#this lady literally handed me her whole car keys and asked me to check the back of her car again in case it was place back there

[gongedtornado]

thinking about this 85 year old customer we had that came in. the cashier said she looked good for her age and she said something along the lines of “Thank you. I’ve got all these wrinkles and I deserve ‘em’!” in the most enthusiastic tone.

she said that she thought skin care and anti-wrinkle products were ridiculous and that our skin is our history of where we’ve been. i cant remember what she said word for word but i know whatever she said brought me comfort.

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[andypantsx3]

say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

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“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

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“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

.

.

.

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

.

.

.

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

[mrs-harkness]

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow 

A/n: Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. Life has been so busy as I just became a certified therapist and just life stuff in general. This is just going to be a mini fic for fun while I work on writing my next big one- which will be for Cordelia! Literally nothing like Run to Me, so I hope you don’t find it disappointing. Just a little filler while I work out the plot for my next story!

You pulled out your phone, checking the time. 1:53 PM. Your interview was at 2 o'clock and if you didn't figure out where you were quickly, you were going to be late. You walked faster, panic dialing your best friend who had gotten you the interview.

"Hello?" the sweet voice chimed on the other end.

"Sarah! Help! I'm lost," you pleaded, looking at the address on the piece of paper in your hand and trying to match it to the towering houses around you.

"How did you get lost? I gave you the exact address. Did the driver put it in wrong?"

"No. I made the Uber drop me off at the entrance to the neighborhood because his car looked super sketch and I didn't want the mom to see me step out of a car that looks like it was used in a 70's porn film. I started walking and I got lost."

You heard Sarah shuffling around in the background, and what sounded like the tapping of keys.

"Okay, give me the address for the closest house," she said. Your best friend was a life saver.

"Uhhh... 768 Elm Street," you told her, trying not to look suspicious in this wealthy neighborhood.

"Hmmm. Okay you're literally two streets over. If you go to the end of this street, take a right and walk less than two blocks. You'll make it to maple from there. You somehow managed to be right behind her house. It will take you about ten minutes."

Shit.

"No! There has got to be a quicker way! I am going to be late!" You whined, stomping your feet on the sidewalk in frustration.

"Yeah, Tammy is not going to like that. She is very patient but she's got three kids so she really only has enough patience for them. Well wait, hang on a second."

"What? Did you find a quicker route?"

"Sorta. You should have just stayed in the Uber."

"Sarah I did not want to pull up like Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Belaire, now spit it out already!"

"Well that house you are standing in front of? Technically if you could find a way into their backyard and through the trees... you could get to Tammy's house in half the time."

You looked at the house in front of you. It looked more like a post office than a home. Large marble columns, real gas lamps framing a shiny oak door, and a second floor balcony that seemed larger than Sarah's whole apartment. This is not the type of property you just meandered around on, but this job was also not the type of opportunity you just let slip away by being two minutes late.

You walked a little to the side of the house, and there you found your favorite thing of the whole house: A gate to the backyard.

"I'm gonna do it," you say to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time.

There was more silence, before you heard your best friend draw in a breath.

"Don't get arrested please. Call me when you're done, or in lock up. Either way, be safe."

Sarah had always been someone who just supported and loved you no matter what. Whether it was moving on a whim to another city and crashing on her couch indefinitely or trespassing through a rich family's yard to get the job that would help you get started on your dreams. She was that type of friend and you loved her for it.

You didn't even say goodbye as you hung up and checked the time again. 1:55 PM mocked you on the screen. You shoved the phone in your pocket before quickly looking around. No one was out and about thankfully probably due to the heat picking up, so you walked briskly over to the gate.

You said a prayer and begged the universe to be kind to you under your breath as you forced yourself to find the courage and flung open the lock to the gate, letting it swing open. You looked around the yard really quickly to find it empty as well. Maybe this wouldn't be hard at all.

You closed the gate behind you and you quickly jogged into the yard. There was a picnic table close to the other side of the fence and you would be able to hop right over! You breathed a sigh of relief because everything was going to plan, until the dog.

A ear piecing yap began sounding through the yard like an obnoxious security alarm. You turned and saw that the back of the home was basically one big window and there inside was the ugliest looking purse dog you had ever seen, notifying every living creature with working ears within a mile of your presence.

You watched horrified as the owner of said ugly dog appeared in the view of the window like some horror movie on a tv screen. An older woman, dressed as if she had been in the middle of a workout, was also now yapping at you angrily and  making her way to her giant window wall.

Your feet started moving before you realized what was happening and you bolted to the back of the yard and onto the picnic table, jumping and throwing one of your legs over the fence. The little old woman made it to a sliding glass door, releasing her dog and profanities towards you.

The dog tore across the lawn, but thankfully was no actual threat. You looked at the woman as you threw your other leg over the fence.

"I'm not a criminal! I'm sorry! I just got lost on the way to a job interview. You have a nice home!" you yelled, trying to prove to this stranger you were not bad, just had poor execution of your ideas. You dropped over the other side of the fence and into the wooded area behind the home, running as fast as your feet could carry you from the angry woman and her angrier dog.

It only took you about a minute of running full force to make it to another fence, a fence you were praying was Tammy's. You ran around the length of it, following it to the front of the house. You shakily pulled out the paper from your pocket and checked the address. You had made it. This was the house. You laughed, more relieved than anything, and jogged to the front door.

You knocked and weren't even able to take a full breath before the door opened.

There before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Her hair was the color of sand on the beaches of heaven its self and her eyes looked like brownies fresh from the over, and you had the strange thought of wanting to burn your mouth on them.

Y/n, that's weird. Stop it.

You stared at her, trying not to look to heavily at her gorgeous smile at the fear she may think you were looking at her lips. Even though you kind of were. You forced yourself to smile back.

"You must be Y/n," she said, looking at her watch, "and you are right on time. Let it be known I find that super attractive."

You chuckle nervously, unable to process a coherent thought. You really just hoped she couldn't tell you had just ran through the woods to stand stupid on her doorstep. Thankfully it didn't seem like she did and stepped aside, letting you in.

The home was gorgeous and lavish, but also homey and seemed lived in. You could hear the distant laughter of children somewhere in the house and portraits of what you could only assume were those children hung on the walls. You did notice though that there was a lack of family portraits probably due to the husband no longer being in the picture.

Sarah had filled you in a little bit about the family situation. She had worked with them over the summer and was working for them when they filed for divorce. Supposedly neither of them seemed upset by it, but he had still decided to move into another town. Tammy supposedly worked a very busy job and with three rambunctious kids, help was needed. Sarah had helped them occasionally, but Tammy needed something more permanent and hopefully that's where you would come in.

You followed Tammy into a big open kitchen and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I offer you some tea or water?" she said sweetly.

Even though you were parched from the mini marathon you had just ran, you politely declined. You pulled your resume out of your bag and put it on the table. Tammy reached over and took it, looking at it before smiling back up at you.

"I know Sarah said you had just moved here, so what brought you to town?" Tammy asked.

You hoped the look of confusion was not obvious on your face because you were expecting only questions about the job. You were unsure how useful you would be talking about yourself right now.

"Uh, well I came to town for a fresh start, and with Sarah here, it just seemed like the best place to restart."

"Running from something?" Tammy asked, putting down the resume and taking a sip of something in a mug that had been sitting on the table.

"N-no ma'am. Nothing illegal. I am not a criminal. I told the old lady the same thing," you stuttered.

Tammy raised her eyebrow at the last part, but you kept going to breeze over it hopefully.

"I just- I got my heartbroken and got kicked out of the apartment we shared. I didn't feel like I was making anything of my life where I was and I have such big dreams, but all I found there was pain and complacency, so I came here in hope to change that."

You voice sounded small and you ringed your hands in your lap, nervous that you may have said too much. Tammy's face softened even more somehow though and she smiled at you over the edge of her mug. She stared at you for a moment, her eyes seeming to sparkle. She nodded and looked down at your resume again.

"Well, you certainly have quite an impressive track record here. You seem like a kid expert. And because I already did a background check on you, I feel comfortable saying, if you would like the job its yours."

You sat there at the table, now not trying to hide the stunned look on your face. You had a harder time getting over the fence than getting employed by this woman.

"That's it? You don't need to ask me anything else? You're giving me the job?" you ask, stumbling over your words.

Tammy laughs and it feels like butterflies flutter in your belly. You like to make her laugh, but you aren't sure if she think's you're funny or stupid.

"With my life and my job, Y/n, the thing that is most important to me is being able to trust you. With my kids, my day to day life, and if I need your help with something. Trust and honesty go a long way with me, and you proved that with one question," she said, coming over to you with a glass of water.

You took it with a smile, forcing yourself to take a slow slip.

"Well, you can definitely trust me. And I'd be honored to by your nanny," you say, excitement and nervousness flowering inside your chest.

Tammy smiles sweetly at you.

"Consider yourself part of the family Y/n. Now you do know this is a live in position right? Sarah told you that?"

You nodded, that having been one of the main reasons you wanted the job. As much as you loved Sarah, you did not love sleeping on her couch. Being a live in nanny presented its own set of challenges, but it wouldn't be forever.

"Good. Can you move in today?"

You choked on your water, coughing and spitting it all over your shirt. Tammy laughed at you, and your cheeks burned red. Now you were embarrassed and Tammy sensed that.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to shock you. I just really need your help around here as soon as possible. And it would be better if you just came on in and got to know me and the kids since you're going to be a big part of our lives."

She handed you a paper towel, looking down at you with a comforting expression. Your cheeks burned red again, but not from embarrassment. You looked away and cleared your throat, unsure why you were so flustered.

"Sure. Yeah, no problem. I just need to run home and grab my clothes and things, but I don't have any furniture so-"

"Oh don't worry. You'll have the whole attic. Its renovated and fully furnished and you'll have your own bathroom. You don't need to worry about buying anything."

That was a relief. It would have taken you a while to afford those things.

You got up and walked with Tammy to the front door, her opening it for you.

"Thank you Ms. Tammy for hiring me, you will not regret it. I will take good care of your kids and make your life as easy as I possibly can," you say, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, attempting to look confident and wanting to ensure Tammy she had made the right choice.

She chuckled again, putting a little hole in that confidence, but it was quickly repaired when she wrapped her arms around you. It shocked you and you stood there, frozen for a second before hugging her back.

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful addition to our lives, all of our lives," she said. Her voice had a hint of something in it, making it seem like silk, but then you felt her pulling on your hair a bit and you felt like your legs may fall out from under you. Who was this woman?

Before you could assume anything further though, she pulled back and revealed she had taken a small branch with green leaves from your hair. You laughed nervously. Tammy cocked an eyebrow at you and smiled cheekily, holding it up.

"That is a funny story... I can explain that. I promise I bathe."

It was Tammy who laughed this time thankfully. She nodded and played with the branch in between her long, manicured fingers.

"That's alright. You can tell me about it tonight over drinks once you are home. I'd like to get to know you better while we get you settled."

Something about the way she said it made your breath catch in your throat. She smiled at you and you two said your goodbyes. You would text her when you were on the way back home. How strange that felt.

You sat in a much cleaner Uber on the way back to Sarah's, your head pressed against the glass. You couldn't stop thinking about Tammy and it seemed like you also couldn't wipe the smile from your face either. It seemed almost like a dream.

Just then, your phone buzzed and you were pulled from the thoughts of the woman to see that her name was on your screen. You quickly held the phone up to unlock it, suddenly overcome with the need of answering her at a moments notice. Thankfully it was not a message of her changing her mind.

Btw, just call me Tammy. Ms. Tammy is a little formal ;)

You smiled and bit your lip, quickly responding.

Okay, Tammy :)

[welovediaaxx]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ / / azula x fem!reader

 warnings : slight cursing

part four // part five // part six

a/n : you guys already know it takes me a month to write 1500 words but whatever!! enjoy this chapter the next one is gonna be jucier i promise

taglist : @888-rising​ @firelordazulaaaa​ @sighsam​ @theblueslytherin​ @halcyon-arts​ @the-paintedlady​ @sweetcici-123​

send me an ask or message me to be tagged 🤍☁️

i wake up abruptly by my alarm, quickly snoozing it as i look around, taking in my surroundings. i rub my sleepy eyes as i glance at all the empty containers of the chinese food left on my poor coffee table from the night before. that’sfor sure gonna be a bitch to clean up later. speaking of last night, why am i on the couch? 

my question is quickly answered as i hear a small grunt coming from under the blanket across me. “what time is it?” azula asks as she stretches her arms. i stare at her in awe, how does she look so good mere seconds after waking up? “it’s only nine-thirty, we should go back to sleep” she grunts

my eyes widen at her statement. “nine-thirty? shit, i have class at 10.” now this is when i start panicking “zuko’s supposed to drive me today” 

i check my phone and there it was, 3 missed calls from zuko and approximately 

17 messages. and just on queue, he calls me again.

“hey zuzu, i’m sorry. i fell asleep, i’ll be down in a minute” i say as i start running around my apartment, grabbing along everything i need. i mutter a sorry to azula who just shrugs.

“uh-okay. why is azula’s car parked in front of your building?” he asks me. i can already hear his stupid smirk over the phone. 

“sorry, bad connection. gotta go!” i say as i hang up the phone, making my way over to my bedroom. i put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. i put my laptop in my bookbag and run back to the living room.

“i’m so sorry i have to leave like this,” i say to azula who’s sitting on the couch. she looks up at me “i feel really bad. but i’ll make it up to you. i swear”

“don’t worry about it. i had fun last night” she smiles at me. 

“i had fun too. i’ll leave the keys on the kitchen counter. you can stay here as long as you’d like, just lock up when you leave” i return the smile “also, don’t open the door if mr chung knocks”

I simply had to ward her about mr chung. he’s a single gay man in his fifties who lives next door to me. he’s the main gossip provider of our building. now, don’t get me wrong, i love mr chung and all the hot gossip he offers. but i just wasn’t ready for all my neighbours to begin talking about ‘the new lady in my life’, as mr chung would probably put it

“uh okay, got it. i’ll just get my things and leave then.” azula says as she starts getting up from the couch.

“don’t worry about it” i bid her one last goodbye and grab my coat after i put on my shoes. i sprint down the 5 flights of stairs, deciding against going by elevator. i spot zuko’s car parked next to azulas and get in the passenger seat. i glance at my phone ‘nine-forty five’ 

“we can make it in fifteen minutes, right?” i ask as i glance at zuko

“it’s fine, we have mrs feng, she’s always late anyways,” zuko says as he starts backing out my driveway. “so…” zuko starts “azula’s car in your driveway? what’s that about?” he smirks

“it’s nothing you should worry about salami face,” i say as i return the smirk.

“i told you to stop calling me that! and don’t you even try to avoid the topic y/n” 

“what? are you jealous i chose your sister over you? i knew that you still weren’t over me!” i tease him as i remember our pathetic eight-month relationship our freshman year of college in which we both realised we definitely don’t prefer the opposite gender. it was awkward, to say the least. 

zuko rolls his eyes “no, believe it or not. i’m not jealous. so, she slept over?”

“yeah, we watched a movie and we fell asleep. that’s it.”

“hm… interesting,” he smirks and continues driving.

zuko and i enthusiastically sprinted across campus in hopes of making it on time. since luck was apparently on our side, we arrived right on time. we took a few breaths before opening the classroom door.

i quickly thank god for making it on time, before huffing and making my way through the mob of students who were chatting together. i plop down on the seat next to suki who had her head on the desk, her hair covering her face.

“hey suki” i say, putting my things on the table

suki groans as she lifts her head “hey y/n, is she here yet?” 

“no, not yet.” i answer as i look around “where did zuko go?” i mutter to myself. of course the fucker escaped.

“here i am, i bought us some coffee,” zuko says as he sits on the chair by suki’s left.

“thanks zu. you’re and angel. i’ll need it too, i hate econ” suki says as she starts sipping on her coffee

“that’s exactly why literally everyone told you not to sign up for it,” zuko reminds her.

“yeah, i specifically remember us begging you not to do it. we knew you were gonna be miserable” i add.

“shut up, you know i needed the points,” suki says while grabbing her head.

“well, i know something that’s gonna cheer you up,” zuko tells her. suki immediately lifts her head, looking between us waiting for somebody to tell her what she missed. i groan and roll my eyes. of course, zuko can’t keep just one thing to himself.

“azula slept over at y/n’s house”

“you slept with azula?! i knew that the date went well, but not that good!” suki yells

“that’s not what he said!” i try to explain to her. just by my luck, mrs feng arrives just before i get a chance to explain myself. during the whole lesson, i could feel suki’s eyes piercing through my shoulder. despite that, i decided to be productive and pay attention. manly to keep my mind off of suki’s groaning and quiet complaining.

after our lesson, we all decided to go to the jasmine dragon and meet up with the rest of the group. suki, zuko and i all got into zuko’s car and drove there. the car ride was surprisingly quiet although i could feel suki’s tension radiating off of her, ready to bombard me with questions.

we made our way to our usual table, which was already occupied by sokka, aang, katara and toph. “hey guys” aang greets us as we all sit down. as soon as we sat down i could feel all eyes land on me. i knew immediately that zuko talked. 

“what?” i say, deciding on playing dumb

“you slept with azula!” toph yells, thank god the whole coffee shop can hear her.

“zuko!” i yell at him. of course he can’t keep his mouth shut at any circumstance.

“hey, don’t look at me! suki texted the group chat, i thought you saw it” zuko defends himself while he lifts his hands up, trying to prove his innocence. after that, muffled arguing took over at the table. everybody voicing their opinion at the same time

“guys!” katara stands up “why don’t we let y/n speak?” she suggests 

“finally!” i huff as everybody goes quiet. “i didn’t sleep with azula, she just slept over at my place” i exclaim to our table.

“yeah, right” toph snickers.

“hey!” i yell at her direction, fighting the smile coming onto my face. “you of all people should know i’m not like that”

“yeah, toph. we all know y/n’s the biggest prude here” sokka mocks

i roll my eyes “you guys are the worst friends ever.”  

we were all in the middle of a heated debate about whether cereal should be considered soup or not (that sokka started, change my mind) when i felt a tap on my shoulder. when i turn around, i notice azula, wearing her usual casual clothes with a bag in her hand. i quickly excuse my self from the table, getting a few winks as i sit up. 

“hey, what are you doing here?” i ask her.

“well, my uncle does own this place.” she raises her sharp eyebrows in amusment.

“right, of course. that was a stupid question” i say as i start playing with my hair. i can already feel my cheeks heating up as i look at the table behind azula for help, only getting a few thumbs up in reply.

“anyway, i brought you the clothes you borrowed me last night. i washed and dried them, don’t worry” she says as she gives me the bag.

