame take me, I didn't pull him away for a second, because most of the time he pulled me along and I liked that. I like being close to him.

“One round. Just one round.” Jack pleads, hands clasped under his chest.

“No! I've had too much today.” Luke denies it again, making his friend fake a dramatic cry.

"You drank when you arrived. A beer and a shot of gin. That's nothing.”

“I'll drive later and I'm keeping Marnie company.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest.

"Can't you drink?" Jack looks at me confused.

“Of course I can, I just don't want to, you know, make a scene. Or something like that.” I shrug. Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to Luke.

“One round.” he begs, making me laugh.

The boys were preparing a round of Answer or Drink with 10 different types of drink. So, they played and still got drunk.

“No!” Luke responds with a laugh.

For a few seconds, I leave the two of them arguing and go to the table to get my coat. With the lack of alcohol, I start to feel the cold of the air conditioning. On my way to the table, a voice stops me.

“Look what a wonderful surprise.” I turn quickly, feeling all the blood freeze through my body. "What a coincidence, isn't it?" I watch his smirk, knowing what his presence there would do.

“What are you doing here, Stephen?” I take a breath deep, controlling the urge to fly at him. Just like I did with Pam.

It's the first time we've seen each other since the diary report and I couldn't feel more disgust and loathing.

“It's a public place, Lizzie, and don't worry, I didn't come chasing you. I'm with friends.” he points to a table. “I just came to say hello.”

“Don't call me Lizzie, you know I hate it and why don't you take your fake education and stick it in your…”

“What are you doing here?” Luke walks past me, coming face to face with Stephen. "I already told you to stay away from her."

Soon, all the boys approach, ready to intervene. I grab his arm, trying to keep him close to me.

“Let him.” I beg, not wanting it to explode in the middle of the restaurant.

“Calm down, Hemmings.” the name comes out acid and full of poison. “I just came to say hello to Lizzie.” he laughs, hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, I'm not kissing her."

I close my eyes, feeling that hit both of us. That's low, very low. Luke steps forward, taking me with him. Noah and Jack are already starting to put their hands between them. Ash, Mike and Calum begin to put their hands on their friend's shoulders, pulling him along.

“Do not worry. I'm not going to spend my time punching him. But I'll just say one thing, Stephen.” he uses the same acid tone to say his name. "In case you're still dumb enough not to understand. It’s over! What you and Marnie had is over! So stop coming after her, because she doesn't want anything to do with you. She is with me.”

His tone of voice and body postureme impress. I've never seen Luke like this, so nervous, holding back so he doesn't explode, the veins in his neck bulging, proving how much he's controlling himself. I tighten your arm more tightly around my body. I bring my hand down until it's entwined with his, deceptively hoping that it will calm him down and bring him back to me.

“Funny. Cause from what I heard, you guys broke up, didn't you? What? You couldn’t stood the cheat?” he laughs, like he's made a great joke.

I don't know if he intended to hit Luke again, but without realizing it the words hit me. My blood boils and the words written in my diary take shape in my mind. Damn imagination.

I let go of my hand, putting myself in front of Stephen, who takes a step back. His gaze, full of curiosity and mockery, fixes on me.

“That’s enough, Stephen! I don't care about you. Pretend I never called you, just like I was before the accident and disappear from my life. I know you cheated on me and I don't want this torment in my life anymore. Go away.” I let go of everything contained, trying not to fly off his neck.

"Are you really going to believe their bullshit?" Stephen crosses his arms.

“Nobody had to tell me. I remembered." I see his eyes lose their mocking sparkle and he lose confidence. It's a lie, but he don't need to know. “There are at least twenty people here and they all want to hit you, including me, who wouldn't mind breaking my cast on your head. So if you don't want to get out of here on a stretcher, get out!”

I take a step back, feeling my heart pound and trying my best to keep myself from crying. Luke's agitated breath pulses against my spine. I lean against him, feeling his hand intertwine with mine, squeezing it delicately. Amazing how I feel safer, just with that touch.

Stephen passes his eyes around everyone and walks away without saying anything else. When his body pulls away, I release all the air I didn't even know I was holding. The boys start telling us to go back to the table.

I turn, pulling Luke, who is still standing there, facing my ex, who is sitting at the table with a group of friends. He turns around, pulling me easily into his arms. His hands tighten around my waist and I feel him exhale against my neck, giving me goose bumps. I stroke the back of his neck, trying to calm him down and show him that everything is fine.

We walked back to the table, striving for the mood from before. Ashton orders his birthday cake and we ourselves lull into the music, excited, mocking Irwin. While we devoured the cake, no one broaches the subject and I thanks for that. I know Hemmings and I will probably talk about it, but I don't want to involve the guys in this.

