#yesterday i was remembering a project i pulled off over the summer like holy shit that was me

[vegaseatsass]

I always thought aging baggage was about like, societally induced bullshit about what our bodies should do and look like that mostly couldn't touch me because 1. I find the "look like" side of things sexy and have been anticipating The Changes with great eagerness since I was a teen 2. unpacking attitudes around disability and what my body can do is another thing I've been doing on and off since I was a teen (even if More is not such an eager process) what I didn't account for is the phenomenon of time??? moving faster and faster??? every year??? How terrifying it feels? To just not understand where 365 days went. For decades to disappear in a blur... it legitimately unsettles me!!

I have a bday coming up and I'm really trying to hold onto these contradictions. Half "Yesssss I'm heading into my sexiest years" half "but my 2018 birthday just happened. wtf"

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 1)

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense to family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, strong anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, irresponsible motorcycle healthy and safety measures, smoking

Author's Note: Something a bit different, why the hell not. This story is based around lyrics from Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young'. What a man.

---

'Y/n! You look… healthy.' 

Those were your mother's first words as you walked through the door of your family home. Not saying how pleased she was to see you or asking how your flight was, but commenting on how you looked with her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms.

This was going to be a long summer. 

Initially you were adamant about staying at your dorm, even on your own. All you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn't come home, so here you were. 

You traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door. Your father had installed it when you were twelve, after he caught you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight- Doctor Who. 

Your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up to the back of your mouth when you saw a ‘live, laugh, love’ sticker plastered up there. 

A long, long summer.

---

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Wandering around the store, you grabbed everything on the list and headed to the checkout. Through the front window you saw billows of smoke blowing past, but you couldn’t quite see where they were coming from. 

As you stepped outside, you looked over to see a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes on the go. They were gathered around the corner of the building, the one you had to walk past to get home. You kept your head down, gripping your grocery bags tight and passing them as quickly as possible, when you heard one of them pipe up. 

'Well holy shit. Y/n?'

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes. 

The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn't approve of. 

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures. 

'Hi James. Good to see you.' You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny. 

'People call me Bucky now.' 

Nodding feebly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed that your face felt warm and your stomach was involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was much more handsome and charismatic than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. You heard approaching footsteps and in a second he was by your side, walking next to you.

'You moving back to town?'

'No, just visiting for the summer.'

‘Are your parents still religious nut-jobs?'

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I'll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won't be having much fun this summer then.'

'Probably not your kind of fun.' 

He smirked and stepped towards you. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ It came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’  

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke out over your head and chuckle at your expression. Against your better judgement, you waited for him to carry on.

‘I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.' He stepped closer again, bringing his lips close to your ear, and whispered. 'Cause the sinners are much more fun.'

---

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath tickling your ear. 

You wanted to know more about him, and if anyone had information it'd be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.'

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy.' She punctuated the words by pointing her fork at you. 'He's trouble. Him and his gang.'

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child. You were in your twenties for fuck’s sake. 

'He seemed nice enough.'

‘That’s how it starts.’ Your father piped up. ‘Before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’ 

And that was the end of that conversation. 

Being away, you’d almost forgotten how messed up your parents were. It was terrifying to think that you used to be just as bad. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious. 

---

Sunday. The priest was droning on about something but you weren’t concentrating, his dull voice just sounded like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled, sat along with everyone else like sheep being herded, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

An hour or so into the service, you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head felt too heavy to be held up by your neck but, just as your eyes started to close, something startled you. Startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance was coming from. 

It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines. 

Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing, but the noise eventually moved away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces. The tension hovering in the air was palpable.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

---

A couple days later, one of your old friends invited you to a house party- or ‘board game night’ as you told your parents. Parties were usually a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d do anything to get out of their house for an evening. 

Wandering from room to room, you checked if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. You skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke. 

There was a hard tap on your shoulder and you turned to see James Barnes’ wide smile.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi James.’ You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I heard your little stunt outside the church last week. You make a habit of that?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’ 

Interesting. That whole thing was for you? Your stomach started to flutter with excitement despite part of your brain screaming that he was probably just mocking you, flirting with you for a bet. To save any potential embarrassment, you went on the defensive. 

‘Gee, thanks. Are you and your friends always that obnoxious James?’

‘Ah y’know.’ He leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you. ‘We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.’

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest and doing everything you could to keep a lid on how excited his deep chuckles were making you. He bit his lip and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest. 

‘And call me Bucky.’ He pushed himself off the counter, disappearing into the crowd.

Hours passed and you eventually realised that you weren’t really having a great time. Everyone around you was borderline hammered but you knew if your parents got a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you were stone-cold. 

You snuck out the back door, swiftly sliding it shut. Focusing more on what was happening behind you than in front, you managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet. 

James, of course it was. Brilliant. 

He was leant against the wall, finishing off a cigarette. Chuckling, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head. 

‘Leaving so soon?’ He grunted.

‘Yeah, not really my scene.’

‘Same here. Want to go somewhere else?’ Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. He smirked and looked away. 'It’s alright, I know the deal. Your mother told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?'

You couldn’t hold back your excited smile anymore and his eyes lit up when he saw it. Shrugging faintly, your mind scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot before slowly approaching you. Stopping a couple inches away, he smirked down at your dazed expression.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

You told your mother that you were having a day at the local library. You weren’t necessarily lying- you had no idea what Bucky had in mind, so anything was a possibility. 

He was waiting by the monument in the town centre, like he’d said yesterday. 

‘So,’ you said, prompting him to turn towards you and smile, ‘what are we doing?’

He held his elbow out and you snaked your hand through it. 

‘You’ll see.’

Much to your surprise, he took you to the fair. You wandered around, hand enclosed in his, talking and laughing for hours. He bought you a hot dog and spent ages trying to win you a stuffed giraffe, but his aim wasn’t great. You couldn’t hold back your laughter after he missed for the fourth time, so he picked you up, swung you around and shouted that he was going to sell you to the carnival. 

When both of you were tired and full, he walked you to the park, pulling you down next to him on a bench and wrapping his arm tight around your waist.

‘Thanks Bucky.’ You said faintly.

‘For what?’

‘Didn’t think I’d be having much fun this summer, but I had a really nice time.’

He smirked and scooched even closer to you, his firm thigh pressed against yours and his thumb gently stroking your hip. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before he muttered to himself.

‘It ain’t right.’

‘What?’

He sighed, brushing his chin against your hair. ‘Your parents. Catholics, man- they just built you a temple and locked you away. You’ve barely lived.’

‘It’s not all bad.’ You whispered, relaxing your head against his shoulder and angling your face up towards his. 

‘Maybe.’ Adjusting himself, he turned towards you and put his free hand under your chin. ‘But that stained-glass never really lets in the sun.’

He pressed his lips against yours. Your stomach flipped. His hand moved from your chin to cradle the side of your neck and his thumb brushed softly across your cheek. He pressed towards you more firmly, sliding his tongue along your lips. He tasted like cigarettes and candy floss. Your knees tensed and your thighs started shaking. He must’ve noticed, because you felt a deep chuckle vibrating into your mouth, but that only made it worse. You melted into him, just about steadying yourself by gripping the lapels of his jacket. 

He pulled away, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck, keeping a tight grip on your waist. 

‘Not bad for a church girl.’

---

‘What is this?!’ Your mother burst into your room, looking horrified and holding her phone out in front of her.

You squinted at the screen, it was a photo. You and Bucky holding hands at the fair. Shit.

‘Where did you get that?’ You muttered.

‘Angela sent it to me. She saw you there, with him.’

You stood from your bed, ready to plead with her. ‘Look, he’s a nice guy, he’s-’ 

‘He is a criminal. And if you think you’re seeing him again, you’re wrong.’ She turned and started to storm away. 

You felt anger bubbling inside, nothing like you’d ever felt before. Everything Bucky had said, his anger at your parents- he was right. You’d thought about it before, of course you had, but all you’d ever felt was a kind of defeated acceptance. Now, you were pissed.  

‘I am not a fucking child.’ You screamed.

She jerked to a stop. Slowly twisting round, you saw her face was filled with venom. ‘We’ll speak again when you’re ready to apologise.’ She hissed, slamming your door behind her. You heard it lock.

Wow, that felt good. Really good. You flopped down onto your bed. Your head was spinning but you were grinning to yourself, still half in disbelief. You’d never stood up to her like that before and you were starting to regret not doing it sooner. 

Your phone started buzzing- Bucky.

‘Hi.’ You sighed into it.

‘Come to the window.’

Your gaze darted to the far end of your room and you fumbled off your bed. After briefly scanning the skyline, your eyes flickered down to the backyard lawn. Bucky was standing underneath your window, holding his phone to his ear, beaming up at you.