“thank you, you didn’t have to go through all the trouble, though” 

“don’t worry about it, i’ll take up any excuse i can get to see you” se says while flashing me a smile

“well, in that case, i should lend you my clothes more often”  i giggled.

“maybe you should” she agreed “my friends are waiting for me, but i’ll see you around, y/n.” she said before turning around and walking back to two girls who were unfamiliar to me. 

“yeah, see you around” i quietly sigh, mentally preparing for the interrogation that will take place back at the table occupied by my friends.

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf- Chapter 20: The Last Word

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (bookshop, bartender, baking AU)

Word Count: 821

Summary: Celebrations and love and dancing and kisses :) 

Author’s Note: So, here it is. The End. It wasn’t epic, it wasn’t new and it wasn’t easy (first time I ever tried doing a series) but honestly, if it weren’t for the amazing support I get from my friends, fellow writers, readers and just you overall incredible humans I would never have done it. You have my endless thanks and appreciation for sticking with me. Thank you for reading and I love you all! ❤❤❤ PS the lyrics at the end and the song he puts on are from Al Di La by Jerry Vale (although the original lyrics aren’t his) and you can listen here...it is literally one of my favs ever, please check it out 🥰

Warnings: Sweet fluffy happy love :) 

Top Shelf Masterlist

The limo stops at the curb and Bucky opens the door; a permanent smile plastered to his face as he holds his hand out. “Here, one sec baby, let me get your dress.” He takes the material and hangs it over his arm, trying for your hand once again and successfully pulling you from the car. “There we go doll.” He circles his arm around your waist and walks toward the door, opening it quickly so you can go in.

“This was such a good idea,” you say over your shoulder, shuffling behind the counter and opening the display case to grab some macarons. “I know we ate dinner and had like a whole piece of wedding cake, but all that dancing got me hungry again.” You take a bite and hold it up for him to do the same. His hand circles your wrist and he asks, “have I told you how absolutely stunning you look?” before brushing crumbs from your lip and inhaling it. You smile shyly and fix his bow tie, kissing him softly.  

“Do you remember the first day we met? You ate all my cookies!” You stop midchew. “OF COURSE, I DO and listen up Barnes, you offered! And they were damn good!” He chuckles, taking another macaron and popping it in his mouth. “Sure, whatever you say…Mrs. Barnes.” You squeal in happiness, throwing your arms around his neck and almost knocking him over. “Can you say it again?”

He swallows, suddenly much more serious in his tone, “I love you Mrs. Barnes and this has been the best day of my life so far.” You press your lips to his, laughing when you get a taste of some left-over cookie. “Way to ruin my moment,” he teases, fiddling with the necklace resting along your collarbone. “Thank you for wearing this. I know it meant so much to Grandma.” He looks at it almost reverently before bringing his eyes back to yours.

You put your hand over his, squeezing it gently, “Bucky, it’s so special and I couldn’t be happier that she wanted me wear it. She wore it at her wedding and maybe if we have a daughter, she can wear it at hers.” With teary eyes he brings your knuckles up to his lips for a soft kiss and then heads toward the steps at the back of the bookshop. He opens the gate and leads you upstairs, stopping abruptly at the top, “wait, I have an idea.”

He doesn’t say anything more and takes one arm and places it under your butt and the other around your shoulders. Lifting you up he walks through the doorway looking quite proud of himself. Carefully toeing off your shoes you nuzzle into him, “I love you Bucky. This really has been the best day ever.” He gently sets you on your feet, holding up a finger as he walks to the small table by the lamp. The old record player Grandma Betty kept all these years sits on top and he takes a vinyl from its case, hiding the cover from your eyes.

Your smile grows while you wait, silently running through a list of songs in your head and wondering what he picked. There are records ranging from the 50s to present day so it could be anything. The music starts softly at first, but you know it immediately, gasping softly when you hear Jerry Vale’s beautiful voice ring out through the attic.

“Oh Bucky!” He crosses the room and takes you in his arms, swaying back and forth to the melody. “One more dance?” You simply nod, brushing your fingertips over his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. He caught you listening to this song on repeat one night when he got home from the bar. Your hair was thrown up in messy bun and you were organizing the socks drawers at 2am, singing way too loud and off key. It was hard to forget because you spent the next hour in his arms, listening to the song and dancing in your shared apartment, talking about your hopes and dreams.  

“You remember,” you whisper into his neck and look up into his eyes. His lips brush against yours in a barely there kiss, stealing your breath, “of course I do.” He parts his lips and runs his tongue over yours, ghosting his fingers up your neck before cradling your cheek and deepening the kiss. Your hands card through his soft hair and your body completely melts against him, dizzy from his touch. He pulls away, just as breathless as you and rests his forehead to yours. “I can’t believe that I get to do that for the rest of my life. I’m the luckiest guy in the Universe.”

‘In the kiss that I gave was the love I had saved for a lifetime. Then I knew all of you was completely mine.’

~The End~

@aesthetical-bucky​​ @auro-ora​ @bugsbucky​ @book-dragon-13​ @buckys-henley​ @buckys-broody-muffin​ @buckys-minty-breath​ @breezy1415​ @buckstaybucky​ @chuuulip​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @hawksmagnolia​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @ikaris-whore​ @itsunclebucky​ @imgaril-lindru​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @lorilane33​ @loricameback​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @littleredstarfish​ @lokilvrr​ @addikted-2-dopamine​ @mushyjellybeans​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @yansi1923​ @flyawaybay​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @amandatar-06​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​ @fire-flv​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @irishflutiegirl​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @bucky-on-my-mind​ @lauratang​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @buchanansebba​ @emilylyoness​ @lady-pswrld​ @lookiamtrying​ @mishaandthebrits​ @rebekahdawkins​ @randomesk-yuku​ @hopefuldreamers-world​

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

C A L L  M E  C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others. 

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family. 

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning. 

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home. 

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts. 

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves. 

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did. 

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered. 

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help. 

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on. 

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down. 

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International. 

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road. 

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet. 

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles. 

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds. 

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff. 

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door. 

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it. 

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk. 

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it. 

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past. 

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half. 

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped  out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times. 

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene. 

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction. 

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. 

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.” 

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?” 

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway. 

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats. 

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze. 

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water. 

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing. 

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated? 

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine. 

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart. 

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh. 

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar. 

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant. 

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say  a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen. 

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted. 

**

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work. 

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction. 

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard. 

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged. 

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating. 

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat. 

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts. 

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface. 

When I came up, he was watching me. 

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it. 

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it. 

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders. 

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now. 

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry. 

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking. 

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat. 

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did. 

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly. 

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable. 

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others. 

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober. 

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred. 

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side. 

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely​ @sloanferg​ @ivanacats​ @mumplans​ @wastedsweetcreature​ @harryssugarhigh​ @wanderlustiing​ @sunflowers-styles​ @g0bl1nqueen​ @stepping-into-the-light​ @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie​ @harrys-cherrry​

[itsadamcole]

christmas lights - pt. 4

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

Drew begins to make up for the six weeks him and reader were separated by making a nice romantic dinner on Valentine's Day, which leads to some serious conversations and rekindling their marriage ...

word count: 4.5k+

warnings: mentions of cheating, slight drinking, loads of fluff, smut (because it's time that we have nice things in this mini-series)

— part 4. enjoy loves —

masterlist || request an imagine here

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

Drew's POV

"Sheamus, I need t'know what t'make Y/N for Valentine's Day," I say as I drive to the grocery store. "I wanna make a perfect dinner."

Sheamus' voice comes over the BlueTooth in my car as he says, "Bro, pasta dishes work every time. What kind of pasta dish does Y/N like?"

She likes lasagna but she also likes ravioli dishes. I could never go wrong with spaghetti because everyone loves spaghetti, plus there's always that chance at a Lady and the Tramp moment with the pasta.

I say, "I don't fucking know, dude. I know she likes a lot of different pasta dishes. Maybe I should just make peanut butter and jelly or something."

"Don't ya dare," Sheamus warns. "Y/N would get so mad."

She's at work all day and I asked for today off from work. It's literally eight in the morning and I have until four to get everything ready.

I pull into the parking lot at the grocery store as I say, "Lemme call Candice. I'm sure she knows."

"Good luck," Sheamus says before hanging up.

Then I dial Candice LeRae's number. It rings a few times before she says, "Drew, it's eight in the morning. What could you possibly want?"

I ask, "Yer Y/N's best friend. What's her favorite pasta dish?"

Candice is quiet before she says, "Lasanga casserole. Meat sauce. She loves that. Can I go back to sleep?"

"Yeah," I say. "Sorry fer waking ya."

The line goes dead and I go into the grocery store after looking up a recipe for lasagna casserole.

My goal for tonight is to reignite the flame that is mine and Y/N's marriage. We've been sleeping in separate rooms, and we've been good about it. I've only joined her in her bed once because it was storming out and she wanted me to stay with her. Other than that, we've been obeying the boundaries we set.

Separate bedrooms at night, no sex, no touching of the private parts, and no sexting when I'm away. It helps that I've been away for wrestling for most of the three weeks since we cleared the air so the separate bedrooms, no sex, and no touchy touches were easy. The no sexting, not so much. I came home yesterday to spend Valentine's Day with Y/N so maybe there can be some touchy touches tonight since I'm making dinner and it's a romantic day.

Y/N has no idea of what I have planned. Her presents will be waiting in the living room for her when she walks into the house after work. A large, life-sized teddy bear sprayed with my cologne will sit on the couch with flowers and chocolates on his lap. The house will be lit with candles.

Then we'll enjoy a candlelit dinner and dessert. The dinner will be made by me. The dessert is a cake that I ordered the other day that's sitting in the back of the refrigerator, hidden away from Y/N. We'll probably watch some cheesy romance movie since it's Valentine's Day.

I can only hope everything goes to plan, as long as I find where the damn ricotta cheese is in this store.

***

Your POV

You mope around the office all day. You'd much rather be at home with your husband than here at work. The past three weeks have gone by quickly, and you miss Drew.

He seemed okay with you coming into work today, but you requested to leave at four so you can at least be home for dinner by five. You'll probably end up ordering takeout honestly. You don't have anything big planned for tonight except ice cream and a movie.

Drew texted you a 'good morning' and 'Happy Valentine's Day' this morning around ten in the morning when he probably woke up. It made you happy and motivated you to get through the day.

The day goes by slow. A minute feels like an hour and an hour feels like an eternity as you write out this six-page report on the last meeting you had.

As soon as four hits, you say goodbye to your co-workers and grab your jacket before leaving.

It's a warm day in Florida today as you walk down to your car in the parking garage. You text Drew to say that you're on your way home before you pull out of the parking garage.

You drive home, and it's about 4:30 when you get there. Florida traffic is terrible during rush hour and you had to take the long way home instead of the quick five-minute drive because of traffic.

Drew's car hasn't moved in the driveway since you left at six this morning. You get out of your own car and walk inside. You hang your car keys up on the hook and take your jacket off. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room with a sigh.

You freeze where you stand when you see what's sitting on the couch when you walk into the room. On the couch sits a teddy bear, flowers, and chocolates. You smile widely at the sight before walking over.

There's a note on the couch next to the teddy bear that's folded with your name on it. You giggle and unfold it, reading it to yourself.

Happy Valentine's Day, my love. If the house is still standing when you see this then come check the dining room.

Smiling, you walk into the dining room. Candles light the room and Drew dressed up in a suit stands beside the food filled table. Lasagna casserole with meat sauce, a bowl of meatballs and sauce, and breadsticks sit on the table. There's a bucket with champagne and ice next to the food. The candles are in the middle of the table and all the food.

You gasp and say, "Drew! This is amazing! I feel so underdressed for this dinner."

Your husband greets you with a forehead kiss before he says, "There's time for ya t'get changed if ya want. I just took the food out of the oven so it'll still be warm when ya come back down."

Giggling, you say, "I need five minutes to change then I'll be right back."

"Take yer time, love," Drew says, a smile on his lips.

You quickly run up the stairs. You certainly weren't expecting Drew to go all out today, not after the last few months. He did, though, and it's making you fall more in love with the Scotsman.

Quickly, you strip out of your drab office clothes and get into the white dress you wore on your first date with Finn, almost nine years ago.

The top of the dress is lacy with thin spaghetti straps. The v-neck dips low but doesn't reveal a lot. The skirt is ruffled and has two layers, one short and the second layer reaches about halfway down your thighs. You wear a pair of silver heels to go with the dress. The heels are a light silver color. You brush out your naturally waving hair and walk downstairs.

Drew's face immediately lights up with a smile when he sees you. "Wow," he says. "Still as beautiful as ya were on our first date."

As he pulls out your chair, you say, "So you did remember that I wore this dress on our first date."

"How could I not?" he asks, pushing your chair in when you're sitting in it. "Ya were stunning and I was extremely nervous."

Laughing, you help yourself to some lasagna casserole and meatballs. You grab a breadstick.

Drew takes his serving as he says, "So, I physically made the lasagna casserole and meatballs. I bought the breadsticks as well as the cake that's in the fridge."

"There's a cake in the fridge?" you ask, looking up at Drew.

He smiles and says, "Uh, surprise? I wanted t'go all out today. I know how much ya love Valentine's Day and I definitely wanted t'make sure today was yer day."

You smile and take a bite of the lasagna. "Well, thank you, Drew," you say. "This is amazing and I don't think I deserve it."

Your husband says, "Ya deserve it, Y/N. Ya one hundred percent deserve it."

The two of you make small talk as you eat the dinner that Drew made. You ask him how he got all this together today.

"I bought the ingredients today and started making dinner by like nine in the morning," he explains to you. "I texted ya at ten so ya thought I just woke up because that's when I usually wake up. I didn't want ya thinking something was off with me waking up early."

You laugh as you eat the meal Drew prepared.

He asks you how your day at work went.

"Well, Tom had me write a whole report on our meeting about finances the other day," you tell him. "Six pages due before I left. This feels like he's punishing me for calling our indefinitely while we were separated."

Drew frowns and says, "I'm sorry. I know how hard ya work, and that's another reason I went all out for dinner."

The comment makes you smile.

After you're both done eating, Drew puts the leftovers in containers before putting them in the refrigerator. He washes the dishes and you sit at the kitchen island counter, watching him.

He's trying to make up for the six weeks you two were apart. You can tell because Drew McIntyre never cooks or does the dishes.

Drew hums quietly to himself as you watch him do the dishes. Your head is in your hands and you smile at the sight.

"So, what flavor is this cake?" you ask, curious.

Your husband laughs softly and says, "Vanilla and chocolate swirl with buttercream icing. I know that's yer favorite because that was the flavor of our wedding cake."

The fact that he's remembering the slightest details from your first date and from your wedding day makes you so happy. He's incorporating these things into making this Valentine's Day the best one yet, and that's the thing you love most about Drew.

As Drew finishes up doing the dishes, you get up and walk over to him. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist from behind him and you look up at him. Even with two-inch heels on, Drew is still about eight inches taller than you.

"Thank you for dinner," you say. "It means so much to me that you did this."

He turns the water off and dries his hands before he turns around in your arms. Drew looks down at you and smiles as he says, "I hope ya enjoyed yer presents in the living room."

You giggle, "I'll definitely be putting that teddy bear to use while you're on the road. As for the flowers and chocolates, thank you."

Your husband pushes your hair out of your face and he says, "Yer welcome, love."

Drew's hand lingers on your cheek a little longer than it probably should but you don't mind. As a matter of fact, you lean into his gentle touch so he knows it's okay.

It's been a while since he's touched you like this and you want to enjoy it.

"How about that cake?" Drew suggests. "I know yer just dying t'dig into that."

You giggle and let Drew go so he can get the cake out. "You definitely know me better than I know myself," you say, watching him take the cake out of the refrigerator and put it on the counter.

Drew cuts a piece for you and a piece for himself before he takes your hand and walks out into the living room. The couch is big enough for you, Drew, and the human-sized teddy bear so the two of you sit beside each other on the couch.

Your husband pulls up Netflix and turns on your favorite romance movie, After. Of course, Drew sits through After We Collided as well. He knows these are your favorite romance movies, and he knows how much you adore Hardin Scott's character. You do have a thing for accents.

Then you put on Drew's favorite romance movie, A Star Is Born. You're both a fan of this movie, and you both sing Shallow extremely off-key.

It's about one in the morning when you're done watching all three movies. The two After movies were about three and a half hours combined then A Star Is Born is just over two hours long, and you started watching the movies at about seven that night.

You're cuddled against Drew as he turns off Netflix. He looks down at you and asks, "Ya tired, love?"

Shaking your head, you say, "Nope. Are you?"

Drew shakes his head and says, "No."

You sigh and take his hand in yours, playing with his fingers. "We could, um, talk," you suggest. "About everything to see what we're both thinking."

Your husband says, "Okay. Tell me what's on yer mind."

Sighing, you meet Drew's eyes as you say, "I, uh, miss falling asleep in your arms and waking up beside you, like when your home and stuff." You continue playing with his fingers.

"Do ya want me back in our bedroom?" Drew asks slowly. "Or even just a few times a week? It doesn't have t'be every night if ya don't want."

Drew looks at you intently before you say, "When you're home, I'd like to sleep in the same bed as you. I feel like three weeks is long enough for you to be in a separate bedroom."

A small smile forms on Drew's lips as he says, "Then I'll sleep in our bed again if that's what ya want."

Nodding, you say, "That's what I want. Is that what you want?"

You don't understand why this is kind of awkward. You're just asking your husband to start sleeping in your shared bed again.

"It's what I want," Drew states. "Since we're on the topic of, uh, the boundaries we talked about. Since we're sleeping in the same bed again, do the no touching and no sex boundaries apply?"

You didn't think about that when you asked Drew to sleep in bed with you again.

Sighing and still playing with Drew's fingers, you say, "If the opportunity to have sex arises then I won't stop it. It's been a while since we've been, um, intimate with each other so I wouldn't mind."

Drew smiles as your face gets a little flustered. You've never been good at talking about sex, and it gets you all hot sometimes, like right now.

He pulls his fingers away from you and you pout. Drew says, "So we're basically saying no more boundaries." It wasn't formed like a question.

"Well I'm not saying we get naked right here on the couch and have sex right now," you say, suppressing a giggle. "But technically, yes. We're saying no more boundaries."

A sigh of relief leaves Drew's lips as he says, "Thank God because sleeping in the guest room is torture knowing ya're just down the hall."

You laugh and look up at Drew. You turn your body so you're facing him more. A smile lights up Drew's face.

He's happy that there aren't boundaries anymore. You never called them rules because rules are always tempting to break, and you wanted to make sure to move slow instead of rushing into your relationship like it was before Christmas.

