#and replying or leaving a lot of tags on some strangers posts can be. weird

[the2ndsanctuary]

"oooo tumblr is made for communication twitter is just a cesspool of trash and bad opinions" i made more connections on twitter in tf community than i do on tumblr To This Day cuz saying things to people is much easier and very much expected when tumblr has completely different etiquette you losers keep spouting about every other month. i know my experience isnt universal but it really always comes down to navigating your spaces but with tumblr while its easier to navigate them i do find it harder to connect with people in this community.

[pansy-picnics]

Want to go more in depth into my ulla/library fight interpretations without adding like 6 paragraphs onto the reblogs/replies of my last post GAHAHAHAA so um. Faq/some explanations here….

1. Varian stopping himself from calling her “mom”/“if i really am your mother”

i VERY briefly mentioned this in the tags, but basically, in my head, the main reason ulla possessed varian is because she wholeheartedly saw him as a complete stranger. I wanted her to be really malicious and manipulative here— But i want to vaguely reiterate the fact that i truly don’t think ulla would treat him this way had she known he was her son. She’s batshit crazy, being in complete isolation for 18 years in a completely separate reality where time barely exists and even 18 years have felt like thousands— she’s so desperate to leave she’s completely willing to take advantage of everyone else- but her own kid? her baby?

Varian was one of the main reasons she even WANTED to leave- she always loved him. I think she had a lot of complex things going on and idk that she was ready to be a mother when she had him, but she truly loved him and wanted to come back to him….but she Does Not Recognize him at all because. Well shes basically lost all sense of time and reality, she can’t possibly bear the thought that time had moved on without her in any way. She doesn’t really remember who she is or what she looks like, so she cant recognize him by looks either. NOT TO MENTION var is trans in my head, so basically its like a triple whammy because ulla is 100% sure she has a daughter who is at most a year old and she wants to get back to her and her family. and suddenly this random teenage boy is coming in like Hey so I’m your son. I’D TWEAK OUT TOO LIKE WHO ARE YOUUUU.

So yeah. Varian does not call her mom, although he really really wants to. It just feels too weird to do so when shes completely unfazed by it- it’s like calling out to someone you used to know and them not even recognizing you. It hurts, but you just have to push it aside cuz…rlly what else can you do?

2. Is she a villain

I rlly rlly did want to frame her as a villain here and she DEFINITELY IS ONE but i see her as a very sympathetic one. I like keeping up w the tts theme of most everyone being redeemable or sympathetic in some way,,, And i must admit i have one of my friends to thank for getting me as attached to ulla and don as i am— So i have a lotttt of thoughts abt them and all their doomed yuri. Ultimately ulla was never truly evil to me and i don’t think she means any ill intent towards varian. i think she does eventually recognize him, too— but it’s not actually until she sees donella.

I mean think abt it- babies only have so many defining features. I can guarantee you if i showed you a picture of an adult who you’re only vaguely seen as a baby once like 18 yrs ago you wouldn’t be able to recognize them as the same person. But donnie? of course she remembers her, just as clearly as she remembers her baby— the one difference is that donella has the same face ultimately, so ofc ulla recognizes her immediately. but shes…different. older, grayer, wrinkled and Changed. The same face, but clearly different. it rlly makes her realize just how long it’s been, that varian really is that same baby she left behind— and it all hits her like a truck

i think when it actually hits her ulla truly is terrified of the person she’s become. theres so much she wants to say to varian, to don, to everyone— So many questions she wants to ask, but she can’t bring herself to say much of any of it. But she finally just has to accept that,,, time has moved on— but she hasn’t been forgotten. i think thats something she always feared— being forgotten and leaving nothing behind. And,,, I think that’s one of varian’s biggest fears, too. Obviously shes still Not fully there in the head and shes kinda just had a complete swing from a manic state to a breakdown. And yeah she’s definitely not gonna be let off the hook for the fact that she was still willing to manipulate and possess even a complete stranger just to get out. But she and varian do have a heart to heart, she gets some closure with don….and they all do understand where shes coming from.

3. What about varian? does he just forgive her for the whole possession thing?

Absolutely Not. in fact i think it fucks w him so so bad. i think since he was a very young child, varian’s always built up this Idea of ulla in his head— this perfect maternal figure he never had growing up. He was even more excited to hear abt their shared interests, and he really really hoped that finding the library, finishing her work, etc, would give him some kind of catharsis and closure…perhaps, ideally even finding her again, wherever she was. But..that didn’t happen. He found her, of course, but she wasn’t that mother he had always wanted or needed. She had completely lost herself, didn’t even recognize him— and she was downright hostile towards him. He has so many mixed feelings about it all— disappointment, rage, some kind of grief, for both that image of her he had in her head and the potential that he never got to see. but i do think, with both his uncle and don + quirin he eventually learns more abt the person she was before— how similar they were, how much he could relate to her, how she truly was just,, human.

In fact, i think pre-library ulla was a lot like rapunzel— always a free spirit, always searching and yearning for something more. not completely ready to settle down, but she tried to anyways. Tried to go on one last trip before she finally settled,, and then everything went wrong, and she ended up hurting the people she loved most. I think w how close varian is to rapunzel, how much he understands her— that resonates w him a LOT.

All in all, i think as he matures, varian is eventually able to come to terms with it for what it is. No, she wasn’t the mother he wanted or needed— and she did things he could never, and never will, forgive her for. but he still empathizes with her and hopes that, in another life, she could’ve finally been free, and happy.

4. The rest of team radical being at the library fight

already mentioned in a reblog but ill put it here for consistency’s sake

Yeah. I think honestly the possession fight would hit sm harder if it was hugo, nuru and yong all there trying to snap him out of it. Yeah hugo can give him the whole confession spiel but nuru and yong are like,, his younger siblings. he’s impacted them in so many ways and they deserve to be there!!! Them trying to talk him out of it would go SO HARD and it would be SO EMOTIONAL 😭 I do think hugo was ullas main target, i think yong and nuru come in a little later bc they’re still dealing w donellas lackeys outside but they obviously aren’t just gonna leave var and hugo there!!!!!

5. Can you write a fic/make the show

I fucking wish

Srsly tho i would absolutely LOVE to write a fic about my interpretation of vat7k (although i can hardly call it enough to make a fic, i rlly just have Very passionate ideas of like everyones dynamics and character arcs). My writing skills are decent but unfortunately im not to the point w writing as a hobby where it comes as naturally to me as drawing does, so it takes me a lot of extra effort to go out of my way to write. Can barely finish oneshots atp (Sorry to the children of the moon fans its been a fucking year. i promise have a draft for the next chapter i’ve been touching like. Once a week)

My writer friends are like holding me at gunpoint to practice more though so maybe ill be able to write some oneshots abt them one day,,,,,,,,,

[lycheeflavr]

New Beginnings

tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk, definitely slow burn chapter summary: Okay, you can't stop thinking about the Diaz brothers and seriously need to figure out a way to go visit them again. Business Plans and Tamales might just be the way to find your way into their hearts.

Chapter Two

After the initial car repair, you drive away from Diaz’s Garage feeling a sense of relief and gratitude. Sean’s kindness and skills had left a positive impression, and Daniel’s lively chatter had brought a smile to your face. It’s not like you have a bunch of friends here anyway, but it’s hard getting to know people when you can’t communicate properly. You couldn’t help but think about them as you settled back into your daily routine in Puerto Lobos.

A few days later, as you are on your way to the grocery store in desperate need to restock your fridge you notice a slight rattle in your car—nothing serious, but definitely enough to remind you of the Diaz brothers. Would it be weird to swing by again? After all, Sean told you to come by if there would be another problem or if you needed anything else. For a moment you are thinking hard… It’s not weird. Especially not if your car has already broken down before and you really cannot risk losing this car. Puerto Lobos is not a big city, but most definitely not small enough that you could just walk everywhere if you have to run some errands. You quickly decided that the grocery store could wait, after all, you can’t reach the store if your car breaks down right? 

Pulling up to the garage, you see Sean working on another car, his focus and dedication evident in his every movement. Daniel is nearby, organizing tools and humming a tune. “Hey, good to see you again,” Sean greets you with a warm smile as you step out of your car. “Everything alright?”

“Mostly,” you reply. “I noticed a slight rattle and thought I’d get it checked out, just in case.” You are convinced that Sean must think that you are some kind of hypochondria… The voices in your head are fighting, because the next second you think, or maybe I am just a woman in a foreign country, who can’t properly communicate with anyone and just wants a well-working car. That is understandable, right? 

Sean nods, wiping his hands on a rag. “Let’s take a look.” All your worries disappear at once, he doesn’t seem to be annoyed with you at all, instead, he gives you a small smile that shows that he definitely appreciates you coming here and seeking out his help. 

As Sean examines your car, you find yourself chatting with Daniel, who is eager to share the latest happenings at school. It’s crazy to you how this boy is not even close to being shy like he barely knows you but that doesn’t keep him from telling you all about his day at school. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you realize you genuinely enjoy these interactions. The Diaz brothers have a way of making you feel welcome, and their garage feels more like a community hub than a place of business.

Once Sean finishes the inspection, he reassures you that the rattle is nothing serious—just a loose bolt that he quickly tightens. “You’re good to go,” he says, handing you the keys. “But if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to stop by.” There were these words again. If you ever need anything you should just stop by. And then what? Even though these two are making you feel very much welcome here and it feels so good to talk to them and not have to worry about if they can even understand you, but you can’t just come by and be like ‘Oh yeah I was just severely bored and thought hanging out with you two strangers would be totally cool.’ No, because that would actually be very weird. 

You thank him, but instead of leaving immediately, you linger for a moment. There’s something about the garage that feels inviting, almost like you’re drawn to return.

Over the next few days, you find yourself thinking about the Diaz brothers more often. You remember Sean’s calm demeanor and Daniel’s infectious energy, and how they made you feel like you belonged. The next Saturday, you decide to bring over some homemade tamales—a small gesture of gratitude and an excuse to visit the garage again. You worked on these tamales for hours, actually days because you already attempted to make them yesterday and they tasted like absolute garbage and since you were so kind as to not give the two food poisoning you decided to try again today. This time they actually turned out pretty good, your best set of tamales you have made so far. You just hope they like it as well. 

As you approach Diaz’s Garage with the container of tamales, Sean looks up from his work and smiles. “Hey, you’re back! And you brought food?” Yes, you’re back again. You just really couldn’t help yourself and well the food was really just an excuse to come over without any car trouble. 

“Just a little something to say thanks,” you reply, holding up the container. “I hope you like tamales.”

Sean’s eyes light up, and he calls out to Daniel. “Hey, Daniel! Come over here. Our friend brought us some tamales.” You can’t help but smile as he calls you ‘their friend’. As sad as it sounds but you haven’t had a real friend since you decided to move here and this encounter just made you so fucking happy. Daniel jogs over, a wide grin on his face. “Awesome! I love tamales.”

You all sit down on a bench outside the garage, sharing the meal and enjoying the pleasant afternoon. Daniel takes a big bite of a tamale and sighs contentedly. “These are amazing! Where did you learn to make them?” You smile, pleased by his enthusiasm. “Oh, When I moved here my Neighbors welcomed me with these. They were so good so the next day I had to go over and use my poor Spanish skills to ask the family how they made them and I’ve been perfecting the recipe ever since.”

Sean nods appreciatively. “Well, you’ve definitely perfected it. These are some of the best tamales I’ve ever had.” You smile proudly at the praise and continue taking small bites. This was a good idea you thought to yourself as you watched Daniel shoving tamale after tamale into his mouth. As you all eat, the conversation flows easily. You start by talking about the town and how you’ve been settling in.

“I’ve been really loving Puerto Lobos,” you say. “It’s so peaceful here, and the people are all so different back to where I am from. It’s almost as if they are living a completely different life here. How long have you two been here?” Sean glances at Daniel before answering. “We’ve been here for a couple of years now. We needed a fresh start, and our dad used to own this place.” Their reasoning for coming here sounded a tad sad and you decided not to ask about their dad. 

Daniel chimes in, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, it’s been great. I’ve made some good friends at school, and the beach is awesome. Also, my Spanish has improved so much! Mr. Perez says I sound like a real native.”

You nod, encouraged by their openness. “I can see why you chose it. It’s a beautiful place to start over, but I wish school would have taught me better Spanish, else I wouldn’t be so lost here.”

Sean’s expression becomes more thoughtful. “It wasn’t easy at first, but we’ve found our rhythm. The garage has been a big part of that. It gives us stability. I do have to admit though without me speaking the language relatively well, I don’t think we would have survived that long.”

You can sense there’s more to their story, but you don’t press. Instead, you share a bit more about your own journey. “I moved here to escape some things back home. It was a tough decision, but I needed a change. I always wanted to visit Puerto Lobos. It seemed like the perfect place to find some peace so I decided why not move here for good? It is so different from Washington, but it’s a good difference.”

Daniel listens intently. “What did you do back home?”

“I worked in management for our family business,” you explain. “But it got too stressful. I needed a break from the fast pace of city life.” and from your family, but you didn’t say that out loud. Your family has been one of a kind and you just did not fit into their picture. Once you were a fully grown adult things seemed to change between you and your parents and they treated you more and more like a worker instead of a real family member. 

Sean nods in understanding. “I can relate. Puerto Lobos slows things down and running the garage keeps me busy but in a good way. Of course, sometimes it is hard work, but it’s nothing compared to working back in Seattle.” You nod understanding. This city is different, different from everything you ever experienced. Also since you decided that it is time for you to work full-time on your own as a writer, Puerto Lobos has been giving you more ideas and motivation than you had in years. Your family disapproves of your love for writing and always told you how you would end up on the street because ‘No one is going to read those silly little stories of yours.’ But they are wrong. You wished you could have stayed to prove them wrong, but that wouldn’t have been worth the drama and exhaustion. 

The conversation shifts to lighter topics, and Daniel starts talking about a project he’s working on for school. “I’m building a model of an engine. Sean’s been helping me with the technical stuff.”

“That sounds amazing,” you say. “I’d love to see it when you’re done.”

Daniel beams with pride. “You can help too if you want. It’s always more fun with more people.” You really are not an expert in that field, but how hard can it be to help that boy with his school project? “I’d love to help, but be warned I think there is a good reason why my engine sounds like crap. Though… maybe I can learn some things as well and in zero time I will be able to fix my car on my own.” Sean laughed at your words, shaking his head. Suddenly there comes an idea to your mind. 

“Actually since you guys already helped me out so much, how about I help you out as well sometimes? You know, I could assist with some of the business aspects.” You offer and Sean seems to be thinking about your offer for a second. “Honestly that wouldn’t be too bad, it would help us a lot since usually Daniel helps me keep track of that stuff, though neither of us is expertise in that field and my little brother could focus more on school stuff.” Daniel sighs and almost looks like he is pouting. “I’d rather work my ass off in the garage all day instead of doing homework.” Sean chuckles lightly and pads his brother on his chest. “Yeah well little bro, you can work plenty in the shop once you’re done with school. And we have been on the lookout for help for quite some while now, the shop is getting busier every day and it gets harder doing all of that on our own. I have been focusing on the mechanical side of things way too much, I could definitely use some help with the business side of things.” “Okay, then it is set. If you want to, I can prepare some stuff at home and come back tomorrow so we can go over it together.” Of course that would be way more work for you and maybe you also have to slow down the writing, but honestly, you are allowed to do that and a second job is not doing you any harm. 