‘Came to ask if you wanted to come out, figured I probably shouldn’t knock on the front door.’

‘So you break into the garden?’ You chuckled.

He shrugged and flung his free arm out. ‘It’s romantic.’

‘Sure is.’ You grinned down at him before remembering where you were. ‘I can’t Buck. One of my mother’s friends saw us together yesterday. I’m locked in.’

‘Man, you’re living with psychopaths.’ You nodded and gave him a disheartened smile. ‘Look, I know they’re your parents, but you really don’t owe them anything. Especially after everything they’ve done.’

His words echoed around in your head, slowly becoming more convincing as you considered them. Before you could respond, the light from the room below you switched on and Bucky was immediately illuminated with bright yellow light. Without missing a beat, he sprinted towards the fence and vaulted into next door’s garden. You heard a breathy ‘I’ll see you soon babe’ through the phone before he hung up.  

Your father ran out of the back door, pretty quickly deciding not to give chase. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes but you didn’t waver. You were already locked in your room for the foreseeable future, what else could he possibly do?

---

He could force you to clean all the floors in the house on your hands and knees, apparently. Scrubbing for hours and hours with him watching over you like a hawk. Your parents had pretty swiftly gone from strict but harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. As soon as he left the room, you pulled your phone out and hammered out a message to Bucky. 

Will you come get me? I need out.

You stared at your screen, willing him to reply before your father came back. After what felt like ages, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

You jumped up from the floor and sprinted up the stairs to your room, grabbing handfuls of whatever you could reach and shoving it into your backpack. You heard your father scurrying around on the ground floor before stomping up the stairs, shouting your name. Before he made it to your room, the faint rumble of a motorbike engine started in the distance and your heart jumped.

Running into the hallway, you pushed past your father without even looking up at him and scrambled down the stairs. You pulled the front door open and a wall of fresh air hit you, allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day. Since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals.

Bucky came round the corner on his bike and you almost felt like bursting into tears. Waves of relief passed through every muscle in your body and you ran down the front steps to meet him.

You leapt on to the back of his bike, still in your pyjamas, and wrapped your arms around his waist as tight as you could. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. Your parents were screaming your name behind you, but they were quickly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike coming back to life. 

‘Shit, I’m not exactly dressed for a ride.’ You mumbled into his ear through your heavy breaths. ‘Don’t even have a helmet.’

You felt him vibrate with laughter as he gunned the engine and sped away.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine darlin.’ He raised his arm and flipped off your parents. ‘Only the good die young.’

---

Part Two

---

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

a/n: i’m baaaaaccckkkk. mama came home from vacation. she’s still tired, but she missed her babies too much to stay away. niall and sarah did a great job babysitting. let’s gooooooooooo

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

…a week or so later…

Harry was sleeping peacefully on his back with you resting your head on his chest. One of your legs was over his and you had an arm draped over his lower stomach. He woke up to the feeling of something wet on his thigh. It took him a second, but he swore he could feel you moving back and forth on him. He looked down to see your eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted. There were beads of sweat on your brow-line.

You were dreaming. You were having a steamy dream of you and Harry. You were riding him out in an open field of sunflowers. Your hair was flowing in the wind, and he wouldn’t stop telling you how beautiful you were.

When you gasp, Harry fully wakes up. He didn’t want to wake you, but he did want to have some fun with you. He raises his thigh slightly to add a little more pressure for you. He wanted to give you a little more friction. He wiggles his thigh from side to side as you continue to grind on him in your sleep.

“Harry.” You moan. He always wondered if you dreamt about him. He always had a hunch, but the small bit of confirmation was delightful.

His cock grows harder as you move faster on him. Your hand moves to grip at his throat and you squeeze it, causing him to choke slightly.

“Jesus.” He coughs, and you wake up immediately.

“Wh, what’s happening?!” You spring up and feel the wetness from your center stick against him. “Ew, oh my god, I’m so sorry, what was I doing?”

“You were…” He coughs again, you really grabbed his throat hard. “Grindin’ against my thigh. I was tryin’ to help yeh along, but you grabbed my throat and started choakin’ me. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“I was…um…riding you.” You rub your eyes.

“And did you choke me in your dream?”

“I…don’t remember.”

“Liar.” He smirks. “It’s okay, wanna choke me?”

“Harry, stop.”

“You’ve gripped my throat before, wanna do it a little harder? S’okay, if you do.”

“Harry, it’s like two in the morning.”

“Yeah?” He reaches between your legs to collect some of your wetness, and brings it up to his face. “Seems like you’re a little riled up. Let’s fix that, hm?” He sucks his fingers into his mouth then pulls you on top of him. “Got hard while you were goin’ to town on me.”

“We ran out of condoms.”

“Take your pill yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Gonna take it in a few hours?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then baby girl, nothin’ to worry about.” He kisses you tenderly.

“Fuck it, okay.”

You raise your hips and slide down on him.

“Holy shit!” Both of your eye brows raise at his exclamation. Harry would moan and groan, but in the almost eight months you had been together you had never heard him yell in such pleasure. “Haven’t fully felt yeh in so long.” You smirk at him.

You raise and lower yourself on him and his hands move to your hips to help you get a rhythm that suits the both of you. The way you were grinding on him brought you right back o the euphoric state you had while dreaming.

“Go ahead, angel, wrap that pretty little hand around me.”

You kiss him first and then slide your hand up to his throat. Did Harry like being choked, or did he just like that you wanted to do it to him? Your thumb brushes over his adam’s apple, and then you apply a little more pressure. He groans as he thrusts up into you, and your head rolls back. It felt so good to feel him without the barrier of the condom.

You weren’t grabbing him as hard as you had grabbed him while you were sleeping, he figured you just felt shy now and he wasn’t going to push you. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love when you were a little more dominant. His sweet baby girl liked to be rough, and it drove him crazy.

One of his hands dips between the two of you to rub your clit and that’s when you’re your grip tightens around him. You didn’t stop to think your fingers might leave lsting bruises, you were so far gone you couldn’t think about anything. He nearly gasps from the pressure on his throat, but he can handle it. He’d do anything to be able to see you the way you are now. Totally lost in pure ecstasy.

“Harry.” You groan. He feels you pulsate around him and he knows you’re close.

Another sharp thrust up into you and you come undone. You moan loudly and your voice cracks as he continues rubbing your clit as you get through your orgasm. Your grip on his throat loosens and you tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

“Will you, will you come on back?”

“Course.”

You lift off him and get on your stomach, lifting your ass in the air for him. He gives himself a few pumps before you feel his warmth all of over back and bum. You hear a few curse words leave his lips and then he sighs. He leans down to give you a kiss.

“Lemme get a rag, hang tight.”

Harry comes back a moment later with a warm rag to clean you up. You get up shortly after to use the toilet and then you return to him, spooning him and getting cozy.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” You whisper to him.

“Not at all, felt good. Do it anytime yeh want.”

You knew you’d be exhausted when you got up in a few hours for work, but this one of the many things you loved about having a boyfriend like Harry. You could wake up incredibly horny in the middle of the night, and he’d be right there to help take care of you.

//

Today was the first day you’d be starting your video chats with Mark to work on your big project. You weren’t looking forward to it in the slightest, but at least in another week or so you’d be in Aruba. Harry’s mum and sister decided to stay in the U.K. for Easter since they knew Harry would be really busy with work while you were gone. That just meant he’d be spending three weeks over there during the summer instead of two, not a big deal.

You were dreading the call with him. You made sure to wear a shirt with a high neckline so he’d have nothing to look at but your face. Niall came into your office with a deep frown.

“What’s up?”

“You’ll never who’s here…”

“No.”

“The three of ‘em…CEO is putting them up in a hotel so we can all work together in person. Said it would be more productive. They’re taking over the conference room as a shared office for the foreseeable future.”

“No!” You whine.

“We have to meet with them in ten minutes. Could be worse, at least you don’t have to share your office with him.”

“True.” You stand up and grab your laptop. “Can’t fucking wait for this all to be over and it hasn’t even started yet. Now I’m almost nervous about my vacation.”

“Don’t be, you’re leadin’ what you’re workin’ on. Leave a list of to do’s with me and I’ll make sure that’s all he does.”

“Thank you.”

You both walk out to the conference room. You see three men setting their things up. You wondered how they’d get anything done working in an open space, but you certainly weren’t going to question it. Your supervisor comes in and gives you all the run down for how things were going to work, when it’s over it’s around lunch, and Mark follows you down the hall to your office.

“Hey, I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite? It’ll give us more time to go over things, and –“ You both stop short when you see Harry standing in your office.

“Sorry, I already have lunch plans.” You close the door in his face. It was unprofessional, and a little rude, but you didn’t care.

