#even though they gave me until friday yo confirm

[kittykatinabag]

Me waiting for my university to give me the voucher code for the off campus therapy they're partnered with so I can finally get mental healthcare for free for the first time in my life.

[maximons]

Tricks And Treats

Summary: Pietro tries to get Wanda and Y/n to finally admit their feelings for each other and takes them to a haunted house. Too bad Wanda is a full on scaredy cat...or is that exactly what is needed?

Word Count: 2,915

Genre: Fluff

Requested?: Yes

A/N: Finally back with the Fluff! Here’s that one shot I promised like a week ago lmao Happy Reading!

Halloween was for sure your favorite holiday.

You knew you were in the minority with that thought, seeing most people picked Christmas as their favorite, but you didn’t care. You always loved the time of year that came with Halloween, your birthday fell pretty close to it, you get to dress up and pretend to be someone else for a day, and it’s full on spooky season! What wasn’t there to love?

Well apparently a lot, at least according to your best friend Wanda.

For someone who’s a witch, you find it very funny that she doesn’t like the holiday.

You first met Wanda during the whole Ultron situation, back then she took on a more ‘emo’ appearance. Don’t tell anyone you said this, but you wouldn’t mind if she adopted the look again cause damn, so you just assumed Halloween and all things spooky would be for her, right?

Wrong.

You quickly learned that Wanda was not a fan of scary. You remember asking her to go see this new horror movie with you, it was your first time hanging out alone together and you just figured it’d be something she was into.

By the end of the movie, her face was buried in her knees, and she didn’t believe you when you told her the movie was over. The poor teenager working the theater was pretty annoyed with you both.

Needless to say, you didn’t bother her about anything spooky related again.

So when Pietro came to you two asking if you wanted to go to the new haunted house in town, you were beyond shocked that she agreed without a second thought.

“Uh, Wanda are you sure?” You asked, very hesitant. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a haunted house before, but-”

“I know what they are, Y/n.” Wanda cut you off before you finished, seeming very enthused, which confused you more. “I think it’ll be really cool!”

“Yeah...Wands, I know this group. This isn’t your typical ‘few scary decorations with the occasional light jump scare’ thing. These guys are intense.” You tried again. You didn’t know what had gotten into the witch, but you were sure she was making a mistake here.

“Y/n/n, relax. I’m not a child, I can handle myself. Trust me, okay? It’ll be great!” The bright smile on Wanda’s face was always a sight you welcomed, but it confused you in the moment. Still, you knew once her mind was set on something...let’s just say it’d be easier to find all the infinity stones than to talk her out of it.

“Alright, if you say so.” You shrugged, deciding it was best to drop the topic. Besides, she was right, Wanda’s a grown woman who can make her own choices. You just get to wait to be able to tell her that her choice was a stupid one. “So Friday night?” You asked Pietro, who nodded excitedly.

“Friday night!” He confirmed.

“Okay, cool.” You took another quick sip of your morning coffee before setting your mug down. “I gotta get ready for training. So happy to be working with Steve today instead of Nat, he’s always a walk in the park.” You said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “Wish me luck.” 

The twins wished you luck as you left the room to go get ready. After they were sure you were out of earshot, the witch turned to her brother. “This is your plan? Are you crazy?”

“I know, I know, but trust me, okay?” He reassured, walking to the fridge to grab himself a drink. “Y/n loves this stuff, and as she is the love of your life-”

“Whoa, whoa, I-I never said-”

“-You should experience the things that she loves to do.” Pietro finished, ignoring his sister’s intervention. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your guys’ way, and you have the whole evening to yourselves. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, until I act like a complete, how do they say, ‘spaz’ around her again.” Wanda sighed, leaning on the kitchen counter in defeat.

“You won’t. You know what kind of things to expect now. And if you do freak out, all the more reason to be by her side. She will protect you.”

Wanda looked at her brother in confusion. “I can protect my self.”

Pietro rolled his eyes playfully. “Not what I meant. You will see, sestra.”

Friday night came before you know it, and you, Wanda and Pietro were waiting in the line to buy your tickets to enter.

“Holy shit, this is a long line.” Pietro complained, causing you to chuckle.

“Not surprising. It’s the week before Halloween, weather’s nice, and this group doesn’t come to New York a whole lot. More surprised it isn’t longer actually.” You shrugged.

“Why don’t they come to New York? I thought this was one of America’s more popular states?” Wanda asked.

“It is, but ever since Loki invaded and our merry band of misfits formed, tourism and things like this have been down a whole lot.” You leaned down to get closer to Wanda’s ear. “I guess we’ve been the scary ones all along.” You joked, but Wanda was more focused on trying to calm down and forget the feeling of your breath against her ear.

“Everything alright there, Wanda?” Pietro asked after a moment, teasing smirk on his face. Before Wanda could even fire back, a voice from in front of you spoke up.

“No way! You guys are Avengers!” The group in front of you turned around, one of the guys recognized you instantly.

“Uh, yes...we are.” Wanda awkwardly stated. You knew Wanda hated fan interactions, and to be honest you weren’t a fan of these situations either. They were unpredictable. The Avengers were either beloved or despised, and you’ve been on both ends of the reaction spectrum. Wanda and Pietro, unfortunately, have seen a lot more animosity than you and the others.

Honestly, you couldn’t even fault the ones that didn’t love you guys. You weren’t ignorant and knew your battles have caused a lot of problems for a lot of people. You could sympathize, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be on the receiving end of that anger. Especially not when you were trying to just have a fun night out with your friends. “Look guys, we’re really just here to have a good time. We don’t wanna cause a scene.” You said.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool. I think you guys are awesome!” The guy said, and it was clear to you then that the dude was baked out of his mind. “Especially you, with the red wiggly woos!” He pointed to Wanda as he gave a terrible impression of her hand movements. You smiled, happy to see a fan interaction go well for Wanda.

The joy you felt didn’t last long though, as another guy in the group turned to you, blunt in his hand. “Hey, you’re the fire one right? Can you do me a solid?” He gestured to you, asking you to give him a light. You sighed, the twins chuckling at the situation.

“Yeah, but don’t ask again.” You ignited the tip of your finger, gently placing it on the end of the blunt. The group turned around in line and continued to go about their own conversation. You felt Wanda elbow your side, and you turned to see a smirk on her face. When you heard Pietro’s snicker, you groaned.

“Shut up.”

“Look at you, helping delinquents. Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero? Bringer of justice and all of that?” Wanda teased and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, but I’m the fun one. It’s just weed.” You said confidently, but the witch saw through it and you dropped the act. “And the last time that happened and I said no, the dude burst into tears.” You said under your breath.

“There it is.” She smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back despite you being the subject of mockery. You loved seeing her smile, you didn’t care about the reason why.

Before you knew it, Pietro announced that you guys were next in line to buy tickets. He bought his and stepped aside so you can go next. “Hi, two please.” Wanda turned to you with her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Wha- Y/n, I can afford it.” She chuckled nervously, flattered by the action.

“I know, but when I have to drag you out of here cause you’re paralyzed in fear, at least you won’t regret dropping forty bucks on it.” You shrugged as you handed the cashier your credit card.

Wanda’s face reddened, something she quickly tried to hide from her brother who was enjoying this way too much. Her flustered state faded quickly when she processed what you said. “Hey!” You chuckled before thanking the cashier as she returned your card.

“Please go to the table to sign your waivers, entrance is down that hill. Enjoy your night.” The monotone voice told you that the poor woman’s been working all night. You didn’t have time to dwell on that though as you felt a panicked tapping on your arm.

“What’s wrong? We haven’t even entered yet.” You teased.

“W-what did she mean by waivers?” You chuckled at the panicked tone in the witch’s voice.

“Just means if you have a heart attack or something, you can’t sue.” You shrugged nonchalantly, but Wanda took it very seriously and turned to you with even wider eyes.

“That can happen!?”

“Well, it happened at least once if the thought of doing a waiver.” You answered, once again, nonchalantly. You looked at Wanda and could swear you saw her blood run cold. You laughed, which resulted in you receiving a glare. “Relax, Wan, you’ll be fine. You’re an Avenger, you’ve faced off against killer robots, stared death in the face time and time again!” You exclaimed dramatically as you waved your arms. You noticed Wanda start to smile and relax her shoulders. 

“Thanks, Y/n.” She gave you a sweet smile, and you couldn’t help but melt.

“Yeah, anytime.” Your eyes locked with Wanda, you were about to look away but couldn’t. ‘Wow, were her eyes always this green? They’re beautiful.’ You thought.

A blush appeared on the witch’s face as she tore her gaze from you. You were about to ask what happened, but were interrupted. “Let’s go slow pokes!” Pietro’s voice shouted, effectively breaking the moment.

“Yeah, yeah Sonic, we’re coming!” You rolled your eyes as you shouted back. Wanda giggled at the banter between you and her brother, she loved that you two were close. With that, you and her headed down the hill towards the entrance.

After about a half hour, it seemed Wanda was holding up well. The three of you walked out of the corn maze, and she had a triumphant smile on her face. “I thought you said this place was scary.” She teased causing you to roll your eyes playfully.

“Congratulations you survived the corn maze, you get to join the hall of fame with the other twelve year-olds.” As if to emphasize your point, three twelve year-olds ran out of the maze in giggles, clearly unaffected. Wanda pouted. “Aw, don’t worry. I thought you were very brave.” You teased yet again, which resulted in an elbow to the side.

“You’re a jerk.” Wanda held back a smile as she strutted forward. You laughed as you jogged forward to catch up.

“Alright, are you guys ready for the big one?” Pietro asked and your eyes widened.

“Oh, Piet, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You said as you nudged your head towards Wanda, hinting that you didn’t think she could handle that. Unfortunately, she caught on.

“Aw come on, Y/n. I’m not a baby.” 

“I know, but you can’t go from the corn maze to...that.” You gestured towards the haunted maze entrance, a giant purple demon with smoke blowing out of it’s ears looming over. You guys turned at the sound of screams, and saw a group run out of the maze in fear, which then dissolved into laughter.

“They seem to be having fun.” Wanda gestured towards the group.

“Yeah, after the screams of terror.” You shot back. “You can’t go from walking around the block to running a marathon.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” Wanda strutted forward towards the entrance, determined to prove you wrong.

You groaned as you looked over to Pietro, who watched the whole ordeal with a cheeky smile. “Your sister’s insane.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” Pietro said under his breath, but you still heard it.

“What?”

“Nothing!” With that, the man sped forward, catching up to his sister at the entrance. You stared after him for a moment in shock before joining them.

The three of you walked the path, and everything seemed to be going well...for all of five seconds. The first jump scare happened behind Wanda. The loud screech startled her, and she jumped with a scream. She stumbled into your arms, and you wrapped them around her in order to keep her from falling. You chuckled, and Wanda looked up at you with the intention to glare. However, when your eyes locked again, Wanda couldn’t help but stare.

You, of course, had to ruin the moment. “Not too late to turn back, y’know. This is just the beginning.” Wanda groaned and pulled away from you, continuing forward. You laughed. “You can hold my hand if you want!” You don’t know what compelled you to say that, but you knew you weren’t entirely joking.

And you didn’t regret it when Wanda reached out and held your hand without another word. You smiled, squeezing her hand.

What you didn’t see was Pietro giving Wanda a thumbs up as you both walked past.

At some point, you guys lost Pietro in the dark maze. Wanda wasn’t even worried as she still held your hand tightly, and you knew the man would be fine and he’ll meet up with you at the exit. 

Wanda had been holding up better than you thought. You wouldn’t say she was good per say, seeing as she screamed and practically jumped into your arms at the slightest sound, but she hadn’t collapsed on the ground in tears yet, so you’d count that as a win.

“Gotta say, Maximoff. I’m impressed.” You said as you two walked down the maze hand in hand.

“I’m just being that super brave Avenger like you said.” Wanda giggled, and you couldn’t help but melt at the noise.

“Well you’re doing an awesome job. Even if the last three guys almost made you pee your pants.” You laughed loudly as you took in the shocked reaction the woman gave you.

“Y/n!” She scolded, but before you could even respond, the worst jump scare yet occurred. 

A large animatronic growled and lowered from the ceiling right behind Wanda. The witch turned to look briefly as she screamed loudly and jumped to you again. This time, however she literally jumped into your arms. You quickly braced your hands under her thighs, catching her, as she wrapped her legs around your waist. The force from the jump caused you to stumble back into a darker corner of the maze. Your back hit a hay wall, and you and Wanda laughed at the moment. Your laughter continued for a moment, and Wanda lifted her head from your shoulder to look into your eyes. Both of you got quiet as you continued to stare, sensing the moment shift.

“You okay?” You whispered, almost as if talking to loudly would shatter the moment. Wanda nodded, eyes still locked onto yours. After a moment of silence, she spoke up.

“Y’know...I think a distraction would help.” Your eyebrows shot up at the insinuation. You doubted you heard her correctly, but when you saw her eyes shift down to your lips, you knew what she wanted. And you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t want it too.

“I...Yeah, I think I could help with that.” You barely got your sentence out when Wanda smashed her lips to yours roughly. You tightened your hold on her thighs as she wrapped her arms around your neck. You stood there, making out roughly against the wall of the maze. As wild and sudden as this was, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Pietro noticed you two were gone for a really long time. He was beginning to get concerned, and pulled out his phone ready to call one of you. Turns out he didn’t need to. 

You two came out of the maze, only you weren’t alone. You and Wanda each had a security guard holding your arm. After you two were out of the maze completely, they let you go and walked off. It was then that Pietro noticed both of your disheveled states. And he could swear he saw two or three hickeys forming on your neck.

“No you didn’t-” He started, but you cut him off.

“Not a word.” Your hand found it’s way to Wanda’s as you guys walked towards the exit of the park, figuring it’d be bad Avengers press if you guys stayed any longer at this point. You had an awesome night anyway, and didn’t care if it ended a little early. Besides, you had a feeling you’d get to have some more...fun when you got back to the compound.

You didn’t notice Pietro high five Wanda’s free hand.