Both of you are quiet before you say, "Thank you for respecting my wishes while we worked on our marriage, Drew. It shows me that you wanted to work on it too."

Drew says, "I woulda moved out if ya told me to. I wanted to do this right." He pushes a stray hair off your cheek. "If fixing our relationship while spending some time apart is what helps us in the end then I'm happy t'do it."

A smile forms on your face as you say, "I love you. Thank you for sticking around even though I've been difficult."

Your husband says, "And I love ya. I would do anything fer ya, Y/N. Ya know this."

"I do know this," you say as you lean your head up a bit, wanting a kiss.

Drew gets what you're trying to say and he slowly leans into you, his lips ghosting over yours lightly. A soft gasp leaves your lips as your heart races in your chest.

While you slept in separate bedrooms and didn't see much of each other, kisses between you and Drew were rare. Every kiss felt like the first kiss you ever had with him. This one especially feels like that.

Your eyes flutter closed as Drew finally presses a soft kiss to your lips. Butterflies form in your stomach as your lips move against Drew's. One of his hands rests on your waist and one of your hands is on the side of his neck.

The kiss slowly becomes more intense as Drew begins to kiss you with more passion. You welcome the passionate kiss as Drew's hand migrates from your waist to your back. He presses you against him as you throw one of your legs over one of his so you're closer to your husband.

In between kisses, Drew asks, "Are ya still not tired?"

You shake your head slightly and say, "No. You?"

"No," he replies. "Wide awake."

This moment has been building for a while. It started almost as he came back home. Now that it's started, you don't want it to stop.

The kiss intensifies more when Drew's tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You part your lips a bit and his tongue finds its way into your mouth. You sigh softly as the kiss turns into a make out session.

Drew's hands are both now on the small of your back as you now cup his face in your hands. Sighs leave both yours and Drew's lips, especially after you crawl onto his lap. You straddle his thighs to make it easier to kiss him.

You pull back, needing a second to breathe. You pant, "We lift all boundaries and now we're making out on the couch."

Your husband laughs and leaves soft kisses all over your face. "Is there something wrong with making out on the couch?" he asks, smiling.

"No," you giggle. "But have you met us? Making out usually turns into something more."

His kisses leave your face and migrate down to your jaw. He mumbles, "Would that be a bad thing though? It's been a long time since we've done anything. At least four months."

You sigh, "We just lifted the boundaries. It would be terrible timing."

Drew smiles as he kisses your neck before he says, "I've missed ya like this, Y/N. I've missed us like this."

It has been a long time since either of you have been intimate with each other.

"I've missed you like this too, Drew," you say, melting under his touch. "And it has been a long time since we've been like this. I don't care how bad the timing is anymore."

Your husband looks up at you and asks, "So, are we having sex tonight?"

Giggling, you say, "As long as we take it upstairs because I don't want to make a mess on the teddy bear."

"Done," is all Drew says before he scoops you up into his arms and takes you upstairs to your shared bedroom. He holds you bridal style in his arms as he walks up the stairs.

You leave kisses on his cheek and neck as he walks with you to the bedroom.

He walks into the bedroom and puts you down at the foot of the bed. You lean up and kiss him passionately. You hook your fingers into the belt loop of his suit pants and pull him against you.

Honestly, you don't hate the idea of having sex with Drew tonight. It's been so long since you have. You miss being intimate with him.

Slowly, you pull off Drew's jacket and let it fall to the floor. He undoes his tie, and all of this as his tongue finds its way into your mouth again. You sigh softly and your fingers begin to unbutton Drew's shirt after you untuck it from his pants.

His hands are on your back, near the zipper of the dress.

You pull his shirt off and it joins the jacket and now the tie on the floor. Drew unzips your dress and you pull the straps off your shoulders. The dress falls to the floor and pools at your feet, leaving you in only your panties.

Your fingers slide down Drew's chest as the kiss continues. You run your fingers down his stomach until they reach the button on his pants.

Both of you kick off your shoes before Drew pushes you onto your back on the bed, breaking the kiss. You move back a bit and watch as he pulls off his suit pants, leaving him in his boxer shorts.

"Ya have no idea how long I've waited just t'see ya and touch ya like this again," Drew tells you as he crawls up to you, kneeling between your legs.

You cup his face in your hands and say, "I've waited just as long as you have, Drew."

He smiles at you as his eyes roam your exposed upper body. You lay on your back and Drew leans down, kissing your chest down to your breasts. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently as his fingers play with the other. You gasp and sigh, arching your back slightly off the bed. You grasp onto the covers as Drew continues down your body, kissing down your belly until he gets to the waistband of your panties.

Drew looks up at you and asks, "May I?"

You nod, eager. He pulls off the panties you're wearing, and you may or may not be just a tiny bit wet. Hearing Drew talk about how much he's been waiting for this and wanting this has made you a little wet.

He bites his lip before diving in. Your back arches off the bed and you moan, "Drew." Your fingers find their way into his hair as his tongue swirls around your clit.

Your breathing soon becomes labored as Drew kisses and sucks on your core. He slips a finger into you and you moan a little louder.

It's been way too long since you've been with Drew like this, and you don't plan on ever going four months without sex ever again.

Drew's finger moves slowly and your back arches off the mattress. Your eyes are closed as your sense of touch takes over. Drew sucks on your clit and adds a second finger.

"Drew," you moan out. "Baby, please."

He looks up at you and asks, "'Please' what, love?"

You open your eyes and look at your husband as he licks your arousal off his lips. "I need you," you whine. "Please."

Drew pulls his fingers out of you and you let out a little whine. He pulls off his boxers and reaches over onto the bedside table to grab a condom out of the box that's in the drawer.

He's on his knees between your legs as he slides the contents of the tiny silver package he pulled out of the drawer onto himself. You watch as he crawls on top of you. You lean up and kiss Drew softly, pulling him down to you. His chest is pressed to yours and you wrap your legs around Drew's waist.

After a second, Drew pulls back and asks, "Is this what ya really want? I don't want t'continue if this isn't what ya want."

You push Drew's hair behind his ears and say, "I want this Drew. I've wanted this for months. I want this to happen."

A smile forms on Drew's lips as he kisses you again. You feel the tip of his member run through your folds and you sigh softly against his lips. Your hands are in his hair, gripping lightly as Drew begins to slide into you.

Moans pass through your lips into the kiss as Drew's length fills you up. Drew holds himself up above you as he begins to thrust slowly into you. Moans escape your lips as Drew moves.

Drew leaves kisses on your neck as he moves sweetly and passionately.

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping and your moans. Drew leaves marks on your neck and his thrusts begin to speed up.

"Oh, Drew," you moan softly. "Don't stop, please."

Your husband smirks against the skin on your neck and moves deeper into you. His tip grazes your g-spot and you cry out in pleasure.

He knows how to make you feel good. It's almost like he hasn't missed a beat since the last time you had sex.

Drew grunts above you as he begins to hit your g-spot over and over again. Your nails are digging into Drew's back as he moves.

Your husband takes one of your hands in his as he moves. He kisses you again.

You don't say anything before you orgasm. You release on Drew's member and he soon follows. Both of you moan each other's names and a bunch of profanities as you both come.

Drew pulls out and rolls off of you, pulling off the condom and tying it off before throwing it out. You crawl under the covers after Drew cleans you both up, a smile on your lips.

He joins you under the covers as you both catch your breath. You look up at your husband and say, "You have a lot to live up to next Valentine's Day."

"I think I already know what I can do," Drew says, leaning in and pecking your lips. You giggle and intertwine your fingers with his as you move onto your side so you're facing him.

Drew moves himself close to you and cups your face, looking at you. Your eyes meet his and you say, "I love you so much."

Your husband says, "I love ya more." A smile forms on his lips as you bury your face into his neck, closing your eyes.

You almost lost this. You almost lost laying in his arms at night when you were feeling upset or just to snuggle after sex. You almost lost him, and you're so glad that you heard him out. You didn't just let him go, because you love him and wanted to work on your relationship.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

[puddingcatbeans]

10/?

[ return key; wangxian college au ]

Public transit isn’t Lan Zhan’s favourite thing. Back home, he was lucky enough to live within walking distance to the places he needed to go, or his uncle drops him off, or he calls a Didi. Wei Ying teases him about being a rich young master, but Lan Zhan has also heard him complain about this city’s transit system in the same breath.

Since moving here, Lan Zhan has had to learn the transit system out of necessity. His brother has a car, but his schedule clashes with Lan Zhan’s, and their apartment is located convenient enough that a bus stop is just around the corner. He only really needs to take one bus to campus, an optional transfer if he’s trying to avoid the morning traffic. The trains are easy enough to navigate, though he’s still not certain about the whole Compass card business. Wei Ying has an entire rant about that, too; Lan Zhan’s pretty sure he has it memorized.

They’re on the Skytrain, eastbound, accompanying some freshmen that have imprinted on Wei Ying, heading towards an event. Someone started off a round of cold jokes that quickly veered off into a pun-based series of riffs. Lan Zhan is content to listen, one earbud in and instrumental guqin soothing his nerves from being trapped in a crowd. Wei Ying’s laughter works just as well as his own carefully procured playlists.

He’s checking the time on his phone again when there’s a lull in their conversation, post-joke, and he distinctly hears someone mutter, “If you’re going to speak gibberish, you might as well go back where you came from.”

Their group falls silent. Next to him, Wei Ying’s hands has formed a fist. Lan Zhan’s own hands are clenched around his phone. He manages a glimpse at the white lady sitting in the priority seat across from them, before Wei Ying’s drawl filters through the white noise.

“Sorry, miss,” Wei Ying says in English, “we didn’t know you wanted to listen in so badly. Go on, Jingyi, tell her that penis joke again. Spare no details, we can’t have anyone here not understanding a single word.”

The woman’s face turns red. Jingyi and Zizhen muffle their giggles, but Wen Yuan has his head down. The other passengers avert their gazes awkwardly. Lan Zhan stares out the window until the next stop arrives, and then he stands, tugging Wei Ying until they shuffle everyone off the train.

“It’s fine, the next one comes in five minutes,” Wei Ying says. “We’re still early, right, A-Yuan?”

The freshmen huddle around themselves, Pokemon Go open on their phones, and Wei Ying blows out a breath. He turns to Lan Zhan. “Hey. You okay?”

“Mn. Are you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Probably a good idea you dragged me off, though, I was ready to throw hands. God, like. I grew up in this goddamn city, barely remember being born across the ocean, and usually it’s good, you know? Literally everyone is an immigrant here, one way or another, so you’d think we’d be past this kind of bullshit. But sometimes that happens and I just---” Wei Ying makes a frustrated noise. Lan Zhan hums in agreement, and Wei Ying sighs again. “You know, Jiang-shushu made me pick out an English name, too. I went by Peter until I was fifteen and decided I had enough of that. And my name isn’t even that hard to pronounce---I can’t imagine what it’s like being Wen Qing or, like, Mianmian, who then has to deal with people asking why their English name is so... not Chinese. God!”

Lan Zhan nods. He’s had his fair share of classmates asking if he had an English name just so they don’t butcher his Chinese one. The sentiment would be nicer if they had actually attempted to pronounce it right before asking. He says to Wei Ying, “Thank you for standing up for the juniors.”

Wei Ying waves a hand. “What else is my loud, shameless self useful for, if I can’t even get rid of stupid bullies, huh?” He smiles, letting Lan Zhan in on the joke. Wei Ying turns to the tracks again, where the next train is just pulling in. “If I have the power, I will protect people where I can. Live righteously, and without regrets.”

Lan Zhan looks at him, Saturday morning sunlight framing his determined face. He thinks, in that moment, if Wei Ying were to march forwards, there wouldn’t be anywhere Lan Zhan wouldn’t follow after him.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝

Requested by @whats-goingon22: Good morning :)! I have a request where John B has a younger sister who works at the wreck and doesn’t always get to go on the missions because she’s working. Well, one day DCS shows up for her, with a cop on standby. And it’s a kicking and screaming match but they manage to get her in the police car. DCS woman and cop go to talk to Kiara’s dad, and she’s left in the car, freaking out, but she doesn’t know is that John b and the pogues saw the whole thing and are trying to get her out the car?

Description: Y/N is John B’s sister, and hasn’t been kept in the loop because he is worried about her getting hurt along with their treasure hunt. He fails to tell her that DCS is back to sniffing around and sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. Y/N gets taken by Cheryl, but she can’t break herself out alone. 

A/N: I have zero ideas on how DCS works so I just pulled from the show and how they portrayed it. This one was a little different than what I am used to, but I really liked writing it. I am sorry it took me so long I just saw it at the bottom of my inbox:( I hope you like it:) As always my requests/asks/messages are open. Thank you all so much for reading my work:) 

Being a Pogue meant having a job as soon as you were able to work because that’s what it takes to stay above water. I was no exception to this, especially when my father disappeared and Uncle Teddy decided that his gambling took precedence over me and my brother, John B. The Routledge kids were what we had been called growing up, never really seeing one without the other. Though in recent weeks that has not been true. John B had lost his job working for Ward Cameron after he stole scuba tanks. We found a shipwreck on the marsh maze and John B wanted to see what contraband was on the ship. John B and our best friend JJ had come up with the idea that it was a smuggling ship. I mean they could have been right, who willingly goes out, in an open boat, in a hurricane if they are doing something legal? 

The ‘scuba mission,’ as Kie and I had coined it,  was the last one that I had been told about. The guys, especially John B, made sure that I was safe by going on missions while I was at work. After the groupers had shot at us in the marsh JB wasn’t having it. Not one bit. He said I needed to stay as far out of it as possible. The only reason that I had found out about the compass or that all of this had related back to our dad was because of Peterkin. She was trying to keep JB and me afloat and on the island. When I found out that John B had given her the compass I was pissed, to say the least. That was the last thing that we had left of our father and he handed it off the Peterkin for what? Protection? We didn’t need protection, we had been just fine for months now. 

Because of our fight, JB and I had been avoiding each other for a couple of days, not exactly speaking. I wanted John B to know that he messed up giving our father’s compass to the cops, but because of my own stubbornness, I had no idea what the group had been up to. They seemed to always been leaving early in the morning or coming in late, making it easier to avoid John B, but still left me completely in the dark. I tossed my keys in a basket, rounding the corner to the main area of the house. 

I jumped as I saw a large man to my right, he moved to stand blocking the hallway I had just moved from. I looked in front of me and there she was, Cheryl. The dreaded DCS lady. I rolled my eyes and huffed as she stood up crossing her arms across her chest.

“Cheryl look, I told you that Uncle T would be back tonight, so it’s a bad time for check-in as it’s only like what?” I look down at my wrist, pretending to read a watch. “Like 11 am.” I took a step away from the large man standing only feet from me.

“We’re here to take you, Y/N.” She stayed standing up. I scoffed and moved further into the house and toward the kitchen. “We know teddy hasn’t been here for months.” 

“What? You and Mr.Bighead here stalking me now?” I asked. I met eyes with the officer, before trying to move through the kitchen to get outta the house. 

“That was a mistake, kid.” He said before barreling into me and grabbing my arms behind my back. “You’re not getting outta here.” I heard the clink of metal and felt the cool handcuffs slide around my wrists. 

“Seriously Cheryl?” I asked, my eyes growing wide. I tried my best to move my arms trying to get myself away from the officer. “Isn’t this a little bit excessive?” She eyed the officer behind me as if to ask the same question. I pulled myself away from him as he began to answer 

“Already lost of Routledge today, we’re not gonna make it two.”

Then it sank in, they tried to get John B too. I had to get out of this. I began walking toward Cheryl. “Really? See Uncle Teddy just went to the mainland for the day to get some supplies and stuff. Ya know, we did just have Hurricane!” I exclaimed. She just shook her head. She didn’t believe me.

That’s when I decided to bolt. I ran past Cheryl bumping her shoulder hard enough to make her fall into the couch behind me. I pushed myself against the swinging door. And into the back yard. My hands being held behind my back by the cuffs proving to make it much more difficult. I heard yelling behind me as I tried to hurry down the stairs without face planting. I made it into the yard realizing I had nowhere to go through the back. My hesitation cost me my escape though. Before I knew it the officer was on my tail and lunged forward stopping me from moving ahead. I got a face full of dry dirt and dead grass.

“Seriously, kid just get in the car and things will be a lot easier for the two of us.” The officer started to pull my arms in the direction of his cop car. I, of course, was not getting in the car of my own accord. So I stood my ground, making my weight hard, trying not to move. 

Before I could realize what was happening the officer huffed and lifted me by my middle. I started kicking my legs back and forth trying to pull myself from his grip. It seemed effective. I glanced at the car seeing Cheryl standing by the open SUV door with her arms crossed. “Why are you doing this? I’m literally doing just fine here!” The cop turned and I was able to see into the woods. 

What caught my eye made me want to smile, or cry. I couldn’t tell at the moment. I saw a mop of golden hair first and then my brother standing beside him, both hunched over hiding behind a tree. JJ put his finger to his lips telling me not to say anything. Then I looked beside him, John B’s face held nothing but fear. He nodded at me, and I nodded back, silently agreeing that we would get out of this. The officer put me in the car and walked to the driver’s side. I had to think fast and quick. The Wreck, no doubts that Kie was there, and it was close enough that the boys could follow us there. 

“Cheryl this is great and all really, but Um? Now I’m all dirty and gross.” She scoffed and turned to look at me. “So this is supposed to be better? Sending me to the mainland with nothing but the dirty clothes on my back.” She looked at the officer who just rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“Is there anyone that we can stop and talk to? Get your clothes while we do your paperwork?” She questioned. 

“You mean besides Uncle Teddy?” I scoffed, causing Cheryl to roll her eyes this time. “Yes, the Carreras, they’ve been helping me and John B a lot,” I stated. 

Cheryl looked at the officer and nodded. I guess they never need to speak. They must pull kids from their happiness often, they have it down to a science. I pulled on the metal cuffs, each minute that passed making them more uncomfortable. 

As the car rolled over the gravel of the parking lot to the Wreck. “Can you take these damn things off please?” I said shaking the metal so they could hear. “They're too tight and they hurt.” 

“Not a chance. You’ve already decided to be a flight risk.” He said. 

Before Cheryl got out of the car she asked the officer to lay off a bit. I appreciated her sliver of humanity she seemed to have left. I huffed leaning back onto my arms in the hot cop car. “So officer,” I started, my tone coming off mocking,” What’s your name?” He stayed quiet, just looking at me through the rearview mirror. “Ight. Good talk.” 