Gossip reigns at the table again. The entire group is engaged in conversation about the most disastrous trips ever made, minus the blonde and me. I watch him with his jaw still set and his gaze filled with rage, fixed directly on Stephen, who is across the room, staring at me.

It's a cycle: Luke stares at Stephen, who stares at me, while I stare at Luke.

I feel terrible for making him go through all of this. My amnesia, our breakup, my ex's return. Lucas doesn't deserve any of this. I need to reward him, but how?

“Hey!” I whisper, resting my chin on his bicep, but he doesn't hear me. "I want to leave, will you take me?" I question, hoping to gain any sign of him.

He looks at me nonchalantly, then blinks back to reality. Luke stares at the bleached on the other side, wanting to see if he's still trying something. I drop a small kiss on his shoulder, gaining his attention again.

“Of course! Let's go?” I nod, getting up.

Nobody is opposed to our leaving, I believe as much because of what happened as because it was the two of us. We walked across the room hand in hand, and with me clutching his arm, just to make sure he didn't fly into someone.

But I need to remember that Luke is just as classy as I am. Not just for the fame or the spectacle it would be, but because he was brought up that way. Educated not to go into violence, even if there was someone on the other side who deserved to be slapped.

I'm scared by the frantic flashes that start to pop when they notice the two of us. I cling closer to Luke, who makes room for his car. The delay for the questions to start is just for them to reason that it was the two of us there, together, after announcing our break up.

I keep my head down, focused on his thumb moving up and down, stroking my skin. Luke opens the car door and I settle in, still feeling the flashbulbs burst above us.

With great difficulty, we got out of that sea of people. We remained silent until we reached the intersection of the main lane that led to my house.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, softly.

I can't identify any feelings in your voice. He is neutral, indifferent. Apart from the isolated fact, this night has been amazing and I don't want it to end, not in this mood.

“No!” I turn in the seat, facing him. "Isn't there anywhere I'd love to go? Or that we both went a lot?” for the first time, I see a glint run through his eyes.

“Yeah! In fact, there are two.” he cracks a smile, causing me to smile too.

Luke takes the other path, heading to some place I couldn't even imagine. The subject comes up between us and so the mood softens. As we talk, I list a number of places I've always liked in Los Angeles, wanting to guess where it would take me.

We turn onto Wilshire Boulevard and I guess where we're going. Hemmo parks his car near the Urban Light and I look forward to getting out of the car.

Before we exit the vehicle, he pulls two caps from the glove compartment, giving me a dark gray one. I look at that accessory, wondering if it was always mine, if we always wore it when we went out.

“Why am I not impressed that this would be the first place?” I question, holding his hand.

By the time, the sculpture was a little empty, with only a few couples taking pictures. Luke and I went unnoticed, walking between those huge poles.

We walked around, with me admiring those lighted poles. I've always liked this sculpture, I've always found it romantic because so many people are proposed here, and I love the lighting.

“Oh no!” I push Luke, finding your phone pointed at me.

"This one got blurry." he laments, pointing again.

“Luke!” I exclaim laughing. I try not to scream so as not to draw attention to both of us.

“Sorry about my behavior at the restaurant.” Hemmings says after a while, surprising me. I lean against a pole, watching him.

“Why are you apologizing?” I frown. Luke leans against the same post, shrugging.

"I didn't mean to spoil your night." he answers.

“You didn't! If there is one responsible, it is him! Stephen knows he shouldn't have shown up there.” I comfort him.

His blue eyes meet mine. I take a step toward him, standing on tiptoe, reaching for his lips, leaving a simple kiss there. Without pulling away completely, I see a goofy smile appear on his face, which also appears on mine.

"What's our second place?" I whisper, next to him.

“My bed.” he lets go.

“Lucas!” I push him away, laughing again. His laugh is contagious. If he knew about the memories…

“Just kidding." Uh-hm… "Ready to get full of sand?" he asks, holding out his hand.

“Always!” I grabbed, leaning my head on his arm as we made our way to the car.

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years ago

Text

Honest Love Part 4 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: This part starts off with Cale’s pov. I’m a little stuck writing wise but hopefully as soon as I’m done with my semester in the next couple weeks I’ll get some motivation back to start the next part of this. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think. We’re now caught up to the flashback in the finale of Secret Love but not fully caught up just yet.