[hongjoongtrasher]

Goodbye baby goodbye

Genre: Angst (because we all like to hurt ourself), smut, fluff

Pairing: office worker!seonghwa x female reader, ceo!hongjoong x female reader, established relationship, lovers to ennemies.

Other: little brother!jongho, best friend!yunho, colleague!yeosang, roommate!san, office worker!mingi, manager!wooyoung.

Warning: cheating, betrayal, manipulations, protected sex (be safe kiddos).

Notes: Purely for entertainment and this is the first time I’m writing about ATEEZ, please have some mercy on me xD. No idea about the words count. Triggering themes will be add along chapters.

Summary: It all began when your now 4 year-old boyfriend Seonghwa had an invitation to his entreprise’s party. Surprised to hear you could tag along, you met Kim Hongjoong, the CEO and close friend of Seonghwa. Rumored to be a playboy, the rich boss of your boyfriend is determined to add you to his conquests.

Masterlist

« My boss told me you were also invited » claimed your boyfriend while picking a piece of cake with his fork. 

This made you drop yours as your eyes widened from the surprise. Park Seonghwa has been your boyfriend for four years now, and he was working at a powerful enterprise, headed by a young CEO. It was hard to say you knew this enigmatic CEO since you never met him, but Seonghwa was close to him, that’s all what you knew. 

« Me ? » you asked, unsure about the matter. 

Your boyfriend nodded, confirming his previous statement. Every year, KQ Enterprise was holding a party with their employees to congratulate them whom worked hard and contributed to make it a great place to work. You were definitely proud of your boyfriend’s hard work since he was respected and loved by his colleagues, which brought him to be a manager of a whole department there. 

« Yeah. We can bring one person, so…I thought my girlfriend would have liked to tag along. » he chuckled lightly, taking your hand in his on the table. « Y/N, you’ve been by my side for a while, and you know better than anyone how much I worked hard there. That’s why I want you to come. » he explained, making you nod softly.

That’s how you were invited to the reception. Unlike your boyfriend, you weren’t working in a famous enterprise. You were still studying at university and also working part-time at a local restaurant, that’s why you couldn’t do much for him except listening to his complains when he had some, or just being a supportive girlfriend. You two met at your last year of high school. Seonghwa was quite popular back then, but you never really grew interested in him until he helped you one day at the library. From the top of your toes, unable to reach the damn book you wanted, a large hand reached it to slowly takes the book out. It was probably cliché, but probably because you were yourself, he had begun to slowly reach out for you, being first a friend and after a boyfriend. 

« Are you sure though ? » you asked, lacking of confidence about it. « I’ve never attended such an event before- what if I do something wrong ? »

« Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Because you’re my girlfriend » he reassured you before taking your hand to his lips. 

« If you say so… » you answered back with a sweet smile. 

This day, you were enjoying a date at a coffee shop. You were glad Seonghwa’s taking time for you both, making sure to go out or just even spending time together. But this time would be different. It was a matter of work for him and you were just required to stay with him. But somehow, you were worried. Not worried about him, but about you. As you said, you feared that something would happen because of you. 

Suddenly, your phone rang. You looked at it as the name « Lil’ bro » appeared on your screen. You mumbled a « sorry » and stood up while taking the call. 

« Hey Jongho, what’s up ? » you exclaimed, going away not to bother anyone around here.

« Hey noona, are you in town ? » answered the other male. 

Jongho was your little brother. Literally your blood brother. Somehow, he was the youngest from the family, but surely the manliest, wisest and sweetest boy you knew. He was doing his military service at the moment but took time to call you wherever he could which made you thankful toward the youngest. 

« Yeah, I’m on a date with Seonghwa at the moment. But it’s alright. What’s up ? » you answered with a cheerful tone. 

« Oh, sorry I didn’t know…but I’m going to be discharged soon you know ? » 

« Of course, how can I forget it ? » 

« As expected » he chuckled for a moment before pausing some seconds. « I…was wondering if you could help me ? Cause I’ve found a job right after, but I don’t want to bother mom and dad so, if I could …like live with you for a while… »

« Mhhh, well it’s not that I don’t want to, but I gotta ask San, since I’m not living alone. »

You weren’t living all by yourself. Living with your parents wasn’t convenient for your studies as they were living quite far from the university, so you searched for an apartment to rent but the prices were incredibly high. And then you found San, another student. He was also in need for a place to stay since he couldn’t rent a whole place for himself. At first, you weren’t sure about living with a boy, but your roommate reassured you by saying « Don’t worry, nothing will happen between us if it’s what scaring you. I like boys you see ? » Such an extravagant guy, but yet so loving and sweet. That’s how you began to live with San. And until now, every thing was alright. 

« Sure, let me know about it okay ? » 

« Yes sir ! I’m sure you’re killing it out there, but don’t overdo it alright ? »

« Well, I’m not the baddest dude here, but I may be out of the top ten ? » he laughed, a bit shy to say it himself.

« Ooooh, as expected from my little brother. » 

« I will call mom and dad, so I gotta go. Love you noona. »

« Love you too. »

The « beep beep » at the other line indicated the call ended. And it’s with some relief that you came back at your boyfriend. Jongho and Seonghwa knew each other, and your little brother liked him. So you didn’t hesitate to share some news from the youngest. 

« It was Jongho. »

« How is he doing ? » asked Seonghwa, with a genuine interest.

« Great ! Actually he’ll be soon discharged, and he asked me if he could temporary live with us as he found a job after his mandatory service. »

« Already ? Wow, he doesn’t waste any time. » said Seonghwa with an impressed tone. 

« I know right ? But he’s always been this way, I’m glad he knows what he wants. »

You discussed a bit more about your brother and finished your cake and coffees. Hands in hands you headed outside, the sky becoming grey with menacing dark clouds. Rushing to the subway, you both got inside. 

« So I will pick you up Friday night. For the party. » he began, going back to the event.

« Alright…Wait, is there any dress code ? » you asked suddenly panicking because your student ass was probably not the best in clothing category. 

« Erm I’m not sure ? So far I never really paid attention to this since I’m always in suit. »

You sighed and prayed God to have mercy on you. You were practically sure of yourself: you hadn’t anything which would made you elegant in your wardrobe at the moment. 

« Y/N, don’t panic. I will find a solution okay ? » he said while taking your shoulders to make you face him.

You looked into Seonghwa’s eyes and nodded, slightly defeated by this idea of letting your boyfriend help you for an outfit. 

In front of your building, your boyfriend pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead and smiled at you.

« I’ll text you later. »

« Thanks for today Seonghwa. »

« My pleasure » he smiled more before leaning to finally kiss your lips, which made you answer to the kiss. 

As you walked into your shared apartment, you could hear San’s laugh emanating from the living room.

« I’m home ! » you said carefully, taking your shoes off.

« Welcome back Y/N » San’s voice answered, discovering the pink haired boy playing his console with snacks around him. 

« You haven’t moved since I left ? » you asked in an astonishment. 

San paused his game and turned around to give you a sneaky smirk. 

« I did, I went to the toilet, I went to the kitchen to- »

« That’s not what I meant » you paused him with an amused voice.

« Come on’ Y/N, I studied like a monster these days ! I had to play to relax. »

« Yeah yeah, be careful not to play too much »

« Yes mom…But anyway, how as your date with your charming prince ? » 

You sat down on the couch with your roommate, watching him play while you talked about the famous party Seonghwa asked you to attend. As you were telling him about the thing, his eyes widened and he paused his game again. 

« Wait, you’re talking about KQ Enterprise’s party ? »

« Yeah…How do you know ? » you arched a brow.

« My boyfriend works there too and he told me about it, but I refused to go. » he answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

« Wait a minute ! I thought your boyfriend was working in a bar ? »

« Y/N, it was the previous one. »

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling. You gave up about San’s love life as he was changing often.

« Okay, but since when have you been dating this guy huh ? And why you didn’t tell me ? You know Seonghwa’s working there as well »

« I forgot ! Anyway, he asked me to come too but nope, not my thing. »

« Please San, go with him ! I don’t want to go alone ! » you begged your friend.

« You won’t be alone, there’s charming prince with you »

« It’s different ! » you claimed « He’s working there ! I will feel like a stranger there, and gosh, imagine if I do something wrong ? Ugh »

« Alright alright, I will talk about it with Wooyoung » he sighed, defeated. 

« I love you San ! » you laughed, feeling victorious. « And, the name’s Wooyoung ? »

« Yeah, he’s the manager of I don’t remember which team »

The world was so small you thought for a while before you thought of Jongho.

« By the way, my brother will soon be discharged and he asked me if he could live with us for a while before taking his own place ? »

« Your brother ? Jongho ? Ooh he’s going to be soon discharged already ? Of course he can, I don’t mind. »

« Nice, I’ll let him know »

You were really glad you were going along with San and so he was with your own acquaintances. You thanked him again and went to your room. Some days passed by, and Seonghwa texted you but never talked about the famous party which made you frustrated because you were literally searching for something elegant but not expensive, which was impossible. Until one day when you came back home after your classes. 

« Y/N ! You received a package » said San while passing by to his room.

« Me ? But I haven’t ordered any thing ? » you mumbled, intrigued.

San shrugged and joined you to the living room where the so called package was here on the table.

It was quite big, nicely wrapped in a white paper and black silk ribbon. 

« Open it » suggested San, curious. 

« Hey, wait, don’t you think it’s weird ? Are you sure it was for me ? »

« Are you Y/F/N ? » asked San, ironically. « Cause that’s what the delivery man asked, so I said you lived here and he left after shoving me the package. »

After a moment of hesitation, you unwrapped the package to discover a black box. You opened it to discover a pink beige dress and honestly it looked so expensive that your poor salary of part timer couldn’t even pay a quarter of it. San’s eyes widened so as yours. 

« Wait- Who is it from ?! » a bit panicking on the spot.

« I don’t know ! The guy hasn’t told me ! »

You picked up the dress to look at it closer, and gasped when you saw the brand inside.

« San- I think I’m going to faint…Yves Saint-Laurent. Can you see ?! »

« Y/N, I don’t wanna make you panic more, but look there is a card inside. »

He pointed a silky white enveloppe you took quickly to open it. 

« Dear Y/N,

I heard you were worried about the dress code of the party. Here’s a present for you. In hope to see you soon. 

CEO Kim Hongjoong. »

There was a big silence in this room, your roommate and yourself looking at each other in disbelief before San opened his mouth and closed it, probably too shocked to say something. And so you were. Why did your boyfriend’s boss sent you this dress ? And how did he know ?!

[marlahey]

under the same roof part two: an old friend

a harry styles rpf part two of six  ratings/warnings: the stalking comes to an alarming head via chase, suggestion of violent intent, aggressive emotions, fuck the patriarchy notes: things get serious, intimacy occurs, we all suffer. moments were edited or cut to reinforce the utter lack of actual romance in a real stalking situation, but I promise we’ve made up for it in later parts!  fun fact: on a lighter note, this series should probably just be titled: sweet things that have actually occurred to annie that she forgot she wrote in and so suffers in every edit session. 

masterlist | part one | part three (14.12.2020) ... • friday, 4th january 8:34 pm • Blood roars in your ears as you sprint through the parking garage, but the sound isn’t loud enough to drown out the pounding footfalls that aren’t your own. Every gulp of air burns your throat but you can’t stop, you can’t even slow down. The hum of industrial ceiling lights overhead is the only other sound. No one would hear you scream.