I looked out the window to see Kie. Flailing her arms in the direction of the police car. Her hair was all messed up. “Officer you need to help me. There- there was someone over there they yelled at me and they ran that way! They were super scary.” She pointed to the woods behind her. “Please!” She begged as she came closer to the car. The officer opened the door before pressing the lock button and pulling his keys from the ignition. He slowly moved out of the car and toward Kie. She kept pointing him in the direction away from the car. I looked around frantically trying to figure out how to get out of the car. A knock to the window to my right scared me causing me to jump. 

John B was hunched down just below the window. “Unlock the Door!” He whispered through the glass, the urgency clear in his voice. I reached around trying to use my hands from behind me to pull the lock pin up and unlock the door. I saw the deputy getting upset with Kie, obviously learning that she did not have anything actually wrong with her. 

Then the pin clicked up and the door was unlocked. Everything after happened so fast. I almost fell out of the car as John B pulled it open the second the lock was up. I fell into JJ, who hurried me to the side of the Wreck and into Kie’s SUV. I pulled myself into the back corner ducking my head down as the rest of the pogues followed suit. Pope taking the driver's seat. We pulled out as Cheryl came out to see the back door to the SUV open and the cop cursing himself. Both looked dumbfounded, enough to cause me to chuckle a little bit. 

Once we were safely away from the others I sat up. “So who knows how to pick a lock so I can get out of these cuffs?” I posed as Kie and Pope turned to look and see that I was in fact still in handcuffs. Kie reached up and pulled a bobby pin from her hair. 

“Turn around.” She laughed and began to work on getting the cuffs undone” 

“That was pretty badass back there Y/N,” JJ spoke from the passenger seat. 

“Maybe, but you're lucky we saved you.” John B chuckled. 

“Don’t be so cocky. I heard they got you too.” I said as Kie got the handcuffs unlocked. Holding them up victoriously. 

“Thanks for saving me though guys,” I said with a smile. 

“No pogue’s left behind,” John B said reaching around Kie to squeeze my shoulder. 

--

Masterlist 

[giuliafc]

Nightmares

Written by: JuliaFC

Betas: Khanofallorcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama and Genxha. Thank you all so much!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the Facebook h/c group “Hurt/Comfort Italia - Fanart and Fanfiction - GRUPPO NUOVO | Groups | Facebook”, weekend challenge, “Atonement 2.0”. I was asked to write a *coughs* drabble about character A being stuck somewhere and character B having to help them. If you speak/read Italian and are interested in the genre, join us! We’ll be glad to see you! 

                                                       oOoOoOoOoOo

The sound of her frantic whimpers woke him up. He looked around wildly and, at first, panicked because he didn’t recognise anything. It took him a few minutes to realise that it was Nino’s lounge. He was sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor. 

Yes, the memories of the day before came back in a flash. 

~~That morning~~

Marinette looked very tired that morning at school. Alya looked at her worriedly and told her that she shouldn’t stay awake all night working on projects all the time. She needed to sleep. So she acted instinctively, as she usually did, and decided that the only way that they could ensure that Marinette would have a full night of sleep was to be physically there to check up on her. Easy as pie. Alya was a master organiser when she had something in her mind. And she had decided that she wanted Marinette to have a sleepover with them at Nino’s. So in literally five minutes she cleared her schedule and Nino’s, rang Tom and Sabine and asked them for permission to ‘kidnap Marinette for a night’ and organised for Nora to look after Chris and the twins. 

Marinette tried to complain. She really did her best to get out of the situation. But Adrien didn’t like that. Exactly like Alya, even he worried about the growing bags under Marinette’s eyes, and about how easily she fell asleep during their school day. She looked exhausted. He had asked her a couple of times in the last few weeks to slow down, because he really didn’t like how tired she looked. It seemed as though every time after, he saw her coming to school looking more exhausted than before. This time she literally fell asleep the second Mlle. Bustier’s lesson started and stayed asleep (aided by the fact that he and Alya explained to their teacher that Marinette’s health would benefit from the nap) for the whole lesson. 

So when Marinette tried to complain about not wanting to take part in the sleepover and tried to get out of it, Adrien blatantly lied. He hated lying, and he wouldn't do it normally (except to protect his identity, of course), but Marinette was too dear a friend for him to worry about menial ethical concerns. 

“It’s a shame that you don’t want to have a sleepover, Marinette,” he said. “I just texted Nathalie and she gave me permission to come too. But if you’re not going to be there, then the sleepover is usel—” He beamed when Marinette interrupted him.

“Oh no, you’re okay,” she muttered. “I mean, it’s okay. You’re perfect. I mean, it’s perfect. Yes, you’re not perfect, that would be weird. But mareding, I mean amazing. If you’ll be there, I’ll marry you, I mean I’ll come with you. Yes. Of course. I’ll be there. Right. Definitely!”

“Cool!” He gave her a soft look and took hold of her hand, causing Marinette’s face to flush deep red. “I’m looking forward to it, then!”

Alya and Nino looked at him with wide eyes, and Nino walked him to his car on purpose to ask him, “Did you really get permission for..”

“Nope,” he admitted. “But I will find a way. I may not get there very early and I may need to leave at the crack of dawn, but I’ll be there, Nino. See you tonight!”

When he closed the door of the sedan and was waiting patiently to return home, Plagg peeked out of the pocket of his shirt to give him a curious stare. “How are you going to pull this off, gamin?” 

“I’ll pretend to have a migraine, go to bed and sneak out as Chat Noir.”

Plagg raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Where is my holder? Tell the aliens to give him back to me. He buys me the best of cheese,” he asked. When Adrien gave him a dubious look, Plagg continued, “No, honestly. I’ve never seen you rebelling like this before. I'm proud of you, Adrien!”

Adrien chuckled. “Ha, thank you, buddy. It’s not rebellion. It’s just—”

“What?” interrupted the little furball.

Adrien sighed. “I’m worried for Marinette. I knew that she would agree to the sleepover if I was going to be there.” Plagg raised an eyebrow so Adrien blushed a little and looked away. “Don’t look at me like that. She’s always wanted me to get some freedom and experience things, so I knew she wasn’t going to give up on the opportunity to make me experience a sleepover.”

“Ah, okay,” commented Plagg. “Go figure…”

So that evening Adrien put his plan into action and, for once, everything went smoothly. At exactly nine o’clock he pretended to have a migraine and locked himself in his room, transformed into Chat Noir, turned his shower on in the bathroom (just in case. After all, Nathalie had a master key to all the rooms in the mansion!) and left to reach Nino.

He didn’t get disappointed. They had great fun playing a couple of games before going to bed. They even had a pillow fight, because Adrien had always wanted to do one. Then, nice and early (so that Marinette could get as much rest as possible), Alya set up four sleeping bags in the lounge and they all went to bed. 

It didn’t take long for Marinette to fall asleep. He kept a watchful eye on her and saw that she tossed back and forth a few times. She also muttered things to herself a little bit, but in a matter of minutes, she was gone. Adrien smiled and exchanged conspiratory looks with Nino and Alya, happy that their plan had worked. Hopefully, it meant that finally Marinette would get some sleep.

A moment later, though, he raised an eyebrow as Nino and Alya got up from their sleeping bag. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, a little surprised.

“Not to be funny, Sunshine, but Nino’s bed is much more comfortable than the floor and we would also like some privacy. So if you don’t mind…” Alya winked at him. “Would you look after Marinette for us?” They hadn’t even waited for him to say yes before walking away.

“Huh, great friends they are,” commented Plagg. “But at least I can get out from your pocket.”

“Be careful, though, Plagg. If they come back, or if Marinette wakes up, I don’t want anyone to see you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay inside the sleeping bag,” retorted Plagg. 

It didn’t take long after that for Adrien to fall asleep.

~~End of Flashback~~ 

But now, the sound of whimpers and muffled cries woke him up. He looked around, wondering if Alya and Nino had come back, but their sleeping bags were empty. There was only one person who could be whimpering, then. 

He quickly got up and moved closer to Marinette. Her eyes were closed, but she was tossing and turning, the sweat pumping out of her. She was white as a sheet. 

“She must be having a nightmare,” whispered Plagg, floating sleepily out of the sleeping bag and reaching the pocket of his pyjamas top. 

“I know,” whispered Adrien. “Should I wake her up?” At Plagg’s agreement, he called out to her a bit louder, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a small shake, “Marinette? Marinette?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh, no, please,” Marinette was muttering. “You're wrong! I'm not Marinette! It's impossible, I never told you anything!”

Adrien’s eyes went wide. What kind of nightmare was she having? Why was she saying that she wasn’t Marinette? “Marinette? Please, it’s me! Wake up!”

“Nnnnnno! Don’t touch me, chaton, please!” she screamed and of course Adrien let her go and sat on his knees, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Chaton?” He sucked his breath in, his heart in his throat. Was she really talking to him or was she still dreaming? Had she figured him out? And if she hadn’t, why on Earth was she having nightmares about Chat Noir?

“It-it’s time to de-evil—” she started to say and then she crouched on herself, as if she was trying to duck a hit. 

Plagg moved a little closer to Marinette and stared with massive concern at the girl asleep on the floor. His gaze darted from the sleeping girl to the stunned face of Adrien, and the boy could clearly see that his kwami was worried. No, worried wasn’t the right word. He was terrified. 

“Never! LUCKY CHARM!” shouted Marinette and then she erupted into a massive scream that drained all blood from Adrien’s face. His heart skipped several beats as Alya and Nino ran in the room giving Plagg barely enough time to zip back behind Adrien’s head.

“What’s going on, Sunshine?” asked Alya running next to him.

“I-I don’t know. She started talking in her sleep and screaming, I think she’s having a nightmare but I couldn’t wake her up. I don’t know what else to do!”

Alya put a hand to her chin and frowned. "She had mentioned a couple of times that she was having nightmares. I wonder if that’s what has been keeping her awake or making her so tired. I’ll go make some camomile tea, for when she wakes up. You don’t move away from her, Sunshine. Nino, come with me.”

Adrien gave them a grateful look as they walked out of the lounge. “Plagg?” he asked after a moment. The little black kwami came out of his hiding place and gave him a sheepish look. “Don’t look at me like this, Plagg. Have you maybe failed to mention that—”

“OKAY! OKAY! I'LL GIVE YOU MY MIRACULOUS, CHAT NOIR!” 

“Plagg!” Adrien put his hands into his hair. By now he knew that it couldn’t be an accident. The gravity of his discovery hit him like a big punch in the stomach. Marinette was Ladybug. There was no other explanation for what he’d just heard. But he didn’t have a chance to panic about it. The realisation hit him that his Lady was having a nightmare. A nightmare about facing… him? Chat Noir? Wanting to steal her Miraculous? Why was his Lady tormented with nightmares where he was an akuma? He looked at her again and saw that she was crying in her sleep. His heart broke. “What’s going on? What is she talking about? I’ve never b—”

“You will always be Chat Noir to me.” The way she said it. The sentiment that vibrated in each and every word. Tears were starting to worm their way out of the corner of Adrien’s eyes as he grabbed Marinette’s shoulders firmly and gave her a big, massive shake.

“BUGINETTE! Can you hear me? Please wake up! Wake up please!” He hugged her and couldn’t stop sobbing. “Please, My Lady. Please wake up…”

As he kept hugging her and gently patting her hair with his hands, he felt her body relaxing before tensing again. Until suddenly, she started hugging him back.

“Chaton?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

He broke the hug and looked her in the eye. He saw the surprise in her gaze and how wide her eyes and how pale her face had become. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

“It’s me, yes. Hi,” he said tentatively and waved nervously. 

She sucked her breath in and gasped loudly. “I must still be dreaming. Yes, that’s it. I’m still asleep. Now I’m going to pinch my hand and I will wake up still laying in my sleeping bag and you will be sleeping too and nothing will have happened and I will just think of how stupid I have been in having yet another silly nightmare with Chat Blanc and… oh my God, usually I just see what had happened in the future again, not wake up with Adrien hugging me and claiming to be Chat Noir; it must be because I’m at this sleepover, and he’s sleeping in the same room as me, and I must have mixed things up and—”

As she was saying all that avalanche of words, Alya and Nino came back inside the lounge, carrying four mugs of piping hot herbal tea. Alya sat down with her legs crossed next to Adrien and cautiously gave the mug she held in her right hand to Marinette.

“What are you rambling about, girl? Here, have some camomile, it helps against nightmares.”

They sat down in silence.  Nino gave Adrien another mug full of piping hot liquid.

Marinette’s gaze was literally glued into Adrien’s, her face as white as a sheet. She absentmindedly took a sip and winced, forgetting just how hot camomile could get. She started blowing gently on the liquid, but her eyes never lost sight of him. 

“Sorry, Alya, I was having a nightmare,” she said eventually. “That’s why I didn’t want to come to the sleepover. I… I’ve been having nightmares for some time now.”

“What kind of nightmares, girl? I didn’t understand what you were saying, but you were screaming bloody murder a moment ago. Luckily, Chris is at my house with the twins, or we would have had three overtired children to deal with by now.”

Marinette moved her gaze briefly and met Alya’s worried brown eyes. “Sorry, Alya. My nightmares are nothing special, something about me failing my exams and my commissions. Nothing to worry about.”

Adrien glared at her. He knew that she had to lie, but he still didn’t like it when she lied that blatantly. “Are these nightmares the reason why you’re so tired?” he asked, sniffling a little. He couldn’t stop the mad pounding of his heart.

“Ah, no, don’t worry. I’ve just worn myself out too much recently, that’s all.” She made a dismissive gesture and smiled nervously. Right. As if he bought that. He and his Lady would need to have quite a long chat, as soon as—

Marinette put the cup back down on the ground, empty. “Thank you for the camomile, Alya. I feel better now. Shall we go back to sleep?”

Alya yawned and picked up the mug from the ground, standing up in a gracious gesture. “Are you sure you will be okay?”

“Yes I will, don’t worry. You and Nino go back to bed.” She smiled when Alya gave her a sheepish look. Marinette eyed her amusedly and continued, “Did you think I hadn’t realised you were gone?” She chuckled a little and a light blush dusted her cheeks. “You two go back to doing whatever you were doing. Don’t worry about me; Adrien’s here.”

Adrien saw clearly how Marinette winced when Alya’s eyes grew wide. To what must have been her great scorn, rather than going away as she had been asked to, Alya moved closer to Marinette. She sat back down crossed legged next to her and put a hand on her forehead. “Okay, where have you put my Marinette? Give her back, please.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Marinette, plucking Alya’s hand from her forehead and moving it back to her friend’s lap.

Alya folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to ask? We come back in the room and find you in Adrien’s arms muttering nonsensical stuff that we couldn’t even understand,” said Alya as Adrien took a big sigh of relief that neither of their friends had truly heard the secrets spilling out of Marinette's nightmare. “Then you don’t stutter at all in his presence and you dismiss us saying that you’re okay because you’re with him? Tell the aliens that I want my girl back. Please.”

Marinette blushed deep red, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m tired and want to go back to sleep. So if you don’t mind, Alya…”

Alya sighed. “Okay, okay, I got the message.” She got up again and gave her a look full of mischief. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck!” Then she grabbed Nino by the arm and walked straight out, turning the light off. 

They waited for a few minutes in the darkness, still like salt statues, listening carefully to ensure that Alya and Nino were really gone. After a few minutes of waiting, Adrien stood up and went to the door. He put an ear to the door and then looked at Marinette with an annoyed frown on his face. He slammed the door open and Alya and Nino both fell on the ground. 

“Ouch, what was that for, Sunshine?” complained Alya.

Adrie sighed. “I thought Marinette told you to go to bed.”

Alya smiled nervously. “Uh, yes, we were just…”

“Picking something from the floor,” muttered Nino at the same time as Adrien said, “...spying on us. Do you think we don’t know your ways, Alya?”

Alya looked at both her friends sheepishly. “I know, sorry. We’ll go to bed now.”

“You’d better, Alya, I’m tired!” said Marinette with an exaggerated yawn. Alya and Nino waved goodnight and Adrien closed the door. He stayed near the door for a few minutes, tapping his foot on the floor nervously. Then he opened the door again. This time everything was clear. He closed the door and sighed. 

He turned around and, without looking at Marinette in the eye, went back in front of her and sat down, legs crossed. His fingers started fidgeting with the silver ring on his right ring finger, bringing Marinette’s attention to it. He started slipping it off his finger, but gasped when Marinette grabbed his hand and stopped his gesture, wrapping his hands with hers firmly.

“Don’t you dare,” she commanded. He gulped, the grip that had already held his throat since he’d discovered the truth became even more painful. He breathed heavily, his hands falling listlessly on his lap. 

“Who’s Chat Blanc?” he eventually asked. “Is he the reason why you’re so tired?”

Marinette sighed. She started fiddling with her own fingers now and looking at her hands with great interest. “Chat Blanc is… you. In another timeline you were somehow akumatised. I would rather not talk about it, minou, it’s not a nice memory of mine.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and grabbed her hand, causing her to give a startled gasp. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. Marinette’s face lit like a lightbulb and she gave him the expression he had been so used to seeing on her face up to then, that sort of grimace between a smile and a cringe that she reserved only for him. “I wish I could do something to help. I don’t even remember having been akumatised in the first place. When did th—,” he started, but then he gasped and put a hand on his mouth, his cheeks dusting slightly with pink. “Uh, sorry M’lady, you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Tikki flew between them and started floating right in front of Marinette’s face. “Although maybe you should, Marinette.” Marinette hugged herself and started rocking back and forth. Her eyes filled with tears as she sniffled loudly and shook her head in denial. Tikki sighed. “Really, Marinette, you’ve been having horrible nightmares for months. You can’t get it out of your head. Discussing it with him could—”

“NO!” said Marinette louder. “I’m so useless, Tikki. I had promised to myself to never let him know about it at all, and here I am, revealing myself to him because of a nightmare about his akumatised self that he doesn’t know anything about. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to him, to taunt him with a future that doesn’t exist. He doesn’t deserve it!”

“But talking about it can help you, Marinette. Adrien is your friend, he’s been worried for you. Alya and Nino have been worried for you. You know that this is the reason why Alya organised this sleepover. You haven’t slept more than an hour or two per night for months. You keep burning the candle at both ends. You’re taking on a burden as massive as the memory of this timeline, and the nightmares that came from it, all on your shoulders without asking for any help. It’s not healthy.”

“B-but I don’t want to burden him with it, he’s got enough in his plate already!”

Adrien cleared his throat causing both Marinette and Tikki to turn towards him. “‘He’ has a name, Marinette, and ‘he’ would love to support you and help you, you know? Me and you against the world, that’s how it’s always been, right, Buginette? Why do you never trust me with anything?”