Warnings: smut, cursing

Word Count: 3,086

~~~~~~

Cale was dead tired as he slipped his key into the lock of his apartment door. Road losses were always tough and he was looking forward to changing out of his suit before crawling into bed with his girlfriend. It was crazy how much he missed the scent of her shampoo and the way her body fit against his, crazy how he’d ever been able to survive coming home to an empty bed when now he couldn’t even fathom it.

When the door gave way, he stumbled inside, closing and locking it behind him as he slipped off his shoes, letting them clatter quietly onto the mat. It was only then that he realized how bright it was in the apartment, light pouring down the hallway to the kitchen. Padding tiredly toward the light, Cale noticed his girlfriend standing in the kitchen pouring a packet of hot chocolate mix into a mug.

She was normally long asleep when he came home so he was surprised to find her awake. Still, out of habit, he leaned in to kiss her softly. As he pulled away, he noticed a wrapped package on the edge of the island counter and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s that?” The question spilled from his mouth as he shrugged his suit jacket off. Her reply that it was a present for him only created further confusion and he leaned in against the counter. “My birthday isn’t for two weeks sweetheart...can’t it wait?”

Her negative response insisted that he had to open it now and he watched her for a minute trying to piece together what was going on. Something felt off about all of this but the late hour provided little help and he grabbed the package, immediately going for the wrapping. Quickly scolded by his girlfriend, Cale felt his eyes roll and he yawned, reaching for the card.

The second his brain processed the first word of the little poem Cale’s heart started racing. ‘No. No way.’ His brain screamed. ‘There’s no way this means…’ By the time he finished reading he could hardly breathe. Grappling with the package, he tore the wrapping paper off before tugging at the lid. His hands immediately wrapped around soft fabric and pulling it out revealed a tiny little sleep outfit. A second semi-blind grab had his fingers wrapping around a tiny stick of plastic, the word ‘pregnant’ staring back at him as he lifted it from the box. ‘Holy shit.’ His brain screamed again as his jaw nearly hit the floor.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Cale felt his eyes start to water, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“We’re having a baby? You’re serious?” Her mouth moved, but Cale couldn’t even process the words. Instead, it was the anxious smile on her face that signaled this was not a joke. He wrapped her up in his arms, spinning her as his head dipped to press into the crook of her neck, basking in the heat of her body.

“I can’t…You’re sure?” Her confirmation that multiple tests all revealed the same thing made his hands shake and he kissed her tenderly, feeling her fingers run through his hair.

The way she pleaded with him to tell her that he was okay with this nearly tore his heart in two. How could she ever think that he wouldn’t be okay with this? This was everything he wanted and more.

“We’re having a baby.” He repeated, needing to hear the words again for it to actually click. “Fuck sweetheart...of course I’m okay with this.” Shaking his head, he felt some of the fog lift and his smile finally started spreading widely across his face. “You’re having my baby. I’m shocked but...good shocked.” Kissing her again, he attempted to express just how okay he was with this news without words.

She was having his kid. He was gonna be a dad. There was a baby growing in her abdomen...a baby they had made together.

His dress slacks strained against his thighs as he dropped to his knees in front of her, hands sliding across her lower belly. His baby was in there. Safe and warm and growing because it has the best mommy ever to take care of it.

Nuzzling his nose against her, Cale slid his hands onto her hips before pressing light kisses onto her shirt-covered skin. As his girl whispered down at him that their baby says ‘happy early birthday daddy’, Cale felt more tears roll down his cheeks. He couldn’t have asked for a better present. Couldn’t have dreamed of one. Her insistence and urgency regarding the present now made sense and as he pushed himself to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her once more.

“You’re giving me the greatest gift in the world.” He assured her. “I love you so much. Both of you.”

“You’re really okay with this?” She questioned again, her voice wobbling slightly.

“Yeah sweet girl.” He insisted, annoyed with himself for whatever had caused her to feel so insecure about this. “All I want is a family with you. I was gonna wait until I had put a ring on your finger to try for a baby but now works just fine.”

Scooping her up, he carried her back to bed ever so carefully, his mouth grazing over her stomach once more as he settled her onto the sheets.

“And don’t worry. You’re still going to get the ring.” He smirked, eyes glimmering as he peered down at her, amazed at how he could possibly love her more now than he did 2o minutes ago.

Her giggle filled his ears, causing his smile to grow as he stripped out of his suit and crawled into bed, his hand sliding down along her belly as he pulled her against his side.

“So tell me everything. How did you find out? How far along are you? Are you feeling okay? What do you need me to do?” With his thumb tracing circles against her skin, Cale listened as she recounted the last few days, assuring him that she felt completely fine so far. Admittedly, he was relieved to know that she hadn’t been feeling sick, that if she hadn’t gone to the doctor, she would have had no clue she was expecting.