The afternoon slips away as you share some more stories and laughter. Sean and Daniel’s openness makes you feel like you’ve found kindred spirits. As the sun starts to set, you realize that you’ve not only enjoyed the food and conversation but also the genuine connection with the Diaz brothers. authors note: Okay, so this was Chapter 2 of New Beginnings! I hope you guys enjoyed it :) Btw. The first few chapters are probably going to be a bit shorter to set the story right! But since I want this to be pretty slow-burn, it's necessary I hope you can forgive me hihi

[machtaholic]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @cinematicnomad

How many works do you have on ao3? Erm … 241

What's your total ao3 word count? 1,072,985

What fandoms do you write for? At the moment? Stranger Things, previously The Witcher, The Magicians, Teen Wolf, Suits and some smaller fandoms as well

Top five fics by kudos

Rule 520.4 (Suits, Mike x Harvey)

Spontaneity's Reward (Suits, Mike x Harvey)

Ink (Suits, Mike x Harvey)

Speaking of Happiness (Suits, Mike x Harvey)

High Speed (Suits, Mike x Harvey)

Do you respond to comments? I do now, I didn't really before. And now I'd fee weird going back to all those comments I didn't reply to.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Whittemore!, because it was Jackson with no happy ending working at Wolfram and Hart in the Angel universe … it was short but not happy.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Oh all of the others except that one. I am a big fan of happy endings.

Do you get hate on fics? At one point I did. I multi-ship in the Teen Wolf fandom and had someone come onto my fic and leave epic amounts of hate. When I locked down my fics, they found me here on tumblr and started sending me anon hate here. But it didn't really make an impact. I'm too old and jaded for that bullshit lol

Do you write smut? Yep! Will happily write smut

Craziest crossover Teen Wolf and The Santa Clause

Have you ever had a fic stolen? To an extent, yes. I have a fic 'A King for Mike's Queen' where Mike goes out in drag and someone found a fic VERY similar to mine out on AO3 … I believe they even took the name I gave Mike and used it too

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah, I think I've had a couple translated to Russian before.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I have, on a couple of occasions.

All time favourite ship? To write or to read? Either way, I can't pick just one, so I'm just pass.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have one from the Criminal Minds fandom that I wish I could finish, but … I don't think I will. I still think about it, though. :)

What are your writing strengths? I think I'm really good at building a scene, building a world.

What are your writing weaknesses? There are words or phrases that I tend to overuse - and I repeat myself sometimes. And I like the elipsis a lot lol

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I'm not totally against it, altbough scrolling between the noteswhere the translation might be and the fic could be daunting. If there's context, sure. But I'm also just fine with 'he said in [language]' in lieu of dialogue in another langauge.

First fandom you wrote in? Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. I wrote so much in that and posted it to sites that no longer exist LOL Thankfully, because they were horrid.

Favorite fic you've written? Favorite?? I don't know that I could pick one - I have a few that I can think of that have a really special place in my heart but they're all my faves because they all helped me grow as an author. Cheesy answer, but there you go LOL

tagging!! Anyone who wants to do this.

[erigold13261]

hiiiii eri!! ✌️ hope youre having a good day/night with your pals and also sorry you gotta deal with weird ass anons, but dont let em get to you when youre just minding your business!

(also also no pressure to reply to this, just wanted to drop by! youre also pretty cool in my book and all the nice tags you leave in all the stuff you reblog are super lovely!!)

Omg, I saw the little T with a ? in my notification (meaning I got an ask) and thought it was either the hater anon or the persona wanting my Failed Revolution to be worse than it is, so seeing it was you was so nice.

And even more nice was what you said. Like, I live by the motto of spreading kindness, which is why I respect people with different headcanons or ideas from me. And also why I always try to say something nice in the tags of stuff I reblog (I should get into the habit of commenting too honestly lol).

Anyway, don't worry about that anon. One of these days I will screenshot and post all that they have said (with some funny commentary or analysis lol) but for now, them sending me hate actually fuels me lol.

The fact I am getting hate, at least to me, means that I made it as an artists. I am in someone else's mind and bothering them with just existing, which is so funny and nice to me lol. So they can keep trying to give me "advice" or whatever they see their asks as, but I will just see it as a win in my book (and a way to make my irl friend happy as they love making fun of people like that lol).

But you are right I shouldn't let this get to me. I do my best to be respectful. Even with asks I don't personally agree with, I try my best to validate that headcanon as best as possible. So like, that anon has some things to learn about respect or learning how to curate their own online experience.

Anyway, I am doing actually really good right now. I hope you are too! Thank you so much for your response! I won't lie, I was hoping for a little bit of validation with my posts before, but wasn't actually expecting any. Thank you again, you took time out of your day to send me a nice message and it makes the world for me. Even if that anon is being rude and disrespectful (even if they don't see it as such) they took time to keep me in their mind which makes me happy.

So you and that anon mean the world to me (you more because you are nice lol). So thanks. I do my best to make a welcoming environment. I know some people will see that as "woke" or stupid or whatever, but that just means it's not for them and they should look for their own space.

Anyway, I am tipsy/drunk and just want to say I appreciate anyone who sent in a nice comment or ask. Or had liked my stuff. Any interaction is a positive in my book honestly, as that means I meant something in someone's life (whether good or bad lol).

So yeah, I am doing good and hope you are too. This is way too rambly for such a small ask, but honestly I wanted to get this out. Thank you to you, and anyone really, who even just liked my stuff (reblogging, or reblogging with tags is also a love from me). It truly means a lot for people to take time out of their day for me, a stranger on the internet. Thank you so much!

[damazcuz]

One more question(for now) why do people on tumblr use tags to talk #like this #about whatever they think of the post, instead of just commenting on the reblog😭 Is there an etiquette I'm missing?

short answer: yes.

long answer, there is an etiquette to it, and I think it's a longstanding thing that just ended up ingrained in a lot of users, which comes off as cold/shy/outlandish or maybe even standoffish to people from other sites and apps. there's no be-all end-all of how to act online or on here but i think in terms of most* people (*speaking broadly, making this up) who've used tumblr for a while it feels like this:

tumblr is a theater, the dashboard is a stage, each post is a performance. (a joke, a dramatic act, a story, a movie, a picture, etc.) you have a variety of ways to interact with the performance, but some of them are going to be more frowned upon--based purely on how the long standing visitors of the theater are used to acting, honestly.

likes are a polite applause, but they don't show anyone outside of the theater that you enjoyed yourself, or what you enjoyed. the performer appreciates the applause but does not garner any new viewers when you only like a post, btw.

silent reblogs mean you exit the theater with merch or a leaflet and go show it to other people. look what i saw on the stage, don't you want to see it too. this shows the performance to a new variety of viewers, who might then also show it to others.

replies and reblogs with content are often seen as """"rude"""" because they're like standing up at the end of the performance and loudly saying "that was okay but I think MY take on things makes it just a BIT better." people are more forgiving of this when it's something universally true or acceptable, or when it's very funny. if it's not (and even if it is, sometimes,) there'll potentially be a reblog down the line making fun of it (and this is another person in the theater standing up and making a fart noise, regardless of how tasteless or rude.) it's never actually "wrong" to add comments on a reblog unless you're being intentionally hurtful, and it's normal to add commentary to a friend's post, but even then, people seeing this from the outside may see that as obnoxious and impolite and try to call you on it anyway. (people are very weird about enforcing what they see as a universal rule of etiquette, when this is admittedly the only site where you'll be punished for adding to the discussion.)

and again, this is an absolutely arbitrary rule because what one person finds universally true and hilarious, another will find trite and stupid and too niche. the polite thing to do in the case of the latter is just reblog from further up the chain than the commenter, but people aren't always nice when they're annoyed.

getting to your actual question now, comments in the tags are a way to leave remarks that you DON'T want to shout to the whole theater. these are you whispering to yourself or your friend, or writing in a guestbook on the way out. people can see/hear it if they go looking for it, but you're not shouting over the performance to get your piece out. it's polite because it's unobstructive and doesn't take up space, and if your tags don't make sense to someone else or seem too niche, they don't have to share the post with your commentary attached.

adjacent to this, "peer review" or screenshotting someone's tags to insert them in the post is like if you did whisper to your friend, then your friend wrote your comments on a whiteboard and held it up for others to see. as this is a form of commentary within the reblog, it's again subject to an arbitrary universal/niche rule. just because a tag gets peer reviewed doesn't mean it's beyond reproach by strangers.

also in line with this general line of thought experiment, blazing a post means that between acts, you run up on the stage and start shouting your piece. it is, once again, going to be more acceptable to strangers to see you do this if it's something universally funny, true, or cute. this is why niche fandom posts, vent posts, and self promotions get ignored or booed down, while pet birthday photos and silly jokes get blazed and get a lot of notes regardless.

lastly, a kungpowpenis is when twelve+ individuals from the audience get up and beat the shit out of the person performing on stage and leave their corpse on display in the town square.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[rich-and-bitchy-is-my-type]

In Spite Of Me (let’s drive)

Chapter II

Part one Part Three

Tags: post-canon, semi slow burn, potential NSFW in later chapters.

Poppy doesn’t know what possessed her to agree to go with Bee’s crazy idea, but she must face the consequences of her decision now. These include a car with ridiculously tacky bumper stickers, gas station bought candy and dealing with Bee’s poor driving skills and overall lack of common sense. Maybe it will be okay, if she somehow manages to make it out alive (and without having murdered Bee Hughes in the process.)

Sooo here it is! I started writing part 2 of In Spite of Me and I decided it will be a multi chapter series. I don’t know how many chapters I have planned yet, but probably around 5-8. They’ll be shorter than part one, but I hope they’re good enough to make it up. I literally wrote this in less than a day so please forgive any typos you might see! Also, english isn’t my first language so if you notice any grammatical mistakes please let me know and I’ll fix it right away. Lastly, please tell me if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

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

The next morning is the last morning Poppy wakes up in her Zeta room before moving out. It feels strangely bittersweet, the room is pretty much empty now and the house is quiet, but she still feels like she’s not entirely ready to let it go.

She has made so many memories in these four walls. Most of them were… not that great, if she’s being honest. She remembers angry-crying herself to sleep after losing the Person to Watch award, or after being the human sacrifice at the Bacchanalia that Bee hosted (a part of her knows that she deserved that one. And maybe all of them, really.) A lot of her recent memories involve, well, her failures. There are bits of it everywhere around the room.

But not all of them were bad. Chloe and her used to have a lot of sleepovers together in this room, back when their relationship wasn’t so defined by the rankings or the votes. She taught Veronica some of her favorite makeup looks in front of her now emptied vanity.

There are bits of Bee everywhere around the room too.

If you had asked her about it a few weeks ago, she would’ve told you how much she wished she could erase those memories forever.

But now… she isn’t so sure anymore. She doesn’t despise the idea of Bee being a constant presence in her life that much anymore.

She gives her room one last glance before closing the door.

"Morning," Chloe tells when they bump into each other in the kitchen. "You’re leaving soon, right?"

"Yeah, I think Bee is supposed to pick me up in less than half an hour," she replies with a small smile.

That’s when she notices Veronica standing behind Chloe, looking at her phone.

"Can I just say how weird it is that you guys are going on a road trip together?" she says, not bothering to look up from her phone screen. "And now you’re calling her by her name instead of one of your nicknames. So. Weird."

Poppy knows that Veronica is right. In fact, she’s pretty sure that everyone else thinks that this (whatever it is that they’re doing) is weird. She can still see Zoey’s closed smile when Bee told her Poppy was going with her back to Farmsville, or Chloe’s vague “huh” when Poppy called her to tell her the news.

Hells, even Poppy herself thinks this is strange. It’s not like she actually thought it through.

"Well, yeah. It’s definitely weird," it’s all she says in reply.

Veronica puts down her phone and actually smiles at her. Smiles! Veronica! This day just keeps getting stranger.

"I think it will be good for you," she says as she stands up and grabs a box. "Well, my mom is here to pick me up. Kinda weird to be leaving this house after all this time, right?"

"I feel like I’m really going to miss this place," Chloe chimes in, looking around. "V, are you not staying for the goodbye party with all the girls?"

"Nah," Veronica shakes her head, eyes darting back to her phone. "Anyways, have fun in your trips. Keep me posted, I want all the updates."

She gives them each a quick hug (which is a lot more than Poppy had expected, to be honest) and leaves the room.

"So, uhm, I guess you’re not staying for the party either," Chloe looks at her.

"Bee should be here any minute now, so… not really."

"I see. Well, I hope you have fun. I mean it, Poppy."

"I know," she replies and meets her eyes. Chloe gives her a smile. "Thank you, Chlo."

Her phone buzzes and she notices that she has a new message from Farmsville Cornhusker. She should probably change her contact info to something nicer.

Farmsville Cornhusker: i’m outside 😜

She rolls her eyes and types a quick reply.

Poppy: are u a wannabe frat boy now? no decent person uses that emoji.

Farmsville Cornhusker: oh, because you’re such a beacon of human decency

Poppy fights off the urge to laugh. Who would’ve thought that one day she would be texting Bee Hughes without feeling the need to murder her?

Farmsville Cornhusker: are u coming or not? i don’t have all day

Farmsville Cornhusker: actually i do but i kinda wanna make it to the bed and breakfast on time

Poppy: fine, just let me say goodbye to chloe and I’ll meet u outside

Farmsville Cornhusker: tell her i said hi!

"Is that Bee?" Chloe asks her, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, she says hi. She’s outside, so I should get going."

"Yeah, go ahead. It’s kinda cute, though."

"What is?" Poppy raises an eyebrow.

"You two! You were smiling at your phone just now. I’ve never seen you do that before," Chloe sighs dreamily. Poppy purses her lips. "I wrote a Destiel fanfiction like that once. It was an enemies-to-lovers slowburn."

"I have no idea what any of those words mean," she frowns. Some time ago, she would’ve mocked Chloe for simply using the word fanfiction. She’s trying to be nicer now, so she won’t.

"Nevermind. Just… have fun, okay? Try to enjoy yourself," Chloe smiles sincerely at her. She can notice a hint of worry in her voice, and it tugs on Poppy’s heart a little. Chloe is a good friend, after all.

"I will. See you when I come back?" it’s a genuine question.

She wouldn’t blame Chloe if she didn’t want anything else to do with her. She hasn’t exactly been the greatest friend, to put it mildly. But then Chloe throws her arms around her and Poppy feels like maybe everything will be okay.

"Sure. See you when you get back."

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

"Finally!" Bee says when she steps out of the house. Poppy notices she’s holding up a bag. "I was starting to think that you stood me up."

"You’re so dramatic, Hughes. You’ve been waiting for less than ten minutes," she rolls her eyes and points at the bag. "What’s in there?"

Bee laughs and pulls several things out of the grocery bag, listing them off as she places them on Poppy’s arms.

"A large pack of Sour Patch Kids, an extra car charger, and a six pack of canned cold brew."

Poppy hums in approval. "I don’t think I’d survive more than two hours in a car with you without coffee."

"Oh, really? Because if I recall it correctly, last time we were in a car you seemed pretty comfortable with me," she laughs and Poppy blushes furiously.

"God, must you always say things that will cause me a migraine?"

"You walked right into that one, Pops," she barely dodges Poppy’s light punch. "Hey! No more violence, okay? Now let me help you with those bags. Your little bird arms won’t support all the weight."

"My bird arms?" Poppy rolls her eyes again, but there’s an air of playfulness between them. It’s refreshing. "Just because you’re freakishly tall and strong doesn’t mean I’m weak."

"I’m trying to be nice here, princess," Bee smiles and Poppy feels her heart beat slightly faster. "Now, hand them to me so we can get going!"

Bee quickly packs both of their bags in the car trunk and it isn’t long before the two of them are sitting in the car.

"I’m really glad you’re coming with me," Bee tells her before starting the car. Her tone is serious, maybe a little timid. Poppy isn’t used to seeing her like this. Bee is usually so playful and sure of herself, so this is different. Almost endearing. "I know… I know things are complicated. But I am glad that you’re here with me right now."

She knows that Bee wants to say more. She knows that both of them should have a serious conversation eventually, to see where they stand and what’s going to happen next. But this is enough for now.

“I know," it’s all she says.