Marinette paled, giving him a terrified look that broke his heart a little. “So-sorry, I do trust you, Adrien. I trust you with my life on a daily basis.”

“Only because I force you to, by putting myself between you and the danger. But you’ve never trusted me with anything else.” He pouted.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure of that?” She gave him a tongue-in-cheek look and folded her arms on her chest. He gulped and his gaze fell.

“Uh, I know what you mean. The New York incident. You know who I am now; you know that I couldn’t not go. And you were the one to make it happen for me. I did try to ask my father if I could stay, but he had already packed my bags.” He saw her raising an eyebrow at him and pouted again. 

“It’s not the fact that you went on the trip that disappointed me, Adrien, but the fact that you never told me anything.” 

He blushed and was going to retort something. But then, he saw the disapproving glare that Tikki was addressing to Marinette and he gasped, realising what she was doing. “Don’t change the subject, Marinette. You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you? I have already apologised for not having told you anything when we went to New York. You promised me after that incident that you would try to trust me more. Why are you breaking your promise, Buginette?”

Marinette’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not breaking my promise!”

“You are! You’re not letting me help you. I can see that you’re hurting, Marinette. I had been feeling that there was something wrong for weeks, and now I feel as if I’m only seeing the tip of the iceberg of what’s troubling you. It must have been a really traumatic experience. I want to help you. I’m your partner, right? You said so many times that we’re equals?” He put a hand on her chin and forced her to look up. Her face gained a deep shade of crimson when bluebell eyes met forest green. 

“You are my equal, chaton, and I do trust you. It’s just… just…” She cupped her hands on her face and started sobbing loudly. He reacted on instinct and moved closer, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. He felt Marinette tensing for a moment under his touch, but immediately after, she relaxed and hugged him back. She cried for a very long time, her muffled sobs and his tentative ‘shhhh’ the only sounds that could be heard in the silence of the lounge. 

“It happened three months ago,” she eventually whispered. “The day of your fifth name day celebration, remember?” He nodded quietly. “Bunnyx came to me a little after I left your room and brought me to this future where the world had been destroyed. You had even Cataclysmed the moon. The entire city was underwater and you were sitting atop Montparnasse tower, alone. You were completely white, including your hair, and had these icy blue eyes that shone with madness. You attacked me and tried to get my Miracu—”

He gasped loudly and broke the hug, looking at her with his eyes wide. “I attacked you? I would never attack you!”

“You were an akuma, Adrien. You had destroyed the world. You had… you had Cataclysmed Hawkmoth. And me. I found what I thought were the statues of myself and Hawkmoth underwater and when I touched them they shred into powder. You said it had been an accident.”

Adrien started breathing hard. “This doesn’t make any sense! Why would I Cataclysm Hawkmoth and you? I thought Hawkmoth gave orders to the akumas, they’re his champions. How can an akuma possibly kill him?” He put his hands into his hair. “No, no, no! I would never Cataclysm you, Buginette. Never. After what I did to Aeon,” he started, but Plagg appeared from his hiding spot and flew to his face. 

“It’s happened once in history already where an akuma created by the Butterfly holder fought back. Hawkmoth no doubt severely underestimated the power of the Black Cat Miraculous, gamin.”

“Hi, Plagg,” said Marinette when the little God of Destruction finished speaking.

“Hi, Pigtails. Where has Sugarcube g—?” Plagg looked around, but he didn’t manage to finish what he was saying, because something red zipped to him and wrapped him in a hug. 

“I’m here, Stinkysock.” She let go of him after a few moments and looked at Adrien. “You’re right in what you’re saying, Adrien. She’s been terribly traumatised. She can hardly sleep at night.”

Adrien’s worried gaze went from Tikki’s concerned eyes to his maskless partner. “You faced hundreds of Akumas, Marinette. Why was I any—”

“You really need to ask?” she interrupted him. She glared, her eyes full of tears that she wiped angrily with the back of her hand. “It was you. The other akumas don’t matter to me, chaton. You do. You mean the world to me.”

‘You will always be Chat Noir to me,’ he remembered her saying just before she woke up. His heart started pounding in his chest again. 

“Every time I close my eyes I see those icy blue orbs staring coldly at me. You were calling me with my name, so you knew who I was. And you told me that our love had destroyed the world. 

His face felt suddenly very hot as his heart took residence in his throat. “Our… love?” he said in a choked whisper. 

“You told me that your heart was broken, that because I didn’t love you anymore then you would destroy yourself, me, our memories, everything. You tried hitting me with a really powerful Cataclysm that you were throwing at me like a blast of energy from your hands. That’s usually when I wake up, but I think this time I reached the end, or nearly. I only woke up because you hugged and then shook me.”

Adrien’s brain had switched off hearing Marinette say ‘I didn’t love you anymore’. He didn’t hear anything else. “You love me?” he asked out of the blue. Marinette’s face turned crimson.

“Uuuuh… you see, the b-boy I was telling you about when we fought Glaciator?” He nodded. “That b-boy was you. Adrien-you. I fell in love with you when you gave me your umbrella.” She sniffled. “A-and to be honest, recently the line between Chat Noir being my partner and me having feelings towards him had become so thin that I couldn’t see it anymore. I was terrified to love my minou because of what I had seen in the future but… I couldn’t stop myself. I have been so confused since we came back from New York, chaton. I still loved Adrien, my heart was doing somersaults every time I caught you looking at me in class, but I couldn’t help being fond of my partner. Not after having nearly lost him. I tried to forget you both by dating Luka and trying to reciprocate his feelings, but it was going nowhere. We broke up a couple of weeks ago.”

Adrien pinned his elbows on his thighs, passing both his hands in his hair. He was trying very hard to ignore the sudden jolt of happiness that ran through his very being the second she said that she was, in fact, in love with him. All of him. She loved Chat Noir-him and Adrien-him. And she had just recently broken up with Luka, so she was available. How had he managed to hit the jackpot so perfectly? His heart was fluttering on its own little spot between cloud nine and ten, but the matter at bait now was that his Lady had been having nightmares. About him. The akuma version of him he didn’t even know that existed. And those nightmares had been taunting her sleep and exhausting her. He could squeeze her into his arms and kiss her senseless later. 

“This is so messed up! So in that universe we were together and you broke up with me. I freaked out and got akumatised,” he said.

“Essentially, yes, I think.” She sighed. “I don’t know what happened, but it must have left you devastated.”

He grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him in the eye moving her chin towards him with the other hand. “You left me. That’s what happened. My heart broke.” He said that with such determination that Marinette couldn’t dismiss it. “I can relate with myself on that.” 

It made total sense. Absolute and total sense. Yes, the fact that she left him broke his…

Hang on a second. Marinette paled as her eyes widened. “Y-your heart b-broke? Because I left you?”

“Aha. That’s what akuma-me told you, right? You know that I love you, My Lady. My heart breaks a little every time that you reject me. I don’t know if I could take you breaking up with me.”

Marinette’s heart went into her ears. Then, what he said registered in her brain and she noted that he had said, ‘My Lady.’ She deflated and slumped her shoulders.

“Right. Yes, chaton. I know you love your Lady.”

What happened? Adrien frowned as he scrutinised Marinette’s pout. Was she disappointed that he loved her? But she had said that she loved him too. What was the issue? He had felt the tension building within her and she had looked happy for a fraction of a second and then, out of the blue, her mood had changed. He saw her eyes filling with tears and his heart sank. What had he done wrong? Why was she upset? He kept going through what she had said, and what he had said, trying to find a clue, a reason why her mood had changed so much. Then, it suddenly struck him. 

“Oh no… no no no no no, Marinette. You’re Ladybug. You’re the one I love.”

“I know you love Ladybug, Adrien. Don’t dig the blade deeper, please.” Her spiteful tone was the last clue he needed.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Marinette, how many times did I tell you how amazing and great you are? How many times I praised you the same way Chat Noir praises Ladybug? God, I also called you my Everyday Ladybug once! You’re Ladybug, Marinette. Ladybug is you. You’re not a different entity from her, you’re her. Now it’s so clear that I really don’t understand how I didn’t see it before!” Her gaze was still looking down, the sparkle in her eyes completely absent.

“Please,” she muttered. “I’ve always been ‘just a friend’ until you discovered I’m Ladybug.”

His heart sank. His gaze started darting around, not knowing where to focus. He tried to say something at least four times, but every time he opened his mouth he changed his mind about what he wanted to say. Eventually, he met Plagg’s electric green eyes. The black kwami raised an eyebrow and folded his paws over his little chest. Adrien blushed and looked away. He knew what he had to do. He took a big breath and looked at her.

“You have never been just a friend for me, Marinette.” He felt his face getting really hot, but he knew that he had to say it. The time had come for him to tell the truth. He gulped. “Plagg can confirm what I say. He’s always been frustrated with me because I didn’t get it, and when I got it, it was too late and you had started dating Luka.” 

He cringed at the sound of his own voice, so hoarse that he could hardly recognise it himself. “Rejection stings. Ladybug rejected Chat Noir’s advances so many times that it bruised my heart. I-I didn’t want to be rejected again, and by you, and ruin our friendship. Our friendship is so important to me; you’re my first friend. You’re so precious to me, Marinette.” He looked at her briefly; she stared back with glassy eyes, a big frown on her beautifully flushed face. “So I kept my mouth shut. But lately it has been getting more and more difficult to keep away from you, especially after New York. I was so happy when we had that dance under the moonlight. Somehow I felt that I still had a chance. But then,” his voice cracked, “when you didn’t stop me from leaving, I got heartbroken. I felt that both girls I loved had abandoned me.” 

She gasped loudly. He fell silent for a long time, trying to fight the tears that were prickling at the corner of his eyes and the sobs that were itching to pour out of his clenched throat. “Little did I kn—” he tried to continue, but he had to stop. He couldn’t see anything any more because of the tears that were falling off his eyes. His throat had completely shut and didn’t allow his voice to come out. He wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand as his bottom lip quivered badly and the sobs he had been trying to hold came out, loud and clear. He panicked and his gaze darted around, the shapes of his surroundings dancing in front of him following the flow of his tears. When his green eyes met her bluebell ones, he saw that she was crying too. As soon as their gazes met, Marinette jumped on him and wrapped him in a massive hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry!” she cried as she hugged him, and he hugged her back, desperately, as if he was being billowed away by a tornado and she was his only handhold. “I was shocked because Chat Noir—uh, you—had given up your Miraculous and I couldn’t think straight. By the time I gathered my thoughts again, your car had started to go. I ran after you for ages, Adrien, I picked up a bike lying on the tarmac and I followed your car screaming at you to stop. But the rain had made the ground slippery and I fell. And you were gone. That was the worst moment of my life! I had lost the two boys I loved the most in the entire world.” Now her voice was hoarse and cracking too. “I’m so sorry, chaton. I messed up so much!”

They hugged for a long time, happily lulling each other in the warmth and sensations that the close proximity to the other gave. Adrien’s hand was patting Marinette’s hair gently, the delicate smell of coconut (probably her shampoo) intoxicating his senses. He had to physically prevent himself from sniffing her neck. She smelled of vanilla and baked goods, maybe a hint of wildflower. It was absolutely divine. As he passed his fingers through her hair, he undid her pigtails and happily plunged his fingers in the soft silkiness of her corvine strands. The rhythmic sound of her breathing was grounding him, regulating him and helping him calm down. 

“Can I kiss you?” he eventually asked. He felt her tensing at the question and regretted having asked. Maybe it was too early for her? Maybe she wanted more time to get used to the idea? “I-if you don’t want, it’s okay, you don’t have to.” 

She broke the hug and looked at him, giving him such a soft look that his insides melted as a tingle running through his whole spine. But when she moved quickly and removed all gaps, meeting his lips with hers, the tingle was renewed in its strength. The butterflies (the right kind of butterflies) took residence in his stomach as he deepened the kiss. He felt his heart explode from the surge of electricity that ran through his core when Marinette, after a little gasp, allowed him to. Her hands moved to his hair, and Adrien learned that he really liked Marinette’s hands combing through his bangs.

Then, as suddenly as their lips had met, they had to break the kiss to breathe. They looked at each other, panting hard. Adrien touched his forehead tenderly with Marinette’s and stroked her cheek with his thumb. 

“I love you, chaton,”  Marinette whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver. He held her stronger and placed a soft kiss on her temple. 

“I love you too, Marinette.” He stroked her hair gently some more. “Can I sleep next to you? I promise I will be a gentleman. I-i just want to feel you next to me.”

Marinette nodded and they laid down on Mariette’s sleeping bag, still wrapped around each other. Marinette fell asleep almost instantly, her head resting happily on his chest, one of her ears pressed against his ribcage right next to his heart. He placed another soft kiss on her hair and started feeling his eyes closing from the exhaustion. 

And that was how Alya found them, a few hours later. She had entered the lounge to wake Adrien up and tell him it was time for him to go back home, if he didn’t want to get caught. Alya erupted into a big, huge, massive grin and tiptoed her way back to Nino’s bedroom to grab her phone. She beckoned for Nino to follow her and they both sighed, looking tenderly at the two lovebirds fast asleep. 

“I knew that my little birdie would leave his nest eventually,” whispered Nino with a big smile on his face.

Alya beamed at him. “I’m nearly sorry to wake him up,” she whispered back. Nino gave her a curt look and she sighed. “I know, I know, he risked a lot to come here and we don’t want to blow his cover. But first,” she said and messed with her phone, putting the camera on and taking a picture, “There. For the wedding album!”

Then, she gave Adrien a big shake and was thankful that she caught his surprised blushing face as soon as he opened his eyes. 

‘That's another good one for the album,’ she thought, taking one last shot when Marinette also opened her eyes at Adrien's surprised gasp and her face became the colour of Ladybug’s suit. 

Those two. Honestly, they'd never learn.

                                                    Fin

Author’s note

There you go. A bit later than I wanted to, but here’s the second story for that challenge. Which sadly ended before I finished the story, but never mind, I post it anyway ^-^

Hope you liked this story. Please feel free to drop any compliments, screams, insults, kisses… incoherent rambling… anything you want in the comments and hit send. I love reading your feedback, please be nice with this poor sleep deprived soul who writes at 3 am for tort—, I mean to delight you with these loads of rub—, er, these beautiful stories of mine. *Coughs*. Good news is (oh well, good… depending from the point of view), I have more plans in my head, so I’ll tort—, I mean I’ll delight you with some more very, very soon.

Aren’t you happy? :D

[kerwritesthings]

South Of The Equator

Summary: Gestures of love are woven in the fabric of relationships, especially ones built around the priority of your love

Word Count: literally juuuuust shy of 5.8k

Warning: pining, love and fluff

Author Notes: Muse fell in love with this photo last week when Bre threw it out onto my dash, spit out stupid notes at midnight that night for it along with about 350ish words and then didn’t touch it until again yesterday evening where I proceeded to crank out about 5.8k in less than 24 hours. Oops?

This falls well later into the verse, like the latest I’ve taken it thus far. It just felt right to bring this into that part of the timeline with the premise and where the muse was taking this. Can be read as a standalone but diving into the verse and the masterlist would give a little bit more understanding.

It was not in the plans. Whatsoever. A whim. A lot of longing. A lot of missing connections. A lot of feeling that this was a sync you just wouldn’t be able to get. That scares the both of you, more than either of you will let on especially to the other. You both promise that this would be the longest stretch on this very last swing – something like 48 or 50 days depending on travel for both of you, that a somewhere between 12 and 14-hour plane ride at best for a long weekend made no sense. You’re in Bucharest when he starts the swing in Mexico. What was thought to be a few days off for him to come home to see you between the last Mexico show and the venture further south becomes non-existent, with surprise pop up concerts in both Costa Rica and Panama along with hoopla surrounding them on either side that the label drops last minute. You initially think you’d be able to make the last shows, but there was a potential work trip to Hong Kong hanging over your head, so you both agree not book anything.

Well, love makes you do some stupid and irresponsibly crazy things. When the Asia client pushes their timeline back, things change completely. Which is why you find yourself on the phone, trying to make arrangements while juggling 7 open browser tabs on your laptop at nearly 1am. This is what you do for each other. It’s been established. It’s been done for each other on numerous occasions throughout your relationship. But it’s never been something like this. This grand and involved.

“Up for a bit of a challenge?” you start. “What’s the actual schedule like between Buenos and Rio and Santiago?”

“Flip it around. Chile first. Then Buenos then Sao Paulo. Finish off in Rio,” Beatriz laughs. “Don’t book the wrong flight. Cause. This is where it’s going isn’t it? This bugger is so lucky to have you. He best appreciate this. He’s been whiny. More to Cez then me. Andrew too, but he trusts Cez more when it comes to you.”

“He’s not the only one,” you sigh. “Dee’s taken to sending me videos and photos of Tali every day before I call to bitch to her to try to ease my tension. We’ve done longer, when we first got together. This one though. We’re just not taking it well, either of us. It feels off. He can’t come to me, so I have to go to him.”

“There’s doubles now in Santiago, not just in Buenos and Rio. Only the one in Sao Paulo. Days off scattered through, but definitely some between the city jumps. Are you really going to try to do just a weekend down here?” she asks.

“Work remote if I can swing it. Then bank out on some time off. I’m due after the extra hours to lock in the Danish project and the haul to Bucharest for basically a 48-hour lookie loo from them with no commitments. Boss lady is great as long as my work gets done and I don’t pull the ask for ‘but my famous boyfriend’ very often, if at all,” you explain, poking away at the keys of your laptop.

“Ooh Denmark, so you going to get out for that one?” Beatriz questions. “Do you have a lam for this tour? Should we get you another?”

“I think I can, timing looks ok and I may be able to drag Shawn with me for once since it’s after all this hoopla,” you mutter, poking at Kayak and cursing. “I think I do, snag one just in case if it’s not too much trouble. It looks like Air Canada has a direct from Pearson to Santiago at 11 hours of flight time and an overnight red-eye. Bless it. No layovers. Less chance for him to even let on. Y’all can sneak me in on the flights between yeah?”

“Shawn is gonna shit you know this right?” she laughs. “I heard about your surprises you both have pulled on each other before, but this is something else. Duh girl, yes of course. He’d have you sit on his lap the whole flight if he had to, but we definitely have the room. Give me the flight info. I’ll make Cez book it. Do not even think about clicking that buy button that I know you’re hovering over.”

“Bea...” you begin.

“No, not hearing it. Cez blocked out travel budget for him to go home and you know that didn’t happen, so your flight there and then back with him at the end it is instead,” Beatriz interjects. “I’ll loop in C for sure. Maybe Andrew. Less folks who know the better, we need to keep this on lock down.”