You’d heard the second car door after yours, and the initial footsteps. A quick turn of your head was your worst fear realized: the blue-eyed man beelining towards you, so quickly you’d barely had a chance to try and outpace him. A heavy hand landed on your shoulder as the man grabbed a fistful of your cardigan before yanking back on the fabric. Twisting desperately against his hold, you’d heard a faint pop-pop-pop as the stitching around your collar snapped and gave. You’d practically fallen away from him before scrambling upright, sliding with little traction on the dusty concrete beneath your feet, and bolting towards the open center of the lot. Your breath pours out into the air. There are no security cameras. Why are there no security cameras? A white, hot panic inside your head makes it hard to think, but you must. You can’t take the lift as it leads to a dead end, so it’ll have to be the stairs. The torn neck of your sweater leaves one of your shoulders naked to the cold. You came so close to draping a scarf around your shoulders before you left your apartment this morning. Had you kept it on, you could have been dead by now. You tear through the door to the stairwell at the other end of the garage and take the steps by two. At any moment an obstacle could arise—a locked door, a dead phone battery, a hard fall on the stairs—and that would be it for you. You’d be a gruesome headline or a face on a milk carton. You would never see your siblings, or India, or Chowder, or your parents ever again. Hot tears sting the corners of your eyes. On the last flight of stairs before the lobby, the sound of the stairwell door slamming echoes up the passageway. You look instinctively. A black, gloved hand is making its way up the railing. You almost lose your balance bursting through to the lobby, and even though your legs are screaming, you do what all the brochures have ever told you to do and break into another full-fledged run to the lift around the corner. You wish you’d chosen a building with a doorman or security desk—some kind of human checkpoint. “No, no, no,” you beg under your breath, launching an arm between the closing doors. You stumble, half expecting it to be empty, and find yourself face to face with Harry.  His eyes skim you over, widening from behind his glasses. You’re still clinging to the doors of the lift. Down the hall and around the bend, the door to the stairwell bangs open again; you wince. Harry’s eyebrows knit together. Thinking on your feet, you lurch inside and drag your hand along the keypad, illuminating just about every random floor up to the penthouses in the twenties, but not eight, and nothing before it. Harry’s eyes dart between yours and the doors. The footsteps in the hall behind you grow louder. You smash the close door button a dozen times, but something in you knows it’s a lost effort. You rush forward and tuck yourself into Harry’s side, tearing his name tag off and stuffing it in your bag. He startles, twisting to look at you, but you stick to your guns and slip your arm around his back. A moment later your eyes meet in the vaguely distorted metallic reflection above the keypad. Harry’s eyes are full of questions; a plea is in yours. For a second time, the doors of the lift begin to close but are stopped by an interjecting hand. A third body enters. It is him. That yellow-grey hair, the wrinkles and the scar on his lip, the worn, leathery skin… Immediately, the man turns to stare at you, and scoffs. You jump, your hand instinctively grasping the back of Harry’s jacket. You will your knees to be still. The lift doors close. It is silent until the car lurches upward. Suddenly you feel a warm, heavy pressure across your shoulders. In the reflection of the doors, you watch Harry’s arm wrap around you. He squeezes once. Your frantic gaze is pinned down by his much more fixed one. He feels so solid pressed into your side, and his eyes are solemn behind his glasses. More serious, maybe, than you’ve ever seen in the last year.  Harry’s lips quirk—the suggestion of a smile—before he looks down at his feet: a ruse of casual nonchalance. Your stomach twists.  The blue-eyed man sighs impatiently. Harry moves his hand to your waist and pulls you even tighter into his side. The car bounces to a stop on the sixth floor with a ding. As the doors glide open, it dawns on you that you had not thought this all the way through to the end. Do you go with Harry? What if you put Sylvia in danger? What if the man follows you? Harry’s arm drops from your shoulders.  The same white hot panic from the garage sears behind your eyes. Is this it? Is Harry about to leave you alone to your fate?  You almost miss his hand reaching back for you, like it’s something he does all the time. Harry squeezes, hard enough to nearly be painful. It starts you into motion. Your legs feel stiff and inflexible like they can’t remember how to walk as he pulls you along, keeping himself between you and the blue-eyed man. You’re off.  The doors close.  Harry glances over his shoulder, your hand still tight in his. He gently guides you to walk in front of him, and you shudder at the thought of the man still watching. You do not hear a third pair of footsteps trailing you, and you do not dare turn around to check. There’s something eerie in walking down a hall identical to your own but knowing that none of these doors are yours.  “This is me.” Harry’s voice is low around the jingle of his keys as he nods to the only door in the hallway hung with a wreath. You say nothing as he steps aside to let you through. He peers into the hall one last time once you’re both inside before locking the door, deadbolt, and chain guard. You lean your back against the wall with your arms across your chest, clutching your sides. He looks over at you slowly, hesitates, and takes a step toward you. His Adam's apple bobs. Suddenly the air leaves your lungs entirely and you begin to heave. You feel as though you’d been sprinting on a treadmill for an hour and then stopped immediately, which keeps you from realizing that Harry has been saying your name. Tears gather in your eyes again; if you allowed yourself to blink, they would spill over. You begin to sink against the wall. Harry catches your elbows in his hands, but you keep sinking anyway. He follows you all the way down to the floor. “Sorry,” you gasp. “You’re safe.” Harry just shakes his head. “I’ve got you.” You nod and try to send a few deep breaths to the pit of your stomach, then clear your throat. “Call the police.” Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet, flicking on light switches and digging his phone from out of his bag. You hear, “Yes, hello. I’d like to report… following my neighbor.” Your mind reels.  Harry’s voice sounds almost distorted, like you’re underwater. “In my apartment with me.” You catch, “...followed her into the lift,” as well as “Yes,” and “No,” to a series of questions before he reappears with a concentrated frown, watching you. “She’s safe.”  You pick yourself up off the floor and Harry gestures to the small two-person dining table. He angles his cellphone down to his chest as he’s pulling the chair out for you. “Do you want to speak with them?” he whispers. You take a deep breath and nod, holding out your hand. Your fingers tremble, so you place it face up on the table instead and turn on the speaker. He may as well find out now; you can’t imagine having to explain all this a second time.  “Hello?” “Hello, my name’s Officer Warren. We hear you’ve had quite a scare tonight. I know it’s hard, but try to stay as calm as possible and just answer a few questions for me as best you can.”  The fact that the dispatcher is a woman comforts you. “Okay.” “Are you injured?” “No.” “Can you just confirm your full name for me? And your address?”  You rattle off your details, noting with strange detachment that you and Harry live precisely two floors apart. His flat is 6F; yours is 8F. “How long have you lived there?” “Almost a year.” “And how long have you been in the UK?” “About two and a half years. I’m a student at UCL.” “I understand you’re with a neighbor. Do you feel as though you’re in immediate danger?” You look up at Harry before your eyes dart to his front door, hesitating for longer than you want to. “No.” “Can you tell me what’s happened?” You close your eyes. “A man tried to grab me in the parking garage.” “Was this a man you’ve met before?” “He’s been following me since June. I see him everywhere I go. It happened the first few times in public places like on my walk home or when I go jogging, but then I started seeing him everywhere.” Your eyes open again. “Like, I’ve seen him on campus and in restaurants where I was eating. He was walking behind me the first time I ever went to Ilford for work, which is completely out of my way. He took the same tube as me once and tried to grab my hand.” You hear Harry’s knuckles crack across the table from you. “And how long ago was that?” “December twentieth.” “Have you ever come to the police with this information?” “Yes. I filed a report at the Lavender Hill station on the first of October and we went through some headshots but none of them were him.” You hear a series of keystrokes. “Yes, I see your file here. And can you describe what happened today?” “I was picking up some archives at the Ilford Historical Society–” “For school?” “Yes. I’m a research assistant. They have a postbox under my advisor’s name. I usually pick up the archives for the week on Thursdays, but I didn’t get around to it until a few hours ago. It’s usually just three or four storage boxes but today there was a sealed yellow envelope—” Your voice runs higher, choked. You turn away from Harry as you swallow another wave of emotion, but your voice is hardly any different when you begin speaking again. When you turn back, Harry’s hand is a little closer to yours on the table. “Today there was this big yellow envelope with my name handwritten on it and I figured it was just something from my advisor, so after I carried everything to the car, I opened it, and it… there were all these pictures of me.” “Are you able to tell where these photos were taken? What you were doing in them?” Your bag sits half open on the table beside you; you can tell without looking that Harry’s followed your eyes to the mustard yellow envelope poking out the top. You don’t want to open it again. You don’t have to. The images are burned behind your eyelids. “There’s one of me on the tube looking at my phone. Another one of me leaving the shops. There’s a few at the gym.” You sniffle. “Most of them are taken through the window of my flat. They must’ve been across the street because you can see me through the blinds and I’m—when I don’t…” You stare at the edge of the table. “When I’m undressing.”  You lean your forehead into your hand. Harry is stock still across from you. The pause before the officer speaks again feels like it stretches forever. “Can you tell when the most recent photo was taken?” It takes a beat to admit, “It’s from two nights ago,” and the words taste bitter in your mouth. The clack of a keyboard is audible again through the phone.  “You said you’ve been to the Lavender Hill station before? Have you reported these photos yet?” You gather your thoughts. “I was going to go straight there, but I wrote these long descriptions of all the past times I’d seen him. The officer I spoke to the first time I went in, she told me to write down absolutely everything I remembered, so I did—the times of day I’d seen him, where I was, what I was wearing… She said having my own record would help my chances of opening an investigation. I keep all of that at home in my flat, so I decided to go home and grab my notes to bring with me to the station, along with the pictures. I borrow my best friend’s car to commute to Ilford, so I drove straight home.” “And what happened when you got home? In the car park?” You take a deep breath. And then another. Your eyes squeeze shut again. “Take all the time you need.” “I turned into the car park… I pulled into my usual spot. I took off my jacket and left it in the passenger seat, thinking I would come back to it in a minute. I got out of the car and locked it… ” You swallow dryly. “I heard a car door shut behind me. I turned around and saw the man—I recognized him.” “Do you remember what he was wearing?” “He was wearing, um, black gloves, a grey sweater, black jeans, and I think his shoes were black too.” You frown at your hands. “I could hear how quickly he was walking up behind me. I tried to get away, and he—” You swallow. “He grabbed me. Or at least, he tried. He tore the seam of my sweater and I managed to like, pull away. And then I just ran. I was too scared to try the lift so I just took the stairs all the way up to the lobby. But he followed me.”  Your eyes flicker up to Harry absently before you go on. “Harry was in the lift—the—my neighbor, so I ran over and put my arm around him to make it seem like I wasn’t alone.” Harry nods at you from across the table.  “And the man was able to follow you into the lift?” The tips of your fingers ache at the memory of slamming desperately into the close door button. “Yes.” “Did he try to communicate with you in any way?” You shake your head and then remember she can’t see you. “No. He was just staring at me.” “Has he ever approached you or tried to make contact before?” “Just the one time on the tube and the pictures.” “Were you followed out of the lift?” “No.” “And you’re in your neighbor’s flat now, is that right?” “Yeah.” You run your sleeve beneath your nose with a sniffle. “And the man knows which floor you got off at?” ”Correct.” “Do the windows in both of your flats face out on the same street?” Your stomach drops. “Yes… They do.” “I want you to remain calm and stay on the line, can you do that for me?” It’s deadly quiet as you and Harry look at each other. You feel eerily as though you’ve wound up in a Hitchcock film. “Yes.” “Move away from the windows and find a place in the flat that’s not visible from the street—” The legs of Harry’s chair are scraping the floor before you get the chance to react. “...and do not turn out any lights or change the way any of the blinds are positioned.” “C’mere.” Harry’s voice is gravely urgent. He leads you to the kitchen with a hand between your shoulder blades, and brushes past you to lower the blinds of a small window above the sink. Your eyes widen as your hand reaches toward him. “Harry—” He glances back, too late. “Don’t… ” You stumble. “Don’t fix any more of those.” He nods once.  “Yes, don’t touch the blinds. Don’t change anything that would make it look out of the ordinary. If someone has been staking out your building from the same place across the street every night, you could give yourself away and put you both at risk.” “Okay.” Harry leans against the sink with his arms crossed, and you mirror him.  “Since you already have a file on record and the whereabouts of this man are still uncertain, it might do more harm than good to have you come in again for questioning at this hour. But we’ll need you to come by first thing in the morning. You absolutely cannot go back to your flat tonight. He knows very well which unit is yours, and he’s clearly found access into the building somehow. Do not turn on the lights, do not fuss with the blinds, do not go to retrieve any belongings. If it’s something dire, an officer can escort you.” “Okay.” “And don’t leave the building, either. If you need a place to stay, there’s a section of the precinct that can hold you till morning. An officer will have to drive you there, too.” “Okay,” you parrot. “Listen carefully. It’s not forever, but right now we need you to keep yourself absolutely out of sight. Anything that could result in your being followed… Well, we would strongly advise against your taking unnecessary risks. We obviously want to keep you and anyone else involved as safe as possible.” “I understand.” “A patrol officer is en route to your address. He’ll stay posted outside the building for a few hours. If something happens, don’t hesitate to call. Is this a number we can redial if need be?” You look up to Harry; he nods fiercely. “Yes.” “Try to get some rest. You’re safe now, and we’ll see you first thing in the morning.” “Thank you, officer.” You pass Harry’s phone back to him before digging through your bag to retrieve your own. The dial tone rings in your ear as you turn to face the living room. You’re sent to voicemail. “Uh… hi, Mom. It’s me. Just give me a call back when you get this, okay? I—um… Everything’s fine I should just… give you an update, so. Anyways. Talk soon. Love you.” You set your phone down on the counter, but can’t manage to meet his eyes. Some part of you had been worried that he would judge you—or worse, pity you. He doesn’t speak, nor does he try to touch you. Your eyes are pulled towards two sets of rainbow-painted handprints stuck to Harry’s fridge—one large, one tiny. A wave of nausea washes over you at the imposition you’ve entitled yourself to, the risk involved, the implications.  “Thank you.” Harry jumps at the sound of your voice. “For everything. I should—” you loop an arm through the strap of your bag— “I should go.” “Woah, woah, woah… ” Harry catches your arm before you can take three steps. You freeze. He releases you immediately. “And go where? You heard the officer, yeah?” He’s shaking his head slowly. “You can’t go back to your flat.” “I did hear her,” you counter. It comes out more curt than you had meant it. “There’s a safe place for me to sleep at the precinct… Thank you again, I can show myself out.” “That’s ridiculous—” You turn away and he says your name, once, imploring. It’s more of a plea than a demand, keeping you still. You still have your eyes on the door, but since you’re no longer moving, Harry goes on.  “You can stay here, it’s fine. I’ve got a spare bed n’ all. You can sleep in Vi’s room.” Your resolve wavers. His voice is a pitch softer as he asks, “What is it?” Your mouth hangs open a moment before you can find the right words. “I don’t—we don’t…” We don’t know each other seems far too accusatory with everything that’s transpired between you, especially after tonight. You grind your teeth, reeling the words back. Harry’s fingers touch your elbow, hesitating, and when you don’t pull away he wraps his hand gently around your arm. Tears well up in your eyes and you can’t blame them on the guilt, fear, or relief alone… all of it at once leaves you itching to escape.  “We’re practically strangers,” you settle on finally. “I put you in danger, and I put your family in danger—” Harry’s thumb rotates in tiny circles in the crook of your arm, a touch so light you can barely feel it. You think unbidden of the lift on New Year’s Eve, and the brush of his lips over yours. You want to fall headlong back into that memory—to abate what is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of your life. “I’m Harry.”  You blink. “What?” He smiles at you—a quick, sanguine flicker of a thing. “I’m Harry… Styles. I’m twenty-six. I graduated from Kings with a Bachelors in Art History and Psychology. I’m an Administrative Assistant to the Director of the National Gallery—” his smile is real now, wider— “But sometimes I pick up shifts keepin’ an eye on the gallery for the extra few quid… I have a daughter named Sylvia. She’s almost five. I get her every other week. I grew up in Cheshire. I have a sister named Gemma and my mum’s name is Anne.” You sniffle. “Why are you telling me all this?” “So you and I aren’t strangers anymore.” You have no idea how to respond. “You’ve never been here before,” Harry continues. “If someone’s been keeping close tabs on our building, then maybe this is the safest place for you right now. If I felt you were putting my daughter in harm’s way—” you open your mouth to speak and he raises a finger— “I would ask you to leave… As it is, if you go now, I feel that I would be putting you in harm’s way… And I don’t want to.” The two of you stand at a stalemate. “Please don’t make me.” Harry lets go of your arm and eventually backs up to lean against the sink again. You could leave if you wanted to. Eventually you sigh and drop your bag down to the kitchen floor with a thud. “Are you hungry?” Harry asks. “I was gonna fix something for myself anyway.” You shake your head. “I don’t think I could eat anything right now.” The more powerful urge is to erase this night from memory, to scrub away the feeling of a rough hand on your shoulder. You absently rub your thumb into the sleeve of your shirt where the grime from the door to the stairwell had smeared. Your shoulder is still bare from the gaping hole. Harry tilts his head, as if he’s going to say something more, but you blurt, “Could I use your shower actually?” “Of course.” He leads you to the end of a brief hallway with three adjacent doors, only one of which is open. “Be back in a sec.” Harry emerges moments later with two folded towels, then flicks on the light as you trail behind him. Your eyes are immediately drawn to Harry in the broad mirror that covers the entire wall above the sink. His bathroom is virtually identical to yours, but it’s striking to see his familiar reflection somewhere outside of the lift.  Harry pushes aside the curtain to the shower. “Fuck.”  He sets the towels down on the toilet seat and hastily gathers up the army of rainbow rubber ducks lined along the rim of the tub, before yanking off a plastic water wheel suction cupped to the faucet. Clear synthetic stickers in the shape of cartoon rocket ships and planets cling to the shower wall which Harry peels off in a stack before scooping out a myriad of other colorful knick-knacks from the bottom of the tub. “Harry, you don’t have to do that.” “I’m just now realizing how mad this must look to someone who isn’t the parent of a four-year-old—” “Harry, please. You’re already doing so much for me. You don’t need to remodel your bathroom.” “Alright, well… ” Harry rises, brushing his hands down the front of his suit trousers with flushed cheeks and glasses halfway down his nose. He cards his fingers through his hair. “Just be careful not to step on those little sparkly buggers. They’re the most painful by far.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” You have to suppress an laugh at the image of him having stepped on every last toy in the tub enough to compare. “So, like, the red is hot and obviously the blue is cold but it’s very sensitive so I find it’s best to just leave it at about three o’clock—wait you…” Harry shakes his head with a frown. “You probably have the same one, don’t you?” You nod, wringing your hands. “Do you have a shirt or something I could borrow for after?” “Of course,” he almost cuts you off, disappearing into the hallway. You perch on the edge of the tub and run the faucet to adjust the temperature. There’s three raps on the door. “Come in!” you call. Harry squeezes through the door and you catch his eyes in the mirror. “Let me know if these fit.” You watch his reflection lift the clean towels, put down the bundle of clothes, and restack the linens on top with the ease of someone who’s clearly used to taking care of someone else. “Thank you, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He nods and closes the door firmly behind him. Sylvia’s bath wrap, bright yellow and embroidered with her initials, hangs by its duck shaped hood on a hook next to the door. Steam is starting to rise from the shower. You take a deep lungful and step in carefully. Although childrens’ soaps and clutter are unfamiliar, the water pressure is the same as the shower in your apartment, if not better. It pounds down against your back and shoulders, and for a minute you let yourself just stand in the hot spray. It takes several seconds of inner coaxing before you can close your eyes and tilt your head back beneath the water. A hardened blue stare flashes in your mind’s eye, but you push it back determinedly. You think of Harry’s clear, level gaze. You think of the way he’d looked as he pinned a poppy to your chest—as he’d drank from that half-empty bottle of Prosecco.  So you turn your attention to the soap instead. It’s strange to see the source of several of the mingling scents you’ve picked up from him in the lift over so many months, and even more strange to pick the bottles up and use them on yourself. But there’s something cathartic in the act of scrubbing yourself raw, especially the spot on your shoulder where you had to wrench yourself away from that painful grip. By the time the last of the shampoo and soap are swirling down the drain, buoying a tiny rubber duck that Harry had missed, you finally feel a bit more like yourself again.  The towels are in easy reach. You wrap your hair in one, wind the other around your body, and tiptoe across the bathmat, wading through a junkyard of toys. A hotel toothbrush packaged in plastic lays atop the pile of clothes Harry had left, so you quickly brush your teeth before giving the bathroom a cursory tidy. You have to roll up the cuffs of his sweatpants to your ankles. You can barely see your own reflection, so you crack open the door to air out the steam a bit. Somewhere a kettle shrieks. You creep into the hall, clutching a neat bundle of your clothes and set your things down on the chest table in the entryway before joining him in the kitchen. Harry has changed out of his work suit and into a plain white tee shirt and grey sweatpants. Sundry, mismatched tattoos are scattered all along his left arm and it catches you by surprise. No rings. You have no idea what to do with yourself, faced with the reality that you’re standing in Harry’s flat, wearing his clothes, smelling like him. You lean gingerly against the counter, sort of surprising yourself as you blurt out, “I thought you said you were hungry?” Harry freezes, like he is both realizing you’re there, and also that he contradicted himself. “Lost my appetite I guess. Tea?” “I’d love some, yeah. If there’s enough water. Thanks.” “Sure.” You watch as Harry pulls down a veritable armada of teabags. “Gotta be prepared,” he says with a vaguely self-deprecating smile. “We take our tea seriously over here. These—” Harry gestures—  “haven’t got caffeine.”  Something tells you that an entire bottle of cold medicine couldn’t knock you out tonight. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” Your phone vibrates against your hip and you pull it out to skim the text from your mom. Hi honey. Sorry I missed your call, hope everything is alright… It’s late for you now so I’ll try back in the morning. Hugs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as guilt taps you on the shoulder. You’re drained and it would be lovely not to rehash tonight’s events for a second time when you know it would do nothing but worry her. Since you’re in reasonably good hands, you lock your phone and shove it back into the pocket of Harry’s sweats. “How do you take it?” Harry murmurs. “With a little bit of milk, if you don’t mind.” He places your tea on the counter beside you before adding the milk. “I don’t mind,” he mocks your accent gently, and it bothers you how good he is at it. Harry passes you the mug. You raise it to your nose and inhale the steam. “Thank you, Harry, for being so… okay with all of this, and for just like, making me feel… ” You trail off, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to have, like, an ounce of normalcy tonight after all that.”  You tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. Harry pushes his glasses up his nose with his thumb and idly plays with the tag hanging by a string over the side of his mug. “I’ve heard you take responsibility a dozen times tonight for the danger that someone else put you in,” he says after a minute. His eyes are vaguely unfocused, and trained on the blinds. “Tonight was not your fault. Like, you were smart, brave and all that, but you shouldn’t have had to be.” He takes a sip. “I’m glad I was there.” Harry doesn’t say anything else. It’s cathartic in a way you wouldn’t have expected, to hear him state it back to you so plainly and without nuance. There’s not a thing you could say to that in defense of the argument that you are indeed to blame. But there were other choices I could have made. I shouldn’t have gone running that morning. I should have known to be more vigilant, buying those groceries. It was reckless of me to choose sheer curtains. I should have apparated to class instead of taking the tube. The logic sounds absurd to you in a new way when held up to the light. You absently stir your tea; there’s an orange tabby painted on the ceramic. “Chowder!” Harry’s eyebrows fly up. “Sorry?” “My cat! He’s all on his own in my apartment.” “Does he have water?” “Yeah, and food. And he's a few years old so he’ll be fine. I just feel awful, he’s never spent the night alone.” You shake your head. “Sorry for making you jump, it just crossed my mind.” “No, it’s okay… Do you want—should I go up and check on him for you?” “No, no. That’s not necessary. I’m just, you know, a terrible cat mom.”  “Ha!” Harry barks. It’s the loudest sound you’ve ever heard him make. “You don’t even want to… Oh Christ,” he shakes his head, creasing with laughter, “You have no idea.” “What?” You ask after a minute, unable to help yourself from joining in his laughter. His face is turning pink. “Do you have any idea how many nappies I’ve put on backwards? How many haircuts I’ve botched? I mean with my real, human child. I assembled both of Sylvia’s cribs upside down because the instructions were in Japanese. One after the other. It was the same fucking crib.” He deadpans your name at you. “Sylvia’s first word was fuck because Daddy couldn’t shake the habit of saying it all the fucking time.” “Oh my god.” “Yeah. We thought she was just a quiet kid, but then we were getting concerned that she wasn’t speaking by her second birthday. We took her to a speech therapist. So imagine you’re me, watching your daughter in her little highchair with her mum right up in her face, going, “Vi can you say ma-ma? And the child throws her binkie… and yells, Fuck!” You’re laughing so hard it’s completely silent.  “Didn’t say it.” He swipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and it bumps up his glasses a little. “Yelled it. Not a thing wrong with her… Oh,” Harry sighs. “Annie wouldn't speak to me for a week.” He shakes his head. “That’s incredible.” “So, like, newsflash… ” He takes a sip of his tea. “Nobody has any idea what they’re doing. There’s no such thing as a perfect parent or, um—cat mum as you said.” “So…” you venture after a pause. “Annie?” Harry laughs once through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright. Fair.” He sets his tea down on the counter. “Thought maybe we’d get to have this conversation over Prosecco,” he says, chuckling dryly. “Sylvia was definitely… unexpected… ” Harry begins delicately. “But she’s, like the funniest person I know and also my favorite person on the planet. So… I dunno. It worked out.” He clears his throat. “She was conceived on the night I met her mum at a pub in Essex and that was that. Haven’t really looked back. Annie—Vi’s mum—is an amazing person. We were never in love or anythin’ even close, but she’s the best co-parent I could ever dream of.”  “Vi’s a cute nickname.” “S’her first name, actually.” Harry smiles over the rim of his mug. “Lanh Vi.” His voice dips low and elongates the first syllable. “Lanh means gentle, happy. Vi is a family name. Annie wanted to give that to her parents, a proper Vietnamese name on her birth certificate. Sylvia’s sort of a good compromise for when she goes to school.”  Harry stares at some middle distance, smiling like he isn’t even aware he’s doing it. “Annie’s parents took a little convincing that any of this was going to work out—mine too—but I love our unconventional little family, and I’m really looking forward to her wedding. Sylvia’s in store for two really incredible mums.” He looks back at you and shrugs. “It’s not such a bad life. Sometimes I wish there was a more exciting answer.” “That doesn’t seem like a bad life at all.” The corners of Harry’s lips drop a little the moment you open your mouth. His head is tilted slightly as though he’s trying to gauge your reaction. You try to mirror the same, reassuring smile he’d given you earlier, then cover a yawn with your hand. “What time is it?” you ask. Harry checks his phone. “Half ten—or just gone.” “No it’s not,” you frown, but he holds up his phone to show you. “Oh god…” “Time flies when you’re talking about parenthood.” He takes your empty mugs, setting them carefully in the sink. “Thank you.” Without turning around Harry announces, “I think I’m gonna have you sleep in my bed and I’ll take the air mattress in Sylvia’s room.” “No.” You shake your head. “Harry I swear if you insist on that, I’m calling a taxi to the police station.” “No, honestly… They’re the only two rooms in the flat with the blinds consistently drawn, and her room’s empty most nights anyway since I’m such a pushover.” It takes a moment for that comment to sink in and when it does you feel your heart melt a little. “You’ll sleep much better in my bed than on my inherited air mattress from the nineties.” “I won’t,” you lie seamlessly. “I don’t sleep well in new places anyway, so at least one of us should get a good night’s rest.” “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” he relents. You’re glad you don’t have to argue about it. “Thank you.” Harry leads you to the linen cabinet in the hallway and removes a cardboard box from the very top shelf. An enormous dust cloud falls like an avalanche down his shirt and he coughs hysterically, scrunching his nose. “Last chance to change your mind,” Harry croaks, wiping his glasses on the front of his shirt. You shake your head and he turns to the door across from his, where his bed is half visible in shadow. The two of you shuffle into a cubby of a room, and Harry drops the box onto the plush pile rug with a thud.  Your neck cranes as you look around the tiny space, about as roomy as the lift. The walls are painted navy blue with silver and gold stars exploding in a galaxy across the walls, and your hand floats to your chest in memory of when Sylvia had pointed at you with a tiny finger, recognizing the shape at the end of the chain hung around your neck. Her bed frame is painted a deep, forest green and the two small pillows upon it are shaped like rain clouds. Plastic dinosaurs of all different sizes and colors line her windowsill. A small, homemade bookshelf is aligned by the bed. “You mind helping me spread it?” Harry’s voice brings you back down to earth, and you grab two corners of the plastic to lay out the mattress like a picnic blanket on the floor. It’s a tight squeeze, but at least it’s a queen. You look down at it with your hands on your hips, and Harry tilts his head, running a hand over his stubble. Harry steps back out into the hallway, ducking into his bedroom. You hear the creak of a closet door and shifting fabric as the beam of light from his room slants across the hall into Sylvia’s, illuminating a diagonal path right up through the wooden slats of her toybox. There’s a small, familiar shadow outline on top. You crouch down to pick up Jojo and his mother in one hand, running your fingers over the soft velvet of their floppy ears. It feels a little odd, to be so comforted by a child’s toy that doesn't even belong to you, but here you are. “I see you’ve found an old friend.”  Harry leans against the doorframe, watching you. His arms are full with a clean sheet, spare pillow, and quilt. The fondness in his voice is hard to miss, but you wonder if it’s for his daughter, for the toy, or for you. “I would’ve thought Sylvia brought him to her mom’s, too.” Harry’s lips twitch with amusement before he puts the pillow and quilt on top of Sylvia’s dresser. “She used to take him everywhere.” He visits every corner of the mattress to tuck the sheet around. “Here, let me help you with—” “No, no, it’s always easier like this before you blow it up.” Harry steps into the corners of the room that aren’t completely swallowed up by the giant, deflated bed. He removes a paper lantern night light with constellation cutouts from its outlet, replacing it with the motor to the air mattress. “This part always takes a bit.” The small plastic box sputters into a whine and the mattress begins to inflate. “Just give it a few minutes… S’ old.” Soft whirring fills the room before he speaks over it. “We almost lost him on a trip to Brighton once—” he nods at Jojo, still in your hands— “Vi was inconsolable until we found him wedged between the bed and the wall in the hotel. Managed to convince her that leaving him at home—or at least only to Bridget’s on the first floor while I’m at work—was the best way to keep him safe.” He steals a glance at you and unfolds the massive quilt on top of the bed as it rises, before fluffing the pillow and tossing it to one of the long ends. “Then she started insisting on leaving him here on the weeks she spends at her mum’s.” “How come?” Harry’s smile is somewhere between pointedly self-deprecating and unbelievably loving. “Says she doesn’t want me to be lonely while she’s gone.”  Before you can fully process all the ways your heart is both warmed and a little broken, Harry is disappearing into the hall again, returning with a throw blanket and fanning it out over the quilt. “Okay.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “That should do it. Do you want another pillow?” He turns to you suddenly, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a couple more on my—” “No, no. This is more than enough… Thank you again, Harry,” You reassure him with the understanding that this is goodnight. Harry runs a hand through his hair and a little puff of dust is drawn out. “If you, um—If you need anything, I’ll be… my bedroom’s just there.” He twists around to point. “Don’t hesitate to like… yeah, wake me up if you need—if you feel… ” He laughs once at himself, exasperated. “Sorry, I’m tired.” You shake your head and smile sympathetically. “So am I.” “Goodnight, then.” Harry backs out into the hallway. He pauses in Sylvia’s doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. At that exact moment, the motor clicks off and the sudden silence feels unbearably loud.  “I want you to feel safe here.” The room is so still that you see the shadow against Harry’s neck bob as he swallows in the yellow light of the hall. His eyes are steady and clear. You take a breath in, and nod. “I do,” you say, steadfast. “I promise… Goodnight, Harry.” He shuts the door behind him. • saturday, 5th january 12:46 am •