She wants to tell her that she’s glad too, that she is excited but also scared and confused. There’s so much she wants to say but can’t find the right words to do it yet. But Bee smiles at her, a genuine and beautiful smile, and Poppy thinks that maybe she understood the meaning behind her words.

So it’s okay. For now.

"Well then, let’s go!"

"Yeah, let’s go," she whispers back as she pulls her seatbelt on.

"By the way," Bee says casually, turning to Poppy as she stops at the redlight just before the turnoff to leave the street where their university campus is, "don’t you think this is how the best rom-coms start, Pop?"

She winks to let Poppy know she’s joking, and it eases some of the tension.

Poppy lets out an accidental snort. "In your dreams, maybe."

Bee grins at her and turns the speakers on low to their playlist and places her coffee in the center console’s cup holder. She backs out, honking at a guy who tries to cut her off before she turns to Poppy. 

"Okay, we need to come up with our background and shit."

Poppy tilts her head to the side, squinting her eyes. "Huh?"

"You know," Bee starts, making a left towards the freeway. They have a few hours ahead of traveling before they can stop for the night. "We need to figure out what we’re gonna say to my family."

"You mean that you didn’t tell them we used to be mortal enemies and all?" Poppy asks sarcastically, pressing her forehead against the window.

"Used to? Aw, Pops, don’t tell me that we’re friends already!" she laughs.

"Shut up," Poppy fights the urge to laugh too. This situation is so bizarre, but is it ever not when Bee is involved? "what did you want to tell them?”

Bee clicks her tongue, taking a drink of her coffee as she tries to think. 

"Maybe we could tell them we’re dating," she says wholly unaffected, skipping a song.

"Right. And when did we start dating?" Poppy asks, unsure why the words make her pulse pick up speed. 

"Maybe at the Person to Watch gala?" Bee laughs.

"Mhmm. Did that happen before or after I kicked your ass at the fountain?" Poppy retorts.

Bee pretends to mull the possibility over, stepping on the gas again to continue driving. "After."

"Then that means that our anniversary is coming up," she teases.

What is happening? Is she seriously flirting with Bee right now? Openly flirting? Maybe she got a concussion.

Taking a moment to think, Bee bites her lip. She watches the cars pass her on her side, and she waves at a little boy in the backseat. He smiles wide at her, his front two teeth missing. It makes Poppy grin too, despite herself.

"Then we should go to the beach to celebrate. Maybe we could watch the fireworks," Bee starts, careful and measured with her words in a way she’s never been. Poppy doesn’t know why this moment feels like it carries so much weight. When did the teasing fade and the conversation turned so serious? "I could find us a cute hotel near some good restaurants with plenty of menu options. We could have a good time."

"Huh," Poppy says quietly, kicking herself for feeling her body flush involuntarily. 

Bee clears her throat and tries to ease the tension.

"I know. I’m the best fake girlfriend ever." She flips her hair, making Poppy smile.

"Says the girl who ruined my dress with sunscreen."

Bee laughs with reckless abandon, and Poppy can’t help but watch the way her curly brown hair blows in the wind and her dark eyes shine. 

"That’s just our love language, Pops."

Bee grins back at her. Neither of them have any idea what they’re about to get into. 

The next three days should be fun.

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

"I’m hungry," Poppy complains. "Let’s stop for lunch."

Bee fights a smile.

"We’ve only been driving for less than two hours," she reminds her. "Can’t you wait?"

"No," she sighs. "Spending so much time with you it’s starting to take its toll on me. I might die if I don’t eat soon."

"Oh, really? Is spending time with me that exhausting?" Bee laughs.

"Yes," Poppy answers plainly. "And trust me, Hughes, you don’t want to see me in a bad mood. And being hungry definitely sours my mood."

"Is that so? Are you telling me that the charming version of yourself I’ve gotten to know in the past two years was just you in a good mood?" as soon as the words leave her mouth, Poppy lightly punches her arm and Bee complains overdramatically. "Ow! Fine, fine. I hope another drive through is okay with you."

"Yeah, whatever. Just hurry up and pick a place."

"So demanding. I like it."

They end up at yet another McDermots drive-thru because Bee wants to stick to their schedule so they can check-in at the bed and breakfast she picked, lie down and buy snacks for their drive tomorrow. They’re glad to be the only ones in line, and then their order is ready, Bee hands the woman at the window her card before Poppy has time to say anything.

"Hughes, I don’t need your charity—"

"I’m just practicing," whispers.

"What?"

Bee leans over, cutting her off with a quick kiss. She really needs to stop catching her off guard like this. "The whole fake girlfriend thing."

(She tells herself it’s just Bee being Bee.)

Poppy’s heart stutters.

(It’s just Bee.)

She watches as Bee —who’s totally unfazed—turns back to the woman, smiling. 

"She always gets mad at me for paying," she says like it’s the easiest and most normal thing in the world. "We’ve been together since last year and every time she says—"

"I don’t need your charity!" Poppy repeats, disgruntled.

Bee points at her.

"—and every time she says that. Such a feisty one, this girl. You know how former trust fund babies are."

The woman grins at them and hands them their food. "You two are just the cutest."

Poppy rolls her eyes, turning her face towards the opposite window.

Bee laughs. "Oh, we know!"

Once they’re out of the driveway, Poppy looks at her with a frown.

Bee can sense it

"What’s wrong, Poptart?"

"What the hell was that?" she scowls, taking a sip of her frosty. 

"Oh, you know. Just pretend," Bee replies and plucks a fry from where the bag is sitting between them. "But seriously, we should come up with some kind of explanation."

Poppy notices the change in Bee’s tone and shrugs uncomfortably. "What did you tell them?"

"Not much," Bee says. "My older sisters are busy with their jobs so it’s not like they have the time to question me about my life. My parents are just happy that I went to my dream school, but my little sister…"

She trails off. Poppy looks at her suspiciously.

"What about her?"

"Luna is turning 17. She was really excited about me attending Belvoire, and she kept asking me all these questions. I think she might have read the T."

"Oh," it’s all Poppy says. She feels her cheeks redden in embarrassment, and it’s not the good kind.

No, it isn’t embarrassment. It’s shame. Shame that Bee’s family might know about everything she did to their daughter in the past two years. Shame that they’ll be able to see right through her. But why does she care so much? Why does she want to make a good impression? It makes no sense.

"Don’t worry," Bee quickly adds when she notices her discomfort. "I told her I’m bringing a friend over."

"Great," she says. For a moment, a flash of hesitation paints Poppy’s eyes, as though she wanted to say something important, but it disappears in an instant leaving Bee wondering if it was ever really there. "Okay, then. I guess that we’re friends now."

Bee smiles and reaches for her burger. She takes a big bite. "Yeah, so you’re going to play nice, right?"

"Shocking, you have no manners. Swallow your food first," Poppy orders, lilting her voice to be purposefully condescending. "Then you can ask me again."

"It’s hot when you tell me what to do," Bee says cheekily, still chewing.

"It’s hot when you actually do what I say," she snarks back.

"No thanks," Bee replies easily, but she does finally clear her mouth of food. "I know you like it when I’m a brat."

She winks. Poppy loses her breath. It’s concerning how warm she’s getting under her collar. She tries to change the subject. 

"So does your little house have enough room for the both of us?"

Bee lets out a laugh. "Oh my god, Poppy. I was middle class! I had my own bedroom!"

She shrugs, grabbing some of Bee’s fries. "How was I supposed to know that?"

"Maybe if you had asked me anything about my life you would’ve known?" Bee retorts.

"I guess I’ll have to start asking you about your life, then."

Bee chuckles, and Poppy ignores the way her heart pumps faster when she hears that carefree laugh.

She ignores how easily she could get used to this. 

"I guess I’ll have to tell you, then."

Chapter III

Tagging: @somewillwin (espero que este bien arrobarte, si te molesta solo decime y dejo de hacerlo 😚) @ownagef

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part III. (Harry Styles)

hello dears! i wanted to have a few words before this part. i would like to kindly ask you to give the chapter a like and/or a reblog if you enjoyed it, or reply on the post or even just send me a feedback through asks! these are the only forms of feedback writers have on here and it’s really hard to maintain your motivation to keep posting when you see your work being ignored. getting up the numbers and spreading our work is your way to let us know that you read it and like it, so please be so kind to use these tools! writers post their work for absolutely free for you to enjoy, pls take the time to get back to them! it means so so soooo much to them, im telling you! even just one comment can make the day of the creator! 

word count: 3.9k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

A few tequila shots and the sound of some stranger’s horrible attempt at karaoke is exactly what you need when you get off work that Friday evening. Luckily, Steven invited you along with a few of his friends to have a drink just a few days ago and you gladly said yes. You and Steven have always gotten along so well and it made Rosa happy to see two so important people in her life be friends, so it wasn’t weird that Rosa was staying home with Valerie, you knew quite a few of Steven’s friends and they all seemed like cool people.

He told you beforehand that Harry would tag along as well so you could brace yourself to try this whole “let’s be nice to each other for the sake of Val” thing you and Rosa talked about earlier. She said she has mentioned it to him as well and he seemed to be open to the idea. You could only hope he didn’t just try to get her off his business and truly means to change.

Arriving to the bar you easily spot your little group of people and sliding out of the booth Steven greets you with a hug.

“So glad you are here!” he smiles at you and everyone slides further into the booth so you can sit at the end, saying your hello to everyone around the table.

The waitress comes up just a few minutes later and you order a tequila along with a beer.

“You are letting loose tonight?” Andy, a colleague of Steve asks with a smirk upon hearing your order.

“I deserve it and it’s just the start!” you tell him making everyone laugh.

Your shot glass is emptied out and you’ve stared on your beer by the time Harry arrives to the bar.

“Hello everyone,” he waves around and asks for a free chair from another table and pulling it to the end he is basically sitting next to you. “I see you’ve started the party, Y/N,” he chuckles eyeing the shot glass and you just shrug your shoulder with a smug grin.

He is wearing a black shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, letting you get a glimpse of his tattooed chest and necklaces. You don’t admit it to yourself but your eyes linger on his chest a tad bit longer than you intended.

Harry orders a beer for himself that arrives in just a few minutes and you notice how the waitress was basically was pushing her chest out while talking to him.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” she asks him with a charm smile, her red lips stretched almost up to her ears.

For your biggest surprise Harry looks at you upon her question.

“Do you want to have a shot with me as well?”

The girl looks at you with a dirty look that screams jealous and for a moment you don’t even know what to answer.

“Um, yeah, sure,” you nod.

“Then two tequilas, please,” he tells the waitress before she walks away, glancing back at him one last time, but he pays no attention to her, clearly. “Hope you take it better than champagne,” he teases you, but this time it feels more like a simple joke rather than an attempt to piss you off.

“We’ll see,” you tell him with an innocent smile. The change in him is obvious, it seems like he did take Rosa’s advice and a new chapter is about to start where the two of you are not planning the murder of each other anymore every time you meet.

You take the shot with Harry easily, the alcohol burning down your throat and as any responsible, mature adult would do it, you wash it down with some beer. The perfect recipe for a killer headache in the morning. Your little group is having quite the fun, would have been a shame to miss this evening with them.

It seems like Harry is making a real attempt at being nice to you, he is your partner every time your glass empties out and you head to the bar to get another one.

“Look,” he tells you pulling his phone out of his back pocket and a picture of Val appears where she is wearing a onesie that has pumpkins all over it, it’s got to be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my God!” you gasp tapping your hand to your chest. “She is literally the cutest.”

“I know, I got her the onesie, it’s so soft,” he tells you happily before taking one last look at the photo and putting his phone back away.

“Hey, what happened to those matching stuff you called me back then?” you think back to the phone call the two of you had not so long ago.

“Oh, didn’t buy it.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t have your size.”

“You didn’t buy the set because of my size? You could have gotten me just a larger one or something.”

“Yeah, but I wanted it to fit perfectly. Doesn’t matter, I’ll find another one.”

Harry turns to Andy who is telling a crazy story of the last time he went hiking and your tipsy eyes linger on him for a little. You were definitely not expecting him to not buy the set just because they didn’t have your size, but it’s nice that he was thinking of you and wanted you to have it just as perfect as him.

Harry catches your eyes and you don’t turn away. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the magic of this new, nice era of Harry Styles, but you let your gazes lace together as he smirks at you.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” you tell him absentmindedly and turn to Andy to hear the ending of the story.

The evening is a blast and you are having an amazing time. It’s nice that you don’t have to worry about Harry saying something awkward about you, the two of you are getting along pretty well.

You even sing a song together at the karaoke machine, though you don’t see yourself, you know the two of you look ridiculous, singing Avril Lavigne’s What the Hell from the top of your lungs, both of you probably more drunk than it would be decent from mature adults. But you couldn’t care less.

It’s way past midnight when you decide to leave and Harry tags along with you saying that he is taking the same train.

“Shut up, I did not!” he narrows his eyes at you as the two of you sit in the deserted carriage, only two more passengers are there but they don’t even care about your existence.

“I’m telling you! You were shaking your ass when you sang that line! Almost twerking!” you laugh letting out a snort as Harry is trying his best to hold his smile back while defending himself. “I wish I had it on camera!”

“But you didn’t so it didn’t happen,” he tells you pointing his finger at you in a warningly manner, but you just start laughing even more.

“You wish, Styles,” you huff and he just bumps his shoulder against yours.

You pull out your phone to check the time and see that Marcus has texted you a couple of hours before, asking if you are free next weekend. Harry tries his best not to peek at your screen, but he just can’t stop himself. Seeing the name he can’t stop himself from letting an annoyed growl out.

“You’re still in touch with the guy from the blind date?” he nosily asks and you lock the phone, thinking it’s best if you reply in the morning when you’ll be able to type your words out correctly. Sliding it back into your bag you turn to face Harry.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I just genuinely don’t know why you are even trying.”

“Excuse me?” you ask with a grimace. “Why wouldn’t I try to meet guys?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. You told me all about how you need to feel that special connection with someone to date them. I bet my life that you did not feel that with this dude.”

“What do you know about what I feel?” you snap at him, feeling your anger building up quickly.

“Because… I know you,” is all he says but you can only laugh at his words.

“You know shit about me, Harry.”

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head protesting.

“Stop pretending like you know me just because I told you stuff when I was drunk and then slept with you. Why can’t you fucking forget about it all?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been naïve and think that he could change in such a short time. It seems like he is still the annoying prick he has always been.

“Because it happened, Y/N! Whether you acknowledge it or not, it happened, and if I’m being honest, you talked a whole fucking lot that evening so excuse me if I think that I know you.”

He is clearly getting irked too, at least that’s what makes the two of you. The urge to hit him is slowly returning into your limbs and you have to keep your fists in your lap.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not perfect when I’m drunk and it was an inconvenience to you to have to deal with me!”

Looking up you see that the train is nearing your stop so you slide out of your seat as you look down at Harry.

“Why the fuck did you even bother to pick me up then? I’m sure you could have gotten with any of the bridesmaids. Was a shame you chose to ruin my life with that night,” you spat at him as the train stops and the doors slide open. It’s clear Harry has a lot to say, but you just simply flip him off and get out of the carriage, heading to the exit with long strides, fuming and raging you even thought for just a moment Harry has changed.

 ***

 Just like the majority of the population, you consider Monday to be one of your biggest enemies, especially when you have spent the whole weekend trying to sleep your hangover off. You really shouldn’t have went overboard with the shots, but it’s always easier said than done. You don’t try to make yourself believe it won’t happen again, because it will surely do. Lately it has occurred to you that you might have a slight problem with knowing your limits when it comes to alcohol. It’s not that you are an addict and seek every possibility to chug down something in secret. It’s more about knowing when to stop when you are at it. It’s so hard to judge when you should draw the line and not have another one when you are having such a good time! You’ve heard endless sermons from your mother when you were younger and ended up coming home a little more hammered than what fitted her taste. She wasn’t completely against drinking, she believes it’s a nice way to ease your nerves and has been having drinks in the evenings herself, but she has a strong opinion about going overboard, something you’ve been struggling with. 