“Beatriz, you’re the best. I owe you big time. I’m so glad you’re on this rag tag motley crew,” you thank her. “Let Cez know if he needs anything when he’s booking, if they don’t have it saved to just let me know.”

“Bottle of Bulleit and you finally spill the recipe for those kitchen sink bars the boys are always raving about and inhaling, we’ll call it even,” she deadpans. “But no really, I’m glad to help. As much as I tease that boy of yours, I’ve got a soft spot for him. We need to figure an epic reveal. It’s late. I’ll fire off a text to Cez and we’ll be on it tomorrow. Off with you. Night!”

You have a week between that call and your flight down to get all your things in order luckily. Work is understanding and accommodating, your boss practically sending out the out of office email for you after she hears your plans. He meanwhile has a few shows in Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia ahead of him within that same time frame.

“There’s that face I adore,” you smile through FaceTime as you’re tucked in bed, two nights before you’re due to leave. “Hi you. How was the show? Where are you now?”

“Just out of the shower in the hotel and about to fall face first into bed, but I needed a dose of my pretty girl before I do,” he exhales, running a hand though his mess of wet curls. “Good, crowds down here are something else. Beyond the first time I swung through, on the last tour. And them singing back in perfect English still breaks my brain a little. Tired though. Looking forward to the break. Day break here, then like a half one off in Santiago before the last few shows. It’s so crazy to think we’re there already.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” you murmur. “You did it baby, an entire circle of the globe. I’m beyond proud of you.”

“As much as I love this, I’m ready for just me, you and our bed. At least for a week straight, if not a few of them,” he chuckles. “Remind me of how tired I am now when I start to say I’m twitchy or bored, ok?”

“If you say so,” you say sleepily. “Just remember, I get to drag you with me on some my work trips next. Denmark for sure. Hong Kong perhaps since that’s still a moving target. Maybe Prague. Wanna be a silly romantic tourist with you for a bit. Just me and you”

“Always me and you, sweetheart. Go get some sleep. You’ve got work in the morning,” he whispers. “We can talk more tomorrow, promise.”

“You sure?” you fight back a yawn, eyes starting to flutter. “Can you sing to me though? Please? I miss you. Be like you’re here.”

He starts humming at first, the eases into a slowed down, Shawn-esque version of Sam Smith’s Latch. You want to stay awake to hear the whole thing, but he sounds like he’s there singing it right into your ear while he’s got your back against his chest. It’s so pretty, easy and dream like that you drift off in moments. He watches you for a few minutes after he finishes the song, making sure you’re truly asleep. Plus, he just wants to feel like he’s next to you in bed.

“Goodnight and sleep well, baby,” he whispers before disconnecting from FaceTime, a small smile slipping across his lips.

“He still has no clue by the way, so you’ve done a bang-up job,” Cez explains as he rings you while you’re in the car on the way to Pearson. “You’re still running on time from what we checked so you’re good. We’ve got everything square. Bea will come snag you from the airport, you’ll have time to hit the hotel, she’ll have the extra room key for you so you can get some actual rest and then get ready. Figure we’ll grab you while he’s doing Q&A. Do you want to surprise him before the show? After?”

“During?” you laugh, leaning your head back against the headrest as the car makes its way down the 401. “Maximum effect. Con would be on my side too you know, epic footage.”

“Of course, you do,” he retorts. “I should have known. Don’t forget, I’m on your side too. I’m glad this worked. I know it’s been a long stretch. For the both of you. I’ve seen it wear on him, but he’s put up a good front minus a few nights where he ends up with me until he needs to get to sleep, just needing someone who understands to talk to.”

“I’m glad he has you, that we both have you. You are a gift, Cez, really,” you reply as the car slows to ease up to the terminal. “I’m just about to hop out. I’ll text you and Bea when I land in the morning, customs will probably take a bit to get through. Thank you again.”

“Fly safe, dear. Try to get some rest and we’ll see you tomorrow,” he responds.

Check in was easy, of course they went above and beyond on the flight. You text Cez and Bea a photo of a cookie from the lounge with your ticket telling them they did not need to and thanking them. Cez responds first.

Again, you know if he found out we flew you like in row 24 on a flight that long, he would pitch a fit. I’m not up for a Shawn fit this late into the last of the last legs of tour. Enjoy the space and the lay flat. Sunshine and that boy awaits you.

Beatriz chimes in next.

Label owes you and the pain in the arse, so enjoy it! Have one for me. I’ll be there for you tomorrow with bells on and a tea in hand. Cannot wait for this – so epic. You two are nauseatingly adorbs.

The flight wasn’t crowded thankfully and the room to stretch fully is a welcome bonus. You are able to wind down a lot easier than expected and get a decent amount of sleep especially given it was on a flight, lay flat or not. Despite an extra circle, you land only a few minutes past your initial arrival time, make it through customs quickly and thankfully your luggage is waiting for you once you’re done.

“There she is,” Beatriz calls out as you head out to the open concourse. “And in one piece too with all your bits and bobbles. Good, the boss won’t be angry. And as promised, your tea!”

“Which one?” you chuckle, snagging the iced chai before hugging her.

“I can handle Cez, your man though,” she rolls her eyes as you walk out to the sprinter van. “He tried you last night when we were coming back from dinner, couldn’t get through even though we all told him it was late. He got all sad puppy. You were just about taking off, so it made sense. If he only knew what today is bringing him. I’ll drop you at the hotel, sleep, shower, eat, do whatever. I’ll be round to grab you about 4.”

As soon as you step into his room, you are overwhelmed just by the sheer sense of being back in his space again, despite him not even being there at the moment. You drop your suitcase, strip and crawl immediately into his still unmade bed to surround yourself in the smell of him. Setting your alarm before you drift off, you curl yourself around his pillow and exhale. Only a few more hours and you’ll be able to wrap your arms around him instead of a goose down that carries whiffs of his scent. A deep breath, an inhale you hold just for a moment before letting it go carefully and you’re drifting away.

You wake shortly before the alarm and to a couple texts from Shawn.

Miss you pretty girl. Almost there.

FaceTime after the show tonight? Even just for a few, I can tuck you in from here again like the other night.

Saw this on the drive over before, couldn’t help but think of you.

It was a slightly angled photo out the car window, but it was of a park with a fountain surrounded by high bushes littered with flowers.

I wish I could press you into those blooms and kiss you. Would make such a pretty picture. Love you baby.

You will yourself not to cry. That sweet, sentimental boy of yours. You’ll have time, you need to make that happen tomorrow.

I miss you sweetheart, so much. Yes to tonight, I’d love a tuck in from you. We’re so close. Love you <3

A shower, some primping and a good battle with both your blow dryer and your travel steamer later, you’re finally ready to head out.

“He’s a lucky bastard this one,” Beatriz whistles before handing over your new credential as you slide the van door closed behind you. “Don’t you have any sisters you can send my way? Cousins?”

“Sorry Bea, only child,” you laugh, as the van pulls away. “Cousins are stateside and not your type.”

“He was happy to hear from you before. Stopped in the middle of sound check to look at his phone. Got all stupid smiley and googly eyed,” she rolls her eyes. “He’s so gone on you if it wasn’t so bloody sweet to see him so gushy, it would make me ill.”

“Just wait ‘till later. I should apologize now,” you explain.

“Why there’s no plans for post-show, dearie. We knew better,” she giggles. “Shawn’s not going to want to share.”

You can’t help but smile as you pass the park he sent you the photo of earlier, it’s prettier than his shot let on. You definitely have to go there tomorrow. From that point, it’s a windy way through the streets of Santiago to the arena.

“He should just be wrapping up,” Beatriz prattles, looking at her watch as you make your way through the bowels of the building. “Which is good, I can sneak you into Cez’s room without him sniffing about. You, he, Jake and Con still need to hash everything out yeah?”

“Kind of. It’s the fine tuning of details at this point,” you say, flipping the pass around in your hands before slipping it around your neck as you walk, still not fully grasping you’re going to see him as soon as you are. “It’s a matter of where to go in the pit during his walk up to stage where I won’t be spotted too easily, but also not be in the way of everything either. I think it’ll work, totally up to Jake though. Worse case, we’ll do it just before rally or he hits the stage. Better visuals, and Con will agree with me, but it’s Jake and Cez who have final call.”

“It’s brilliant, all of it. However, here is where I leave you for now,” Beatriz nudges you through the door into Cez’s makeshift office for the next two days. “Need to make sure the sound techs have everything. Fridge is stocked, so steal what you need. He should be back in a few. They’re due to be walking your man now. His room isn’t far, so stay put. I’ll let C know you’re here. Toodles!”

Shortly after you settle in on the couch, engrossing yourself in your inbox, you feel someone settle down next to you.

“Thank god you’re here, I cannot do the sad Shawn shit anymore,” Connor sighs, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “I love him like a brother but damn, this go has been a beast when he’s feeling it like that.”

“Hi Connor, I’ve missed you too Connor, it’s good to see you Connor,” you roll your eyes, pushing his arm off you with a poke.

“Yeah yeah, all that too,” he smiles, sliding his arm back into place and kissing your cheek. “It’s good to have you here, all that aside. Despite all that, missed you around these parts.”

“Considering Central America took away our long weekend together, with no warning. It’s just been a hard go this swing. For both of us. May just be the wear and tear of a tour this long finally hitting. Even with as much as we’ve made it a priority to stay more connected and grounded. You guys are lucky it’s the end and it didn’t happen in like the middle of Europe, or the US leg. Though that would have been easier to get to than an almost 11-hour flight,” you fight out.

“You’re too good for him you know?” he teases. “Remember, he has friends if you ever need to bail.”

“Not any of y’all that’s for sure. No way. And, it’s the other way around, Con,” you reply, poking at his knee. “So, you’ve seen the setup, what’s going to make the most sense?”

“We’re going to do whatever you want, missus,” Jake chimes in as the door shuts behind him and Cez. “Only thing I require is a hug.”

“I think that can be arranged,” you say happily, ducking around Connor to get to Jake. “Con, stop being in the way.”

“Thank you,” you murmur to Jake as he pulls you into an embrace.

“We should be thanking you,” he whispers hugging you tightly. “And seriously. We’ll make it all happen. Kid needs this as much as you do.”

You pull away, smiling. “Ok guys so here’s what I’m thinking. Let’s surprise him on the walk out.”

The details come together quickly as well as easily. You’re happy, the team is comfortable with it all. It also helps he’s not expecting a thing. Everyone’s on board.

“So,” Cez begins, rolling a bottle of water around in his hands as everyone else filters out. “Hop a flight on a whim in the states or Canada is one thing. Cross the pond, a little more effort, but doable. This is something else entirely, even for the two of you.”

“I don’t know why this one is so different; I wish I knew; believe me I do. It would have saved me an 11-hour flight,” you utter. “It’s not like we’ve not done it before. We got through this, worse even, when he went out on last leg of the last tour and I had no leverage to take time off to come out other than that last show. We were only together a little bit at that point.”

Cez smiles his all-knowing smile, looking down at your hands playing with your credential. “I think you do, somewhere in there. I think he does too, well I know he does.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask inquisitively. “We’re good, really good. Minus this blip and it’s just us being a little more emotionally wound together. More in the groove than we’ve ever been. It’s been great, actually.”

He smiles yet again, making you wonder even more, and picks up his hand pointing to a certain finger.

“No,” you shake your head.

He nods, still smiling. “You’re practically there already.  We were honestly all surprised it didn’t happen before tour, or at break. Especially after Japan. I knew though not the holidays, it’s too cliché and not him, or you. He’s asked me a few things, more recently. Won’t give away more than that, but it kind of all makes sense. At least to me.”

“I just. Like. Shit Cez,” you sigh, looking down at the lam in your hands. “We’ve talked about it before, couple times. We want it, both of us. He’s it for me, and vice versa. He knows I’ll say yes. I’ve told him as much. But I’m also not that girl that needs the pretty on her hand to know where we stand in our relationship. He’s also not that overly possessive man who needs to prove he’s got me like that to the world, even in his crazy whirlwind of a life.”

“I think it’s both of you really ready for what’s next and this just all happens to be in the way right now. But, you’re here now, which not only is he going to be over the moon about, the rest of us are pretty happy as well. Not just because he’ll be in better spirits, it’s because we love you just as much too,” he states plainly. “You’re as much a part of this, a part of the family. I’m personally glad you’re here for these last few. This run’s been special, you should be here for the end of it.”

“Do not make me ruin my makeup, damnit,” you half laugh, half bite back a sob. “I’m so glad he has you, not just on the road, but in general. I know how much he loves you. I do, too.”

His phone pings rapidly.

“Ten-minute warning for fetching him. Let’s go get you out and set. Phil’s on you until Jake walks out with Shawn,” he states, reaching for his headset in one hand, for you with his other.

You carefully walk down the back hallway towards the stage together. Jake and Phil meet you at the back corner of the build out. Jake hands you off a fresh pair of earplugs.

“You’re going to need these,” he reminds you. “It’s his usual walk, so he won’t expect a thing. Especially seeing Phil at that junction of the barricade, once Phil gets the signal from me that we’re going, he’ll shift behind you so Shawn can spot you.”

You throw him a thumbs up as you wedge the plugs into place. Phil takes your arm in his, his other hand patting your forearm.

“Let’s go surprise him,” he says, leading you out to the pit.

For some reason, probably your conversation with Cez if you’re being honest with yourself, has your stomach set off with butterflies. You’ve not been like this since the early days of your relationship. Excited, always. Happy, without a doubt. Nervous though? No. You try to not shift about, instead closing your eyes to take in the moment. The crowd is loud, you can smell the remnants of the smoke machine test earlier lingering in the air.

Phil taps your shoulder, sliding you into place in front of him.

“He’s walking,” he mouths with a wink.

The house lights come down and the stage lights start to just warm. You exhale and lean back onto Phil slightly, whose hands come to rest comfortably on your shoulders. The opening video starts to roll and the lights hit the pit walk so you know you’ve got about 30 seconds at best before he comes into view. Phil pushes you forward just a touch just as you spot Jake and Shawn with Connor shuffling just behind to get the right angle for the surprise.

He’s in his pre-show zone, not taking in much around him. Jake nudges him though and his eyes shoot up. Shawn looks over towards you, taking a moment for things to register, and when it does his smile is as bright as you’ve seen. His eyes grow wide, he turns to Jake, who nods with a grin and then Shawn takes off in a sprint.

“Surprise!” you try to scream, but he’s already got you in his hold lifting you to swing you around.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, please,” he utters in your ear before pulling you closer, finally getting you back on your feet.

You slide your hands from his shoulders, one to the nape of his neck fingering the wispy curls there, the other to nudge his one in-ear out.

“Not a dream, baby. Very much here, very much real. You got me for the rest of the run, love,” you say directly into his ear. “Go be my Rockstar. I’ll watch side stage, be there waiting for you after the show.”

You pop his in-ear back into place then cup his cheek, watching his eyes roll back slightly.

“I love you so damn much,” he yells before kissing you soundly. “I am so lucky you’re mine.”

Shawn rubs his nose against yours before sneaking in another kiss, then runs up to the stage with Jake on his heels. Jake winks as he passes, throwing a double thumbs up before Phil takes you towards the back staircase so you can set up on the rolling case you know is waiting for you.

The show is electric as always, but he’s got a special energy tonight. You can’t help but feel a bit happy as to probably being the reason why. He’s smiling, sweaty and disheveled, running back towards you in the break before the encore.

“You’re a mess,” you quip with a smile, handing him a bottle of water and a towel.

“Never minded that before,” he retorts back, running a hand through the mess of his hair after wiping his face down with the towel.

“Not the place Shawn Peter,” you say, shooing him away. “Go finish, I’m not going anywhere.”

He drops the water bottle down on the case next to you, stealing another kiss before bopping his way back out.

You hop off the case and head out towards the curtain line to get a better view. His encore covers have been something else this tour. He’s been leaning hard into Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ and it’s a stunner, especially just him and the piano.

“I had a surprise tonight delivered to me just before the show, a really amazing one actually,” he begins as he settles into playing the piano. “So, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to play something a little special before I get into my last two songs.”

Once he hits the first few chords, your jaw drops immediately.

“You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down. You, you enchant me, even when you're not around. If there are boundaries, I will try to knock them down. I'm latching on babe now I know what I have found,” he sings and you can’t help but inch closer to the edge as far as you can go without being spotted or seen. “I feel we're close enough, I wanna lock in your love. I think we're close enough, could I lock in your love, baby? Now I got you in my space, I won't let go of you. Got you shackled in my embrace; I'm latching on to you.”

You didn’t expect this the other night, so you very much don’t expect it tonight. You can’t do anything but watch him, enamored and amazed. He sounds breathtaking. The whole song just gives you goosebumps, especially in a setting like this. Damn this boy.

“Thanks for indulging me tonight, Santiago,” he says and you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks, even from there. He immediately segues into Free Fallin’ to get his encore moving, before finishing completely with If I Can’t Have You.

He’s got a hold of your hands the moment he’s out of sight of the audience.

“Did you like it?” he asks, dipping his head down to kiss you, feather soft.

“Love it, love you,” you reply, dusting kisses across his knuckles. “Come on, let’s get you back there before they start to think we’re defiling a case on the stage.”

He chuckles, tangling his fingers deeper with yours before leading you towards his dressing room. As you hit the main hallway, most of the band and the crew are waiting there and start whooping and clapping the moment the two of you come into view.

“What the hell?” you question, as he holds your hand tighter trying to make your way down the hall. He shakes his head, cheeks pink as he bites his bottom lip.

“Hold up,” Jake stops you both just before the doorway to his room, arms crossing against his chest and a shit eating grin spread across his face. “Believe you owe this lady a thank you.”

“Hello, the song, on stage, the encore? In front of the whole damn audience,” he retorts, running his free hand through his curls before tugging you towards him and the door without getting you covered in post-show sweat. “Now I’d like to shower, get the heck out of here so I can spend some time with her. Without an audience.”

You can hear the snickers and wolf whistles, it’s your turn to flush. Jake shakes his head no.

“You know what you assholes, fine,” Shawn sighs before rolling his eyes.

“Don’t even with me kid,” Jake smirks.

“I know what you’re…” he trails off but tugs your hand, so you stand closer to him. “Shit. C’mere baby.”

The next thing you know he’s cupping your neck and kissing the breath straight out of you. Your hands fly up, one gripping his shoulder the other tangling in his hair. He pulls away first, just as breathless as you’re feeling.

“You all happy now? Can I please get into my room?” he asks.

Jake moves aside, patting him on the shoulder. He snatches your hand and tugs you into the room, shutting and locking the door behind you both.

“Do I even want to know?” you say, leaning back against the door as he toes off his boots.