There had been a knock, of that much you are sure. One solitary rap jolts you from sleep, followed by the raucous succession of a dozen more as you sit up on the air mattress. It stops for a moment. Then starts up again. “Harry?” you whisper into the blackness, your heart suddenly pounding. In your groggy trance, you weren’t sure the first time you heard it if someone was knocking on the door to Sylvia’s room, but by the time your eyes adjust, you’re sure it’s coming from farther away. It stops. You’re still for a minute, careful not to rustle the quilt. There is no sound apart from a faint siren in the distance. You unplug your phone from where it charges beneath the nightlight, squinting at its bright little face. 12:46. Perhaps it’s a police officer? Surely they would have announced themselves, wouldn’t they? You slide down the mattress and creep up to the door, pressing an ear against the wood. There is nothing but the echo of your own blood rushing in your ear. You have to close your eyes and count to three before turning the doorknob. Harry is already in the hall, the door to his bedroom left gaping. He turns to you and immediately brings a finger to his lips. The sound of an open hand smacking against the front door is unmistakable. Harry inches towards the noise. He freezes suddenly, then twists to look at you, reaching his hand back with fingers outspread. Stay here. Harry rounds the corner out of sight until it becomes unbearable to stand there a moment longer. You tiptoe in his wake, and move at the same time he does. The only light in the flat spills from his open bedroom. Here in hall, the shadows are long and dark and Harry’s expression is harder to make out until he glances over his shoulder. He nods at you once before training his eyes on the door again. Your feet move of their own accord, as though they have unilaterally decided that the safest place for you is as close to Harry as possible. It seems jarring to you, that this man in a tee shirt and boxers is the same man who, not a week ago, seemed like a piece of art with his burgundy suit and damp curls; the memory of loose limbs and laughter clashes against the image of him fraught before you. Harry peers through the peephole. Your eyes are cemented to the back of his head and you begin to feel dizzy, only just realizing you’ve been holding your breath. He tenses. In a freezing rush of dread, you suddenly know exactly who is on the other side of that door. You know you shouldn’t panic. Harry raises a finger to his lips again in another soundless imperative and you know—from a place that feels somewhere outside your body—that the last thing you should be doing is opening your mouth. But this is a terror hurtling beyond fight or flight. Your primary functions are in a deadlock with a searing hysteria clamoring for you to scream, and something desperately carnal that believes you could only survive this moment if you were silent enough.  Harry is still gesturing at you to keep quiet. He turns his back to the door and approaches you, the weight of his gaze keeping you motionless. He reaches forward and presses his palm firmly against your parted lips. All of a sudden you’re just as close as you were in the lift four nights ago when he tasted like brandy and the beginning of something new. The look he had given you on New Year’s was playful and wanting. In this moment, however, a pair of hard and urgent eyes bore into yours, igniting the pit of your stomach with a different kind of fear. Harry wraps his free hand around your wrist. You blink and blink. Beneath the steel resolve in his face, a desperate question forms: Do you trust me? You want to answer but you don’t know how. So you just keep staring. He pushes you backwards, gently, leading you around the corner and down the hall, his hand cupped to your mouth all the while. Even if you’d wanted to glance at the front door, Harry’s gaze is a magnet to your eyes. He walks you all the way into his bedroom, until you feel the mattress on the backs of your knees. You’d fall if not for Harry letting go of your wrist to guide you down with a hand on your waist. His lips move soundlessly around the words, stay here, and you manage to nod. Only then does he release your mouth. Your eyes can only focus on the closet door directly in front of you. It takes every ounce of your concentration to just keep breathing so you don’t pass out as Harry doubles back out into the hall, leaving you on the edge of his bed. You can feel an outbreak of sweat around your temple and on the back of your neck. You know you’re shaking but that feels distant, too.  You have no idea how long Harry is gone, you just know he closes the door upon his return. You’re still trying to pace your breathing as he crouches down in front of you. He has his phone to his ear. You can only catch a few of his words at a time.  “My name is Harry Styles… previously reported an, um, incident involving… yes… no… returned… knocked on the door. No, he’s gone now… I waited, to be sure. But I—” There’s a pause. “I think he’s knocking on every door on this floor.” You hear something like a choked gasp. Only when Harry’s eyes dart to yours do you realize it was you.  You have put the entire building in danger.  “Yes, she’s still here.” His free hand reaches up to your knee as he listens to the dispatcher, but he seems to think better of it at the last moment, worrying the edge of the duvet between his fingers instead. “Right, yes. I understand. I will. Thank you.”  Faint ringing replaces the feeling of water in your ears.  “They’re sending someone,” he murmurs after hanging up. “He’s gone.” You hear that broken gasp again. “He’s gone, I promise.” Your shoulders cave inward when you feel the full, painful heave of your sob. Tears stream down your cheeks as you cover your face. Harry’s hand lifts again. You shrink away and he immediately moves from you to stand. “I’ll be—”  You seize at the first part of him you can reach, grasping a weak fistful of his soft cotton tee. Harry is completely still beneath your trembling fingers. He doesn’t pull away or move closer. He just hovers there, steady. “Please…” You want to ask him to stay. You want to ask for help. You want him to touch you so you know that you’re real—that you’re not in fact still trapped alone in the most terrifying part of a nightmare, but the words are unbearable.  The sound of your name in Harry’s mouth undoes something inside you. Through your tears you finally lift your head to find his eyes. His expression seems torn, like he wants to comfort you but doesn’t know how. You’re not sure which one of you bridges the gap, but your forehead lands in the warm slope between his neck and shoulder and that seems to be all the confirmation Harry needs.  His hands slide up your back to hold you as you all but collapse into him, crying with enough force that Harry draws you off the bed and onto the floor with him. He smooths one hand up and down the length of your spine as the other wraps so far around your back that you can feel his fingertips hooked over your hip. “S’ok,” he murmurs, his lips pressing into your temple like he intends to seal the words to your skin. Harry doesn’t try to shush you. “S’gonna be alright. ‘M here… I’ve got you. You’re safe… I’ve got you.”  When your wracking sobs give way to hiccups and finally to something halfway controllable, he stops talking and just holds you, rocking ever so slightly in a sort of motion that only a parent can do. You have no idea how long you sit like that, a tangle of limbs and soaked collars and cheeks, until you’re finally able to speak.  “I’m sorry,” you choke out. “You—”  “None of that,” Harry says immediately. You feel his nose dig into your hair, his breath warm as he sighs. “I mean it, alright? No more apologizing for any of this. Might have to make you a jar like the one Annie has for me in her flat.” The thought is strange enough to pull you, however briefly, out of your current misery. “You have an apology jar?”  He exhales sharply. “Swear jar, actually.”  Your laugh bursts out unexpectedly, sort of wet and weak, but there nonetheless. You feel the soft stroke of his thumb on the back of your head. “That’s more like it.”  You draw back and Harry’s grip tightens, just for a moment, before he releases you. He brushes your damp cheeks with the side of his palm before you can do it yourself. You see the same concentration he wore when he’d pinned that Remembrance Day poppy to your jacket. It takes effort to silence the instinct to be ashamed and keep his eyes.  “They said it might be a bit before an officer can get up here,” he says, searching your face. “They’re puttin’ together a couple patrol teams to canvas the building and stay outside the rest of the night.” All you can think to do is nod. “Can I get you anything? Water?” “Please,” you reply, grateful. “I should—” you make a vague gesture at yourself— “clean myself up a bit.” Harry opens his mouth like he wants to comment, but just nods instead. You use his shoulder to push yourself to your feet; his hand covers yours and you feel his thumb running across your knuckles.  You say, “Thank you,” but it’s not nearly enough. He squeezes gently, staring up at you and saying nothing. You walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom. You can feel his eyes on you even when you close the door. Lacing your fingers atop your head, you sigh at the tearstained, swollen-eyed version of yourself staring back at you in the mirror. After blowing your nose and splashing a few handfuls of water across your face, you join him on his side of the bed. His phone is in his hands. He finishes sending off a long, blue bubble of text before looking up and passing you a water from the nightstand. He runs the tip of his index finger around the rim of his own glass.