“Guys find it disgusting, Y/N. Know your limits or no guy will stay with you if you can’t stop yourself from knocking yourself out.”

You rolled your eyes at her then and you roll your eyes at her now. As if a man has a word in what you do!

Sitting at your desk you find yourself checking the time every ten minutes, longing for your lunch break already, but time seems to be passing extremely slowly on this miserable day. You basically jolt up from your chair when the clock strikes 12 and head out of the building to find a place to eat. You were certainly not in the mood to do any mealprep for the week ahead so now you are stuck with having to eat out.

There’s a sandwich bar down the street and you refuse to go any farther just to have to walk back after lunch. Walking in you are happy to see that it’s not jam-packed yet, but knowing well how it goes in lunch time, the seats will surely be taken in no time. Walking up to the counter you order a turkey sandwich with a lemonade and take a seat at one of the smaller tables in the back, putting your bag to the empty chair and leaving your phone on the table next to your plate you start scrolling while eating.

Just as you expected, people start to flow in pretty soon and all the empty seats get taken. You’ve just scrolled past some funny cat video when you glance up and almost choke on your food.

At the counter, back facing you, but you already know his figure enough, stands Harry Styles, hands stuffed into his pockets as he is checking out the sandwiches behind the glass.

“Unbelievable,” you growl to yourself as you try to turn so you are hidden somehow behind the plant that’s besides you. Peeking from behind its leaves you try to keep an eye on him without being suspicious.

Harry pays for his food and flashes a smile at the cashier before turning around to find a place. Unfortunately, there are no free tables left, only seats here and there, one at your table as well.

At first you plan on pretending you don’t see him and pay he won’t recognize you either. After your encounter on the train last Friday you are not quite in the mood to have lunch with him. But then you see the disappointed look on his face as he searches for a free spot and your conscience can’t take it any longer.

Turning to face him you bring yourself out from behind the plant and wave in his direction. His eyes catch your hand in the air and a surprised look flashes across his face but heads in your way anyway.

“Hey, I didn’t even see you there,” he chuckles taking the seat that you just emptied from your bag, putting it to the floor next to you.

“Yeah, probably the plant,” you say awkwardly and he just nods placing his plate to the table.

“Do you come here often?” he asks upon starting his ham and cheese sandwich.

“No, though my office is near. I usually bring food.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Do you?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I was just nearby and thought I would stop by for lunch.”

There’s a long pause when neither of you say a word, just eat in silence though that conversation from Friday hangs in the air heavily.

Surprisingly Harry is the first one to break this silence.

“I… wanted to call this weekend to apologize.”

“Really?” It’s not that you didn’t want an apology, you were just definitely not expecting one from him.

“Yeah. I know I have overstepped quite some boundaries lately and… I’m sorry for that. I promised Rosa I would try to work on our…”

“Friendship?” you ask with a small smile. There’s not really a word for what the two of you really have.

“Yeah,” he chuckles nodding. “Look, I was drunk too, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Sorry for sticking my nose into your business. You’re right, I don’t know you well enough to have an opinion on these stuff.”

You nod shortly, a sense of relief taking over your body. It’s nice to finally have your truth confirmed by him and it’s kind of ridiculous it took the two of you so long to actually have a nice, mature conversation.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“And I know I’ve been the one to tease you and pick on you most of the time, but I promise I’ll try to work on shutting my mouth from now on.”

You laugh leaning back in your seat, because this is surely way more than what you were expecting from him, but it’s still funny to hear it from his mouth. Never thought this day would ever come.

“I promise I’ll hold my tongue too. I want Rosa to stop worrying about us. She clearly cares about us so I wouldn’t want to be the reason why she stresses, she has enough on her plate.”

Harry nods in agreement and with that, the topic is considered closed. You have officially called it truth with the villain of your life, Harry Styles.

 ***

 Valerie is watching the ducks in awe, as if they were the most beautiful creatures for her on this whole wide world. Her eyes follow them glide across the shimmering surface of the pond and pulling out your phone you take a quick photo of her before turning back to Rose next to you on the bench.

It’s a warm Sunday afternoon nearing the end of October, Rosa called you in the morning if you wanted to tag along for their afternoon walk and you happily took the chance to spend some more time with your sister and your favorite little niece.

“It’s so nice to get out of the house and go farther than just the supermarket,” she sighs, closing her eyes as she enjoys the warm sunshine caressing her face. You can tell she’s been losing sleep, Val just started teething and Rosa told you how fussy she’s been during the nights.

“The joys of parenthood,” you chuckle and she just huffs.

“Harry was over the other afternoon, dropped something off for Steven.”

“Uhuh.”

“He mentioned you.”

“Really?” you ask looking ahead of you, eyes glued to one particular duck as it nears the edge of the pond, then duckling out to the grass it sits comfortably in the sunshine.

“Yeah, he said you two had lunch together the other week.”

“Well, it’s not like it was planned, we just happened to be at the same place,” you correct her.

“Either way I’m happy you two are getting along.”

“It’s relaxing,” you admit with a soft chuckle. This worrying feeling you’ve been constantly feeling when someone brought Harry’s name up is finally gone from your chest. It’s nice to know you won’t have to avoid him at every event you run into him.

“So what do you have planned for the anniversary?” you ask her. It’s crazy it’s been three years since Rosa and Steven got married, which also means that it took exactly three years for you and Harry to put the past behind you.

“Uh, nothing?” she huffs with a grimace. “There’s not much you can do with a teething baby, you know? Will probably just have dinner together and if we don’t fall asleep immediately we can watch a movie.”

“Val is the only reason why you are staying home?”

“I mean, mostly, yeah.”

“I can look after her for a night, if you want,” you offer right away. It’s the least you can do for her.

“Nah, I can’t ask you that. I know how much you work and she wakes up at least two times during the night even on her best days. You need to rest too.”

“I have way more time to rest than you. You deserve a night off from your motherly duties.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, looking for any sign on your face that tells her you are not being serious.

“Absolutely. Just… give me a list of things I need to know and do and we’ll be fine,” you nod eagerly as you turn to look at Val. “Right, Princess? We’ll have a sleepover!”

Val just glances at you curiously, furrowing her tiny eyebrows before her attention is diverted by a falling leaf.

“She’s excited,” you tell Rosa and she just chuckles.

“Would you really do this for us?”

“Of course! It’s just one night, I can do one night.”

“You are literally an angel she sighs and hooking an arm around your shoulders she pulls you to her lovingly. This is what sisters are for.

 ***

 Your body is basically buried under your favorite thick blanket, sunk into the plush couch as you watch a rerun from How I Met Your Mother, a warm tea on the coffee table. You’ve had a long day and you intended to go to bed early, but figured six is a little too early, so you got stuck with whatever the TV had to offer you, however you know you’ll be in bed by eight for sure.

Munching on some dried apple chips you let out a tired sigh when you see that you’ve reached the end of the bag. Tossing it to the floor you slide down lower on the couch when your phone buzzes somewhere under your butt. It takes you some time to actually find it and get a hold of it, but you’re rather surprised when you see you just got a text from Harry.

To be exact, he just sent you a photo. Opening the thread you wait for the attachment to load and when it does, you snort out loud.

It’s a photo of him with a ridiculously small, pink hat that’s probably for Valerie, but seeing it on his head as he is grinning widely into the camera you can’t help but laugh.

“Looking great, new fit?” you write him back and the little bubbles start moving almost immediately.

“Thought it was time for a change in my image. You like it?”

“Pink suits you well.”

“Thanks, I’ve been told that.”

You smile at the screen as another message pops up.

“I’ve been going a little overboard with the shopping for Val…”

“Never feel ashamed for that!”

“But Rosa made me promise the Gucci onesie was the last thing I bought for her.”

“You bought her a Gucci onesie??!?!! Harry, she is not even one, she will shit into that Gucci..”

“But it looked so cute! I had to buy it!”

“You need therapy, Harry.”

“Isn’t that what friends are for?”

You have a witty comeback to make about how he has zero friends, but you don’t want to ruin the light mood with even the slightest possibility of sending him an insult he might take too seriously.

“You’re right!”

“Okay, now it’s your turn to send me a silly photo.”

“What?!”

“Come on, I sent you one, now you have to send one to me too!”

“Says who?”

“Me. Come on, do it!”

He is so childish, you think to yourself as you open your gallery and try to find something that’s silly but not too embarrassing either. You find a picture back from April when you were having a grimace contest with your cousin’s kids and someone snapped a picture of you with puffy cheeks and crossed eyes. You hesitate for a moment but then send it to him anyway.

Waiting for his answer you turn your attention back to the TV until your phone buzzes in your hands again.

“I said send me a pic of you, not a hamster!”

You gasp at the mean but also funny reply. He surely didn’t shy out from insulting you, unlike you did.

“Oh, fuck you, Harry!”

You almost instantly regret sending that to him, because you know what his answer is to that every time it leaves your mouth. So you are already bracing yourself to receive that “you already have” text… But it never arrives.

“Jk, you look cute. But don’t cross your eyes too much, would be a shame if they stayed like that.”

“And why is that?” you find yourself typing back.

“Don’t let those pretty eyes go to waste.”

PREVIOUS PART

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TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@f-vasquezp​ @perspnhel​ @http-cherries​  @h-arrystyles​ @just-damn-bored​ @millennial-teenybopper​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @gwen-and-harry​ @perfectywrong​ @do-youseeme​

[visd3stele]

modern Jily texting au blurb

summary: Lily is a newly published author and her story hits big. James is a talented artist. Texts and flirting never miss.

TW: none (well, not proof read, cringey? the first time writing something like this and it feels weird but I had to take this out of my system lmao)

stay safe on the internet, tho. don't meet up with shady people. make sure you're location is known by a close person. if something/someone makes you uncomfortable, you are allowed to back off and leave it at that.

A/N: I searched the username I used and found no one with that name, but if it's a glitch and there is an actual blog that I couldn't find, it's not based on them.

fanart credit to: I have no idea, found it on pinterest. Please let me know if you do.

masterlist and requests

Lily Evans smiled fondly at the shelves in the library. Standing proudly, her book looked back at her. The beautiful cover she never dared imagine until now. The touchable papers, more than an image in her mind. People passing her by, taking a copy in their hands and tucking it under their arm to purchase it.

It warmed her heart. Everything about her journey as an author. The reviews she read, the discussion she heard of her story. The fans simply enjoying themselves, escaping into her universe. And all the amazing art she was send. Talented people all over the world painted or sketched her characters and were kind enough to share it with her as well.

Lily jumped shortly when her phone beeped inside her pocket. Thinking of the devil, she mused to herself amused. Lily was tagged in another post. A beautiful art of her main characters dressed in halloween costumes. It made her laugh so much she couldn't resist reblogging it.

I absolutely love this! <3

Not a minute later, she received a message. Thanks so much, beautiful, it read. Of course, it was easy to be inspired by such a compling story ;)

Why, thank you! You're quite talented yourself.

After she typed the reply, Lily checked the id. The name prongsart next to a picture of a stag made her snort, but she had to admit, the guy knew his way with a pencil and a brush. There were some unfinished digital art pieces too. And a lot of them were based on her book. Lily doubled tapped each she could find. To be fair, the guy deserved it.

Validation, my love language. Came the message from prongsart soon after.

Really? You shouldn't doubt yourself. I love seeing my characters brought to life.

Great. Cool. I have an idea or two on how you could repay me if you're up for it.

Lily rolled her eyes at the phone screen. Scoffing at the bold implication of this boy, she typed quickly: Your work was voluntarily done. Payment isn't requiered.

True. But it's always welcomed.

Lily shook her head and sighed. Enough texting strangers for a day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Sorry for being an arse the other day.

Lily's phone opened with the notification. The deer boy, as she nicknamed him in her head, texted her again. Attatched to it was a comic apology gif.

Before she could reply, another text showed on her screen: Do I get another chance?

Lily bit her lip, debating with her eyebrows furrowed and mind still a bit foggy with sleep. As a sunday afternoon, she allowed herself a lazy day in bed, drifting in and out of dreams.

Another chance to what, exactly? Because when in doubt, stole the time with more questions.

Talk to you and not come off as a creep

Are you sure it is within your abilities?

Tell you what: if I misbehave again, you can block me and I'd report the account myself.

I'd've blocked you anyway, don't need your permission. And how would I know you'll keep that promise?

Follow your gut? Lily chuckled lightly at his words. She has been told not to speak with strangers online, but this deer boy wasn't so bad. He made her laugh and his talent was drawing her in to him.

You want me to trust you? I don't even know your name.

James. James Fleamount Potter. And to make it even, I'm from London as well. College student.

Lily Evans dropped her body weight on her elbows, leaning on the soft matresses of her bed. She had all those information about herself made public when she became a bestseller author and the redhead writer couldn't help find James' oversharing rather cute.

Let me guess. Art?

Bet on it.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Lily and James were talking for over a month now. They found out each other's favorite movies, foods, their wildest dreams and biggest fears. She even admited to never truly come to terms of her and her sister's alienation from one another. And he shared the deep betrayal of a friend that led to a terrible accident to fall upon him.

I'm sorry for that. Are you better now?

Its fine Lily-pad. I'm sorry about your sister.

Lily-pad?

Well, if you call me Prongs...

I don't?

You should. Everybody does.

Weird. What's up with that, anyway?

There was a lack of response, the screen showing him typing for about five minutes. Whe James finally did sent his message, it was only a "long story" and a tired emoji.

Come on! Now I'm even more curios...

It really isn't something to drop over a writen convo.

That bad?

Not bad. Odd, maybe.

Lily has been waiting for a reason to see him for quite some time now. So, before she could change her mind lut of nerves, she sent him a quick question and went offline.

The next morning Lily woke up to a new text from James.

Can't have enough of me, Lily-pad?

The story better be worth it, deer boy.

Prongs*

Not until I know why.

Fine. Meet me in the campus, at the coffee stand. Sounds good?

Perfect.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

James Potter's story proved to be wild and entertaining. And after that first date, many others followed. A clear path to a life long love. Who would have thought it began with one good book and a pretty drawing?

[merryhelps]

                  plotting etiquette : a players guide

                                            [ coming soon / an admins guide ] 

plotting is an essential part to writing together; whether you’re in a group, an indie blog or even a 1x1, you need to be able to communicate with your peers in order to build a story. and that’s why we’re all here, right? to create worlds, no matter what the context, and most importantly, to do this with others. roleplaying is a team effort - no matter what universe you’re writing in.  below the cut are some helpful tips, tricks and advice to remember when attempting to plot with others. if you’ve found this guide useful, please like and/or reblog to spread the word - and hopefully help out others along the way.                               ***a part two will be out next week for admins on how to promote and help your group with plotting. 

                             i. ‘i’m scared of bothering people!’

this is a statement i’ve seen the most often around the rpc - whether it’s from a various text post people reblog, or as an admin who’s been on the receiving end of messages like this. 

it’s important to remember that most of us get a little nervous about reaching out. while writing original pieces or fanfiction can give you some distance between the creating portion and the feedback process, there’s no real space for roleplaying. it’s an instantaneous thing - we put our words out there on the screen, and someone else has to reply to that in some capacity.

whether you’re an extrovert, an introvert or something in between, this can often be the beginning of the end for a lot of roleplayers. maybe  you’ve joined an established group, and it seems like everyone has set dynamics and you don’t want to shake things up. or maybe you’re an indie blog, but you’re too scared to talk to someone you’ve idolized and want to write with. 

the thing is, you can’t expect people to know what you want if you can’t verbalize it yourself. let them know you’re a little nervous ! chances are, they are too. we’re all on this platform trying to do the same thing, and everyone gets nervous about exposing themselves to strangers now and again. ultimately, we put a little piece of ourselves in every character we create, and that can be terrifying to show to people and expect them to accept. but a little effort goes a long way - making the first move can often help build a bridge to someone you might not have otherwise gotten the chance to write with.  you’re going to have to take a risk sometimes. while not everyone is going to be receptive, most people will be. and chances are, if you start with something as simple as “hi, i’d love the chance to write / plot with you,” you’ll be met with an extraordinarily excited new partner. understand that if they don’t, it’s not a bad thing ! some writing styles don’t mesh together, some people have a harder time talking freely than others, and so many of us regularly forget to reply to a message. know that if you’ve put yourself out there, that’s a huge step in the right direction, no matter what comes of it, and next time it’ll be even easier. 