“What’s he doin’ here?” He asks, wrapping his arms around you.

“They’re here for the foreseeable future. CEO thought it would be more efficient this way.” You roll your eyes. You look at him and kiss him. “Can we go for a walk or something, I need to clear my head.”

“Sure.” He smiles and kisses you again.

You go over to your desk and reach underneath for your sneakers and change your shoes. You give him a thumbs up and grab his hand as you leave the office. Niall shoots you both a smile and wave as you walk out.

“Were you tired this mornin’?”

“A little yeah…” You say blushing.

“Me too.” He walks with his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into him. “But it’s the best kind of tired, you know?”

“Mhm.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“So you’re gonna have to spend a lot of time with that guy?”

“Unfortunately.” You groan. “At least I leave soon so it’ll break it up.”

“I know Niall’s there, hell, I know you can take care of yourself, but I’m a phone call or text away if you need me.”

“Thanks doll.” You give the hand on your shoulder a little squeeze, and continue your walk.

//

That afternoon Mark was in your office for hours. You were both going over different techniques you used while editing.

“Well, I use Vegas so…”

“Well, you’re going to learn Premiere because that’s what I use.” You tell him. “In fact, you’re supposed to use the Adobe products here since they’re paid for already. It’s really easy to learn. There’s tons of tutorials online. I’m sure someone as smart as you can pick it up.” You say smugly.

“Okay.”

“I think we should put a schedule or some type of calendar together for this. We’re going to be sent certain clips each day, so we need to get them into the sequence ready to go.”

“Makes sense to me.” He looks over his notes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Does your boyfriend always visit for lunch?”

“That’s not really an appropriate question to ask me.”

“Come off it will you, we’re not robots.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yes, he visits often, and sometimes I go to his work for lunch.”

“Right, he’s at Plant Geo?”

“Yes.” You look down then back to him. “Why do you care so much what I do with my personal time? We’re given an hour or so for lunch, and I’m allowed to do what I want during that time.”

“Never said you weren’t, I was just curious. Couple of the guys have girlfriends and they never see them during lunch. Usually too busy.”

“I use my time wisely during the work day. Plus, working through lunch is stupid, and doesn’t make you look better. It just shows poor time management if anything.”

“No, I just meant like they see them at home, ya know?”

“I see him at home too, we live together.”

“And you still visit during lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he, we miss each other during the day. And sometimes we both have late nights…we don’t meet up every day. When I don’t eat with him I eat with Niall.”

“Your ex?”

“I never dated him! I just told you I did because I wanted you to quit asking me to dance.”

“I was drunk.”

“No excuse. When someone tells you no, they should listen. You’re a good looking guy Mark, but you radiate douche-bag energy, and I’m just not here for it. So, while we’re working together I really would appreciate it if we didn’t talk about personal things. My goal at the end of this is to not have gained a new friend, okay?” His mouth was hanging open. No one had ever really talked to him like that before.

“Okay.”

That was that, and you get back to work. You notice the way he steals glances of you while you both work on your own computers, but you choose to ignore it. When you get home later Harry gives a relaxing back massage, knowing that you were stressed.

“You have magic hands, you know that?” You say as his thumbs press into your lower back as you both sit on the couch.

“I live to serve.” He jokes and you both laugh. “You’re so tense babe, full of knots. Maybe it’s time we get another massage together.”

“God that sounds amazing.” You sigh happily. “You know what would be relaxing too? Forever ago we talked about doing one of those wine and paint nights. That could be a really fun group date with everyone, don’t you think?”

“Yeah! Why don’t we see what everyone’s up to Friday night?”

“I’ll text in the group chat.”

Yes, the six of you had a group chat. Mariah was officially Rachel’s girlfriend now, and none of you saw her going anywhere anytime soon.

“Rachel should just teach the bloody class.” Harry chuckles. Your head rolls back as he works out a particular knot in your neck.

“Fuck.” You say. “Right there.” Your eyes screw shut as he applies a little more pressure.

“Poor thing.” He coos. “I should really buy some oil, give you a proper massage.”

“And get our things all gross?” You laugh. “This works just fine.”

//

Friday night rolls around and you couldn’t wait to hang out with all your friends. They had all agreed the wine and paint night would be fun, and to go to a late dinner afterwards.

You and Harry split and uber with Niall and Sarah.

“I’m begging the two of you, when we come home later, please don’t hump each other in the back of the car again.” Sarah says. “It was disgusting.” She says giggling. Before you can answer, Harry speaks.

“Can’t make any promises, sorry.” He winks at her.

“Make an effort then.” She sticks her tongue at him and he sticks it right back. You shake your head at the two of them with a smile.

You meet Rachel and Mariah at the place and you all head in. You each pick out the wine you want, and are given aprons to wear over your clothes. Harry helps you ties yours and you help him with his. Everyone else just sort of tied their own. Were the two of you cute or co-dependent? It was hard to tell from time to time.

You grab a stool and listen to the presenter who shows you what you’ll be painting. You all giggle and take sips of your wine. You’d be painting a lighthouse by the water. Not terribly difficult. Since you were left handed you had to be a little more careful than the others so you wouldn’t smudge anything. Harry watched as you took your first strokes. You always did everything with precision.

“Everyone look over here.” Sarah says. She had her phone up to take a group selfie. You all smile.

The painting was a lot of fun, and super relaxing. Of course Rachel’s painting looked the best. Yours was okay. Harry’s came out beautifully.

“Looks great, love.” He says, admiring your work.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No! I mean it, your shadows look good.” You give him a kiss on the cheek.

You’re told that the paintings will be stored to dry, and that you could come pick them up during the week if you wanted. The six of you head out to a pub for dinner. There were more drinks and lots of bar food. Harry kept his arm around you as he always did. He was more relaxed than usual. He liked having Mariah around. Someone else to talk to when Niall would join in on the girl talk.

“Y/N, are we still going to the mall tomorrow?” Sarah asks.

“Yup, was thinking we could leave around eleven.”

“Sounds good.”

“What are yeh shoppin’ for?”

“Just need to pick up some things. Rach, you’re still coming?”

“Yup, I’m gonna meet you two there.”

“You’ll be busy at an engagement shoot tomorrow anyways, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mariah, do you a lot of freelance work?” Niall asks her.

“A little here and there, not as much as H though.”

“Okay, I need to ask.” Sarah starts. “What is with H? How does that nickname get started?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing actually.” You say.

“I don’t know when it started. S’not like I said call me H or anythin’.” He shrugs.

“I feel like I heard someone call you H and it just stuck.” Mariah explains.

“More formal.” He says. “Niall never calls me H.”

“Nope, always Harry.”

You lean into him, feeling slightly tipsy. You decide to switch to water for the rest of the time at the pub. This time in the uber home, Sarah and Niall take the way back seat, but it didn’t stop Harry from nibbling on your neck and whispering in your ear to make you giggle. It was a great night.

“Night guys, see you tomorrow Sarah.” Harry has it arms wrapped around you to hold you from behind.

“Night, just text me before it’s time to go.” She says and nod.

You and Harry head up to your apartment, and practically race off to the bedroom. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, all over you. His hands cup your cheeks and he brings you in for a deep kiss. He walks you into the bedroom and presses you up against the wall next to the door. Your tongues mold together, and you’re in pure bliss.

His hands move to the hem of your shirt, breaking your kiss only for a moment to lift it off of you. He unhooks your bra with ease, and lets it fall to the floor. He takes his won shirt off and pulls you close to him so your breasts are pressed tightly to his chest. He kisses your jawline and moves to the skin just under your ear, sucking it in between his teeth and biting down.

“Oh god.” You moan, hands flying up to his hair.

“Need to taste you tonight.”

He picks you up and puts you on the bed, yanking your jeans and panties off. You giggle as he spreads your legs apart. He kisses down your chest, stomach, and hips. He kisses your inner thigh and leaves a few love bites behind as his tongue trails to your center. He licks a flat stripe up to your clit, and starts to suck on you. Your head slams back into the mattress. He’s done this to you more times than you can count, but it always felt like the first time. A vast amount of pleasure sweeps over you, and you gasp when you feel two of his fingers plunge up inside you, curling right away. Harry knew where your sweetest spot was. His mouth continues on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Harry.” You whimper.

He pumps faster, and flicks his tongue back and forth on your clit. He feels you clench around him, he knows your close. Your stomach tightens, and your back arches as you come undone. He takes his fingers out and laps up everything while you come, only adding to the wonderful sensation.

You catch your breath as he moves to hover over you. He takes one of your nipples between his lips, and sucks on it.

“Wanna, ngh, return the favor.”

“Later, need to be inside you now.”