“Grander the gesture, bigger the thank you,” he replies, stripping off his button down next, his tank and jeans follow. “They like to tease, you know this. Especially when you and I start getting the way we do. It’s all in good fun, but not when you pull the most epic surprise and I’ve run through a whole damn show. I haven’t seen you in how long and I still haven’t really held you or loved on you the way I want to.”

“Then you best go shower, sweetheart,” you tease. “You know feeling is mutual.”

He darts over to kiss you again, “Be right back.”

He’s quick, which you appreciate, and even more that he’s just in a pair of threadbare, low slung navy sweats when he heads back out to you. He drops the towel in his hand to snag yours, pulling you towards the couch. He flops down first and pulls you immediately down on top of him. He kisses your forehead before scooting you down so your head can rest comfortably on his shoulder. He smells fresh, clean, warm, like him and like home.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you slowly and thoroughly. “Fuck, how I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here. I’m so damn happy that you’re here. You’re amazing you know that? How did you pull this off?”

“Once Hong Kong pushed timeline, I had a little wiggle room, but I wouldn’t be sure until Denmark signed off,” you explain, finger carefully tracing back and forth against his collarbone and shoulder. “I didn’t want to get either of our hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. Then like a week and a half ago? That night we just couldn’t get timing together I think you were in Panama still. I was up and cranky at stupid o’clock, said screw it. I knew I had some comp time due, had a little vacation time left, plus after Bucharest debacle on their part, they kind of owe me to boot. Called Bea, looped in Cez and voila.”

“You’re making it harder to even come remotely close to do for you what you do for me,” he presses his lips against your hair. “I’m so grateful for you.”

“There’s not a tally, sweetheart. We do for each other, you know this,” you remind him. “You and me, always right?”

There’s a knock on the door and jingling of keys, you go to move but Shawn holds you to him.

“Just gonna be C, we’re not doing anything. You stay put,” he wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles your ear.  

“Sorry kids, time to get a move on,” Cez calls out from the doorway. “Can I come in? Are you at least PG?”

“It’s cuddling man, that’s all,” Shawn barks out with a laugh as you bury your head into his neck.

“You’ve got about 10 minutes to get yourselves together before the sprinter gets here,” he reminds you both. “We’ve got a curfew in the building overall, so we can’t be late on this one.”

“I’ll make sure he’s ready,” you reply, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Let’s go, you. Need to get your stuff together. Can’t be late.”

“Listen to your girl, Shawn,” Cez remarks. “She’s right. Plus, you’ll be free of us and interruptions once you’re back at the hotel. Late call tomorrow since we’re already set here. I’m leaving the door unlocked and open so no funny bunny ok?”

“Thanks, Cez. See you in a few,” you say, trying to nudge at Shawn.

“You know that means we can go to that park in the morning,” you whisper, kissing his chin once Cez is back out in the hallway. “Upsy daisy dear.”

He sighs dramatically, but with a smile, “Only if you promise a little morning love, breakfast in bed and that park in the morning.”

“You drive such a hard bargain,” you giggle. “It’s a deal.”

He kisses you quickly and loudly before sitting up with you still in his hold, “I can’t wait to get you alone alone tonight.”

“Which would be sooner if you got a move on,” you roll your eyes, poking at his chest while his hands palm you ass.

He stops for a moment though, looks at you softly while not taking his eyes off of you.

“Love you pretty girl,” he declares, hand pushing stray strands of your hair away from your cheek, before holding it in his palm.

“Love you too, Shawn.”  

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

I’ll Be Here

Summary: After an alleyway rescue, you do what you can to repay your hero.  Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 3700 Warnings: Attempted assault, minor violence, fluff, cliche things. No smut, though the summary might make it seem that there would be. Oops.  Square Filled: Playing With Their Hair - @marvelfluffbingo​ Square Filled: U5; Homeless - @buckybarnesbingo​ Challenge: @shield-agent78​‘s 800 Follower Challenge; my prompt is rescue. A/N: This is my first ever Bucky fic! I’m super nervous about posting it, but I’m doing so with the sincere hopes that everyone will enjoy it! I appreciate feedback if you’re so inclined to give it, but please be kind :) HUGE THANKS to @captain-s-rogers​, my resident Marvel expert for always helping and encouraging me! 

After sending your best friend a text that you were never going on a blind date again, your tucked your phone back into your clutch and checked your lipstick in the mirror. You touched up a couple of spots on your lips which had worn away on the crystal glass you had been sipping wine from throughout the evening, then went back to the table to re-join your date. 

“Sorry about that,” you smiled, “that wine went to my head a little bit.”

“Feel better now?” Cory asked — the only time he had asked anything about you throughout the whole evening. In truth, you had stepped away from the table to get a break from hearing about Cory and his excessive achievements, even if for only a few minutes. 

You nodded and finished the few bites of food left on your plate. You used the white, linen napkin to dab at your mouth and thanked Cory for such a delicious meal. He didn’t reply, only gave you a smug smirk that told you he was very pleased he could treat you to dinner at such a snazzy restaurant. 

Once the check was paid, Cory helped you up from your chair and led you out to the front of the restaurant. You faked a yawn in an attempt to wrap up the evening early, but Cory missed the cue. He took you by the hand and led you down the sidewalk. 

“Let’s take a walk.”

“You know, I think I might call it a night. I appreciate everything, but I’m really tired. Thanks for —”

Cory tugged on your hand. “Just a quick walk, Y/N. Give me a few more minutes with you.”

You weren’t sure what it was that made you give in, except for the hope that if you gave him those few minutes, Cory would finally leave you alone to catch a cab home. He didn’t talk at all as the two of you meandered down the sidewalk. You opened your mouth a couple of times to make conversation, but Cory seemed uninterested. You weren’t really sure what it was that made him interested in you; he certainly hadn’t expressed anything to you by words or actions throughout the course of the evening. 

“These shoes were not made for walking,” you chuckled, trying to keep things light. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and motioned down to your feet. “Thank you for everything, Cory, really, but I’m going to call it a night.”

He motioned to an apartment building at the corner. “My place is right there. Let’s go sit.”

You shook your head; you were done at this point. “No, thank you. This is goodnight.”

Cabs were whizzing by, so you turned to hail one, hopeful the wait wouldn’t be too long and, therefore, awkward. Cory wasn’t accepting the brush off though, and he grabbed your hand roughly. He tugged your arm so strong and so abruptly, you ran into his chest. Cory looked down at you, stern and intimidating. 

“I’ll tell you when the night is over,” Cory seethed. “I paid for your fancy dinner, now you’re going to be a lady and find a way to return the favor. Let’s go.”

Work as you did to wrench your arm away from Cory’s grasp, he only held on tighter the more you struggled. Screaming crossed your mind, but your throat was dry and panic seized your vocal cords. It took less than a minute for Cory to drag you toward his apartment building and into an alley; he couldn’t very well take you in the front door struggling like you were. 

As the two of you mounted the cement steps leading up to a side door, Cory had to reach into his pocket to find the key. You took the opportunity to push away from him and took off down the alley. The damn shoes you had chosen to wear though — of course not anticipating a need to run — hindered your escape, and Cory wasn’t far behind you. When he caught up to you, he gripped you by the shoulders and slammed you hard into a dumpster. The force of him shoving you slammed your back against the thing first — your head went forward and then back, hard. 

The sound echoed throughout the alley and rattled through your brain as you worked to make sense of your surroundings again. Your ears whistled and your vision went black before coming back blurry and then clear. 

“Hey. Leave her alone.”

The voice came from your left. You turned to see who was speaking, but Cory grabbed your face between his thumb and fingers, forcing you to look back at him. The sudden movement after hitting your head made the whole alley spin and your stomach flip. 

“What’s wrong with you? Did you hear me?” 

The man coming toward the two of you was dressed in dingy clothes, had greasy hair pulled back away from his face in a low ponytail, and looked like he hadn’t shaved in months. His brow was furrowed with concern. 

Cory’s hand fell from your chin and landed on your shoulder, rubbing gently. “No trouble here, man. Things just got out a little of control. We’re all right, aren’t we, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. Cory was staring you down, waiting for you to answer, but all you could do was look at the man who was now only a few feet away from the two of you. Your eyes watered over, silently pleading with him not to leave you alone with Cory. 

The man nodded. “All right, listen. Why don’t you just go on your way and she can go on hers. No reason this has to get any worse. Let her go.”

“How about you mind your own business?” Cory snapped back, his hands dropping away from you and his whole body turning to the man. You should have bolted but you were paralyzed where you stood. 

Cory’s jab forward hit the man square in the mouth, splitting his bottom lip. You winced at the blood that smeared over his chin when he reached one gloved hand up to wipe the blood away. He looked at Cory calmly for only a few seconds before throwing a cross that struck Cory just below his eye. 

The sound was that of metal against bone, and then a brief crunch. Cory covered his eye with both hands as he dropped to his knees there in the alley, moaning and groaning about broken cheekbones. You turned away from both of them — between your head and the sound of the punch, you couldn’t hold your expensive meal anymore. 

The man held his hand out to you. You hesitated, too occupied with trying to process the last few minutes of your life. 

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

His voice and his eyes were gentle, not an inkling left showing of the man who had only a few seconds ago punched your date hard enough to potentially, literally, break his face.   You nodded and slipped your hand into his. 

He walked with you to the main sidewalk. He let go of your hand and went to the street to wave down a cab. Several of them whizzed by before one pulled up to the curb. The man from the alley opened the back passenger of the cab for you. He held your hand out to you again, and you took it. 

“Make sure you call the cops if he shows up at your place or something,” the man warned before turning away from you. You held tight to his hand though, directing his attention back towards you. 

“Do you want to — can I —” You pursed your lips together, unsure how to ask what you wanted to ask without offending him. “Maybe, to be on the safe side, you could at least ride home with me?”

His eyes, which you could now see were a rich shade of blue, danced with amusement and his mouth formed into the ghost of a smirk. He knew exactly what you were saying. He looked at the ground and then back up at you; you squeezed his hand once and the denial you could tell he was building up fell away. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You smiled at your small victory as you slid into the back of the cab and told the driver your address. The man sat next to you, far on the other side of the seat. You stayed silent, letting him adjust to the situation as he needed to, and hoping that he wouldn’t make an excuse to leave once you got to your place. 

He didn’t. He held the car door open for you and followed you up to your apartment. You fumbled with your key, still shaky from the adrenaline that had amped up in your system when you were attempting to get away from Cory. With a deep breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned the knob, pushing the door open. 

He followed you inside, standing awkwardly just inside the door. You set your clutch on the coffee table and kicked off your shoes. 

“Thank you, for what you did,” you said quietly, hands clasped behind your back. You shifted your weight nervously from one foot to the other. “You didn’t have to.”

The man shrugged. “Where I come from, men don’t put their hands on a woman that way, for any reason. It was the right thing to do.”

You nodded. The two of you stood in the front room, uneasy and not looking at each other. Finally, your thoughts slowed enough that you were able to map out what the evening could maybe look like. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said, holding your hand out. 

The man pulled off both of his gloves, revealing one metal hand. Your interest was piqued, but you did your best not to look at the limb too much. He shook your hand before dropping back away to a respectful distance. 

“Bucky Barnes.”

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. I don’t mean to bring you here and then leave you alone and … well, hopefully I can trust you now that I have you in my home. I’d really like to shower and get Cory’s germs off my skin. There’s a ton of leftovers in the fridge, you can help yourself, if you want.”

Bucky nodded. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

You nodded too, then motioned for his attention before you turned toward the bathroom. “You’ll still be here when I’m out?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here.”

You had only just met him, but Bucky’s presence put your grated nerves at ease. You picked up your clutch so you had your phone, got a pair of clean sweats and a t-shirt from your room, along with clean underthings, then locked yourself in the bathroom. After making a quick phone call, you stripped down and stepped into the shower. 

Though the hot water and the steam helped to calm you even more, it also made you dizzy. For that reason, and because you were eager to get back to Bucky, you made short work of washing up. Once out of the shower, you towel-dried and dressed. You brought your hair towel with you, scrunching the excess water from the tresses as you returned to the kitchen. 

Bucky was sitting at the table, his jacket shed to the back of the chair, munching on some pizza. The microwave door wasn’t closed all the way, which told you he had taken the time to warm it up. That little thing made you happy. 

“I’m glad you’re eating that pizza so I don’t,” you teased, sitting in one of the open chairs, continuing on with your hair. 

Bucky almost smiled. “It’s good pizza. Haven’t had pizza in a while.”

You draped the towel over the back of the chair you were sitting in. “Are you — do you have — I have questions, but I don’t know how to ask them without sounding like an idiot.”

Bucky set down the crust he had been about to eat and sighed. He looked toward the plate in front of him, but you got the feeling he wasn’t really looking at the plate. 

“I had a place, but I — I had to leave it. Haven’t found a new place yet.”

You nodded. “I see. This may be another stupid thing, but I called my brother. I think he’s about your size. He’s going to bring over some extra clothes, some clippers and shower stuff. You don’t have to use any of it, Bucky, but it’s the least I can do after you rescued me.”

He picked up the pizza crust again and nodded. “That would be nice, Y/N. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You took his plate when he was finished, and got him a glass of water. He drank that down almost immediately, so you refilled it right away. Bucky had another helping of pizza, and you munched on a few cookies with him when he was through. 

Your brother arrived then, only sticking around long enough to meet Bucky and drop off a duffle bag of clothes and supplies. When he left, you handed the bag to Bucky and showed him where the bathroom was at and how the shower worked. 

“Is there everything you need in there?” you asked before leaving him alone. 

Bucky took a quick examination of the contents of the bag. “I think so.”

“All right. Then I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky nodded and closed the door behind you. You heard the lock click, so you went about loading the dishwasher, throwing out the pizza box, and then took a seat on the couch with the remote to wait for Bucky to finish. 

When he came out of the bathroom, the beard was all but gone. His face was more clear, and he was wearing a pair of sweats and an old baseball t-shirt that clung to his chest. Even before the shower you had known he was attractive, but now you found yourself wishing you could hug him, pressing your cheek against his strong chest and inhaling the clean scent. You smiled a greeting. 

“Feel better?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, thank you. For everything, Y/N. Not really sure which one of us got the better end of the deal tonight.”

“Pretty sure I did,” you sighed, taking a closer look at him. His hair was still in the same low ponytail it had been when he had encountered you and Cory in the alleyway, and still looked kind of greasy. It occurred to you that your brother likely hadn’t included shampoo in the bag, and you hadn’t said anything about him using your shampoo. You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Bucky, when was the last time you washed your hair?”

He cleared his throat, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “It’s been a while. I’m all right, though.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” you told him, going to the bathroom for an extra couple of towels, your shampoo, and your conditioner. After you found an extra brush, you went back to Bucky. You weren’t sure where the gumption was coming from, but you took him by the hand and pulled him to the kitchen sink. You were going to need a chair to be able to reach well, probably, but you instructed him to take the elastic from his hair and toss it in the trash. “I’ll give you some new ones. Now, here — you lean forward in the sink. I’ll get the water going.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.”

You shrugged. “I wanna do this.”

You reach out to squeeze his hand, and Bucky gave in, just as he had when you were trying to convince him to come with you at the cab. He leaned forward on the sink while you pulled a chair up to the counter and got the water going. When the temperature was acceptable, Bucky leaned forward. You used the spray hose to the side of the faucet and moved your fingers through Bucky’s hair to make sure it got good and soaked. You reached for the shampoo and lathered it up between your hands before you applied it to Bucky’s scalp, scrubbing good and massaging a little before you rinsed the shampoo out. Already Bucky’s shoulders and back were less tense than they had been when the process started. 

You shampooed his hair again before working the conditioner through his tresses. It was dark and thick, and you were sure it would be cotton soft when it dried. 

You wrung the excess water from his hair, then got the towel and had Bucky sit in the chair while you dried it some more. You patted his shoulders when you were done, offering to go get him some more hair elastics. Bucky’s metal hand covered yours. 

“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation, but do you have some scissors? Maybe you could trim it up a little, too?”

“Mmhmm, sure. I could do that.”

Bucky looked at you then — really looked at you for the first time. His eyes were bright as you had seen them through the course of the last couple of hours, and he just seemed so … relaxed. His demeanor was quiet and unassuming, but his presence confident and safe. You gave him a bright smile and went for the scissors. You dropped the elastics into the duffle bag, then went back to the kitchen. 

You brushed his hair out first, to give you an idea of what you were working with. You had cut your cousin’s hair once or twice, and that always turned out all right. You hoped the fluttering of your stomach wouldn’t screw up a simple trim now. 

You had started at the back and moved around to the front, unaware of Bucky’s eyes on you as you moved into his line of sight. You brushed it all forward in a dark curtain covering his eyes; the both of you chuckled. 

“I’ll try to be quick with this,” you promised. 

“It’s fine.”

You concentrated again on the work at hand, until Bucky’s ends were all even and healthy. You pulled the elastic from your wrist and handed it to him; he pulled the hair tie onto his wrist but left his hair down. You smiled for that. 

You swept up the hair on the kitchen floor, and Bucky held the trash can while you pushed the hair into the dustpan and dumped it in the trash. You found a plastic bag for him to put his old clothes in, and then you were again lost for what happened next. 

“Do you want to stay?” you blurted out. “I mean, you don’t have to. But you can.”

Bucky chucked you under the chin. “You don’t have to pay me back anymore, Y/N. You’ve done enough.”

“It’s just that …” How did you tell him that as the evening had worn on, the ease you felt around him had turned into attraction, and now you were afraid if he left, you would never see him again? “I mean, I might have a concussion, right? Someone should make sure I wake up in the morning.”

His attempt to hid a smile was visible. “Rescue’s not complete till I know you’re home safe and no lasting injuries, I guess.”

You grinned wide. “Let me get some extra bedding and pillows, then maybe we can have a beer before bed.”

“I’d like that.”

Answers always short and succinct, but always a sweet melody to your ears. You retrieved the necessary items and set about turning the couch into a relatively comfortable place for Bucky to sleep. When you looked up, he was wrenching the tops off of two beers with his metal hand. You accepted the one he handed you and took a sip, then pointed to the arm. 

“How did that happen?” 

Bucky’s confidence faltered but quickly returned. “That’s a story for another time, I think.”

You licked your lips and let the subject drop. You smiled at him and asked, “So, there’ll be another time?”

“Won’t there be?” he returned, giving you a cocky smirk. 

You gave a single nod, then dropped onto the couch next to him. You found a movie Bucky hadn’t seen — he wasn’t much of a movie person, he said — and got it started while the two of you enjoyed your beers and another few cookies a piece. 