You bring the drink to your lips, then lower it immediately; the glass clacks against your teeth with the tremor of your hand. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you even though he doesn’t turn his head. Again, you try taking a sip with the same result and sigh. “I think I’m gonna try my parents again.” “Sure.” You set your water on the nightstand and head to Sylvia’s room, shutting the door behind you. You take a deep breath before collapsing back on the mattress. The stars rotating on the ceiling like a merry-go-round make you nauseous so you unplug the nightlight before dialing. Your mom answers after the first ring, emphasizing your name like a scolding. “Hi, Mom.” “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night in England. Is everything alright?” “That’s actually what I need to talk to you about.” You hardly get a sentence in before you hear her rushing to get your dad and the three of you have an hour-long, emotional crash-course on the last five hours of your life. There isn’t too much to fill in as you’ve kept them more or less updated on the blue-eyed man and your previous trips to the police department. You assure them that you’re in one piece and that you couldn’t have wound up with a more generous host, but that doesn’t assuage your mom from insisting on speaking with the police herself. She makes you promise to stay on the line until the authorities arrive. Before long, you hear a light rap on your door. “Yes?” Harry cracks it open without peeking his head inside. “Police are here—take your time. I’ll go out and speak with them.” “Thanks, Harry… Mom, some officers just arrived I think.” You pinch your phone between your cheek and shoulder, softly close the door behind you. “I’ll call you back once we’re done with everything.” You rush through a quick goodbye and meet Harry in the entryway. He’s thrown on some gym pants and a sweater and his arms are folded across his chest. The fully-uniformed men seem bulky and out of place in the sixth-floor hallway, as though they couldn’t squeeze in Harry’s modest apartment. It’s not like you’re the one in trouble, but your heart skips a little anyway. “… every floor of the building and searched the surrounding perimeter with no sign of anyone matching the description, and from the security footage we seized, we can see that he pulled out of the car park about forty-five minutes ago.” “Okay.” Harry nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Alright. Great.” The officer who had been speaking turns to you. “And you must be the young woman who—” “Yes.” You jerk your head quickly. It’s more like an anxious spasm than a nod.  “That’s me.” “We were just filling your neighbor in that we were unable to find the culprit, but the building and surrounding area seem to be clear. If at all possible, we think it would be best for you to stay here just for the night, then come straight to the station in the morning to make a plan.”  You simply nod again. “I will.” “You’re flat 8F, is that right?” “That’s correct.” “Were any of these marks on your door before this evening?” The officer pulls a cell phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to reveal the last few pictures in the camera roll. Your stomach drops. He flips through several photos of a long, black streak above the handle of your front door, and a sizable ding in the wood by the door jam. The impact was hard enough to scratch the paint. “No,” you manage. “I don’t recognize those. Did he, um…” “The door didn’t give,” the officer says. It’s just reassuring enough to keep your knees from buckling. He turns to face Harry again. “And you’re certain that the man showed no signs of knowledge that she—that the two of you were in this particular flat?” “Yeah. I watched him make his way down, knocking on a couple more doors.”  “Was he stopping by every door?”  Harry takes a moment to think. “No,” he replies. “It seemed a bit random if I’m honest.” “Right. Well, keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the next few days, especially on this floor. Don’t hesitate to let us know if anything changes.” The officer looks to you again. “In the meantime, we’ll see you at the station tomorrow?” “Yes, um… ” You clear your throat as your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. Would one of you be willing to speak with my parents on the phone? They’re a bit worried and want to talk to a professional.” You hold up your cell. “Of course.” After dialing for him, you hand the officer your phone and he begins to engage your mom in what sounds like a very animated, reassuring dialogue. You and Harry are leaned against opposite walls in the hallway, spaced out in exhaustion. You cover a yawn with your hand and catch him doing the same. Do you dare check the time? Your hands absently pat your front and back pockets, and you frown in trying to recall where you’d last set your phone. You roll your eyes in glancing up at the officer pacing in the entryway on the phone with your mother. “S’ just gone two,” Harry mumbles. You make a light noise in the back of your throat. “I’m sorry, Harry.” “That’s a tenner in the apology jar.” You breathe a laugh without humor, shaking your head back and forth against the wall. “I just can’t wait for this day to be over,” you whisper. “Would you like to speak with her again?” The officer’s voice clips into your half-conscious conversation. You hold out your hand and tuck the phone between your cheek and shoulder again as Harry thanks the officers one last time before showing them out.  Apparently satisfied with the conversation she’d had with the police, your mother circles back to the matter of your current state of limbo. “You’re sure you’re comfortable staying with this neighbor? Where are you sleeping?” You can practically hear the alarm bells from across the Atlantic. “It’s fine, Mom. We’re friends… sort of.” Friends that drunkenly make out in the lift. “He has a spare mattress. I’m staying in his guest room.” She digests this information in silence. “I’m alright, I promise. It’s just for tonight.”  There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I want you to call us, alright? No matter what time it is here or there, I want you to check in with us every day until we know for sure you’re absolutely safe.”  “I will,” you vow. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? I’m exhausted.”  “Right yes, go get some rest. We love you.”  You swallow with a little difficulty. “Love you too.”  Harry’s idling by the sink with your empty glasses.  “Sorry about that,” you say, and then wince when he gives you a sidelong look. “They can be a bit protective.” He shakes his head, his expression somehow more grave than you were expecting. “I know exactly how they feel.” Harry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I’m sorry,” he says into his palms. “I’m knackered.” “Yeah, of course… Get some sleep.” You hesitate. “You sure there’s not anything else I can get you?” “I’m sure.” He pinches softly just above your elbow. “See you in the morning.” Harry disappears into the hall. You listen to the sound of his bedroom door click shut before tilting your head to the ceiling and letting your eyelids close, literally twenty feet below your own apartment. You could probably throw a basketball higher than that. You sigh and look back down at your phone on the counter, quickly drafting a text to India and then deleting it. For a minute you stay like that, a statue in the pale light of Harry’s kitchen—the relic of a girl who woke up this morning unscathed. It’s probably for the best that you get some sleep tonight, but standing in front of the nursery with your hand on the doorknob, you can’t bring yourself to face the pitiful air mattress again. You turn to Harry’s bedroom door in defeat. Who on earth are you trying to fool? Heart hammering, you swallow your pride and crack open the door to Harry’s bedroom, stepping gingerly inside. It shuts behind you with a delayed click-click, impossibly loud. Nothing apart from blackness is visible before you, but suddenly comes the sound of a long breath in from somewhere in the room. Blankets rustle. Your fingers tighten on the doorknob behind you. With a tink, soft, yellow light spills over every surface in Harry’s bedroom. His nose scrunches and eyes squint. His hand flounders once against the nightstand before he locates his glasses, pushing them swiftly onto his face. Harry’s expression relaxes as he props himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. Your face stings with heat, but you hold your ground. His eyes are soft, careful, yet strangely unaffected. Without a word, or the slightest suggestion of ambivalence, Harry reaches out an arm to the opposite side of the mattress, and tosses the corner of the duvet halfway down the bed before meeting your gaze from across the room. It feels like a weakness, to cave and accept his offer. You want to explain yourself, suddenly, but there are no words for this time of night and the chasm you’re hanging over by your fingertips. So you approach the bed in silence and slide beneath his covers.  Backs turned to each other, you curl up so far from Harry that your knees hang over the edge of the bed. You hear the cool sliding of blankets once more before absolute stillness. The last image of your day is the dim, golden glow of Harry’s lamp vanishing on the ceiling. • saturday, 5th january 4:07 am • It’s disorienting, adjusting to a room you can immediately tell isn’t your own, momentarily teetering between asleep and awake. It’s even more disorienting when you realize that you are not alone. There’s a knee between yours and a heavy arm slung over your waist. You’ve migrated to the center of the bed somehow during the night, flipped on your back. But what draws your attention the most is the warm breath in the curve of your neck. “Harry?”  It was the asleep-half of your brain that had thought to croak his name. You don’t know what kind of reply you’re expecting to receive in this blue, small morning hour. Perhaps you won’t get one at all. Perhaps you’re dreaming. You stare up at the ceiling.  If you close your eyes now, would you even remember this come dawn? But the grip around your waist tightens, just for a moment, before you feel his body slide up against yours, a sigh fanning over your cheek.  “Yeah.” Harry’s voice is low and gravelly, but unmistakable. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest through the fine cotton of the shirt he’d loaned you, and he sounds surprisingly alert. A small silence lingers. “Alright?” Your eyes stay trained on the ceiling. Are you?  Part of you wants him to clarify the question: are you alright after everything that happened tonight? Are you alright… with this? “Yeah,” you breathe.  Harry doesn’t say anything else. For a moment you think he’s fallen back asleep but then he shifts closer to you. You watch as the shadow of his arm reaches over your body for your hand—you had left it open and maybe a little vulnerable beside your head on the pillow. You can feel the calluses on Harry’s fingertips as they slide up your palm and find the space between yours. You don’t dare turn your head because there is a question in your eyes that you realize you can no longer ignore, and you are afraid of his answer. So you close your fingers around his and do not speak. Harry exhales. You’re hyper aware of the way his body relaxes as he squeezes your hand. You take a deep breath. You know it’s no use wondering whether or not Harry is going to remember this in the morning. Even if this is a dream, you cannot deny that you’re warm and you’re safe and that you will remember, possibly forever, regardless of whatever happens or doesn’t happen between you. It’s a vaguely scary thought.  You close your eyes.