He spreads you back apart and lines himself up with you. He slowly pushes inside. You gasp as his throbbing cock enter you. You pull him down close to you as be begins to move, rocking his hips against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, and cross them at your ankles.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans in your ear.

“Keep talking, love when you do this.” Your nails scratch at his back.

“You like havin’ my cock inside you?”

“Yes, it’s so big.”

“Yeh like the way I stretch you out?”

“God, yes.” One of his hands moves between where you’re connected to rub your clit. “You know my body so well.” You moan. “Always give me just what I need.”

“That’s right, always here to take care of you.” He moves to make eye contact with you as he pinches your clit and feels the beginning of your orgasm take over.

Your mouth parts as you look at him. He wants to watch every emotion you go through as you come, and you intend to show him. You nails sink further into his back and he knows he’s almost done for.

“Want you to come on my tits Harry, will you do that?” You say as you come down from your high.

He pulls out of you, and you squish your boobs together to give him a better target. That was all he needed before he released on you. You moan when you feel the heat of him on your skin. He collapses next to you and tries to catch his breath.

“Look at me babe.” You turn your head to face him. He was laying on his side. “I’ll clean yeh up in a second, but…”

“What baby?”

“Are yeh havin’ me come on you so much because you’re still afraid of me comin’ inside? I’m not complainin’ cause it’s so fuckin’ hot, but…”

“It’s just that we never do it is all…and yeah I’m still a little nervous, but at least I’m over using condoms right? Small steps.” You smile and he kisses you.

“I do like the way you look with my jizz all over you.” He smirks and gets up to grab a rag. He comes back over and cleans you up.

“Yeah, you like it when I’m dirty, huh?”

“Now, I have to go to sleep so I can get up on time, so none of that.” He gives your bum a little smack as you roll over after he’s done cleaning you up. He gets in with you and faces you.

“Oh, so I can’t be your dirty girl?” You giggle.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

//

Harry got up early, as much as he just wanted to lay in the warm bed with you, put on a nice outfit, and headed to the engagement shoot that was an hour or so away. You got up shortly after, showered, and texted Sarah. She met you down at your car.

“Thanks again for coming with, definitely need your opinions on what I want to buy.”

“No problem! You know I’ll never turn down a shopping trip. What do you need to get?”

“I’ll tell you once we’re with Rach.”

You both meet Rachel outside the main entrance of the mall, and walk in together. You lead them to a lingerie store.

“So…” You start blushing. “While Harry was in Florida a while ago, I found these pictures he had taken of himself…they were intimate.” You cough nervously as they nod. “He had mentioned he wanted to take pictures of me like that sometime, so since I’m leaving at the end of next week, I thought I would surprise him and let him take picture of me before I go.”

“Hot!” Rachel says.

“But I need your help picking out some outfits. I want to look sexy, but…I don’t know…elegant? I want it to feel like one of his professional shoots, only I’ll be wearing minimal clothing.”

“We’re on the case.” Sarah says. “Everyone, divide and conquer, we’ve got some work to do.”

[rxsie-the-demon]

Brooklyn Baby | JJ  Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: heyo! so i haven’t written fanfic in FOREVER, and i never have on tumblr. so please be patient with me (haha). this is gonna be a series, basically everything that i want (dreamed?) about that happens in season 2 of outerbanks. i hope you enjoy!

chapter summary: Nikki Reddy is new to Outer Banks High School, aka ‘Kook Academy.’ After befriending Topper, Kelce, and Scarlet and getting a crash course on OBX culture, she meets the school outcast, Kiara Carrera

warning: swearing, mentions of drowning, shooting, death, smoking, etc. nothing super bad, just usual stuff from s1

word count: 2075

CHAPTER 1: Shades of Cool

I honestly had no idea what was going through my brother’s head when he decided to say, “Fuck it, let’s move to the Outer Banks.” In the middle of the school year. In the winter!

Like, he could’ve at LEAST waited ‘til the summer or spring. But nope, we’re going to the Graveyard of the Atlantic in fucking January.

JANUARY.

I can’t even wear cute sandals or shorts.

I sighed deeply and turned into the parking lot of Outer Banks High School, or as some kid I heard called it, Kook Academy. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean because no one at the school seemed crazy. But then again, this was my third day here. For all I know, these kids are batshit crazy.

I parked her white Lamborghini Aventador that I had gotten for my sixteenth birthday (just Sweet Sixteen things) and grabbed my pink Kanken backpack and flung it over my shoulder, brushing her shoulder lengthed hair out of my way. Stupid hair always getting in the way of everything. While I walked into the building, I pulled her schedule out of the pocket of the bag, not remembering where my AP US History class was.

“Nikki! Hi!” I heard a girl’s voice call out. Turning around, I was met with the energetic, and for a lack of a better word, preppy girl who was assigned to show me around the school two days ago. Scarlet, I remembered. The girl whose name matched her hair. Next to her, the tall, HOT, tan blonde friend wearing khakis and a sweater, and the other boy, also tall, equally hot, dark-skinned friend. Topper and Kelce, was it? I couldn’t remember. Or was it Topher, like Christopher? I knew a guy who went by Topher instead of Chris. He was a weird guy.

“Hey! Scarlet, right? And...Topper and Kelce?” I gave them a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I suck with names.”

“No, it’s all good, broski,” Topper smiled. “And you got them right if that makes it better.”

I sighed with relief. “Oh, good.”

“I LOVE your dress,” Scarlet cooed. I did too. A yellow plaid cami dress over a thin, white turtleneck sweater, complete with white converse and a simple silver necklace with an ‘Om’ symbol.

“Aw, thank you! I love your outfit, too! I could never rock a green tube top and jeans, you’re BLESSED.”

“We should start walking to class, guys,” Kelce interjected, “Otherwise we’re going to be late, and Miss Newbie here doesn’t need that on her third day of school.” Topper rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Facts, love. Let’s get a move on,”

As we turned to walk to class, we passed by this girl whose rather dull aura caught my attention. I only saw part of her face when we walked by her, but she had sunken eyes as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in who knows how long. Her frizzy brown hair was spilling out of the hood of her black sweatshirt, and her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her black sweatpants.

Honestly? I thought she looked like shit. But not in an insulting way, in an “Are you ok? Do you need a hug?” kind of way.

“Hey, Top,” I turned next to him to asked, “Who’s the girl in all black that looks like she’s gonna pass out?”

The three OBX OGs spun their heads around to catch a glimpse of who I was talking about, before letting out a laugh at her question. “Ah, that’s Kiara. She’s a freak.” Top responded, chuckling.

I smiled sarcastically, a little mad that they outright insulted someone like that, but couldn’t show it because, well, I had no other friends. “True, but uh, how so?”

“She’s friends with Pogues, that’s how.”

“...Pogues?”

“The poor kids on the island, from The Cut. They’re all freaks and whores, they run around, stealing stuff, trying to shoot people.” Scarlet chirped up, emphasizing the different words. I nodded slowly.

“Yeah! This one Pogue, John B, like, he stole my girlfriend, uh sorry, EX-girlfriend from me, and his buddy JJ tried to shoot me in the head!” Topper exclaimed. Nikki’s eyes went wide.

“Wait...hold up, wait, he- WHAT? WHY did he try to shoot you?”

“I got into a fight with John B.”

“OK BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S GONNA- WHAT?”

“OK OK, I may have stuck his head underwater for a bit. I wasn’t gonna KILL him, I was just messing around, you know?” Topper looked at Kelce and Scarlet, who agreed with him, “Gotta show those dirty Pogues their place.”

I laughed dryly. What the flying fuck?

We stepped inside the classroom and took our seats, with me right behind Scarlet, and Topper and Kelce on either side of her.

Scarlett spun around. “Bro, our teacher isn’t even here!” She rolled her eyes and pulled out her Puff Bar from her bar and took a hit. She looked over at me and held it out for me. I shook my head no and turned to Topper. “Wait, Topper, that ex-girlfriend. Does she go here?”

Kelce and Scarlet immediately looked over at Topper, who looked like I just ran over his cat. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” I immediately apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked about-”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Top said awkwardly and coughed. He turned to face me with a sad smile. “Uh, remember how I mentioned she’d left me for some Pogue?”

“John something, yea?”

“Well, he killed her and himself, about six months ago.”

My jaw dropped. “What the fuck?! How are you so casual about- Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, he shot the last sheriff, Sheriff Peterkins, who by all accounts was actually a sweetheart. Then he proceeds to convince Sarah, or maybe he blackmailed her, I don’t know, into riding his boat into a tropical depression. We found the wreckage of the boat a couple weeks later, but...their bodies were never found...”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yeah... That girl, Kiara, she was best friends with both John B and Sarah. John B was, by all accounts, trash, but he was still her friend, I guess.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process all the information Topper had just dumped onto me.