                            ii. come prepared.

this is ultimately where a lot of players fall short. it’s one thing to say ‘let’s plot’, and another thing to do it altogether. you need to have some sort of jumping off point. 

some ideas include: 

a prompt / plot idea. 

this is especially important if it’s a new person you’re trying to interact with. it’s difficult to come up with things on the spot, and if you’re reaching out, you need to have something to reach out with. 

in a group you’ll want to take the time to read their biography / about / wanted connections if they have them listed. it’s a quick way to ensure you have a basis of what they want, and how you and your characters can then fill those needs. 

as an indie / 1x1 see if they have any ‘wanted plots’ or ‘prompts’ tags. check out their ask memes tags. ensure you’ve read their guidelines on both of these, and follow them. while most people have similar rules, you can’t know that for sure unless you’ve read through them. 

questions about their character(s).

everyone adores talking about their own characters - give them an opportunity to let them tell you about theirs! even if they’re playing a canon character, they’ll have their own take on them, with headcanons and quirks and hobbies that might not show up in the specific canon the character comes from. 

use ask memes if you need help coming up with questions - ask memes are extraordinarily helpful when it comes to fleshing out muses for developmental purposes as it is, and while they’re usually made for general tumblr interaction, they can be a great jumping off point for talking specifics. 

don’t be afraid to point out things in their bio / about / etc. this shows that you’ve gone through and read their pages, which shows that you care about them as a person and a character, and not merely another faceclaim. 

talk about your character(s).

it’s always good, especially in a group, to have a small statement of facts about your character. in business, this is called an ‘elevator pitch’ - a few concise sentences that can get someone else interested.

for example, merrick wood is a former cheerleader who would do absolutely anything for her sister, holly, has no real ambitions and loves the weird and supernatural. you can find her swimming, or listening to mix cd’s she makes for her own amusement, or even on the hunt for big foot. this now gives the other player a few things to pick through - what kind of music is she listening to? why is her sister so important to her? is cheerleading still important enough for her to mention it to someone?

                           iii. plotting is a two way street.

the above two points work on the basis that you’ve made the first move - but say you’re the one who’s gotten the message of someone eager to plot with you ! takes a little stress off of your plate, but adds to their own. no matter what, remember that there is a real person on the other side of the screen. be kind, and treat them how you’d want to be treated - even if you’re not interested in writing with them, let them know ! a simple thanks for the message! i’m honored you’re interested in my characters, but at the moment i don’t think we’d be a good fit is enough of a response that most people should leave it at that. if you get a message saying they’re not interested, simply say ‘thank you for replying!’ and move on. as stated above, not everyone will always click - respect people’s boundaries, and understand that you’ll find a new partner in due time. 

responding to plotting messages is as important as creating them; if someone says they want to plot and gives you ideas, play off of them. don’t simply say ‘okay!’ or ‘cool!’ - a habit a lot of people have had over the years. 

                example. if jenny says “i think it would be great if robert could surprise them with flowers,” reply wth “oh how cute!!!” and end there - expand on it, adding your own input - “that’s so cute! denise adores lilacs, and would be flustered to get them from someone she admires so much!”                     the latter sentence gives your partner something to respond to, something to work with, and may just end up being in the thread you write together! 

                          iv. don’t make your admins do all the work.

this section is primarily for group roleplayers. 

your admin(s) already do so much. behind the scenes, there’s constantly updating the main pages, queueing ads, coming up with tasks and events and plot drops to keep players entertained and happy. at the same time, they’re trying to play in the group with you - create their own stories, write their own characters. they should not have to spoon feed you plots. these are things you need to develop on your own and with fellow players. 

               example. in a town rp, and you have a social butterfly character ? throw a birthday party for a character, giving the other characters something to participate in without an official Admin Sponsored Event.                    you should of course ensure the admin is okay with you having ‘events’ like the above for various players, and you need to ensure you’re inclusive in them - don’t ‘throw a party’ and not invite half the group because you don’t want to plot with them. take the time to message players of characters who might not normally show up and figure out something else with them, or a reason why they would be there or even why they wouldn’t! 

                         v. stop bubbling.

at the end of the day, plotting together is the best way to stop bubbling from happening in your group. no one wants to be the player left out of everything - make sure to try and reach out to the others, especially if you think other players may be ignoring them. writing together - in a group, on an indie, anywhere really - is supposed to be fun and challenging and a different experience every time.  before you go to your admins about being left out / ignored, ask yourself if you’ve done the above. have you messaged other players ? asked them about their characters, and given ideas of potential prompts for the two of you to write ? if you have, and you’re still getting ignored, then absolutely talk to your admin team! but try and be proactive instead of reactive and you’d be amazed at how far you can go. 

                                    hopefully this guide will help you - remember, your roleplay experience is ultimately cultivated by yourself. you choose which groups to apply to, which characters to bring, and your attitudes and behaviors can affect your gameplay. being in a group, specifically, is about being a part of a team. become a team player, and you and your characters can find the roleplay family of your dreams  ♡

[hellroots]

『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

 『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked -  sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i  usually  tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health.  i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours.  for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !!  i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using.    i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you.  here's something you should know about me:  when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me.  on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that.   please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return.  plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it.   my own formatting is simple and clean.   on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please.   most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than  sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it.  most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬.   i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist.  i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters  i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag.  most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

 IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

[deeranger]

Fic Writer Questions!

@oddsocksandstuff tagged me in this, thank you so much, sweetie!  ❤️

 1) How many works do you have on AO3? I’ve got 40 so far (of which 25 are SPN fics). There’s more to come! 

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 486,667, apparently. That tells me each of my fics has an average wordcount of 12,166.675… Seems about right. I was never any good at keeping things short.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Uhh… On AO3 I’ve written for Supernatural, Supernatural RPF, X-men (Cherik) and McFassy (James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender). But I’ve written a lot when I was younger that has never made it online, including NCIS, Pirates of the Caribbean, and lots of weird one-shorts starring everyone from Michael J. Fox to Kevin Sorbo from “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys”. 🤨  

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “A Lesson to be Taught” – an SPN Wincest pwp fic where a dominant Dean fucks (and spanks) Sam and they discover that Dean apparently has a daddy!kink. Comes with a photo manipulation too! There be dick.    

“Taking Game” – a semi-dark medieval Cherik (Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr from X-men) AU. Basically, Charles is a poacher hunting on king Erik’s land to his great dismay. And so, he’s captured and gets the choice between losing his life or serving the king for a bit… Dubcon and smut ensues.   “Only Like This” – a little SPN Wincest dub-con fic about hopelessly pining Dean doping Sam just so he can touch and kiss his oblivious little brother. It’s okay. Sam won’t remember when he comes to.   “It’s Only Carnal” – A dark SPN Wincest noncon fic where soulless!Sam needs to blow off some steam. And when it comes to carnal activities his brother isn’t exactly a novice – so why not use Dean’s body to make them both feel good?   “Demonized” – a long and dark af SPN noncon fic written in collaboration with the awesome @palishere. Sam is captured by some nasty demons who use him to lure in his brother. At first it seems the demonic scumbags are just really perverted and have a weakness for sexual torture, but they turn out to have ulterior motives…  

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes, always. I think it can be a bit demotivating for a reader to leave a comment and get zero response – and so, they might not bother to comment on the next fic. At least, that’s how I feel personally. And besides, I really want to let readers know that I appreciate them taking the time and effort to actually tell me what they think.  

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oufff… Seriously? How can I possibly pick just one when 99.8 percent of my fics are not only dark af but have gut-wrenching ambiguous endings as well? I, err… I’m gonna have to think really hard about this one, hold on… *Insert buzzing cicada sound*… Uhh… Well, I guess it might be… “Play or Pay” – a dark female!reader-insert Wincest fic where demon!Dean has you and Sam trapped somewhere underground. Sam ends up being on the receiving end of the demon’s cruelty when he tries to save you. Using Dean’s body the demon ends up raping Sam while the reader tries to escape to get help... There’s a little twist in the end. Loads of dead dove here, including death (not Dean or Sam).     “The Orange Hour” – where undercover inmate!Dean has to rape CO!Sam in order to save both of their lives and get them out of the jail in one piece. It doesn’t go completely as planned. (Comes with an nsfw photo manipulation).  “Demonized” – loads of bottom!Sam torture, full of hurt and absolutely no comfort... It’s just… I dunno, I think I and @palishere had a collective meltdown in the noncon and angst department. Sorrynotsorry.      

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Nope, I’ve never in my life written a crossover. Usually, I’m too laser-focused on 1 obsession at a time. I can’t multitask, okay?   

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes, the fandom purity police has visited me on AO3. The usual self-proclaimed know-it-alls vomiting their bullshit all over the comment section about how “problematic” noncon is and how “sick” I must be. I thought about moderating comments for a while, actually – but I just deleted their follow-up comments until they left me alone. 😤

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yes!! Gimme! Usually, I write noncon smut or just good ol’ pwps that feature some sort of dominance. That’s it. That’s my jam. In general, the only smut I don’t write is the cute, fluffy, feel-good, cuddly stuff… My smut’s usually pretty rough and/or some sort of dub/noncon.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Someone stole “It’s Only Carnal” and posted it as her own on some Portuguese fanfiction site. She even replied to comments, answered questions and talked about how much she loved writing it, etc… Luckily a sweet mutual on Tumblr let me know about it and I reported her for plagiarism. The stolen fic was taken down shortly after and the account deleted. Goddamn thief. 😡  

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. Honestly, I can’t remember which fic(s). But people have contacted me on AO3 and asked for permission to translate my stuff into Chinese. I have - of course - happily allowed them to. It’s such an awesome compliment to get, I think!  

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, 2. “Demonized” and the fluffy Ficfacers prompt fic “The Masks We Wear” starring Sam and Dean taking their pranks a step too far. Basically, the brothers get angry with each other and they need to talk it out… No smut in this one, can you believe it?!! But that was kinda the prompt we received. The prompt was literally: “Sam and fluff”. Anyways, both fics are co-written with the lovely @palishere. You can find her AO3 here. 😊

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? Wincest!!! Definitely. Gimme all the brotherfucking, please. No contest. And coming in on second place I guess there’s Samifer – never paired consensually, though. I just love Lucifer messing with Sam’s head and torturing him in all kinds of cruel ways.    

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Oh, that’s a mean question… I have a noncon WIP where Sam and Dean are in prison. I wrote a whole story outline, gathered my own little dictionary of prison slang, etc… But I never made it past page 10 or something. Sam was supposed to get jumped by a gang of inmates and then Dean was supposed to helplessly watch from the sideline, offering to trade places if they’d just leave his little brother alone… And after that it’s all about a mix of healing and vengeance… But the story has been lying on the shelf for more than a year and I doubt I’ll ever continue it. Oh, wait! I almost forgot – I have a long Cherik WIP sequel to “To Have and to Hold”! Just checked, its wordcount is 18,729! Holy crap…. What a waste, huh? But I honestly don’t think I’ll ever finish it, because I’m not into Cherik anymore. That ship has kinda sunk for me…. So, now I’m hyperfixating on Supernatural, yeah?     

16) What are your writing strengths? Description, I think. I just love details and setting the mood. I like to think I’m pretty good at writing in English too even though it isn’t my native language… I wish to be better and expand my vocabulary but I’m doing okay nonetheless.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, I think. Yes, you read correctly. I often describe things TOO much. Sometimes to the extent where the pacing gets so slowed down that I feel like the scene loses its ‘feel’. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but that’s my major concern about my writing. That and my signature ambiguous endings, lol.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Love it. It can be difficult to pull off, but if you get it right it can be magical. Just don’t overdo it and make sure that the reader can follow. I don’t think I have any fics online where I do it, but I’m not a complete stranger to it either.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ack, my poor brain trying to go back to when I was friggin’ 13… You know how many years ago that was?! 25!!! Okay!? *Huffs*…. Anyway, I THINK it might’ve been Keanu Reeves’ character in “Johnny Mnemonic”. Or maybe David James Elliott’s character as Harmon Rabb in the early seasons of “JAG”. I dunno. Either way this question makes me feel really old and I don’t appreciate it. Don’t @ me. 😅   

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? That’s probably a tie between “The Orange Hour” and “It’s Only Carnal”. They’ve both got nice pacing and that’s my biggest challenge, I think. Also, I love the whole Morse code thing in “The Orange Hour”. I don’t even know what happened or how I came up with it, but hey, I can surprise myself if I want to, I guess! And of course there’s the smutty noncon and all of the hurt… So, those two fics are my personal faves. 😏  

I’ll tag @jackandthesoulmates, @pinkoptics, @palishere, @wrenseroticlibrary, @decadent-prince, @negans-lucille-tblr, @juinae and @impala-dreamer and everyone else who feels like doing it! Feel free to ignore, of course. 

[red-as-mars]

Speechless

Saeyoung Choi x F!MC

Word count: 4K+

Summary: In which Saeyoung meets the girl of his dreams... but she thinks he’s a girl.

A beautiful stranger looks at him from afar. Saeyoung noticed her since the moment she came into Jaehee’s cafe, as she unknowingly sat down at the table next to Saeran. His ears captured the melodic tone of her voice after she stood up to order a bubble milk tea and a waffle, just as he did one hour before. Hearing her laughing with Jaehee makes his curiosity spark, but something is stopping him—the emptiness in his stomach is not normal, not after gulping down several milk teas just to keep himself busy. Suddenly the air conditioner of the cafe is not enough. As he is about to run a hand through his hair, a guy sits right in front of him.

Suddenly, he remembers they are not the only ones in the cafe and that he almost, almost, messes up the wig he spent several minutes putting on—with the help of Saeran, much to the latter’s despise. He changes the route of his hand midair and awkwardly moves to grab his bubble tea, just to notice that there is nothing left. He smiles at the guy in front of him to try and erase whatever weird actions he had done as he thought about the stranger. There’s a light blush covering the guy’s cheeks and he can barely make eye contact with him.

“Noona, do you want me to buy you more bubble tea?” asks Yoosung, suddenly appearing by his side. He is way too happy to monetize from his ‘noona’ to notice how distracted Saeyoung is. He nods without truly understanding what the youngest told him, but he doesn’t care. All his energy is being used on trying to focus on the guy in front of him rather than on the pretty stranger, who is back at the table sipping from her drink.

“Saeyoung, I have been a fan of yours for a long time. Your cosplays are so amazing… and you are… so beautiful… I mean, you have set the bar too high! There’s no way I can go out with other girls knowing that you are my ideal type… so… will you be responsible for my singleness?”, says the guy way too fast for Saeyoung to understand him.

It takes him a moment to realize what he has just been told and, as soon as he gets it, he can’t help but furiously blush. No matter how long he has been cosplaying, hearing things like that still makes him uncomfortable, mostly when he knows that the girl they claim to love was born out of his will to mess up with Yoosung. He never thought that a simple joke could get this far—sure, he used a Tripter bot to gain several followers, but who would have thought that he would remain popular with the bot gone?