[hubbytaeil]

1, 4, and 23 for hendery

Hendery + #1It’s too cold, come back!, #4 I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified, #23 Can I kiss you?

a/n: i don’t know how to recover from writing this help, i think i got carried away im sorry lmao

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s rather peculiar noticing that, no matter how much we think we know someone, surprisingly important elements always tend to hide themselves to the eye. One could compare such a thought with the unannounced downpour that occurred on that particular Friday night. “I swear, the forecast said there wasn’t going to be a single cloud in the sky!” declared with unparalleled confidence your friend Hendery.

 You released an inaudible swear under your breath, feeling your clothes getting wetter by the minute. You had planned no activity after dinner and you regretted not booking a table in some bar nearby. Being the weekend, there was not a single place that had enough space for other people. For a while you and Hendery just stood under some small porch, arguing whose fault was it this time. “I mean, you could’ve brought an umbrella, just in case, y/n.” I trusted you! You specifically said ‘Yo y/n, no rain tonight, how lucky are we?’.” Hendery shook his head in denial, even thought he knew exactly what he had told you on the phone. You put your arms around yourself, trying to find a way to ignore the shivers but it was no use. The more you thought about it, the clearer the solution was. “Hendery, put your arm around me.” You exclaimed with an emotionless expression, accompanied by the clicking of your teeth. Your friend stared at you incredulously for a good moment. “Excuse me, I don’t think I’ve heard you right.” He answered mockingly, scratching his ear. “You heard me. I’m not repeating myself.” You said as you impatiently tapped your foot on the slippery floor. Usually, at that point, Hendery would start making fun of you, he would ask you if you ‘had a crush on him, or something’ until the end of the evening. But he didn’t do anything of the ladder, instead he put his arm around you, almost like he had been waiting for you to ask him. The grip of his arm was tight around your shoulders, maybe a little too much. But you didn’t complain since you were finally feeling a little relief from small warmth he was providing you. There was something different in the silence that you were sharing; Hendery was a little tense and his eyes were shifting in every possible direction. You could read him like a book after years of friendship, it was only obvious to you that he was hiding something. And you knew exactly how to get it out of him. You just needed an important factor: the unexpected.

Out of the blue, you leaned in closer to him. “You know what we could do?” you whispered, making sweet eyes at him. He hated when you did that, this time it was no different, but for other reasons. “What?” he asked, faking annoyance unsuccessfully. You freed yourself from his grip and ran directly into the downpour. “No, y/n! You’ll come up with a fever!” shouted Hendery but you blatantly ignored his warnings, swaying your long skirt side to side in the rain. “It’s too cold, come back!” instead of using your words, you just ran back to him and grabbed him by the sleeve of his hoodie. “C’mon, I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain!” Hendery could not find the right words. There you were, your clothes completely drenched, your hair messy and your white shoes now turning into a shade of brown; but in his eyes, you were the most beautiful you’d ever looked. How could Hendery give voice to all the things he felt when he was with you if every time he tried, he would just get tongue tied and give up? He decided to stay silent once again, letting you guide him in the rain. You grabbed both his hands and began dancing to a non-existing rhythm, to which he tagged along slowly. You tried to remember the steps of a dance you’d seen in a period movie. “Are sure you remember it right?” questioned Hendery, seeing you struggling to find which way to turn, “Can you do better, sir?” you replied, bowing clumsily. He gave you a rather ambiguous look before he answered. “Follow me, miss.” Hendery took you in his embrace, his left hand on your lower back, the other guiding you. You’d never felt him so close to you, as you two swayed unevenly in what looked like the caricature of tango. Hendery made up for the music by making strange noises, resulting in you bursting into a rigorous laughter. “Don’t laugh! Dancing the tango is an art!” he exclaimed rolling the ‘r’ a little too hardly. Unconsciously, you hid your hysterical laughter in the crook of his neck, holding on to his back trying to catch a breath from all the fun that you were having. Hendery returned the embrace, making you forget for an instance that you were standing in the pouring rain. You shifted backwards to look directly at him, for no apparent reason. Instinctively, you began pushing his now soaking wet hair away from his face in the gentlest manner. Hendery immediately melted into your touch, tilting his head so that his face would fit perfectly into your palm. Something radiated in your chest and you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. But you were sure that Hendery’s fixed gaze on you was one of the reasons you were feeling that way. If only you had known the battle your friend was facing, seeing you in his arms and holding him tightly. Eventually, he caved in. “Y/n, I can’t take it any longer.” His words came out abruptly, as fast as a lightning, leaving you confused and a little scared. “What’s wrong?” you asked, dying to know what was troubling him. “Just tell me. If you say it, it’ll make you feel better.” Hendery thought otherwise, but he knew what he had to do. He took in a long deep breath, and then the lightning stroke again. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” His confession was professed all in one breath, because that was the only way he could figure out how to say it. Hendery’s heart was about to jump out of his chest waiting for your reaction. He expected you to get angry, to shout at him, to walk away and never talk to him again. But, to his surprise, you held him even closer, almost leaving no space between you two. You asked how long he had been feeling this way. “It’s been months now. I thought it was just a momentary feeling, that it would’ve gone away easily. I didn’t want to put our friendship at stake so I just waited. But I can’t endure it, not anymore.” You looked at him attentively as he poured his feelings out, matching the rhythm of the rain that had kept on falling in the meantime. “We must be the dumbest people on the planet.” You uttered giving Hendery a smirk, leaving him in a bit of a shock. “What? Why?!” he quickly responded showing his confusion. Then you let your hand caress his hair once again. “Because I didn’t want to say anything either, for your same reasons.” Hendery thought he was dreaming, because the thought that you could possibly ever reciprocate his feelings had been strongly pushed away by his mind, fearing rejection like a child fears the darkness. “Y/n, if this is a joke, I swear…” “I’m not joking, Hendery.” You answered pouting your lips slightly, feeling rather upset that his first instinct was to not believe you. “I think I’m love with you too.” Saying those words out loud only remarked their truthfulness. The only thing that Hendery could do was to hug you, leaving you breathless. “We really are idiots.” He confirmed, chuckling in your ear.

 A few moments passed before you decided to go back under the porch, wondering why you hadn’t done that before. You hid in Hendery’s embrace once again, even though you weren’t feeling cold anymore as he rubbing your shoulders lovingly. “Since we’re both going to be sick tomorrow…” he inquired out of the blue. “Yes?” “Can I kiss you?” You smiled at his request and, for the second time that evening, you managed to leave Hendery speechless. You wasted no time before crashing your cold lips on to his, softly at first. The kiss rapidly evolved into the passionate exchange you both had craved for so long. Hendery held your hips firmly as he leaned back on one of the columns. Time seemed to have stopped, that little porch had become your own little oasis of love. You remained there for a while, taken by the bliss of the moment, letting your tongues dance with each other. Hendery started kissing your neck devotedly and only then you realised that it had stopped raining. “We should go.” You whispered in his ear before taking a step back. He agreed, but only decided to move after placing a couple of kisses on both your face and neck. As you walked back to the nearest bus station, you put your hand in his as if it were the most natural thing to do, maybe because it was.

[samthemarvelfan]

See You Again: One Shot

Summary: 5 years after losing Bucky, you find yourself still trying to adjust to your not-so-new version of normal. One knock on your front door changed all that.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, Steve Rogers.

Warnings: A bit of angst and then pure and squishy fluff.

A/N: Hi everyone! Okay so this one kinda got away from me a little bit (AKA its waaaay longer than I intended.) Still, I hope you like it all the same. 

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) Tags are OPEN! Just send an ask :)

Monday.

The sound and smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen. Your iced coffee was within an arms reach, using it to kick start your morning.

“Mama, I can’t wait til next year.” Your daughter said proudly, coloring at the kitchen table.

You smiled to yourself, tussling her hair as you put her plate of pancakes and bacon in front of her.

“And why is that, sweet girl?” You asked.

Maggie put down the yellow crayon she’d been scribbling furiously with. “Because Mama, then I get to ride the bus and go to school! Remember what you said? When I’m 5 I get to go to big girl school!” She held up a picture of a wonky school bus with a smiling girl inside.

A chuckle escaped you. “You’re so smart, baby. Do you remember everything I say?”

She nodded taking a big, sticky bite of pancakes. “Yeah. Most of the stuffs anyway. Can you put this one on the ‘frigerator?”

“Of course.” You hung the picture with a homemade play-doh magnet she’s made for you at summer camp last year. Maggie ate happily, as you played music and did the dishes. Mornings like these were your favorite, soaking in the happiness of your daughter before you had to head to work.

You were snuggled with Maggie on the couch, watching Blue’s Clues. She wiggled taking a sip of her apple juice; a treat in her eyes. Usually, you only gave her water.

“Mama, Blue starts with the letter ‘b’!” She shouted excitedly, turning to face you.

Her cerulean eyes lit up at you, looking for confirmation.

You released a shocked gasp, “Oh my gosh, it does! You’re so smart, Maggie!”

She smiled proudly, before turning back to the tv.

“Mama?” She called to you.

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly.

She looked up at you with big eyes once again, “My Daddy’s name started with a ‘B’, too.”

All at once, it’s as if time moved a bit slower. You try your best to hide your reaction from Maggie. “It sure did, baby girl. Well his nickname did, anyway.”