Despite my extremely wealthy upbringing, I was raised to not be classist. Or at least, I hope that’s how I turned out; Scarlet, Topper, and Kelce also don’t seem like the most honest people. But these...Pogues that they were talking about...don’t seem like the sweet people.

But something about that girl’s eyes...they seemed so sad. You don’t feel for someone like that unless they’re a good person. Right?

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

Our teacher was droning off about...gosh who even fucking knows, I stopped paying attention the second he walked in.

I was on autopilot mode, taking down notes but not, like, actually paying attention. Instead, my mind was on these really cute boots I saw while online window shopping yesterday. I had bookmarked the link. Maybe I’d buy those?

“Nikhita!” My teacher called out. Hearing my first name, I snapped back to reality.

“Hi!” I smiled back. The class chuckled a bit.

Mr. Obi, a Nigerian man with the biggest glasses I’ve ever seen, rolled his eyes. “Hello. Did you hear what I said?”

“Not at all, sir, not at all.”

Topper and Scarlet were losing their minds; the former had to put his head down on his desk because he was laughing so hard.

He sighed and shoved his glasses up his nose. They slid down again. “I asked you what was the impact of the election of 1860?”

Shit shit shit shit shit

“Uh...wait, we want to war? Yea, that, like, started the Civil War.” I said, thankful I knew the answer. Mr. Obi was unimpressed.

“Mhm. Anyway, so...” and he continued to drone off.

Topper turned to me, smiling, and we both laughed.

As the lesson went on, I kept glancing at the clock. Ok, 45 minutes left, which means we’re halfway through class.

Mr. Obi kept going on and on about the Civil War, until, 15 minutes later, a little alarm went off on his phone. He turned and pressed the ‘Stop’ button.

“Right on time. Ok, so, I shortened today’s lesson because I wanted to talk about your project. Nikhita, you got here two days ago, the first day back from winter break, so you have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’m sure most of your classmates have forgotten. So I’ll refresh your memories: the second semester of U.S History is not going to the usual. You’re going to have a semester-long project that can be about anything. Literally anything, so long as it has something to do with either world history or current events. Yes, I know this is a United States history class, but we expanded this project to make it more interesting for you guys..”

Mr. Obi stopped for a second, looking at all of us. I nodded, partially because I felt bad because everyone was just giving him black stares, and because I found this project interesting.

“Now, in the past years, I left my classes to choose their partners or groups. But before the break, I’m sure you all remember the catastrophe that was your mini-project, yes?”

The class mumbled something incoherent, except for the boys in the back of the class who started cheering, which made our teacher smile.

“Well, because of that, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you. Well, more like the Pyramid of Doom.”

The Pyramid of Doom. This mini pyramid statue that has a little opening on the top, with all of our names in them.

Mr. Obi opened the Pyramid and began. I stayed quiet, listening to see who I was going to be paired with. Hopefully one of my three friends, or maybe one of the boys in the back. They’re cute.

When my name was called, I leaned forward to pay attention. The intensity, the suspense. Who was gonna be my partner?

Mr. Obi stuck his hand in the Pyramid and pulled out the next piece of paper. “Kiara Carrera.”

My eyes went wide.

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

“So, you excited to be partners with the freak for class,” Topper asked, taking a bite of his pasta. I laughed sarcastically.

Outer Banks High School has an A/B schedule, which means third block is two hours instead of 90 minutes, and everyone has a different lunch at a different time, depending on their class. On A days, I have lunch with Topper and some other kids. On B days, I’m by myself.

Today’s an A day.

“It’ll be fine. She doesn’t seem that bad.” I turned to my left to face him, popping a grape into my mouth. Yum. I love grapes.

“Yea, just wait ‘til you get to know her,” this boy across from us said. “She’s so weird. She hates being a Kook. Like, she never goes golfing.”

“Or shopping!” One girl piped up. “She just likes to sit at the beach and surf, and smoke weed and stuff.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” I shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love going to country clubs, and shopping, and going out to get breakfast, but I love chillin’ at the beach. Maybe she just has different interests?”

“Ok, that’s fine,” Topper stated, “but she’s friends with Pogues. And not just any Pogues - John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward.”

“Ok, but like, one of them’s dead. Look, I’m all for holding people accountable for their actions, but...bro, stop tryna cancel a dead dude,” I laughed. Topper punched my arm, and I winced jokingly.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I blushed a bit. Topper’s cute, definitely, and I like the attention, but I knew what was going on. Sarah Cameron, the dead girl, was this school’s Queen, with Topper as King. He’s looking for a replacement, not an actual girlfriend.

But...I liked the attention. I put my head on his shoulder.

“Hey, so, my friend Rafe’s 20th birthday party is this Friday. He’s a family friend and I would love it if you’d join me at the party.”

I turned to look at him, debating whether or not I wanted to go to some rando’s birthday party. But Topper knows him, and it seems like everyone else does, too.

“Sure,” I smiled. “Why not.

__________________________________

chapter two

[vivwrite]

With the Ghost of You(When the Sun Goes Down We All Get Lonely)

Maybe he’s just imagining, maybe its just another fantasy he pictures, but Luke seems semitransparent, a halo casting around his figure, holy, angelic.

“The night was very long but it didn’t seem long to the Snow Man; he stood lost in his own pleasant thoughts, and they froze until they crackled.”

or: Ashton meets Luke in a library, and the story tells itself. (AO3 link👇)

ooookay so my first fic for lashton and 5sos . Thanks for reading it. And tbh I'm extremely nervous because English's not my first language. So sorry for the mistakes lol.

One thing: I read Marquez's work in my first language, and I can't find the English version of it, so I translated the title and first sentence to English. There might be a mistake so sorry again lol

-

Ashton has always loved the library.

It isn't the school library, which is always so grand, demure, solemn, much like a robot- no, too cold and inhuman.

What he prefers, rather, is a smaller one run by a group of retired professors. It seems determined to hide itself in the northeastern corner of the campus, made up of three small but never crowded reading rooms. No matter when he walks through the doors be can find lamps shading yellowish circles on wooden tables, rows and rows of bookshelves up to the ceiling, and seats, beside small windows where the sunlight outside leaks in just perfectly on sunny afternoons.

To him it's always a getaway, a secret hiding place from the stressed and sometimes too fast school life, the only friend he can turn to when he isn't that enthusiastic about life, a comfort when facing another rock bottom. He's already studying a too rational subject; he'd love spending some time being just sensitive in here.

He'd spend hours and hours wandering among the bookshelves, picking one when he feels like it, skimming a few pages before deciding to read on or not. By doing this he feels just like a boy on the beach, amazed by an emerald or sapphire brought on shore by waves from time to time- what matters isn't just the book he gets. It's more of the communicating, the chore he gets to strike.

-

Unsatisfactory experiment result, loads of homework, a long and tiresome discussion with the professor about his research orientation- which he thinks is too early for him to consider, but she insists that as he has already got postgraduate recommendation he needs to consider it fully right now- and Ashton finds himself wandering in the library again, walking aimlessly, not for finding books, just to feel the connection.

It is a strange feeling, really, to be connected with books. Most of them on the shelves just seem to be books as they are, silent, quiet, lifeless. But, well, maybe it’s just his imagination- but some particular ones seem to be staring back- especially that one.

His hand automatically moves to pick that book out of the column.

It is quite delicate, a hard back small enough to be held on one hand, the title shimmering under the dim lights.

Ann’s Diary.

He remembers reading it in his teen years.

“Sorry, but that's mine.”

Ashton springs from the bookshelf. The book slips straight from his hand, hitting the wooden floor with a thud, as a boy rounds up from the other side.

He's tall- even taller than Ashton. And quite young, a freshman or sophomore, maybe. He is staring at Ashton from behind those strands of blonde, messy curls falling off to his face, piercing pale blue eyes met with his hazel ones, and that made his breath hitch for a second- although those eyes are definitely showing dismay.

"I... I don't really understand." He tries his best to cover all the confusion and fear- dealing with strangers always makes him uncomfortable (although he can manage it by acting cheerful and shit), especially with a pissed one.

But the boy seems determined to stay silent and on edge. He just flips the first page open, gesturing to a mark on it.

It's a two-word initial. Must have written quite a long time ago, as the lines are a bit blurry and the ink has faded into light gray. But he still recognizes the word, written in Italic, reading "L.H.".

Wait. The librarians never said that there is a place for personal collections.

Before he can ask about it the boy swirls around and walks off, leaving alone a dumbfounded Ashton.

-

He goes to ask the librarians, then the curator(because the librarians know nothing), about books with a L. H. written on it.

"This is a long story, darling, but it's late." Mrs. Hemmings' voice is collected and calm as always, but Ashton can tell that there is something as her eyes are a bit dull, "Maybe the other day."