Just as the guy he was talking to, others had come to see him… her… and they were patiently waiting for their turn while ordering food and drinks. Even though she was against the idea of holding a LOLOL event in her café, Jaehee now seemed happy with the decent amount of customers giving her money while waiting for a chance to talk with pretty Saeyoung. No matter how embarrassed he was with all the attention, he had to act cool as the customers were focused on everything he said. He remembered Yoosung’s motivation before the event started (“Hyung, I am counting on you!”), and that was enough to encourage him to reply.

“Oh my, what are you talking about? There are plenty of girls more beautiful than me out there. I am nothing in comparison,” he replies in a cheerful, slightly playful, tone. Just as Yoosung comes back with his bubble tea, he manages to hear Saeran chuckle. As his attention moves to his twin, he locks eyes with the pretty stranger and his mind goes blank. There’s a light blush spread across the girl’s cheeks and it only makes her look more gorgeous. He knows she heard him when her lips break into a slight smile. He can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking, “but I really appreciate your words! They mean a lot, so thank you for coming to see me!”

He doesn’t really get embarrassed when posing as a girl, but there are some factors making him feel insecure. He can’t help but feel Jaehee slightly judging him as he unconsciously flirts with the guys. Or Saeran smirking as he writes down things to later tease him. Or Yoosung saying ‘noona’ every time he gets a chance just to remember the guys that they are close. Or how the stranger keeps on glancing at him every 2.35 seconds with a curiosity-filled gaze, making feel trail off mid-sentence. His nervousness is a vicious cycle. The more nervous he gets, the more flirty stuff he says while thinking of the stranger, but… as long as he can look at her, he doesn’t mind.

Even if that means being teased for the rest of his life.

______________________________________

Almost two hours later, the café is empty except for the beautiful stranger who remains seated a few tables away from him. As the number of customers decreased, she stopped gazing at him and instead focused herself on the screen of her computer, headphones covering her ears, as she slightly moved her head to the rhythm of the music. There are no more gazes, no more blushes, no more hearts skipping a beat or two—Saeyoung can’t help but feel like he’s missing something, but can’t he be more silly? Missing something he never had.

They are just strangers who happen to be at the same place at the same time. Tomorrow morning, she will have forgotten about him and keep on going with her life. There’s no way they are randomly meeting again in a city as big as Seoul. She must live near the café, but his apartment is on the other side of the city, near the river. Seeing her again would be more like a miracle.

“I didn’t think a lot of people would be interested in this kind of event,” says Jaehee, finally taking a seat next to Saeran after making drinks non-stop for three hours, “but I think I sold more than average.”

“Never underestimate the power of LOLOL!” says Yoosung, as if he didn’t just monetize from other people’s fantasies in the name of his guild.

“...or a wig…,” adds Saeran, drinking from his cup of black tea.

Saeyoung can’t help but glance at the stranger, but she is too busy on her work to hear what they are saying. He feels slightly relieved, as taking down his wig right now would only make things awkward. He doesn’t mind bearing with the itchiness on his scalp as long as he can keep on looking at her, the way she pouts as her fingers stop smashing the keys, the way her brows furrow as she unconsciously licks her lips, the way her eyes shine after blinking several times… 

All her actions stop as her phone rings. She quickly picks up the call and a warm feeling invades his stomach as he listens to her voice once more. The warmth quickly goes away as he hears her say “I’ll be there in an hour”, collecting her stuff as she thanks Jaehee for her service. Before she reaches the door, she stops and with her, Saeyoung’s heart. What is she doing? Is she missing something? Or… no, that’s not possible. She turns around, takes a napkin from the counter and leaves the café.

Immediately, Saeyoung smashes himself against the table.

“…are you okay?” says Saeran, although his voice holds anything but worry. At this point in his life, Saeran is used to Saeyoung’s sudden actions so he’s rarely surprised by whatever his twin does. Was he okay? Well, he just missed the opportunity to speak with the prettiest girl he has ever seen… He barely manages to give Saeran a thumbs up.

“Oh no, the girl left some stuff…” says Jaehee, slightly worried. Without thinking about it, Saeyoung stands up and the next thing he knows, he’s standing right in front of the table where the beautiful stranger sat. He ignores the suspicious looks of his friends as he looks at what she left: her transportation card and… one of the banners they made for the event, featuring Saeyoung’s most-liked Instagram post. Surprisingly, his face is surrounded by hearts and he can’t stop his cheeks from burning.

Saeran takes the paper from his hands and looks at it, then at him. “...guess she came to see you.”

“What?! But she didn’t come close to her… him!!!” exclaims Yoosung, looking at the banner with his eyes wide open.

“Maybe she was shy. I mean, it is always intimidating to talk to someone you admire,” shares Jaehee knowingly.

Saeyoung is barely listening to them. His mind is focused on the hearts surrounding his face, triggering the memories of their discreet eye contact, the blush on her face as they looked into each other’s eyes from afar… His heart starts beating like crazy, skipping more than a beat. A sudden wave of adrenaline invades his body as he realizes something.

“So… this pretty girl… actually came… to see… me?” he asks, although he already knows the answer. Listening to the confirmation of his friends is enough to give him back his confidence. He puts on his coat as he takes the transportation card and the banner from Saeran’s hands.

“Wait—where are you going? You better not do something weird to her!” exclaims Jaehee.

“What do you mean weird? She’s not going anywhere without her transportation card, so I’m giving it back to her,” he replies as he storms out of the café. Before crossing the door, he adds “It’s just a girl helping out another girl!”

And he ventures into the coldness of the night.

______________________________________

Although there are a few bus stops near Jaehee’s café, Saeyoung is lucky enough to find her at the nearest stop. She’s waiting there with one hand hidden in the pocket of her coat and the other one holding her phone. As he gets closer, he can clearly see several pictures of him on her screen. He suddenly feels hot as he realizes that she’s looking at the pictures he’s tagged at, most of them from today’s event. He feels some warm weight on his stomach, just as if a cat had fallen asleep on his tummy.

He stands right behind her without moving, carefully thinking about the best way to approach her as he doesn’t want to mess up this opportunity. Just as he gathers enough courage to talk to her, a pair of buses arrive and the beautiful stranger looks up from her phone to get in one. Before she can walk closer to her transportation, Saeyoung quickly puts his hand on her shoulder to stop her from going away. She immediately turns around in surprise, red tainting her cheeks as she locks eyes with him.

“Wait—I mean, uhm, sorry if I startled you,” he slightly laughs, trying to compensate for the awkwardness of his actions, “it’s just that you forgot this at the café.”

He gives her the transportation card and as she is about to thank him, he shows her the banner with his face surrounded by the cutest doodles he has ever seen. The pretty stranger stumbles over her words as her cheeks and ears burn red from embarrassment. Before she can justify herself, the bus closes its doors and begins its journey. Saeyoung is in shock. Did he just make her miss her bus? He begins to apologize, but the stranger laughs it off.

“Don’t worry, there’s another one coming in about… ten minutes, I guess? I just have to wait for it,” she says and Saeyoung can’t help but think that her voice sounds ten thousand better when she is talking to him, “Thank you for bringing it to me. I don’t know what I would have done without it.”

That’s a lie, of course. Saeyoung knows it pretty well. She would have to pay the driver in cash and, maybe tomorrow, buy another one at the nearest convenience store. Nothing bad would have happened if she missed the card—someone else could be using it—and that made him feel worse, after making her miss her bus. Yet here she is, smiling gently at him as if somehow she was glad of having to wait some minutes for the next bus.

“I guess I will wait for you, then. I mean, if you don’t mind,” he manages to suggest calmly, although he is nervous inside, “It is already dark and there are not many people left. I would be preoccupied leaving you here.”

He is not saying the truth, but he is not exactly lying. He is just omitting information to avoid looking like a creeper. I want to talk to you for a little bit longer, is what he actually wants to say, but there’s no way he’s actually saying it. Not without blushing extra hard. When she accepts his company, he just stands by her side, trying hard to focus on what to say and not on how fast his heart is beating. She is the first one to talk, formerly introducing each other. Saeyoung can’t help but keep on repeating her name in his mind, enjoying how each letter combines into making the most pleasing sound he has ever heard. 

“I, uh, well- I, ah,” he doesn’t really know how to start talking to her, not when she is looking so endearingly at him, ”I was just wondering why… why didn't you come to take a picture with me… when you were already there…”

The beautiful girl blushes slightly, gazing at her feet.

“I didn’t expect a lot of guys to be there. I thought there would be at least another girl besides you and me, but there wasn’t. Well, except for the owner, I mean,” she admits, playing with her phone in her fingers, “I thought it would be weird to be the only girl approaching you, so I waited until the guys were left to do it, but I got really shy at the end.”

Saeyoung’s heart is beating even faster than before. He can’t believe what he is actually hearing, but even though they just met, he trusts in her words, so his confidence increases.

“Well, you can’t go home without completing your mission, right?” he says while taking her phone away from her fingers and opening the camera. He positions himself beside her and makes a half-heart with his free hand. She looks at him in awe, clearly shocked at his actions, but doesn’t follow him. “Really? You are going to leave my heart waiting? Come on, people are staring at me weirdly.”

And that is enough to make her move. Their fingers faintly touch each other, but that’s enough to send warm waves through his body. He can’t help but wonder if she’s filling it too or if he's just crazy. All his happiness disappears as soon as he sees himself on the screen. He manages to snap the picture before his smile collapses, reminding himself that currently, he’s not yucky Saeyoung, but pretty Saeyoung, and that means the beautiful girl is interested in her, not him. However, there’s something about the glow in her eyes as she thanks him for the picture that makes him decide to ignore it and continue as it is. She asks for her Instagram username before the bus arrives. She’s quick to search herself on his phone, and waves goodbye before the bus departs.

Saeyoung is left alone at the bus station with his phone in his hand, looking at the feed of the girl. Somehow, when he sees her warm smile through her pictures, he doesn’t feel alone anymore.

______________________________________

Saeyoung clicks the notification as soon as it pops into the screen. He contains himself from liking it when he sees her bright smile on the picture and actually refreshes the page waiting for someone to like it before he does it. Once the heart is coloured in red, he goes into the comments and writes the nicest thing he can think of. She’s quick to reply back.

They have been chatting nonstop for a while. They have met a few times, too, but calling it a date is way too much. They were going out not only as friends but as girl friends. Just one girl meeting another girl at the subway station to get lost on the streets of Seoul, walking several miles per day without even noticing. It was just them finding new restaurants to enjoy, going together to get their nails done—and even getting friendship bracelets that they wear all the time. It was like a dream come true… except she still thought he was she.

“Hey, are you even listening?” Saeran’s voice brings him back to the moment. “Of course you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am,” says Saeyoung, although it’s not true. Ever since he met her, he can’t help but keep his phone in his hand, ready to answer her texts, but she hasn’t been pretty active today. 

“...you’re thinking about that girl, right?” he asks, although something about his tone tells him that he already knows the answer. “You shouldn’t hide anymore. You have been talking enough to tell her how you’re feeling. The real you, I mean.”

“It’s not easy. I don’t wanna mess this up,” Saeyoung confesses, gazing down. ”Before I do that… I just wanna know if she likes Saeyoung more than Saeyoung!”

“...what are you even saying?”

“I mean, how am I supposed to know if she likes yucky me more than pretty me? I look gorgeous in a dress, the competition is harsh enough!” his cheeks are burning. It is time to change the topic, “Wanna look into that store?”

“...that’s what I told you before…”

They are looking for new clothes for Saeran since Saeyoung accidentally mixed a red t-shirt into his pale clothes. Saeran is surprisingly picky with the clothing he chooses, so after almost two hours of searching into various shops in Hongdae, Saeyoung decided to take him to Apgujeong. So far they have visited three different stores and Saeran has (thankfully) picked some new clothes for him, although he is still searching for a vest.

As soon as they enter, Saeran starts touching the clothes, feeling the materials as he walks. He stops to pick up around three and, as he is about to enter the changing room, he stops. Saeyoung has been watching his twin so far, trying to calm himself down because of the lack of texts from the pretty girl, so he noticed how Saeran glanced at a shirt several times as he was choosing the clothes. Before Saeran can head back to pick it up, Saeyoung is already giving it to him. Saeran thanks him before disappearing behind the curtains.

Now that he is alone, Saeyoung starts walking around the store looking at the clothes. His style differs from Saeran, so many of the clothes are not appealing to him, yet there are some that he wouldn’t mind trying just for the sake of diversifying his style. As pretty Saeyoung, he dresses fashionable and mature; but as himself, as yucky Saeyoung, he wears whatever is clean—or less dirty, depending on whether he did his laundry or not. He can’t help but wonder what kind of guy the beautiful girl likes… or if she even likes guys. Up until now, he hasn’t really gotten information about that. Whenever he tries to find out if she would be interested in him—the real him—, she just changes the subject or answers back with another question.

He doesn’t know when he ended up in the women section, yet there he is. Standing in front of several accessories that he can’t help but think would look incredible on the beautiful girl. Soon he is busy looking at them all, trying to find the best one for her… but he can’t give her that as if it was nothing… maybe if he… bought two… one for her and one for him…

That would be nice.

He settles up for a pair of necklaces. Saeyoung is smart: he knows that if Saeran sees them, he won’t stop bothering him, so he is quick to go to the cashier to pay for them before Saeran comes out of the changing room. Yet as he gets closer to the cashier to pay, his heart stops as soon as he is greeted.

It is her.

The beautiful stranger is here, in front of him, smiling sweetly even though he is looking as terrible as he always does whenever he is not dressed up as a girl. She doesn’t seem to recognize him, but he keeps her head low as he pays for the necklaces. Oh my, he can’t give it to her now that she has seen them. It would be so obvious…

His face is burning red from embarrassment. He can’t believe that out of all the stores she could be working at, he just happened to come into the one… Then it clicks. Hasn’t she been answering lately because she is working?

“Would you like a bag for your necklaces?” her voice brings him back from his thoughts. He tries to hide his emotions by holding his breath. He says ‘no’ with his head, scared that she might recognize his voice even though he always makes sure to keep it higher than usual when he’s talking to her. There’s no way she’s recognizing him… right?

He slightly bows as soon as he pays, deciding to wait outside for Saeran as he might die from embarrassment if he stays close to her. Just as he is about to exit the shop, his phone rings. He waits until he is outside to answer the call.

“Hello?” he says, looking for the keys to his car.

“Saeyoung?” the voice on the other side makes him freeze.

He turns around and, on the other side of the window, there she is. His sun smiling back at him even though she now recognizes him as a liar. He wants to run away as she approaches him, but it is like his feet are stuck to the floor. He can’t move—and maybe he doesn’t want to. There’s something about her smile, the warm look in her eyes, that stops him from running away and hiding in his room for the rest of his life.

She’s now in front of him, but before he can explain himself… she’s hugging him tightly. 

“Oh my, thank goodness you’re a guy! I felt really insecure whenever we went out because you’re so gorgeous and everyone looks at you in awe. But with your actual appearance, I can be the pretty one of the duo!”, she says brightly, surprisingly relieved.

Saeyoung is at a loss for words. Maybe, just maybe, a few tears are forming in his eyes. Why is she acting like this when he lied to her?

“...did you just call me ugly?” he says, but as much as he wants to sound offended, he can’t hold back a giggle.

“In comparison to me, yes, of course.” she releases him, and suddenly it feels cold outside.

“Can’t deny you’re beautiful,” he mumbles looking at his feet. They stay quiet for a while before Saeyoung gathers the courage to speak again. “I didn’t mean to hide my identity from you. It’s just that you were so happy with pretty Saeyoung that I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Well, I enjoy it whenever I am around you. My opinion is not based on your appearance, you know,” she says, “To be honest, I kinda already knew you were a guy, but I didn’t want to mention it as I thought you had a good reason to keep it to yourself.”

Saeyoung meets her gaze, slightly leaning his head to the side. “Then why did you just call me now?”

It is now her turn to look away, her cheeks tainted in red. “You looked as if you were about to have a panic attack. I just wanted to let you know I am here for you. After all, we’re friends.”