She let out a small giggle, “Oh jeez, I’m so silly, Mama!” She said, pretending to hit her palm against her forehead.

The smallest tears prickled your eyes, “Yes you are, baby. I love you.”

“Wuv you, Mama.” Maggie said, climbing onto your lap and giving you a wet kiss that still smelled of maple syrup.

Glancing at the clock, you notice the time. “Maggie, grab your bag and put your cup in it, Uncle Steve will be here soon.”

She squealed in delight. This was the routine, Steve comes Monday’s and Saturday's to spend time with Maggie, and you do some light office work down at the VA. It was only two days a week, but it made you feel somewhat normal.

As normal as could be.

Steve arrived at 10 am on the dot as usual. “Hey, Ella.” He said smiling, kissing your cheek.

“Hey yourself, someone is excited as al—“

“Uncle Steve!” You were cut off by a high-pitch scream and the pitter-patter of little feet running toward the door.

He crouched and smiled immediately, “Hiya, munchkin!” He scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the house.

“I brought you a surprise.” He said as he held her.

She instinctively covered her eyes, “I won’t peek! I won’t!”

He placed her down, and pulled a small container of bubbles out of his back pocket.

“Wanna go to the park and maybe blow some bubbles?” He asked her with a smile.

She gasped, “Bubbles! Bubbles, Mama! Uncle Steve brought bubbles!”

You smiled at her excitement, “I see that, baby! Go get your shoes on quick!”

Your smile faltered slightly as Maggie ran to grab her shoes, and Steve noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, rubbing your shoulder.

You nod subtly, “She mentioned him this morning. Just wasn’t expecting her too—hell I never expect her too.”

He smiled, “She’s a smart one, that kid. Remembers everything.”

You smile in an attempt to push the pain away, “I’m always so impressed when she talks about him. It’s like she knows him, Steve. Even though she’s never met him.”

Steve heard the wobble of your voice. He sighed with empathy, before enveloping you in a hug. “He’d be so proud of you. You’re such an amazing Mom, and Maggie...” Steve said pulling back, you noticed the tears brimming his eyes. They must’ve matched yours.

“Maggie is everything good that Bucky ever was. Even more so because she’s half of you. God, she reminds me so much of him.” He smiled fondly.

You feel your lip quiver, “5 years, Steve. I can’t believe he’s been gone that long.” You wipe your eyes quickly, knowing Maggie will be back any second.

Steve cleared the tremors from his throat. “I know.”

“I just wish I got to tell him. I can just see the look on his face...he would’ve been so happy.” You imagine fondly.

“Mama! I got my...Mama? You okay?” Maggie asks, slowing down as she enters the room.

She walks up to you with arms up, and you hoist her to your hip. “Mama’s okay, baby.”

She grabbed your face in her little hands, and shook her head. “Mama sad...” she said quietly.

You kiss her forehead, and hold her to you close. “I’m was a little sad, baby, but seeing you made me so much better. I love you, Maggie.”

“I wuv you, Mama, and I wuv Uncle Steve.” She said happily.

“You do?!” Steve asked, tickling Maggie’s sides.

She laughed for a moment, before clinging to Steve’s neck. “Yeah, and I wuv my Daddy too. I bet he was so nice, Uncle Steve.”

That’s another thing Maggie definitely got from Bucky; knowing just what to say and when to say it.

Steve smiled, and pushed some hair out of her face, “Your Daddy was the best, kiddo. I promise.”

You looked at the clock once more, “Shoot! I gotta go, have a good day, baby!”

You kissed the crown of Maggie’s head, and kissed Steve’s cheek before handing her bag to him, “Lunch is—“

“In the bag.” He said smiling.

“Yeah. Oh and the sunscreen—“

“Little pocket on the front.” He said, handing you your keys.

“Right, oh and don’t let—“

“Don’t let her have anymore juice because she had some already. I got it, Els. Go.” He chucked, ushering you out.

“Okay, okay. Bye, guys!” You said happily.

While you knew talking about Bucky with Maggie was always a good thing, the missing him never got easier. Sure there were days you thought about him less, but he never really left your mind.

Not when the daughter you share is waking you up every morning with hugs and snuggles and kisses.

Bucky missed everything.

He missed the diapers, all those diapers. Her first laugh, and when she said ‘mama’ for the first time. He missed her learn to crawl and her first steps. Bucky never even got to heart her heart beat.

These were things you should have shared with him—memories you should’ve made with him.

You’d gone to therapy. You’d been walked through the stages of grief more times than anyone should have to be. Yet, the hurt was still there. It’s always going to be there, and that’s the life you’ve got to make work now. This—this is your normal.

Friday

“Maggie, don’t touch those cookies, little missy!” You shout from the living room.

She comes sulking out of the kitchen, “Mama you left them on the counter! I see them! They’re right there!”

You chuckle as you finish wrapping the vacuum cord back up to put away. “Yes I did, and they’re for after dinner.”

“That’s not fair!” She whined, fake tears being forced into her eyes.

“Maggie Jane I am in no mood for this. You can either sulk on the couch with no tv, or you can go play in your room until I say your spaghetti is done. Whatcha think?” You asked in your sternest mom-voice.

She wiped the fake tears, “Okay Mama, I go play.”

You bent down and smooched her forehead, “There’s my girl.”

Her feet padded down the hallway, and you made your way to the kitchen, putting on a pot for the pasta.

As you wiped down the counters, you felt something strange; like a surge of energy. The kind that is palpable, and makes your hair stand on end. It was hard to explain, but it was like suddenly the air was electric.

The kitchen lights dimmed four or five times before settling back to normal.

Goosebumps prickled your skin and you’re mind began to race.

“What the hell...” you whispered. “Maggie, you okay?” You called down the hall.

“Yes, Mama! I’m playing with my play-doh!” She responded happily.

Thank God... you thought to yourself.

After what happened 5 years ago, any time something felt off, no matter how small it seemed, you automatically assumed the worst.

You open the shades above your sink. The sun was shining bright—brighter than it had in forever.

“Huh...” you thought aloud.

Before you made the pasta, you sent a quick text to Steve, making sure he was still coming for his weekly dinner. After almost 20 minutes and no response, you figured something came up.

“Maggie! Dinner!” You shout, putting her plate and cup on the table.

She ran into the kitchen with delight, “S’ghetti!” She shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

You scooted her in closer to the table, before sitting in the seat beside her.

“Mama? Where’s Uncle Steve?” She asked taking a bite of her pasta.

You scooted some of the food around on your plate, “I’m not sure, kiddo. I think he might’ve gotten stuck at work.”

“Can we call him?” An innocent question from an innocent mind.

You shook your head, “No, baby. Well call him tomorrow.”

The rest of your evening was relatively calm, considering the unsettling feeling you’ve had since that episode in the kitchen. Maggie had her bath and 2 bedtime stories, and was now safely and soundly tucked in bed.

You, on the other hand, lay awake in your own, your mind unable to quiet the eerily familiar thoughts that something was wrong.

You still hadn’t heard from Steve, which is very unlike him, so you decide to text him once more.

Hey, haven’t heard from you. Weirded out by what happened earlier, idk if it was a power surge or what but now I’m anxiety city. Call me please, so I know you’re safe. Love you.

You sat with that for about an hour, before you eyes betrayed your mind. Your lids felt 1000 times heavier and you decided sleep would be a good idea since Maggie is a notoriously early riser on the weekends. You’ll call Steve in the morning, and if necessary, you’d send out a search party.

Saturday.

You’d surprisingly woken up before Maggie. This meant hopefully and hour or so to yourself, maybe watch a movie without animals that sing? That would be paradise.

As you padded through your living room with your coffee in hand, you jumped hearing someone scream outside.

You put the coffee down and quickly check on Maggie, still sound asleep. Her sound machine muffling the screams and cries from outside.

Peeking out the window, you see your neighbor crying on her knees. She’s holding someone, a boy, no older than 12 or 13.

“Miles?” You ask yourself. He was your neighbor’s son.

He’d also vanished 5 years ago.

“That’s...that’s not possible.” You whisper.

Then you hear it again, more cries. Cries of joy, from all around your neighborhood.

You fumble with the blankets on the couch, searching for your phone. You find it and quickly dial Steve’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Your body is shaking as you hear the beep. “Steve, I-I don’t know what the hell is happening. T-There’s people who...I don’t know. I’m freaking the fuck out! Call me soon...please.”

A knock at the front door makes you jump. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and walked to it slowly.

With your hand on the knob, you hesitate, feeling your body screaming at you not to open it.

Another set of knocks, softer than the ones before had been.

You let out a puff of air, and swing the door open. When it revealed your visitor, you swear you could have fainted right then and there.

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real.

“Hey, Sugar.” He said breathlessly.

His hair was in a bun at the nap of his neck, and he was dressed in a black Henley and sweats to match. His face was bruised and cut and the circles under his eyes showed whatever he’d just been through definitely wasn’t easy.

You felt like you were gonna collapse. The room was spinning and your vision went blurry.

“Y-You’re dead. You’re dead, James.” You spoke. What else could you say?

“Ella, you gotta sit down, your pale as a ghost.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the house.

Bucky kicked the door closed, the sound of it slamming seemingly braking your trance.

“Let me go!” You shout, pulling away from him.

“Els—“ he starts.

You shake your head, “No...stop. You’re not real. I’m hallucinating or something.”

When Bucky first died, you saw him everywhere. Swearing to yourself, and your therapist, that you could still hear him—smell him.

He reached out and stroked your cheek, “I swear to you, Doll, I’m real.”

Your eyes stung with tears, “H-How?”

“It’s a long story. One that I promise I’ll tell you but I really just wanna hold you for a second.” He breathed.

You stared at him. Bucky was, for all intents and purposes, unchanged. He looked the same way he did when he vanished.

You on the other hand looked entirely different. The crinkles by your eyes were more defined, there were stretch marks on your belly from carrying Maggie, and those chronic bags under your eyes from raising her alone.

Bucky took a tentative step forward, before taking your face in his hands. He took you in for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around you. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He said into your hair.

You felt yourself melt into him, something you’d done so many times, it’s no wonder it happened so naturally.

“You always know just what to say.” Your voice was trembling.

You inhaled him. A lifetime of memories flooding your mind, along with all the pain you’d felt for the last 5 years. You shut your eyes tight, keeping the warmth of his body against yours. “I-I can’t even begin to tell you—“

“Shh, I know. Believe me, Els...I know.” He whispered.

You looked up at him. His cerulean eyes reminding you of all the life you’d lived with him, and of the one you’d loved without him. But Bucky was here, standing in the home you’d once shared together.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “Buck, I need to tell you...” your voice drifted off.

Bucky brushes the hair out of your face, “What is it, Sugar?”

You shook your head, still having trouble believe this is real. “I just, I don’t know where to start, James...”

He kissed your forehead sweetly, his warm lips soothing your soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until this moment.

“Start from right now. I don’t know how to navigate this...but we can figure it out. To—“

“Mama?” Maggie’s small voice interrupted Bucky’s words.

You peek around his large form to see your daughter clinging to her stuffed piglet that shows all the signs of being well-loved for the past few years.

You sigh contently, “Good morning, beautiful girl.”

She quietly walked by Bucky, looking up at him as he stares at her in disbelief. Maggie held her arms out for you and you hoisted her to your hip.

“Ella...” Bucky says breathlessly, looking between the two of you.

He sees it immediately. The eyes that are mirror images of his own, the dimple on her cheek matching the one you have on yours.

You kissed her temple. “This is Maggie.”

A muffled sob sounded from Bucky’s chest, “Maggie...” he whispered happily.

She turns her head at the sound of her name and looks at him, watching him for a moment, taking him in.

“Does your name start with a ‘B’?” She whispered, fiddling with her stuffy.

Bucky smiles and let out a small laugh, “It sure does.”

Maggie turns back to you, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that my Daddy, Mama?”

You squeeze her tight, blinking the tears away. “It is, baby.”

She wiggles to be put down on the floor, so you oblige.

Confident as always, she walks up to Bucky, and he crouches to meet her. “I’m Maggie.” She says, holding back a giggle.

Bucky smiles and strokes her hair, “Hi, Maggie.” He chokes out.

She spots the tears in his eyes and turns to you. “Mama? Is Daddy sad?”

Daddy

A word that was once so painful for you to hear her say, was now your favorite sound in the world.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Why don’t you ask him?” You say, crossing your arm comfortably.

She turns back to Bucky with her arms raised, and he scoops her up without a second thought. She places her little hands on his face and look at him, “Daddy sad?” She asks.

Bucky’s lip quivered, and he shook his head. “No, beautiful. D-Daddy isn’t sad.” You could tell he couldn’t believe he was saying that word.

“Daddy is so, so happy.”

Bucky has spent the day getting to know his daughter.

Maggie had shown him all of the pictures she’s drawn of him over the years. They’d had a tea party for lunch, and played with her play-doh.

You’d put her down for a nap, and Bucky washed the dishes from lunch. It all felt so routine, domestic...

Normal.

Bucky told you everything.

Thanos. The army. Natasha, and Tony. Oh God, Tony...Your heart hurt for him, and the thought he’d never see his daughter again.

“I’m so sorry, Sugar.” He said, sipping coffee from his mug.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why are you sorry?”

He thought for a moment, before he grabbed your hand, entangling your fingers.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I made you do all this alone.” He pulled you close to him, so you were leaning against his body.

“I should be apologizing to you, I never even got to tell you...” you drifted off.

He turned your face to his, and put his lips on yours.

Passion wasn’t even an accurate enough word.

This was gratitude. This was fear, it was heartache and lust and yearning all wrapped into one.

This was love.

Bucky pulled away slowly, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’ve given me everything, Ella. Maggie...she’s--she’s incredible, and you made her that way.” The tears in his eyes finally spilled over, as did yours. “I can’t wait to get to know her.”

“I love you, James. I love you.” You said quietly.

Bucky stroked your cheek, “I love you, too.”

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 15•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: Richie and Eddie go back to school. Stan interrogates Eddie and Bill tries to put the pieces of the mystery together. )

~

Tuesday morning came and Richie found himself passing his rooms as he contemplated his latest delema.