When the music of the end credits rolling blared from the television speaker, your eyes opened. You had to blink a few times to make sense of your environment. You were leaned against Bucky’s shoulder, and his head was leaned on yours. You took a deep breath and sat up slowly, careful not to give Bucky any sort of rude awakening. 

He drew in a deep breath and leaned away from you, placing his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his hair. “Bedtime?”

You nodded, standing up to take the beer bottles and paper towels to the kitchen trash. “Bedtime.”

When you returned, Bucky was standing, but the couch-bed had been tidied up to be ready for him. You smiled. 

“Thank you again, Bucky. For everything.” 

He extended his hand toward you. “It was my pleasure, but I’ve got to return the thanks, too. You’ve done far more than you had to do.”

“It was my pleasure,” you echoed, shaking his hand. 

Bucky licked his lips and held your gaze for a moment before softly pulling you against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, and Bucky hugged you tight around the shoulders. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, pulling a sleepy smile from your lips. 

“And you’ll still be here when I wake up?” you asked, leaning your head back so you could look at him. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, leaning down to gently but purposefully press his lips to yours, “I’ll be here.”

Tags: @captain-s-rogers​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @captain-rogers-beard​

[absentsdream]

* you know rina benton-moa, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to reinvent by phoebe green like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole fury encased by the reflection of daylight in the eyes; lines etched into skin from lifetimes over of squinting into midsummer skies, odd trinkets lined carelessly along a mantlepiece shrouded by aged dust, a split in the lip lancing keenly as the tongue darts out to wet it thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is july 15th, so they’re a cancer, which is unsurprising, all things considered. 

hi i’m cee .. u all know me...... regrettably gone for a cutla weeks but now i’m back ready n waiting to finally write rina (rip to their intro i never wrote last time around) kisses u all so tenderly let us plot shall we.......

AESTHETICS.

a weather-worn baseball cap ( jacksonville jazz festival 1983 ) adorned with dried sweat akin to the rings of saturn that collects dust on the back seat of a car, neglected piles of unopened government letters spilling from a haphazard tower onto the floor, a moth-eaten cotton shirt, johnny cash at four a.m. on the jukebox hits radio station, hand me down trainers marred by crowsfoot grass stains, dollar store candy older than your own existence, blinking grocery store fluorescent lights, the acrid scent of tyres set aflame. 

CHARA INSPO.

frankie ( animal kingdom ), theo ( catherine house ), libby bray ( dark places ), frances ( conversations with friends ), ruth ( ozark ), tommy ( never let me go )

BACKGROUND.

lilac ridge’s newest, unwelcome baby for 1997. rina’s mother is gone before they have the chance to memorise a voice, the touch of a hand on their fever-ridden forehead. she forever remains in old polaroids - their parents look happy here, sun-blushed and clutching amber bottles of schlitz. their dad tries and tries, often in a futile effort, to be the parent an unruly rina needs. that old woman in the trailer next to them hates the saturday morning cartoons that they play too loud: she says the catdog theme loops in her sleep, now.

TW NEGLECT despite the one or two friends rina manages to keep, school isn’t lonely. it’s lilac ridge that’s hollow, an ugly reflection of the way their father returns wordlessly to the chair found on hard rubbish collection day once, gesturing for a drink and waving them out of the trailer as he lights a cigarette. he doesn’t say he’s lonely. they’re too young to understand, or too foolhardy, and spends the afternoon fashioning bracelets from creek reeds until the cicadas quiet and the evening sky turns imperial violet, led back by constellations. some nights, rina isn’t there but in the alien comfort of a tentative friend’s trundle bed, eyes fixed on the owl nightlight and stereo that emits a soft tick as it reaches the end of a 4kids cd. TW END

the trailer is often empty without warning. rina’s in fernandina beach, florida one month. the next two, it is macon, georgia. the louisiana dirge for a friend of a friend of a friend’s funeral holds their attention better than any maths teacher can. to make friends is hard, but money is money and it puts food on the table. rina becomes used to tucking away their life in a tattered rucksack. prized possessions are rare. when they find one, it makes a home at the very bottom of their bag, cushioned by old newspaper and a spare pair of socks. 

one tepid night, rina wakes to a clear desert sky wheeling above them. in the front seat, knees cramped under a too-thin blanket, their father is nowhere to be found in the street emptied by midnight. without keys the radio doesn’t start. for hours, they wait in silence for him to return. he does, eventually, fifty dollars short and reeking of beer. 

TW DEATH live and let die — an eighty-cent find from a gas station in texas that exists permanently under a layer of dust some time in the nineties, the garish yellow sticker stubbornly remains on the back window of her father’s car. it’s not a day after his funeral that she peels it off. cirrhosis and failing lungs, they say. the more stubborn parts of the sticker come away easily by the blade of a pocket knife and sat on the bottom cinder block step to the now-empty trailer back at lilac ridge, rina sets it alight. the sticker melts and warps above the flame. heat stings the pad of their thumb that grips to the top of it for as long as they can bear it and the melted bits stick to the hem of the navy dress the old lady next door lent them for the day. she asks if they need anything else. they say no. TW END

at sixteen, nobody has impeccable financing. rina doesn’t leave irving until after graduating high school, sustenance made off cup noodles that they microwave despite the label saying not to, a quick buck made to sit the SAT for that quarterback who thinks he’s hot shit, yale material, for the mousy girl who likes literature written by dead people exclusively and scrunches her nose up at rina’s rates, upfront, but pushes across the seventy bucks anyway. the school’s careers counsellor catches them eventually - you could make it into an ivy league if you applied yourself a bit more. rina’s brow quirks. their grades are fine, more than fine. what else do they need to do?

on blind faith alone — a rarity, perhaps something rina let free after the hideous, lonely last two years — hands that never quiver submit college applications. pre-med at dartmouth awaits, but two years in the structure and demand wigs them out. lilac ridge is the glue trap dangling from the ceiling and rina is the fly, buzzing relentlessly. they are nothing, just as they suspected.

TRAITS & QUIRKS.

dumbass sun, fuckwit moon, muppet rising

unofficial mensa member with zero motivation. self-help books won’t work, neither will a stern word from an exasperated mentor

at their core, all seems numb. rina is nowhere close to understanding themselves. really, there’s a stubbornness that makes them reliable, even at the worst of times. a warmth, too, not a raging flame but embers that never go cold. hands which caress despite the bruised knuckles and nail bitten fingertips. outwardly, rina’s personality depends on whichever standout film or book antihero has their attention at the time.  

petty criminal and relegated to dead-end jobs because of it. it’s rare for a boss to re-hire them, simply because their habit of up and leaving town without warning is too expensive and too frustrating

refused bail once for being a flight risk on account of their propensity to disappear into a louisiana bayou 

although rina has never breathed a word of it to anyone, they’re desperate to scrape together enough money to leave for new zealand and track down their mother’s family, if only for the prospect of a better life than thier father’s derelict trailer, the only inheritance received from him

absolute parasite :/

julian assange apologist. took up skateboarding after the infamous ecuadorian embassy footage came on the news one evening

on that note, rina hacks for a spot of extra money. cites their resume for it, so they’re reliable. it consists of them hacking into the irving mayor’s website once and photoshopping che guevara onto the face of every councillor 

WANTED PLOTS.

ummmmm

a childhood friend, particularly one whose house rina ended up staying at far longer than planned on account of concerned parents

rina’s natural enemy whose own rigid academics competed against their disorganisation and confounding, cherry red a+’s. bonus: debate club rivals

literally anything. i’ll take it. gimme

[dragon-kazansky]

The man a few doors down - Arthur Fleck x Reader

Summary: Arthur is curious about you. Looks like you could use a friend too.

Downtown Gotham was a shit place to live. There was no sugar coating it at all. Half of Gotham struggled to get by, while the other half lived high and mighty just because they had the money to do so. It sucked. It was a disgrace to think that people even lived that way.

You worked hard. You always did your best, but what did you get in return? Practically nothing.

You lived in a shabby apartment in a dodgy part of the city. The lifts didn’t work properly and the lobby was probably cleaned less than once a month; once a year if lucky.

You had a shitty paying job, no car and you lived alone. Your life was the least exciting thing on the planet. Your existence went unnoticed by literally everyone. This was Gotham’s true colours.

It rained today. You were soaked to the bone when you reached your apartment building. The droplets fell to the floor as you sighed and shuffled over to check for post. You tried not to think about your horrid day as you opened the locker and saw nothing. As usual, there was nothing there.

As you closed the locker, a tall man came up beside you to check for his own post. He didn’t pay you any mind.

You didn’t know him and you had only seen him once before. You didn’t know his name, but you were pretty sure he lived a few doors down from your apartment.

You let him be as you made your way to the lift, not having the energy to take the stairs.

Just as the doors opened and you got in, the tall man also stepped inside. His eyes met yours for a moment, but you looked away instantly. You didn’t have the energy to deal with other people either.

The man pressed a button on the console and the doors closed.

You chose to play with your finger nails while you waited for the ancient lift to go up a few floors.

Arthur glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He had seen you around the building, but had never spoken to you. You were the pretty lady from a few doors down.

You always seemed to be alone.

It came as no surprise when the lift came to a halt. It did this often and the only thing that could be done was wait it out, as annoying as it was.

You gave a sigh as you covered your face with your hands and tried not to cry out loud. You were so done with your day. All you wanted to do was go home, curl up in bed and sleep.

You don’t know what you did to deserve this, but you were sorry for whatever it was.

The lift set back into motion and you glanced just once to the man beside you, realising his gaze was on you. You turned away quickly.

The doors opened and he let you get out first.

You both turned down the same hall and walked to your respective doors. Arthur was slow to open his as he watched from the corner of his eyes. You dropped your key, let our a groan in annoyance, hastily picked it up and quickly unlocked your door, disappearing inside.

His heart went out to you.

Arthur had bad days, but clearly yours was worse than his today.

Once you were inside your apartment you slammed the door shut, dropped all of your things and went to your bedroom, shedding from your wet clothes and putting on your cosy pyjamas. You climbed into your bed and buried your face into the pillow, letting all the stress of the day melt away.

You had heard the time of it being just a bad day, not a bad life, but this was Gotham. You didn’t think anything could get any better if you tried.

You closed your eyes and tried to let sleep take you.

It almost worked until you heard knocking on your door.

You let out a groan, just wanting to be left alone, but you up anyway, shuffling to the door.

You slowly unhooked the latch and peered around the door.

It was the man from earlier.

“Hello.” He smiled. It was a soft gesture that made his eyes sparkle a little.

“Hello...” You weren’t sure why he was here. You didn’t know him all that well and had never spoken to him before.

“I brought this for you.” He held up a small plastic tub that looked like it was containing soup. “You looked like you could use it.... before.”

You blinked slowly.

Gotham was full corrupt and nasty people, but if this told you anything, there were still a few good souls left in this city.

You took it from him. It was warm.

“Thank you. Do you... want to come in?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He smiled again. You opened the door wider and let him in, closing it behind him. He shuffled over to your sofa and sat down as you went into the kitchen.

You put the soup into a bowl and came back to sit with your neighbour.

It was quiet for a while.

Arthur glanced at you as you tucked into the soup he had made. Now, he had suffered through many bad days, but you looked like your day had been particularity rough. His heart went out to you and on a whim, he decided he would try to make you smile.

“This is really good.” You took another spoonful.

“Good. I made it for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I appreciated that you went out of your way for me. I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never talked before.” You kept your gaze on the soup.

“You’re a nice person.” He whispered.

You furrowed your brow wondering what he meant.

“I’ve noticed the things you’ve done. I wish there were more people like you.” His eyes were watching you, he wanted to see your face, but you kept your gaze away from his.

“The things I’ve done?”

“Mother says you take the trash out when I’m not here to do it. You bring her cakes sometimes. You feed the cat in the alley everyday.” He’s smiling. A genuine smile.

It suits him.

You put the bowl down, pretty much empty now.

“It’s nothing. It’s just stuff I do.” You shrug.

“It means a lot to me. It felt right to do something in return.” His voice was soft.

You met his gaze and smiled up at him. His smile grew when he saw it. He had succeeded in his mission.

“I live alone. Helping others is what I like to do.”

“I wish more people were like you.” He said again, softer this time.

“This is Gotham, nice people basically don’t exist.” You found yourself leaning into him a little bit. He let you.

“I found one, that’s enough for me.”

You chuckled.

“You’re sweet, Arthur.”

“You know my name?” He didn’t remember introducing himself to you.

“Yeah, your mother likes to talk.” You chuckled. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know. You’re right, my mother likes to talk.” He smiled brightly. “It’s nice to meet you properly.”

“Right back at you.”

After that night Arthur would stop by your apartment and check in on you. It had become a daily mission of his to make sure you smiled at least once. It made his heart leap to know that he was able to make you smile.

No matter how bad a day you had, Arthur made the effort to come and see you.

Then you started going to see him.

You would sit together and watch TV, talk to his mother, have dinner together.

You had made friends with the man a few doors down.

Arthur Fleck was a man who was struggling with himself, but he had found comfort in you. You were his saving light in a sense, and with you he knew what it meant to really smile.

He liked you.

Then things started to change.

He tried to hide it at first, but you had a good idea. You were clever so he should have known you would catch on. 

Arthur kept putting you before himself and you had grown worried. You knew people weren't nice to him. That was putting it nicely. People were down right horrid, cruel to him.

It was important to you that he took care of himself.

Arthur grew distant with you. He didn’t see you for days.

Then his mother died. Of course he didn’t tell you why, but you also didn’t ask. He came to your door and you were there for him, just as he had hoped. He found comfort in your arms that night and spent the night with you, holding onto you for dear life.

The next day he was gone. You didn’t see him for a few more days.

You were concerned. His distance from you didn’t sit right with you. You needed to know your friend was OK.

You knocked on his door.

You could hear a lot of shuffling before the door was opened. You looked at the sight information front of you.

Arthur was stood there in a pair of Panama pants, his chest bare and his face covered in paint.

You wondered for a moment if he was getting ready for work.

Though it felt a bit late in the evening for his job.

Arthur looked surprised to see you.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check on you. I haven't see you in a few days." You tried bot to stare at the fading bruise on his body.

It was obvious people beat him.

"I'm OK." He said softly.

"What are you doing?" You asked softly.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?”

“No.” You were being cautious. There was something strange in the atmosphere. A shift in his personality. Something was off.

“I’ll be on the Murray Franklin show.” He was smiling.

It was eerie.

“Oh wow. Congratulations. You’re a big fan of his right?” You remember seeing it on TV on some of his visits. He also mentioned here and there. It was actually pretty cool to hear he was going to be one show.

But you didn’t watch the show normally, so you didn’t know what had been said about Arthur.

“Will you watch it?” He asked cheerfully.

“Of course, if you’re going to be on it.” You smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart leap for joy.

“I have to finish getting ready. Don’t forget.” He closed the door.

You thought the whole exchange odd. You didn’t see him for days and he’s acting as if everything is fine. You worried about him. He suffered. He’s been through a lot.

This was weird.

You went back to your place and tried not to worry too much about it, but the nagging feeling in the back of your head never went away.

The show started.

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You didn’t realise just how bad things had become.

The killings. His mother. Thomas Wayne. The police.

Tonight.

A clip of Arthur was being shown. He had mentioned Pogo’s, even invited you to come see him sometime, but it never happened. You felt awful.

They were mocking him.

“Shit.”

You could only imagine the effect that had on him. It was at this point you had grown even more concerned about his behaviour.

Then he was introduced onto the show.

You couldn’t really tell it was him, but at the same time, you could.

In a suit of red and clown make up on his face, he danced his way over to the sofa. The following became a blur after he pulled out his joke book. The book you knew he also kept as a journal filled with his bad thoughts.

It was those bad thoughts that worried you. They never really went away.

How could you have known he would go this far?

Next thing you knew Murray was dead and Arthur had been tackled to the ground by guards at the station.

The way looked down the camera. You wondered what he was thinking. Was he wondering if you were watching him?

You couldn’t take it.

“My God...” You grabbed your coat and ran outside, not caring if the door hadn’t shut properly. You needed to see him for yourself. 

Those days you didn’t see him had changed everything about the sweet Arthur who had come to your place to cheer you up. The kind man who had brought you soup was the same man who had shot someone live on TV, and apparently killed those three Wall Street men in the subway.

You tried to make the connection, but you couldn’t.

You ran. Ran faster than you ever thought you could. Only coming to a stop when you saw the ambulance crash into the police car.

You came to a halt and stared at the scene in horror.

Three guys in clown masks made their way to the car, two of them reaching into the backseat. Somehow you just knew who they were reaching for.

He was in that car.

“Arthur.” The name barely left your lips.

They pulled him through the window and set him down on the car. You hurried over to his side quickly. They didn’t seem to question it.

Everyone in Gotham who had idolised this man, wearing clown masks, gathered around him.

“Arthur.” You placed your hands on his face. The blood didn’t bother you. You just wanted to know he was alive. You rested your head on his chest to listen for his heart. Then you looked back up at his face.

He was waking up.

“Arthur!”

He blinked his eyes open slowly, sitting up with a groan.

“No.” He muttered.

“No?”

He took a moment to gather himself. He gazed around him and the sight was something to behold. He gently pushed you away as he stood up on the hood of the car, looking around at the crowd. The clown masks. The gathering.

People noticed him.

He was silent for a while. Looking around him. Thinking.

With one hand he reached up to his nose. Blood.

He smiled.

He dragged his fingers from the corners of his lips, creating a bloody smile. He kept his hands out, laughing.

They cheered.

They all cheered.

You ignored the crowd as you stared up at the man in front of you. It was then you realised. ‘No.’ This wasn’t Arthur. This was someone new entirely. Arthur was gone.

Blinking, you noticed the hand outstretched to you. You gazed up at him.

You took it.

The man in red pulled you up onto the car with him.

“Did you watch the show?” He asked you, choosing to ignore the consistent cheering around him.

“I did.”

He had the biggest smile on his face.

“No more Arthur?”

“No more Arthur.”

His hands held your arms gently. His gaze was locked with yours. The smile remained on his face.

His life wasn’t a tragedy anymore.

“Call me Joker.”

His hands squeezed your arms, though not too tight.

You tried not to let the tears fall.

He saw them glisten in your eyes.

“Joker.” You whispered, your voice failing you.

He remained smiling.

His life was a comedy.

That was the punchline.

The man who lived a few doors down was gone. Now there was this clown. A prince of crime. And he was happy.

He tucked some hair behind your ear.

“I wish more people were like you, but it looks like we got more people like me.” The happiness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

The tear fell.

You didn’t know what would happen to Gotham now, but you did know it was never going to be the same.

Arthur was never going to be same.

Tags:

@ntb-outsider @awyr @fandombeehive  @charmed-asylum​