“I wish we weren’t… Wait, I, uh, I mean…Gaaah!” he can’t believe he just messed up. “It’s just that… I think you’re… extremely pretty and I, well, you know, maybe I like you?”

He is pathetic and he knows it. She just came up to tell him all this beautiful stuff about accepting himself as he is, and he has to mess up? It’s almost as he subconsciously wants to auto-sabotage himself.

“Just maybe? Because I like you a lot,” she says, getting closer to him.

Suddenly his hands are not empty anymore. They had held hands before, but this time it’s different. It may be the fact that she is right in front of him and not by his side, that their chests are one step away from touching it other… or maybe that her thumbs are tracing circles in his palms, sending an electric sensation through his whole body.

“Saeyoung, I really like you. No matter if you're prettier than me or not,” there’s a playful grin on her face as she says so. He gulps, nervous that she is either being honest or playing with him. “For real, I liked you ever since I saw you, but all this time we have been going out… I think I have fallen for you. Really hard. So, please, if you like me, don’t just say maybe.”

There’s hope both in her voice and in her eyes. He can’t think clear anymore, not when she is this close, telling him something he thought he would never get to hear. He wants to tell her how much he likes her, for how long he has been waiting for this moment… but he can’t.

Not when his body is moving on its own, hugging her waist to pull her closer until their faces are a few inches apart. Not when his head is leaning to the side as he closes the gap between them. Not when his eyes close and he feels the warmth of her lips on his own.

Not when love has made him speechless and the only way to show his feelings is with actions.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE MY UBER DRIVER

Marcus Alvarez x Reader

Anon asked: Hey, could you do an imagine with Alvarez where the reader is a very close friend of Chucky and once she brought peach pie to the club and he's there for a meeting with Bishop, and she ask him if he wants some and she's overall really kind with him and his boys that he's surprised to see someone so nice to them even if it's the first time they met?

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Word Count: 2.5k

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Chuckie and you have been friends since four months ago, when you move from San Diego to Santo Padre. There was no reason to do it, you just feel tired of being you whole life living at your hometown, and you were looking for a change of scenery. You opened a bakery store in the center of the small city and he was your first customer. You thought he was a somewhat weird, until you met him a little more. Chuckie was kind and pretty gentle, so that made easy to turn you two from strangers into good friends. So, when he asked you to go to his birthday party, you didn't surprise. He also wanted to introduce you to his friends, even if you already met one called Happy, who was strangely kind when he tasted your pancakes. The biker with rough look told you they reminded him of what his mother used to prepare for him. At that point, you really stopped judging people by their looks.

Chuckie didn't ask you for a birthday cake, but you thought it would be a good gift cook his favourite one. Peach and cream. 

Parking at the entrance of the car scrapping, you hold the big cardboard box between your arms with a extreme care as if it was a bomb, following the rows made by scrap and the latin music sounding somewhere. You reach a crowded yard with a blue house in the middle of it and a lot of motorbikes around. You have already heard about the Mayans, but it's the first time you're there feeling somewhat small and lost.

“Yo! Man, who's that piece of art?” Angel says, among Coco and Gilly on the porch, watching you looking for Chukie.

“I don' know, let's see, hermano”. Gilly smirks at him, hitting his chest with a soft gesture.

“Can we help you, mami?” With a strong mexican accent, a skinny and tall man comes closer to you, pulling away the long strands of hair from the roots to the back of his head.

“Yeah… Ahm… Chukie?” You reply in a shy mood consuming you. “I'm (Y/N)”.

“He's insi—”.

“Hey, love!” A familiar voice interrupts him behind you.

“Happy! You're here too!” The man places an arm on your shoulders, taking the toothpick from his mouth to leave a kiss on your left cheek.

“Cake, uh?”

“Yeah. It's a present for Chukie”.

“You know her, brotha'?” Gilly asks then, a little bit curious.

“She has a bakery store here. Chuckie's friend, and also mine. Don' mess with her”. Happy's scratchy voice doing that warning makes you feel somewhat safe, even if they don't look as bad as you heard. “Come with me, love”.

Raising your chin like a farewell, for the moment, you let the man guides your steps inside the clubhouse where the music is a little low than outside. The men there are older than the other, sharing beers and laughs surrounded by a lot of girls. Girls that, by the way they have to caress and treat every one, you know what they are. But you don't even care.

“(Y/N)! You came!” Chuckie's excited voice claim for your attention, walking somewhat faster towards him when Happy lets you go, leaving the cake on the wooden bar so you can hug him tightly.

“Happy birthday!” You say before giving him a kiss, pointing after that the cake.

“Smells like peach! I accept that!” He looks like a five years old super excited, holding your hand to accompany you to a large room with a huge table in the middle of.

The men inside looks at you with curiosity, getting up from their chairs.

“That's my good friend, (Y/N)”.

“Nice to meet you, kid. I'm Tranq”. A big and tall one comes closer, narrowing your hand as you show him your best and dearly smile.

“Che Romero to serve you, but you can call me ‘Taza’”. Another man, the oldest one but with a kind smirk on his face does the same gesture.

“Bishop Losa, querida. A pleasure to meet you finally. Chukie talks a lot about you”. El Presidente hold your right hand gentle, leaving a paternal caress on the back of it.

“Yeah, they talk about you all too. I'm sorry it took me so long to finally come”. 

“We know about your bakery store, and that box you brought… smells pretty good from here, sweetheart”. Tranq says supporting his forearms on the top of a chair, making you chuckle.

“Is it yours?” An unknown man, with mexican accent and a light whistle pronouncing every ‘s’, appears at your back.

“Yes, sir”. You nod turning above your sneakers, feeling a soft jump shaking your heart when you focus your gaze on him.

“Marcus Álvarez”. He raises a hand on air, taking you some seconds to react, narrowing it when you start to feel stupid.

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you”. You just say.

“C'mon! I want to introduce you to my north Cali friends!” Chuckie sound so excited that makes you laugh, saying goodbye with a hand to the men smiling at you somewhat warm. 

You can't help but being so obliging with everything. Helping the prospect to take more beer from the warehouse, helping with the barbecue and the music. You just want to contribute at Chuckie's party because he's your friend and you want to make him feel the most special man on earth, at a day like this. You're having a lot of fun going from a side to the other, sneaking with other Mayans, mostly with Angel who looks so interested in dancing with you, in the way to help someone else. They're like a big family around California and some nearby states. And you felt like part of it since you put a foot there.

“Hey, kid, have a rest!”

Tranq has a hand raised, making a gesture to come closer. Leaving the box of Jose Cuervo over the bar, you nod walking towards the men you met at the main room a couple hours ago. Taza makes you some space by his side at the sofa, falling down there actually feeling somewhat tired. Bishop opens a beer for you, offering it before sitting in front of the sofa.

“Are you having fun?” He asks.

“Yes! I've never been in a… party like that. I like it. Reminds me to my family”.

“All drunk and a little high?” Tranq laughs, exactly like you do.

“Yeah, more or less. I'm from San Diego, but my family are from Guadalajara”.

“So you're used to this kind of celebration, but without the bikers part”. Taza jokes a little, making you nod again.

“What about Chuckie and you? Just friends?” Seems like Bishop wanted to ask that a while ago.

“Just friends. He was my first customer. He's cool and smart. And knows a lot of things. But, just friends”. You say then, understanding that they want to endorse their friend.

“Chuckie is a good man. Somewhat weird. But he's loyal”. Tranq ads then, drinking from his beer with pursed lips.

“I assume you're single”. Bishop says leaning forwards somewhat above the table. 

You laugh a little bit nervous and ashamed, covering your mouth slightly with a hand.

“I'm just asking to protect your ass from my dogs”. He assure infecting his laughter to the others, knowing well that he's referring to the first men you met before finding Happy. But you also know there's something else hiding behind that question.

You're not stupid. You have seen sideways Marcus looking at you at four times. And even if you didn't asked him about his gazes, looks like he wants to talk with you and doesn't know how to do it without scare you. Guns, long rides, a lot of risks… Sounds like it's not easy to live with. And, because of their behavior, family is the most important thing for them. Put something like that into a danger it's not an option. But even if it's just your thoughts not being sure if he's interested, you could try. You hear him talking with other women there in a gentle way, taking care about them as only a good man, and also a good father, could do. The work he does, doesn't determine how he is. And you like it. You like him since you heard his voice, feeling that good energy around as soon as he was close to you.

The night passed by, between more beers, tequila shots and pieces of the cake you made. It's been a long time since you had some fun. Everyone is delighted with it and you're more happy than other days because of the alcohol. And because of that, you decide to take a first step, knowing that you probably are going to regret it. So getting up, and pretending you're okay, your steps follow Marcus direction to the room they called Templo. 

“Hey!” You say, sounding more excited than you should. “Did you taste the cake?”

The mexican turns at you, surprised at first because he didn't expect you. Smiling at you, he just simply nods wearing the black leather kutte after clean it with a wet rag, looking shiny than a while ago.

“Good!” You reply feeling truly stupid, not knowing what you can say to continue the talk. But he's staring at you like if he was waiting for something else. Like you leaving, for example. “Well, I just… I'm goin' home and I was asking myself if you liked it, 'cause you don' look seem very talkative”.

“It was a long day”. He says walking closer to your position. “You're not going to drive, aren't you?”

“No, ahm… Chuckie told me I could leave my car here, so I'm gonna call an Uber”. You shake your head, making a gesture with your left hand to take away its importance. 

“Where do you live, ah?”

“Second avenue, next to the post office. It's ten minutes walking, but Angel make me dance too much”.

That's the point. That's the hook ready to fish, and you don't know how the hell you have thrown it in such an amazing move. Marcus doesn't say anything about it, erasing the relaxed gesture from his face.

“It was a pleasure…” Focusing on the vest, you read one of the patches. “Padrino. I hope you enjoy the party”.

He nods in silence before seeing you turn over your steps to walk outside of the room. You say goodbye faster than you would like, promising that you will come back soon, looking for Chukie after that. He's with Happy next to the Mayans bikes sharing some drinks and old memories.

“Hey, guys!” With both hands into the pockets of the jacket, you smile at them. 

“Are you leaving, love?” The taller one asks, giving you back two kisses.

“Yeah, I'm kinda tired and I should work tomorrow”. You say before hugging Chukie tightly. “Thanks for inviting me, it was pretty fun”.

“I'll visit you tomorrow anyway!” He says blissful as always.

“Cool! Good night, guys”.

“Rest, love”.

At least you can walk straight through the hallway of the scrapping, right to the street. Rubbing your face with both hands, you feel like an idiot about the idea of Marcus having some interest, hoping he thinks you drunk too much. By the way, the fresh and cold air of the dawn helps you a little, crossing your arms before reach your car. You look at it, ready to drive it, but doesn't look like a good idea. So you finally leave it there, continuing with slow steps to the outside of the place, until the roar of an engine calls your attention. Turning aside, you find him stopping at your position.

“C'mon, I will take you home”. The mexican is giving you a black helmet, turning off the bike.

“Oh, no, no. Don't worry”. You say with pursed lips, feeling the shame running through your body, pretending you're waiting for the Uber car with your phone in a hand.

“C'mon, chamaca”. He insists moving his arm again, knowing that he'll not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Biting your lower lip, you nod holding it to sit behind him. Wrapping his waist with both arms, you try to relax yourself on your way back home, noticing that he's driving slower than normal. But you're not going to complain about it, resting your chest on his back getting somewhat comfy until he reaches your avenue. Then, the nerves return again when you have to point the building where you live at. Marcus parks there, letting you get up first.

“Thank you”. You just say pretending that everything is okay, while you return him the helmet. 

“The cake was delicious”. 

Raising your gaze from the keys you were looking for, your eyes go straight to the darkest. Now, he is who wants to talk, although he doesn't sound insecure as you did. You smile like an idiot, playing with the key chain and the nose bridge slightly wrinkled.

“I don't know if you are into the date game, bu—”.

“Yeah, tell Angel I would like it”. You're teasing him for making you wait and making you feel stupid for some minutes. And by the way his steps towards you stop dead and the look on his, you know it worked.

“I will”. He just replies back, tightening the gloves around his wrists.

“Really?”

“Sure, chamaca”.

You laugh somewhat funny, taking another step closer.

“You should see the look on your face”.

“I don't know what are you talking about”. He gives you his back somewhat prideful, keeping the helmet you used into a bag hanging by a side of the motorbike.

“You were looking at me”. You finally say licking your lips, after clicking your tongue slightly.

“Looked like you were part of the fam'”. He answers automatically, sitting on the bike with both hands catching the handlebar.

“Was it bad?”

“No. I actually liked seeing you taking care of my boys, when no one asked you to do it”. Even if that sounded a little passive-aggressive at the end, doesn't stop you to come closer enough to face him.

“I would really like to have a date with you, if that it… was you were to ask”.

“What if it wasn't?” Now, Marcus is playing your same game, at least, you hope it.

“Me sentiré aún más pendeja”. (I'll feel more stupid). You chuckle rubbing your nose in a nervous gesture.

The man laughs because of your words, shaking his head for a while. Then, he nods.

“I want it. Maybe I asked mi primo if he could find out what was going on between you and Chuckie”.

“Just ‘maybe’?”

“I'll pick you up tomorrow night. At seven?”

You lean towards him, leaving a soft kiss on his right cheek as a way to accept it.

[olivemac]

1300 miles | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, very very slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | Likes and comments always appreciated. :)

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

1300 miles playlist

Tag | @mrs--barnes

_____

previous chapter

_____

Jo wakes the next morning to a text from Danny: Did you fuck the Winter Soldier?

She rolls her eyes and responds: Fuck off. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore.

Danny replies with a leaf emoji and the words: Come upstairs.

Jo slides her glasses on and climbs out of bed. She pads into the living room as quietly as she can to find Bucky snoring on her couch with Toulouse perched on his chest. She can’t stop herself from snapping a picture with her phone.

Upstairs, she lets herself into Danny’s apartment. She’s met at the door by Greta, Danny’s PTSD service dog, a medium-sized German Shepherd who waits patiently for Jo to kneel down and scratch her behind her ears.

“Morning, pup,” Jo whispers.

“I’m out here,” Danny calls from his third-floor balcony.

“Coffee?” Jo asks.

“Cold-brew in the fridge,” Danny responds.

She detours to the kitchen before joining Danny at the small table on his balcony.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Jo asks. Danny always smokes the morning after a nightmare.

“They’re called flashbacks, and yes,” he responds, taking a deep drag of the joint.

“But they’re getting better, right?”

"Since you came back, yeah, they're getting better."

“Give me that,” Jo says, reaching for the joint. She takes a drag then exhales slowly. “You can always wake me up when you have a flashback, you know.”

Danny snorts. “I was afraid I’d wander into your bedroom to find you getting dicked down by an Avenger.”

“Please stop,” Jo groans. "You get that you're my brother, right? And this is weird."

Danny laughs, "It's only weird if you make it weird." Then he says, “Seriously, though, what’s the deal with Mister Tall-Dark-and-Handsome? I mean, if Sam trusts him, then he must be a good guy, but he’s literally a hundred years old, Jo.”

“He’s…” she pauses, “really sweet and charming underneath the brooding exterior. I really like him, Danny.”

“But?”

“But he lives in New York,” she whines.

“Yeah,” Danny says, taking another drag on the joint.

“‘Yeah?’ That’s all you’re going to say?”

Danny shrugs. “Some things are worth working for.”

Jo laughs, “Okay, why don’t you get back to me when you’re not high. I’m heading back downstairs.”

“Love you, Josiebean,” Danny says, using the nickname he gave Jo when they were kids.

“Love you, too, Daniel-San,” Jo replies. Danny laughs at the Karate Kid reference like he always does, and Jo kisses his forehead and pats his shoulder before leaving.