-

His favorite spot in the library is a small table tucked behind seven rows of bookshelves of English literature(yes, he counts how many bookshelves are there), just besides a small window. Others rarely find it- unless they're crazy for novels by Adeline Virginia Woolf or they're just too bored to do anything else.

That's why he chooses here- There's no disruption, no noise, only the random shuffle for a person searching for books and pages being turned. Being alone.It suits him.

The sound of a chair pulling broke the silence,ripping him from the novel plot- someone has slipped into the chair opposite of him.

Well, fuck.

Ashton lifts his head from the pages, slight agitation rising from his chest, which shifted to utter surprise as his eyes meet a strangely familiar shade of blue.

Before he could say anything the boy blurts out , "Please... I want to explain."

For a moment Ashton just sits there, staring. Thoughts cloud his mind, tangling messily, laying conflicted- He was so senseless but now he seems so sincere! He won't trust his own voice right now, afraid that something stupid pops up all of a sudden. So he decides to just nod, a silent permit for the stranger to go on.

The boy clears his throat, looking a little nervous, "About the incident yesterday... I'm sorry. Got into something stupid and was shouted at all day long- but, I mean, fuck, even that isn't the reason I became such a jerk to you. I'm not trying to defend myself, but please don't be angry... Oh my fucking god, I don't know what I'm saying." He groans, pushing a hand through his curls, messing it up a bit.

Well, isn't that adorable.

Ashton hears himself chuckling, "I understand, no worries. Everyone has a bad day, don't we?"

He watches as the boy visibly relaxes with the reassuring words, a smile slipping on on his face, "Yeah, I guess. Thanks... Um, what's your name, by the way?"

Oh, right.

"Ashton."

"Thanks, Ashton." the boy's smile widens, "I'm Luke."

So the initial does belong to him. The L. H..

It's not until silence falls that Ashton realizes he may have stared at those sea- blue, sincere eyes for a bit too long. Hastily he ducked his head into his novel, flushed, trying to pick up the stream of Woolf's consciousness again.

"Virginia Woolf?" Luke's voice cuts in, and to Ashton's surprise- filled with pure interest.

Everyone else just thinks he's crazy and nerdy fancying Woolf's works.

"You like her?" He can't help but feel hope lighting up.

"One of my favorite!" Luke's literally buzzing with excitement, like a puppy finally getting some fresh air after a long lockdown in the house, "Never found another person to discuss, though. Everyone just say it's too hard to understand and shits."

And with that their conversation swiftly shifts into a heated discussion about stream of consciousness novels, to Woolf, then Proust, Faulkner, all way up the history, even to Freud- and Ashton finds, surprisingly, that they can strike a chord in every part of it- and the way Luke talks relentlessly, smiling so broad, eyes shining and hands waving- tells him he holds the same feelings, same thought, same passion.

His throat's sore- he hasn't talked that much in like, forever- but that doesn't stop him from being smug like an idiot when he leaves the library.

He's been alone for a long time, But it seems that he has finally found someone.

-

He starts to spend more time in the library- first just to do some more leisure reading and writing stuff there, then he starts bring his textbooks and laptop there to finish his homework, then even starts to stay there as long as he neither has classes nor needs to go back to the dorm. Yes, he admits it's kind of strange one's never tired of a library- especially that he has already ploughed through every part since he first stepped into it- but he knows why- a cute boy with ocean blue eyes and a smile is always there now.

It has become a routine. Luke accompanies him every day, sometimes already halfway through a novel when Ashton arrives, while other times Luke shows up merrily when he’s buried in the middle of projects and homework, bringing in a sense of cool breeze and fresh air before peeking over and ushering him to take a break(well sometimes the work has to be done, but Luke’s so sweet that he can’t refuse). Their time spent together is usually quiet, Ashton either typing away on his laptop or on a book, while Luke is immersed in his own novel, just piping up from time to time to discuss the plot or asking about the author. Topic wanders- books, school life, bands, music (seriously, how many same hobbies do they hold?).

They have went through so many fields- Stream of Consciousness to Science Fiction, Agatha Christie to Akudagawa, Shakespeare's Sonnet to Samuel Ullman's prose, but the list still seems far from ending. To Ashton's surprise Luke have read most of the writers not only by representative works but also less- famous chapters- many of which he only knows but has never read. He had thought he's an English Literature student, but Luke amazed him again by saying he studies Math actually- the same amazement occurred again when Luke discovered the chemistry paper Ashton's working on.

He can’t recall the last time he felt this content -Well, he can’t even remember when he has become so silent and depressed, on edge and under pressure.

But seems Luke has already become the solution.

-

Ashton sighs, recoils back in his chair, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes- He never learns the lesson of not leaving your homework to the deadline, fuck it.

Besides him Luke rises his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips, "You finally done?"

He just groaned, eyes shut."I wonder how the fuck you can even finish your homework. You never seem to be doing anything related to math."

"Maybe that's because all can be done quickly if I want."

Smug idiot.

"Wait till you're a post graduate and you'll know what's torture."

"Will quit right after four years, then."

Ashton scowls, cracks open one eye and spares a hand to flip Luke off, to which he ducks away (he always does) and giggles, "You're of no fucking help."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Don't know. Tell me a story. Or just read something. As long as I'm not thinking my head off about the synthesis route of some stupid fucking molecule I'll be fine."

He heard a light chuckle, "Aye- Aye, Captain, here we go."

The sound of pages turning, Luke clearing his throat, then,"'It's so bitterly cold that my whole body crackles!' Said the Snow Man."

Ashton lifts an eyebrow wearily,"Now you're telling me an Andersen's Fairy Tale?"

"Shh. Shut up and be a good boy. It's my favorite one." then, "This wind can really blow life into you! And how that glaring thing up there glares at me!" He meant the sun; it was just setting..."

Luke reads on, and Ashton finds himself relaxing, sinking into the familiar tale he’s read hundreds of times as a toddler, following the thread of the story, recalling the dialogue, how the Snow Man calls the Old Watchdog “my friend”.

Luke's voice fades for a brief second, then returns, slightly changed, softer, “Then the Snow Man looked, and he really saw a brightly polished thing with a brass stomach and fire glowing from the lower part of it. A very strange feeling swept over the Snow Man...”

Here comes the part- tracing the memory he can still feel it, the confusion when toddler him read to this part, then realization and excitement for no reason when he picked it up again, just for one time, before he come to this city.

He thought a new place brings a new life. That he would finally leave that old black and white town. He thought he knew what life was all about, what love was.

So ambitious, so young, so dumb.

Ashton blinks furiously, shaking the thoughts flooding up away from his mind. He’s here, in his favorite place, with an adorable boy who keeps his company, reading a tale to him. He’s fine, they’re fine, it’s fine.

His eyes lands on Luke.

The small lamp on the table is tilted slightly, soft golden light casting gently down on the boy’s right side, splitting a silhouette, leaving the left side of his face in the shadow. Curls falls off his face, dangling. His long, thick eyelashes turns to an almost-silver color under the light, trembling slightly, dancing altogether with the little particles floating in the air, as those blue eyes, clear as the sunny day but still deep as the sea, moves with each line, each word on the page. Maybe he’s just imagining, maybe its just another fantasy he pictures, but Luke seems semitransparent, a halo casting around his figure, holy, angelic.

“The night was very long but it didn’t seem long to the Snow Man; he stood lost in his own pleasant thoughts, and they froze until they crackled.”

The story’s still going, coming to an end, and Luke’s voice, a little raspy now, is merely above a whisper, like if he tells it any louder the fragile, beautiful tragedy will be destroyed.

“Come out, dear sun! Come often, skies of blue!

And nobody thought any more about the Snow Man.”

And with that Silence falls, a sad love story coming to its end.

For a while they just sits, looking into each others eyes.

The atmosphere’s changed, he knows it, can feel it. It’s a brand new feeling, one he has never felt, the rising urge, the need, the want, to get closer to the boy in front of him, to truly know him, to be with him, go through everything with him, feel the same with him, to like him, love him.

Hesitantly, he reaches out, slowly, hand trembling.

For a moment Luke seems to be on the same page with him, eyes fluttering shut and automatically leaning in, but suddenly he gasps, like being reminded of something he has long forgotten, and recoils back sharply, Ashton’s hand touches nothing but air.

Why.

“It’s late, Ash.” Luke whispered, not looking him in the face, “Maybe the other day.”

-

Something’s changed between them.

Not that the intimacy has changed- no. They still meets at the very table, reading and chatting, Luke still listens to his bickering about homework and fucking lab life- but something’s there, like The Sword of Damocles, hanging dangerously, but both just choose to ignore it.