She explained how she couldn’t be more than 4 weeks along because she’d gotten her period in September and already Cale’s head was swimming with just how unfamiliar all of this was to him. He was definitely going to need to start doing some research. Seeing the look on his face, she patiently explained how the dating of pregnancy works and as she did so, embarrassment flooded her cheeks.

“You know how we conceived this baby don’t you?” She questioned, her eyes shifting as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Again, the late hour provided no assistance until Y/N reminded him of what they’d done just a few weeks earlier.

“Hmmm...at least we know that’s an efficient method now.” Cale found himself joking softly. She flicked his shoulder making him laugh and he pulled her into another soft kiss. “Can’t wait to see our baby grow inside you.” He murmured. “Gonna be so beautiful to watch.” Just the thought of watching her belly swell made his dick twitch and Cale was certain that the real thing was going to be indescribably sexy.

Yawning softly, Cale looked at the clock to find it was already 3am. Though he was buzzing, wanting to know everything about the way their lives were changing, the game and travel were catching up with him and with his palm still resting along Y/N’s abdomen, he finally fell asleep.

*****

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheets beside you already cool. It wasn’t totally abnormal for Cale to wake before you, but you still found yourself pouting softly. Stretching, you pulled your body out of bed, making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and take your prenatal vitamins.

Pushing open the cracked door revealed Cale standing at the vanity, freshly showered with just a towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water dripped down his back from his hair and you gently teased your fingers over a few of them as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. Yawning quietly, you peeked up at him, watching as he relaxed into your touch.

“Morning daddy.” You murmured, your words followed by light kisses to his shoulder blades. All at once, it seemed like the early morning revelations flooded back over him, his smile stretching even wider.

“Morning mommy...how are you and baby doing this morning?” His voice was still filled with sleep, and you shivered at the sound of it, the effect it had on you familiar and welcomed.

“We’re good...little sad daddy didn’t stay in bed for morning cuddles.” You teased, rubbing his back as you stepped to the side, your hands reaching for the bottles of pills you needed to take before you forgot.

Cale didn’t respond right away, though you felt his gaze taking you in as you popped pills into your mouth, filling a small cup with water to help you swallow them down.

“Come ‘ere.” Cale eventually whispered, turning to pull you against his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again. The kiss started gently, filled with Cale’s awe at the fact that you were pregnant. As it continued, however, it deepened into something more and you let your nails scrape over Cale’s sides and back until a groan spilled from his throat.

“Can we still?” He asked dumbly, his hard length pressing against your stomach.

“Yeah Cale, we can still have sex.” You giggled, the sound morphing to a squeal as Cale picked you up and carefully carried you back to bed. Laying against the pillows, you let Cale strip you out of his borrowed t-shirt and your panties, his eyes raking slowly over your body again.

“Gorgeous. My girl is so gorgeous.” Cale murmured. After tugging his towel away, you pulled him into another kiss, feeling him settle gently between your thighs. Your skin was tingling by the time Cale pulled away from the kiss, dropping down your body. As his mouth latched onto one of your breasts, you whimpered.

“Cale...stop please.” You whispered, gently pushing his head away. Immediately he froze and pulled back, concern lacing his expression. “Apparently sore and tender breasts are my first pregnancy symptom.” You explained softly. “So uh...let’s just avoid that. But please...continue otherwise.” Cale’s brows furrowed as he eyed you for a moment before nodding, taking your guidance.

This time when he dipped down, he skipped over your breasts, instead trailing kisses across your stomach.

“Can’t believe my baby is in there.” He mumbled, his touches super gentle and adoring. Smiling down at him, you tangled your fingers in his damp hair, and after one more line of kisses across your belly, Cale dipped down, sucking your clit between his lips.

“Oh fuck.” You cried out softly, having missed the feeling of his mouth on you. He didn’t stay long, but it was enough to make you needy for more and as you felt the length of his cock drag along your hip you moaned, desperate for the stretch of him inside of you. “Cale please.” You begged, your hips arching up against him.

“Shh sweetheart...I’ve got you.” He promised. Thankfully, he didn’t make you wait, and the friction of him sliding deep into you made your toes curl with relief. “Shit you feel so good.” He murmured staring down at you as his hips slowly started to move. Your eyes remained locked and you shared soft kisses back and forth as Cale slowly and passionately made love to you. You’d had sex more times than you could count by now, but once again, this time felt different and new.

Of course, part of that newness was the spike in hormones caused by the pregnancy and everything associated with that. But another part was the way Cale was reacting, keeping things slow and gentle though his hips were stuttering with a lack of control more frequently than you were used to.