_____

Bucky wakes to the smell of coffee and bacon, his stomach rumbling at the scent. There's a warm weight on his chest, and when he opens his eyes he's greeted with the yellow stare of Toulouse.

He looks at his watch. It's a little after eleven. He usually wakes earlier, but he also doesn't usually sleep as soundly as he did last night.

He wanders into the kitchen in his borrowed sweats to find Jo standing at the stove in an oversized t-shirt, shorts, and out-of-season Halloween socks, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Her back is to him, and he takes the opportunity to study her naked legs. More ink peaks out from the hem of her shorts and covers most of her thighs. Bucky has the urge to drop to his knees before her and run his tongue over every intricate design.

Instead, he clears his throat, so he doesn't startle her, and she turns to face him. Her face is bare, and she’s wearing large, gold-rimmed glasses. Bucky can’t decide if she looks prettier like this or like she did last night, with her hair flowing down her back and her guitar in her hands.

"Morning," Jo says. “Sorry to shatter the illusion,” she continues, gesturing to her glasses and outfit.

Bucky smiles. He isn’t sure what the protocol is for greeting the woman you made out with and whose couch you slept on last night, but he decides he wants to kiss her again. He takes the few steps toward her and pulls her into his arms. This close, she has to crane her neck up to look him in the eyes.

“Morning,” he says. They’re so close and his voice is pitched so low that Jo can feel the word rumble in his chest. Butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Bucky leans down slowly and presses his lips against Jo’s. This kiss is softer and slower than the kisses they shared last night, and the heat that explodes in Jo’s lower stomach burns the butterflies away. Her fingers dig into his triceps, one arm yielding to her touch, the other firm against her digits. She sighs and opens her mouth to his tongue, letting him deepen the kiss.

He licks into her mouth, and Jo moans, her hands coming up to cup his stubble-covered cheeks. Bucky’s own hands slide down Jo’s back to her buttocks, pulling her hips flush against his so she can feel the effect she’s having on him. Jo gasps, and Bucky’s lips leave hers to trail wet kisses against her jaw.

When he pulls away, Bucky’s smile is almost smug. He likes all the sounds he’s able to pull from her, and he wants to hear more.

Jo turns back to the stove, catching her breath and trying to hide the flush she knows is rising from her chest to her cheeks.

“Breakfast — well," she looks at the clock on the oven, "brunch — is ready. Have a seat.”

Bucky places a final kiss against the back of Jo’s neck before sitting.

Toulouse rubs against Bucky's legs beneath the kitchen table. He reaches down to scratch Louie between the ears, and the cat lets out a contented chirp.

"He's usually not that nice to strangers," Jo says, watching the two of them from across the room.

"My sister had a cat growing up — big, fat orange thing that was missing half an ear. His name was Marmalade."

Jo smiles brightly and sets a plate of food in front of him. “Coffee?” she asks.

“Please,” Bucky says. “But I can get it.”

“No need,” she says, handing him a mug of fresh coffee. “You want oat milk? Sugar, maybe?”

“Black is good,” Bucky says, taking his first sip.

Jo sits across from him with her own plate and coffee cup. They spend breakfast talking quietly. Bucky likes the domesticity of it. He's gotten used to having breakfast at the Wilson's with Sarah, Sam, and the boys, but this meal with Jo feels more intimate. He has a brief flash of spending every morning like this, but he pushes it away as quickly as it comes. He's trying not to overthink whatever’s happening between himself and Jo. He’s not used to having good things in his life, but he wants to lean into this, take the risk.

"You said last night that you know who I am," Bucky says as they clear their plates from the table.

Jo is quiet for a moment, neatly stacking plates and coffee cups in the dishwasher.

“I may have seen a documentary or two featuring the Howling Commandos,” she says, closing the dishwasher and turning to Bucky. “And Sam and Steve may have crashed in Danny’s apartment for a couple of months when they were on the run following the Accords.”

Bucky is silent. He's staring at Jo with the same brooding intensity as last night, but there's something more in his eyes — a sadness she hadn't noticed earlier. She's seen that look before on Danny when he first came back from Afghanistan. It's the look of someone who's lost everything. But as quickly as it's there, it's gone.

Bucky clears his throat. “You knew Steve?” he asks.

“Yeah. I mean, briefly,” she whispers. “Let me show you something.”

He follows her into the living room where she pulls a box from one of the bookshelves. She empties the contents onto the coffee table; it's a handful of polaroids featuring varied combinations of Jo and Sam and Steve and Danny. Bucky sits on the couch and picks up one of the photos. It's of Steve with a German Shepherd; in the photo Steve is smiling brightly, and Bucky's heart aches at the sight.

"That's Greta," Jo says, sitting next to Bucky, "Danny's dog. She was just a puppy then. She adored Steve."

Bucky laughs through his nose and picks up another photo. This one features Sam and Jo sitting at a table in a kitchen that looks like Jo's but slightly different — Bucky assumes it's Danny's; Sam is clearly in the middle of a story, and Jo's head is thrown back in laughter. A stab of jealousy hits him in the chest — Bucky wants to make her laugh like that. He skims through the rest of the polaroids, finally landing on one of Jo and Steve sitting side by side at a piano, Steve's large frame dwarfing the woman next to him.

"He found out I can play a few '30s and '40s standards on piano," Jo says, smiling at the memory. "There wasn't a lot for him and Sam to do cooped up here for three months, so I taught him some basics."

Bucky stares at the photo for a while before he speaks. "You play piano?" he asks.

"I started on piano, took up guitar when I was ten, then bass when I was thirteen. I can also play drums, organ, banjo, mandolin, and a little violin," she says. "And I have a Bachelors of Music with a concentration in voice."

Bucky stares at her for a moment, then tosses the photo back onto the coffee table and reaches for Jo, pulling her onto his lap. She settles with her legs on either side of his hips and her hands on his shoulders.

"So, you have very talented fingers, then?" Bucky asks with a flirty grin.

Jo rolls her eyes and laughs, but she's secretly pleased with where this interaction seems to be headed. She was worried Bucky would feel like she had kept something from him by not telling him about Steve last night, but he seems to be taking it in stride.

"Thanks for showing me those photographs," Bucky says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "He gave up everything for me back then, so it's nice to see that maybe he had a little bit of happiness during that time."

"He wanted the same for you," she whispers, nudging her nose against Bucky's.

Bucky kisses her softly, then pulls away, staring into her green eyes. Jo slides her glasses off and sets them on the coffee table behind her.

She drags a finger down his vibranium arm and asks, “Can you feel that?”

Bucky licks his lips. “Yeah. It’s—it’s different from the real one, but yeah.”

Jo hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t say anything else. Their lips meet again, and this time the kiss is longer, needier. Bucky sweeps his tongue into her mouth, and Jo is certain she's going to have beard burn across her face tomorrow. But she doesn't really care.

Jo slides her hands into Bucky's hair, and he sighs into her mouth when she angles her hips against his just right, pressing against him slowly. His grip on her waist tightens before he slips his vibranium hand down across her backside to gently guide her movements. His flesh hand covers her right breast, palming her through her shirt.

Jo's hands leave his hair to slide beneath Bucky's t-shirt. He pulls back from her slightly and puts his hand over hers.

“I have scars,” Bucky warns.

“Okay,” Jo mumbles against his lips, trying for another kiss.

Bucky pulls back again. “They’re not pretty.”

Jo looks at him. “Bucky, do you really think I care about that? Do I look like someone who’s worried about conventional beauty standards?” she jokes. She smiles softly and brings a hand up to cradle his jaw. “You don’t have to show me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” she whispers, leaning in to kiss him again.

He pulls away from her mouth to tug the shirt over his head before he can overthink it. He’s gorgeous like this, and Jo wants to touch every inch of him. She starts with his chest, and her fingers dance lightly across the scars on Bucky’s left shoulder before she presses a quick kiss to the spot where flesh meets metal. Bucky smiles at the gesture, then his lips are on Jo's neck. As he sucks a mark into the place where her neck meets her shoulder, Bucky slips his flesh hand beneath the fabric of Jo's shirt.

Bucky's thumb slides across her nipple, and he pauses, warm metal against his digit stopping him. Jo can feel Bucky's fingers against her breast, trying to work out what exactly he's touching. She leans back, her hands on Bucky's chest to keep him from following her and pulls her t-shirt over her head.

Bucky's fairly certain his heart stops at the sight before him. He’s not sure what to look at first: the small gold balls that adorn either side of Jo’s erect nipples or the intricate floral design inked on her sternum between and below her breasts, framing them perfectly.

“So…I have my nipples pierced,” Jo says, taking Bucky��s staring for hesitation or confusion.

Bucky licks his lips. “Fuck,” he mutters before running his thumb across her right nipple and taking the left one between his teeth.

Jo hisses and bucks her hips harder against his cock. He's hot and hard beneath her as she grinds against him. The feeling he had last night – of being on fire – has returned, but it's tenfold now. Every thought of taking things slow, every bit of doubt has evaporated in wake of his need to please Jo.

Bucky grips Jo's waist and flips her onto her back on the couch, coming to rest between her open legs.

“Is this okay?” he asks, pressing his bare chest against hers. His dog tags are cool against her skin.

“Very," she breathes.

Bucky's lips find Jo's again before trailing across her jaw, down her neck, and over her breasts. He lets his tongue explore one of her pierced nipples before taking the bud between his teeth and pulling slightly. Jo gasps, and her own hands slide from Bucky's shoulders down his chest and across his stomach, her blunt fingernails scratching against his abs as she goes. She palms his cock through his sweats, and Bucky's hips stutter. His eyes clench shut like he’s in pain, and he pulls away to catch his breath.

"Sorry," Jo says quickly, removing her hand. "We can slow down."

"No," Bucky all but growls, then takes another deep breath and opens his eyes. "No. It's just been," he pauses, "it's been a while since I've done this, and you're kind of driving me crazy, Jo." He lets out a breathy laugh, then seems to sober. "I just—I, uh, need to be in control of some things. If that's okay."

She smiles her understanding before kissing him, softer this time. Bucky leans into the kiss and sweeps his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He props himself up with his vibranium hand, and his right hand moves back to Jo's breasts, teasing each nipple in turn.

"Tell me what you want," Jo says as Bucky's teeth bite gently at her pulse point.

Bucky presses his lips against Jo's ear and whispers, "Touch yourself. Please. I want to watch you fall apart."

Jo whimpers. She catches the look on Bucky's face as her hand travels down her body and into her shorts. His pupils are blown wide, barely a hint of blue visible around black. She knows her own eyes look much the same.

She hisses when her fingers meet the bundle of nerves between her legs, then slide lower. Bucky can't decide if he wants to watch her hand beneath her shorts or her face. He settles for moving his eyes between her face and breasts, watching them rise and fall with each breath she takes. Finally, he lowers his head back between her breasts and traces the outline of the tattoo there with his tongue. Jo moans and bucks her hips.

Bucky presses his own hips against the couch, trying to find the smallest bit of relief. He's not going to last. It's been too long since he's been with someone this way, and his body feels like a live wire. He reaches up to push the fabric of her shorts aside, moaning when he realizes she's not wearing anything beneath them.

He feels Jo's fingers pull away, and he growls, "Keep touching yourself." She does, her fingers rubbing hard circles into her clit. "Good girl," Bucky praises, and Jo keens, Bucky's name falling from her lips.

He slips his own fingers inside of her. She's so wet and warm, Bucky is afraid he'll finish just from this. Or maybe it will be the sound of her moans that do me in, he thinks. Because she sounds lovely, better than she did on stage last night. And she feels perfect wrapped around his two digits. He adds a third, and Jo's whole body tenses. Bucky can feel her warm heat tighten around his fingers as her legs bend and draw in closer to her body. The sight of Jo coming pushes him over the edge. He's spilling into his sweatpants like a teenager, and he doesn't even care. All he can think of is the sound of Jo, the feel of Jo, the look on Jo's face.

Bucky collapses onto Jo's body, his full weight resting on her for a second before he props himself up again and looks at her. She's smiling sleepily, a slightly dazed look in her eyes, and he can't help but admit that it makes his ego swell to know he can make her smile like that.

"That was..." he starts.

Jo hesitates, then runs her fingers through his hair softly. "Good? Great? Amazing?" she says.

Bucky breathes out a laugh and rests his head on her chest for a moment. "All of the above," he replies. Jo hums, and Bucky continues, lifting his head again to look at her, "You're fucking perfect, doll."

Jo laughs, and replies, "You probably say that to all the girls, Sarge."

Bucky sobers. "No, Jo, I don't. Really." He brushes a strand of hair from her face. "When I said I haven't done this in a while, that was an understatement," he says. Dr. Raynor told him he needed to open up, nurture friendships (or whatever this is turning into), so here he goes. "I wasn't really planning on this happening — not that I'm not glad that it did..." He pauses.

"But you live in New York, and I live here. And we just met,” Jo finishes.

"I don't know how things like this work these days," he says. He's looking at her with such sincerity that Jo thinks her heart might burst. "I told you I wanted to do this right. Dinner, flowers, the whole nine yards.”

Jo cocks her head to the side and smiles. "Let's start with dinner."

_____

They lay in silence for a while, Bucky's head resting on Jo's naked breasts, her fingers running through his hair. Jo's starting to think he's fallen asleep when Bucky speaks again.

“I should probably go,” Bucky says reluctantly. "Sam was expecting my help with the boat today."

"I'll drive you," Jo says. "Just let me get dressed."

"You don't have to do that. I can call a cab."

"Delacroix's, like, an hour outside the city. It'll cost a fortune. Let me drive you."

Bucky hesitates, but Jo nudges at his right shoulder gently until he agrees. He presses a soft kiss to her lips before he stands and offers her a hand. While Bucky moves into the bathroom to change back into his own boxers and jeans, Jo slips into her room. She comes back out wearing jeans and a vintage Lilith Fair t-shirt; she's traded her glasses for contacts. Jo shoves her feet into her combat boots at the door and turns back to kiss Bucky quickly before they leave the apartment.

_____

The drive to Delacroix is quiet except for Jo's Paul Simon playlist thrumming from the car speakers. Bucky thinks he might actually like the music. Or maybe he just likes listening to Jo sing every word.

When Jo pulls up outside Sarah's house, Bucky turns to her from the passenger seat. “I don’t have your number,” he says.

“Give me your phone," she responds, smiling and holding her hand out.

Bucky unlocks his phone and hands it over. Jo saves her number before texting herself so she has his, as well. She deletes the text conversation and hands his phone back.

"There you go, Sarge," she says with a wink.

Bucky leans across the car's console and wraps his vibranium hand around the back of Jo's neck. He pulls her close and presses his lips against hers gently. Jo responds by running her fingers across the stubble on Bucky's jaw and sweeping her tongue into his mouth. A moan rumbles through Bucky's chest, and he tries to move closer to Jo's body, but he knocks his knees roughly against the center divider.

"Shit," he curses, pulling away. "It was easier to kiss a dame in the front seat of a car in the '40s," Bucky complains.

Jo laughs. "Kissing a lot of dames in cars, were you?"

"I got around," Bucky says, a grin on his face.

He feels like himself around Jo – not exactly the person he was before the war, but close. He almost feels like he could be a better version of that man; he wants to be that for Jo. For now, though, it's easy to flirt and laugh with her, watch her eyes light up and her smile brighten.

"I believe it, Sarge," Jo teases. Over Bucky's shoulder, she notices Sam standing on the front porch of the house. "I think I've stolen you away from Sam long enough," she says.

"Please, doll, steal me away anytime," Bucky flirts. He kisses her once more. "I'll see you Tuesday," he whispers, his hand lingering on her cheek before he climbs out of the car.

“Looks like someone had a good night,” Sam laughs as Bucky ascends the front porch steps.

“We are not talking about this,” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, we’re definitely talking about this,” Sam says, clapping Bucky on the back.

______

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