Luke’s still Luke, sweet and gentle, cute and caring. But he’s somewhat quieter then before- he’s still chatting when it comes to their hobbies, but he always stops abruptly after the topic’s over, cutting the conversation.

It’s only that Ashton’s confused, confused about fucking all of it, confused about why Luke refused his invitation, why Luke takes a step back while he finally decides to step forward. It’s like an invisible barrier is built, all things suddenly turns indefinite without reason.

He hate it. He fucking hate all of it.

It’s only worse that he’s stuck in the library right now- it’s pouring outside, he’s left his umbrella at home, his jacket has no hat, and Luke’s oddly quiet.

He’s reading, more of scanning automatically, mind crowded with uncomfortable thoughts, screaming at him to at least find out what’s wrong with Luke(he don’t know how when they’re in this awkward state), to pluck up his courage and try again(well look what a coward he becomes when it comes to pining), to get this mess sorted (to which he has absolutely no fucking idea).

Fucking shitty day.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed- the sky is darkening, pure black seeping into pale gray, as the window starts to mirror the lighted lamp, making it unable to see the outside.

He hears a sigh, then the sound of book shut.

He can see those clear blue eyes from the corner of his eye, a little dim than usual, like the eyes of a sad puppy, and that almost break his heart. He wants to get close to the boy again, tell him it’s okay, he’s here, no need to keep those shit all alone and stuff- but instead he stares intently at the screen, so hard that his eyes starts to water, cursing himself inwardly.

A pause. Then, “Ash.”

Ashton gives himself a slap in the head, then puts on his most cheery face, “Yeah?”

Luke shakes his head furiously, “Don’t... Don’t act in front of me. I know you’re not well these days, and it’s all because of,” He waves his hand impatiently, then pulls his curls, casting out another deep sigh, “Yes, I... feel there is something I need to explain.”

And again he finds himself lost of words, exactly like the last time Luke made an explanation. But Luke’s acting different- strange. He’s frowning, shifting in his seat, hands tightly clasped together, teeth tugging at his lower lip, eyes filled with... fear.

Luke has never gone frightened in front of him.

“Hey, hey.” He reaches out, trying to grab Luke’s hand, but the boy squealed and pulls away abruptly again- so he just sighs, being as comforting as possible, “It’s okay, Luke. All okay.”

Finally the boy seems to have made the decision. He points to the book he just finished, which is lying on the table now, “The second short story.”

“You’re making me a puzzle through Marquez? Typical.” Ashton picks up the book, checking the writer. He’s trying to make a joke, but it came out weak and not funny at all, as Luke just sighs again and rests his head in his hands.

“I don’t know how to say it, so.” God, he hates how Luke’s voice sounds, all hurt and in pain.

“Luke, I mean, I’m not forcing you, but you know you can tell me everything-” panic’s rising, and he feels the urge, that they’re coming to the crossroads-

“Um, Ashton?”

He’s never hated life- the approaching librarian as well- more than now.

“Yes?”

She comes to stand beside him, a hand on his shoulder, “It’s ten now and we’re closing in five minutes. You need an umbrella?”

“Um, just a minute. We have something to discuss. I promise it’ll be quick.” He gestures to the seat across the table, where he knows Luke’s sitting.

He expects a nod, but her face is puzzled, coated with a layer he can’t read, “We? But Ashton, there’s no one across the table.”

“What?”

His head whips around, so quick that he thinks he must have strained his neck. He closes his eyes, then opens them again- yes, Luke is sitting right there, in the chair, totally frozen besides the nervous act just now- but he’s there.

“But...”

She only shakes her head, “You’re the only one here all day, Ashton. No one else feels like coming on such a stormy weather.”

With that she leaves.

Ashton turns back to Luke frantically, “What the hell-”

He’s met with a stony face and watery blue eyes. Luke seems defeated and in total grief.

“Tell me, Luke. Tell me!” Panic overcomes him, his voice three octaves higher than usual. It can’t be real, it’s just his fantasy, things like this can’t happen in real life...

Luke holds out his trembling hand, and very slowly, reaches over, linking it with Ashton’s.

A wave of icy cold rises up- from his feet up to his spine, overwhelming him, drowning him, making his head dizzy, the world turning, the sense-

The sense of not being touched.

Luke’s hands go straight through his.

“Because they can’t see me.” The silhouette figure whispers, voice barely audible.

“I’m not as real as you see me, Ash.”

-

The next three days come and go like a blurry scene.

Ashton remembers it just vaguely- he remembers fleeing out of the library, running alone the dark campus path till his chest burns and every breath becomes a burden. He remembers the rain, pouring down and hitting him relentlessly, flowing off his face, mixed with some warm fluid he didn’t dare to think about. He remembers walking back to the dorm, all worn out and broken down, throwing himself on his bed and crying till weariness finally came over. He slept, then woke, then ushered himself into sleep again, like only in dreamland he could forget all of it, until he was really not able to sleep anymore.

He pushes himself up from his bed and stumbles into the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror. He looks like shit, even worse than a hangover, purple bags hanging from his eyes and hair sticking in all directions. He sighs, turning to walk from the bathroom, cursing as he nearly trips over something on the ground- but the word died halfway in his throat.

It’s that book. The Collection of Marquez’s Short Stories. He must have thrown it on the floor that night.

Ashton swallows, hesitant- he’s not that sure if he’s ready to face it, that memory, that typical boy- but his hand does it for him, already flipping through the pages.

The second work, what is the second work......

He sees the title.

Someone Messed up the Roses.

He takes in a breath.

Today’s Sunday, the rain’s stopped, and I want to pick some red and white roses to my grave...

His eyes is welling up, but he reads on, about the story of a boy’s ghost and his sister, a wish never coming true, a story of love and regret.

There’s a note, written in Italic, at the corner of the page, end of the story, black ink suggesting it’s freshly written.

You have given me the happiest moments my whole life and beyond life, Ash. It might be like a cheesy novel, but I love you and I’m sorry.

Luke Hemmings

He’s crying before he knows it.

“Fuck, Luke.”

-

The scenery outside the window’s changing, fading from concrete jungle to fields and woods. On the end of the road, a hill’s approaching.

He’s sitting in the bus, hand clutching at Marquez’s Collection and a piece of paper- a piece of paper Mrs. Hemmings gave him, showing a route to the place he wants to go.

The vehicle stops and Ashton stands, hopping off the bus, going for the iron door just beside the muddy road.

He pushes it open, the rust on it sticking on his hands, the scent of soil coming up to greet him. As he keeps walking stones appears- delicately carved, yet lifeless.

An oak. That’s what she told him- an oak beside him.

He lifts his head, looking around, and found it- an oak, already tall, rising from the soil, pointing straight to the pale-gray sky.

Uncertainty and fear echoes in the back of his mind, trying to stop him, as he just goes on.

He’s already experienced lost once. He doesn’t want to lose it again.

He stops in front of the oak, hesitates before sitting down, cross- legged.

“I don’t know what to say, Luke.”

He stops, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“A part of me is telling me to forget all this, deny it, wave it off as a dream. It’s all just a fantasy, something I pictured, and I’m supposed to, I should...”

“But, Luke, every minute spent with you is so real.”

“They would say I’m crazy, everyone will; I mean, who would believe a person falling in love with someone already gone- and supposed to be in the state of nonexistence? But... you’re like someone I finally found, a person in this world who could understand me... Who I’ve searched for my whole life.”

He sniffs, blinking away the tears welling up, “You know, during my years alone I’ve learned about not to expect, not to hope; but you... you bring the difference, like a light suddenly cracking in. I mean... if you’re there, if you’re really there... please, just please, give me something to hope, to wish for, and don’t just go away like that.”

“Because I’m so lonely,” He finally let it slip, “So lonely, Luke.”

A soft wind picks up, leaves rustling, like an answer. But as he listens on everything just stays silent, like they’ve always been forever. No silhouette, no soft voice belonging to a boy.

The sky’s getting dark, so he just pushes himself up and leaves.

-

He continues with the life. Attending classes, finishing homework, finally deciding his research orientation. His professor says something about “A big step” and “I know you can do it”, which he just brushes it all off, not truly listen.

He continues to go to the library- but not sitting in that very table anymore, and just stays there for less then an hour each day. He’s read Someone Messed Up the Roses again and again, like all of the other works have suddenly lost their attraction to him.

The pages are all dog-eared and worn out, but he just goes on with it, flipping the pages, ready to read the short story for like the twentieth time.

“I wouldn’t treat a book like that, you know.”

He jumps from his seat, eyes widening, turning around.

Someone turns up from behind the bookshelf.

Messy curls, sea- blue eyes, the lips curling up in a slight smile.

It’s like a dream. He’s in a dream.