“You’re not going to hurt us.” You remind him, fingers brushing along his cheeks. “You don’t have to be so slow or so gentle hun...not when I know your body wants more.”

“Not that…” Cale hissed, his hips pausing for a moment. “Trying not to cum.” The truth of his words reflected back in his eyes and you couldn’t help but smile even as your hips shifted, seeking out the friction again. His hips had been stuttering because he was already fighting back his orgasm and the realization that he was so aroused just knowing you were pregnant sent a wave of heat through your body.

“Cale…” You whispered softly. “Just cum for me. I’m so sensitive it’s not going to take much for me to be right behind you.” Pecking his lips again, you rolled your hips once more. That was all it took apparently for Cale to give in, his hips snapping forward pulling a scream of pleasure from your throat. “Oh fuck…oh fuck…” You repeated, feeling Cale slowly inch out of you before his hips snapped forward once again.

It was only a few more thrusts before you felt Cale spilling inside of you, his body going limp with the force of it as your own orgasm crested suddenly, clamping down around him. As he softened inside of you, you pecked his lips once more, your fingers brushing over his cheeks again.

“Pregnancy sex is going to be fun…” You teased drawing a laugh from Cale’s throat as he carefully pulled out of you, shifting to lay against your side.

“Yeah sweetheart, it is.” He agreed, his nose brushing against your shoulder as he kissed his way up to your face. Basking in the afterglow, you snuggled against your boyfriend for a few minutes before the need to pee took over.

By the time you finished using the bathroom and had slipped into another one of Cale’s shirts, he was in the kitchen, a mug of tea already steeping for you while he buzzed around to make breakfast.

“You may not know it yet but you have the best daddy on the planet.” You whispered to your stomach, as you settled onto a barstool, just watching Cale. “And I really hope you get his eyes...among so many other things.” It was only day 1 having Cale join you on this journey to parenthood but so far so good.

________

Your first pregnancy symptom had been the tenderness and soreness in your breasts. It was inconvenient but tolerable considering that you worked from home and didn’t have to wear a bra most of the time. And you didn’t necessarily feel pregnant because of it. No...the feeling of being pregnant only came with the arrival of your second symptom.

No...not nausea or vomiting...thankfully those hadn’t arrived yet. Instead, it was the fatigue. How suddenly no matter how much you slept, you were constantly tired. Cale had played two home games in the days following the discovery of your pregnancy and while you’d previously worked while he napped, now you found yourself joining him as he came home from morning skate, pulling him back to the bedroom to rest for an hour or so together.

You knew Cale was worried, but you assured him that it was completely natural. This was when the baby was at its most rapid rate of growth and so of course your body was going to be tired after providing the baby everything it needed. Right now you were just relieved that you weren’t experiencing morning sickness, allowing you to be certain that your intake of vitamins and nutrients was right where it needed to be.

Cale’s worry meant that he wanted to keep you close and with the combination of your fatigue and your boyfriend leaving for a five day road trip tomorrow afternoon, you were happy to comply. That was how you found yourself snuggling into the couch with Cale as he pulled up the PS4 to play Fortnite with a few of his teammates. Obviously not Nate...Cale had told you about how Nate had been chirping him endlessly for his Fortnite skills. But there were a few of the other guys who were also more casual players and they had decided during practice that today was a gaming day.

Cale had draped your legs over his lap before tucking you both under a blanket and his hands settled against your knees as he waited for the game to load, pulling his headset on over his ears. You’d grabbed one of the baby books you’d picked up to read while he played, but watching him was far more entertaining….and way less overwhelming than studies on breastfeeding and cosleeping. The way he laughed and joked about playing like shit made you smile and eventually your eyes drifted closed, the sound of your boyfriend’s voice a soothing background noise. You honestly couldn’t ask for a better way to spend an afternoon.

Even if you hadn’t been listening to him, you were certain you’d know when he was between games because his hand would slide down to graze across your lower stomach. You honestly weren’t sure how much of that was a conscious act and how much was just instinct anymore because Cale constantly seemed to gravitate towards the baby. It had been less than a week since you’d shared the news with him, but it was clear that this tiny bundle of cells had stolen Cale’s heart already, just as it had yours. Neither of you had expected to start a family so soon into your relationship, but it felt like something that was just meant to be, falling into place the same way everything else had.

As your fatigue kicked back in, you felt yourself falling asleep once more to the sound of Cale’s laugh. Pregnancy wasn’t going to be easy, you knew it was going to wear on your body and your emotions. But you weren’t alone and it would all be worth it in the end. How could it not be when you were having a child with the man you planned to spend the rest of your life with?

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