Like he can read Ashton’s mind, the blonde walks straight up to him and extends his arms, wrapping him into an embrace.

He feels warmth.

Still no feelings of being touched, the figure still semitransparent, but warmth.

“It’s real. Don’t doubt it.” Luke’s voice is soft, reassuring, barely above a whisper.

Just like he remembers.

The warmth doesn’t fade, like when he’s standing under the afternoon sun, closing his eyes, feeling the hope coming up.

He finally believes it- tears are sliding down his face before he knows it.

“Luke."

[artificialqueens]

But I'm A Cheerleader! - Chapter 10 (Aja x Farrah) - Millie

The extra practice with Farrah had really paid off. The next day, Aja found herself performing with more ease and Cynthia barked at her less, plus she could actually remember the words. Even though she was annoyed at the game being cancelled yesterday, the practice kind of made up for it, and it didn’t drag on as much as it did last week.

Sasha and Shea couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, even if their lives depended on it; they really weren’t helping their case on keeping their relationship hidden. Something about seeing each other in a short skirt and tight t-shirt made them incapable of tearing their gazes away. If Cynthia caught them in their distracted state, she’d call them out and practically reveal the unknown.

“Again, guys!” Cynthia demanded. Of course, the cheerleaders followed her command and performed their unfinished routine for the last time, thoroughly tired out. They didn’t have much so far, but it certainly was impressive. If they were lucky, they’d continue on to the second round.

At the very end of the routine, there was an unexpected knock on the door of the sports hall. All the girls turned to face it as Miss RuPaul walked in with Miss Visage and Mr. Mathews, her lips in the straight line and her eyes boring holes into each one of them. The sound of her high heels echoed in the otherwise silent hall.

“Your routine looks fabulous so far,” she began, “but I regret to inform you that there is a limit on how many are allowed on a team.” No one dared speak, so she decided to continue. “The largest amount of people West Hollywood will accept is twelve. Trust me, I did try to push it to fourteen, but the organisers wouldn’t allow it.”

“We strongly suggest that you decide this amongst yourselves,” Miss Visage added. She had that serious glint in her eyes. “Or else we’ll be picking for you.”

Aja felt her blood run cold. She wouldn’t dare let these tryouts dictate whether she was good enough for the team or not, not after she’d worked so hard on this all through high school. She certainly wasn’t going to volunteer herself to leave, but it wasn’t in her best interest to make enemies and say who should.

The three teachers exited the room in silence, leaving everyone else in a state of shock. They all turned to face one another, and for once, they all felt like they were actually a team.

“So, how are we gonna go about this?” Trinity spoke up, crossing her arms and walking closer to the middle.

“We should cast a vote, or something,” Eureka suggested. “That way, we know who everyone thinks should stay or go.”

“That could come off as shady, y'know,” Sasha countered. “Mr. Mathews is in the best position to choose for us.”

“I think Cynthia is,” Valentina said. “She’s been here the longest.” Valentina was correct; Cynthia had been held back a year and she’d been on the team since she was a freshman, so she undoubtably had the most experience. Mr. Mathews wasn’t a cheerleader and therefore couldn’t decide for them. The group turned to face Cynthia, who’s face was now stiff and nervous, and looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“I guess I could…” she said hesitantly. “To make it fair, one Glamazon leaves and so does one Bomber.”

“Or all the Glamazons leave,” Kimora muttered under her breath, her voice only audible to those standing close to her.

“I’ll write a list with who I think should stay, and it’ll be up by tomorrow,” Cynthia informed them. “We can’t afford to lose any time. Let’s just go home, and I can decide quicker.”

The others nodded and they all left the room to get changed, no one saying a word. Everyone had their speculations and opinions about who wouldn’t be joining them, but there would be no changing Cynthia’s mind, and they weren’t going to question her power. Until tomorrow, their fate rested in her hands.

“Who do you think is leaving from our team?” Sasha asked Aja quietly as they got changed.

Aja looked over her shoulder and eyed up her team members, guilt setting in at the judgements she was making.

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she put simply. “You?”

“I don’t know, either,” she said. “I have a few hunches, but I really don’t want to be right.”

Aja pulled her sweater on and swung her bag over her shoulder, already changed from her sweaty uniform. “I’ll meet you outside, yeah?” she asked. Sasha nodded, so she opened the back door of the changing rooms that led to the side of the school.

She stared out across the playing field, her thoughts consumed by nothing and everything at the same time. She had no distinct thought apart from the constant repetition of her headteacher’s words, nervous anger beginning to set in. The Glamazons were such a tight-knit group of friends, and she wasn’t trusting a Bomber to handle their group. Of course Cynthia knew what she was doing, but this was sure to start another feud within the teams. It was like Miss RuPaul was just hungry for some drama.

The changing room door squeaked open behind her, and walking hesitantly outside was Farrah, a small smile on her face.

“I thought I spotted you sneak out here,” she said quietly.

“You seriously went across No Man’s Land and through all the Glamazons just to speak to me?” Aja gushed. In all honesty, she was quite flattered.

Farrah chuckled. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over and practise with me?” she asked, clasping her hands together. “I know it won’t change Cynthia’s decision, but… yeah. Sorry, it’s a stupid idea-”

“That’d be great,” Aja cut her off, smiling, “but I’m sort of supposed to be walking home with Sasha in a minute.”

Farrah looked down at her hands. “I was kind of hoping you’d walk with me.” She looked back up with that expression that Aja just couldn’t say no to. She even tilted her head to the side like a lost puppy.

“Sorry, Sasha and I always walk together,” Aja replied. “I’ll be at your house as soon as I can.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there. I’ll text you my address,” she said, pouting. She walked away towards the school gates, her ponytail bouncing on her shoulders.

Sasha emerged from the changing rooms a few seconds later. “You ready to go?” she asked.

-

“Have you seen videos of past competitors?” Farrah asked when Aja arrived. It was a strange feeling coming to her house for the first time and even being in her room. Her walls were pastel pink - a cheerful change to her bland white ones - and the bed was decorated with fairy lights. In all honesty, it looked like the bedroom of a 12-year-old, but it was oddly endearing. She had a couple of posters of Farrah Fawcett placed above her bed, too.

“Err, nope,” Aja replied. “I didn’t really think of that.”

“Holy shit, they’re good.” She dumped herself down onto her bed and grabbed her phone. “Come sit here and watch.”

Aja squeezed up next to her on the single bed, as Farrah had neglected to leave enough room for her. She moved her head closer to hers to see the tiny screen.

Farrah was right. These cheerleaders didn’t even look human with their expertly positioned legs and great timings, their bodies in perfect form and a terminally happy expression plastered on their faces. Their routines were full of lifts and spins, and even some tricks that only the most experienced could master. If this was what they’d be up against, they stood no chance.

“Crazy, right?” Farrah questioned, turning towards Aja and ending up a little too close to her face.

“We can’t learn something like that by the summer,” Aja said. Farrah’s anxious breath tickled her cheek.

“We can try. Let’s have a go at some of them.” She projected herself off of the bed and Aja followed.

“So, what are we starting with?” Aja asked.

“Ooh, let’s try flips-”

“No, no, nope. We’re leaving that to Shea,” she said. “And maybe Valentina.”

“What about some lifts or something?” Farrah suggested.

“Don’t we need, like, four people for that?”

“We could just do some simple ones.” She walked behind Aja and placed her hands on her waist with a firm grip. “Jump on three; one, two, three.” Aja sprung up and Farrah lifted her up high, spinning her round 180 degrees and then landing. “Simple enough for you?”

Aja did feel a little adrenaline being up as high as she was and a little spark where Farrah’s hands were, but that was probably due to their coldness. Otherwise, it was way too basic compared to the other tricks they’d seen in the video.

“We need something more than that,” she said. “Something that actually takes effort.”

“Hey!” Farrah scowled and crossed her arms. “That took effort.”

Aja raised her eyebrows at her.

“Oh, you want to see effort?” Farrah questioned, raising her eyebrows too. “What do you count as effort?”

“I don’t know, something like that lift from Dirty Dancing. You know how hard that is?”

“So, let’s do it.”

Aja couldn’t tell whether Farrah was joking or not. “Are you serious?” she asked.

Farrah nodded. “Catch me.” She stepped backwards and then ran at Aja, who outstretched her hands and grabbed her by the waist, straightening her arms and moving them upwards. Farrah stayed perfectly in the air for maybe a second or so before Aja couldn’t bear the petite girl resting in her hands, and her elbows buckled. Farrah fell onto Aja and they landed on the floor in a giggling mess.

“Maybe simple is better…” Aja admitted.

Farrah felt the rise and fall of Aja’s chest as she laughed. “We’ll work on it,” she chuckled.