“What the fuck am I gonna wear!” He shouted as he pulled on his curls. He groaned when he let go.

A quiet knock brought his gaze towards his door where his mother stood, “Everything alright honey?” She asked with kind yet tired eyes, it was still early after all.

Richie hummed a quick fine from where he stood in front of his closet. He spent another solide 10 minutes staring at the contents before he finally decided on an outfit for the day. In the end he picked out his favourite t-shirt, which was a big light blue hoodie that had ‘Virginity Rocks’ written in big writing, a matching light blue beanie. Accompanied by one of his nicer pairs of black jeans which he cuffed at the bottom to match the warmer weather outside, and a pair of black high top converses.

He hummed, “Nice, nice, nice” Richie snapped his fingers anxiously as he gave himself a once over in the mirror.

When he drove to school that day, Richie actually turned the radio on and allowed himself to listen to the top hits, which he normally hated, he’d rather hook his phone up via aux cord and play his own tunes. But today… something about all of the cheesy love songs actually brightened his mood. Hell, he even sang along to a couple of them.

He walked up the main path that day and smiled at the sight of his boyfriend who leaned up against the same tree he had been a week or so ago. “Hey gorgeous” Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist from the back.

Eddie squicked, spooked slightly, but then his squak turned to laughter. “Richie! Let go!” Eddie laughed as he playfully thrashed in Richie’s arms.

Instead Richie gracefully twirled him around so they stood face to face. The wolf kissed the rabbit’s forehead which got him a blush of the cheeks from the shorter boy.

“Hey…” Eddie said sheepishly as he looked up into Richie’s big brown eyes, always filled with excitement, now they were filled with something new, love. It warmed his heart.

“Hey shortstack” Rich carefully raised his hand up and pushed a loose piece of hair behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie rolled his eyes, using it as a way to glance away without seeming off, “Don’t call me that” he complained, but his voice held to annoyance. Before Richie could argue, Eddie laced their fingers together and looked towards the school, “Come on, dipshit. We’re gonna be late”.

~

Bill didn’t show up that day, not during the first period, or lunch, or last. Though Eddie only shared one class with him, fourth period history, that didn’t stop his foot from tapping underneath his desk the entire day.

Home room with Alley was fairly chill, she was normal, which Eddie needed every now and then. She talked about the journalist things, TV shows and fan fictions, online friends and cosplay. It put The Anector’s mind at ease just listening to her ramble on about the latest gossip.

Second Period was math, which he found out after the second day of school he shared with Stan. Even after everything that happened at Bill’s, Eddie trusted Stan. He knew that Stan and Richie had been friends for a long time before all of this started and that they had a tight bond, so he could get used to how close the two were.

Eddie took his normal seat in the third last row, second to the window. It was Stan who decided to take up the seat beside him. Neither of them said anything while Stan got settlers into his seat. Once Stan had his notebook all sorted out and his pens in place he slowly, sarcastically almost, turned towards Eddie with a blank expression.

“Am I going to need to start pulling teeth before you tell me what happened?” Stan’s voice was a mix of worry and concern, also a little amusement as he enjoyed watching Eddie’s face fill with fear at his tone.

Eddie’s face fell, “Uh- No? I just didn’t know if you wanted to know or-“.

“Well I do” Stan cut in like a teenage girl desperate for the latest tea.

“Okay okay, sheesh” Eddie was stalling, not really wanting to retell the story as he barely even liked to think about what had happened. So he just stated the facts, “Bill thinks I killed his dad” He only realized how bad that sounded once it was already out.

“What?” Stan hissed, eyes wide with shock. When Eddie didn’t respond he simply asked, “Well, did you?”.

“Sort of” Eddie made a face. Okay that was as close to getting over practically killing someone as he was gonna get. Eddie tried to not meet Stan’s intense stare, focusing on the compass around his neck, he fiddled with the latch, clicking it open and closed like a pen.

“Sort of?” Stan whisper yelled.

Eddie rolled his eyes with a sigh then proceeded to quickly explain what had happened in The All Lands and what happened at Bill’s.

“What happened after I left?” Eddie asked in anticipation, he worried that the rest of the Losers had suspected something was up by their outburst of weirdness that night.

“Uhhh” Stan hummed, thinking over what he was gonna say next, “I gave Bill a tongue lashing for everything he did to you. He seemed pretty rattled, like a deer in the headlights. But afterwards we went back in, watched Toy Story 2. Bill was first asleep. Then Bev and I raided his fridge. I finished his chocolate milk as revenge, and spite” Stan lightly smirked at his actions. “But yeah if the Losers ask, you had an asthma attack” The light haired boy stared as Eddie nodded in understanding.

“Oh” Stan remembered something and pulled it out of his pencil case, “Here” He handed the phone to Eddie.

Eddie moved the phone from hand to hand, a ghost smile played over his lips as he clicked it open and saw Richie’s ridiculous selfie for a wallpaper. “Thanks” Eddie sent a smile to Stan who in return gave him a slightly smaller smile and a head nod.

~

Lunch was fairly normal. Eddie had met up with Richie at his locker and they walked to the cafeteria together from there. Mike was already there, he saved their normal table for them, he waved when they entered the room.

“How are you guys doing?” He shot them his cannon ‘Mike Hanlon Best Friend of the Year’ smile.

Even though he didn’t ask directly, The Ancestors both got the vibe that he was hinting at the recent occurrences at Bill’s.

“We’re… okay” Richie shared a reassuring glance with Eddie who placed his hand over his knee under the table.

Eddie nodded, “My asthma was acting up, Richie opted to take me home. But I’m all good now”.

Suddenly a pair of arms were wrapped around Eddie, and they weren’t Richie’s, so the rabbit was thoroughly confused.

“I’m so glad you’re okay” The female voice sighed from above him.

Eddie’s shoulders sagged in relief, “Hey Bev” He tilted his head back to smile up at her.

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked as she settled in beside him.

Eddie swallowed the bite sandwich he’d been chewing, “Asthma attack” he informed her with a slow nod and took another bite of his sandwich.

“Shit Eds are you alright? She asked with concern.

Eddie nearly choked on his sandwich, no one has ever called him that, aside from Richie, and he kinda preferred it that way.

“Woah, hold up there Marsh, this is my Eds” Richie playfully nudged her shoulder.

Even though Richie’s voice hinted that he was joking, Eddie had a feeling he meant it. He sneezed Richie’s knee under the table and their smiles brightened a little.

“Does anyone know where Bill is today?” Ben asked from the other side of Bev.

The Losers shared a look of worry, no one answered, no one knew.

“I’m sure he’s just sick, or maybe he’s watching Georgie because he’s sick” Stan supplied a sufficient idea.

~

English class rolled around and Eddie’s mind was filled with thoughts and worries about Bill. He hadn't even noticed the way his foot had continued to tap rapidly against the tile floor, until Richie placed a hand on his knee, stopping the tap.

“You okay?” Richie had leaned over from his desk beside Eddie.

“Fine, just worried about Bill” Eddie sighed and glanced over at Richie.

After that Mr. Brock began the lesson and he explained the trip on Friday a little bit more. Richie’s palms began to sweat just at the thought of the upcoming full moon. He stole a quick glance at Eddie who was subconsciously twirling a peice of hair between his fingers. The wolf still couldn’t believe that his little bunny liked him back.

~

It was Tuesday, which meant it was Stan and Richie’s day to go feast on junk food from the corner store. Which actually worked out pretty well as Bill was Stan’s usual ride, but Bill kinda went awol, so he got a ride home anyways.

This was the one time they got to just fool around and be teens.

Richie found Stan where he stood in the chips ile as he contemplated what flavour to buy. The dark haired teen held out a bag of M&M’s and a bottle of Dr Pepper and a coke. “Yo Staniel, what if I ate mentos and drank coke afterwards? Would I throw up? Internally combust? Or shit my pants?” Richie stared off into the distance as if he was contemplating the meaning of life.

“Oh Richard…” Stan sighed, “The acids in your stomach are strong enough to-”.

“Whatever I’m testing it anyways” Richie declared.

Suddenly Stan let out a mega sneeze, it might have been sudden but he jumped into action and sneezed into his elbow.

“You good Stanita?” Richie questioned with concern.

Stan shook his head, lately the sneezes have been taking out more and more energy from him. He pulled a kleenex from his pocket and wiped his nose. “First, don’t call me that. Second, I’m fine, just a cold” He confirmed.

Richie shrugged, Stan had a history of ignoring his colds until they passed, so Richie left Stan to go find more snacks to rot his teeth.

Stan Rolled his eyes which then fell on the aisle of freezers that stood behind him. He saw the various types of milks that were kept safe in their little frozen prisons. Stan’s gaze fell upon the jugs of chocolate milk which caused his lips to form a small smile.

Bill…

~

Bill Denbrough hadn't left his place at his desk in an hour. He sat facing his board, the pictures and articles had blurred together from looking at them for so long. He spent the morning changing things, adding new pictures (one was an updated photo of Eddie that had bunny ears drawn on his head and a photo of Richie with a question mark over his face). Now, things seemed even more confusing than they had previously.

He knew Eddie had something to do with his father's death. Bill just didn’t know how, yet. He also couldn't ignore the fact that his dad didn’t actually have any physical damage, it did look like a heart attack, but Bill knew it wasn't.

Lying to his mother had become some sort of second nature to Bill, so lying about being sick to skip out on school that day wasn't a chore. Lying to anyone wasn't hard anymore…. Deep down Bill knew that it wasn't good, but he had to do what was necessary.

Bill cut a new piece of yarn and attached one end to the picture of Eddie and the other end to the picture of Richie. From there he looked at his calendar that was placed just above his desk, right before his main investigation board began. He noticed that that Friday had ‘School Trip’ and he was reminded of the Writer’s Craft field trip he had with his class, as well as Richie and Eddie’s english class. Bill smirked and circled the date with a red sharpie.

“No better time”.

Word Count: 2044

I know this chapter was shorter than the last one- chapter 14 was a mega chapter so it was a lot longer than normal. But nontheless I hope y'all enjoyed, shit is about to go down so get excited! We're nearing endgame terriotry so- be ready.

And don’t forget to check me out on Instagram @ stellar.alley if you want to see more of my real life and some behind the scenes content! Also check out my a03 account for more stories @ stellar_alley. Don't forget to like,comment and share to show your support!

That's all from me guys see y'all next week with chapter 16

So Long and Goodnight.

~

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[cnrmrphy-blog]

party time

summary: you and the boys go to a high school party for the first time.   warnings: underage drinking, mild cursing author’s note: please please PLEASE be responsible when you drink, i am not condoning this whatsoever.  this is also lowkey based off of real experiences so sorry if this doesn’t reflect you lol. 

life as we know it masterlist 

--

You sat at your usual table in the back corner of the library as you sipped your water, reading a question for your history study guide.  The rest of you were relatively quiet, with Alana and Zoe quietly talking about something you couldn’t quite hear (they were unfamiliar, but a welcome addition.  They normally hung out with other people during lunch).

“Did you guys hear about the party happening on Friday?  The one Clark or Kyle or whatever his name’s throwing?” Jared looked up from his phone. 

“I think?  Heard some girls talking about a thing on Friday in bio, maybe that’s what they meant.” Evan stated. 

“Actually, yeah.  Some of my band friends are going.” Zoe said mindlessly, looking over from her conversation with Alana. 

“We should go.” Jared said it nonchalantly, but had a glint in his eyes.  

“Yeah, no.” Connor didn't look up from his book.  You weren’t even sure if he was listening until he spoke up. 

“Actually, I think it might be fun!” You played with your pencil as you thought aloud, “I’ve never been to a party before.”

“Seriously?” Connor flicked his eyes at you in disbelief.  You never once implied you even cared about having a “real” high school experience. 

You shrugged in response, “It could be fun. Or a great story to tell when we’re all old.  Either way, it’s for the experience.” 

He rolled his eyes at you, “I would rather get yelled at by Larry.” 

“I think I agree with Connor… Not about getting yelled at by his dad!” Evan fidgeted with his fingers and wouldn’t look up from his food, “I just don’t know about going to a party with a bunch of people I don’t know…”

“Well, we can’t go sadly.  We were going to see that new horror movie right?” Alana looked at Zoe for confirmation.

“Yep.” Zoe popped her lips and leaned back in her seat.  “You guys should go though.  Think about all the dumbasses you’re gonna see.”

“Yes!  Like a social experiment or study!” You sat up straighter with a bright smile stretching your face, looking at Jared, “I wanna go.”

“Sweeet,” Jared looked at Evan expectantly.  He wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

“I, uh, I guess?  Maybe?  You guys will for sure be there?” Evan trained his focus on you more so than Jared. 

“Of course!  The buddy system never fails.” You turned your body towards Connor, who was eerily silent the entire time.  “Please come?  It won’t be the same without you.” 

He bit the inside of his cheek and gave you a long, hard look. You didn’t back down from his gaze. 

Finally, he sighed.  “Fine.  Someone has to be the sober one anyways.” He grimaced, putting his face in his hands, “I’d never thought I’d say that.” 

You weren’t sure if your smile could get wider.  You met eyes with Jared and fist bumped.  

Zoe laughed, “You guys can come back to our place when you get plastered.” 

—

You were wandering through a sea of bodies with a solo cup in your hand.  You went to get another drink but you seemed to have lost Connor.  And you have absolutely no idea where Jared and Evan went—the last you saw, Evan was pleasantly tipsy, swaying to the music and Jared was approaching true drunkenness.  You’ve been alone for… twenty minutes?  Thirty?  

You didn’t know how long you’ve been there, but you enjoyed the music and the drink in your hand tasted like straight up punch so you didn’t care.  You kind of wished you found Connor by now though.  As broody as he was, he made things more fun with his snarky commentary.

You hummed to yourself as you took a gulp.  Ooh, that made your gut feel warm.  Actually, your entire body felt warm. 

You pressed your back against the wall as you watched everybody around you.  A couple making out, some playing beer pong, others dancing (badly, but live and let live right?). 

You moved to the rhythm of music pulsing through hidden speakers, hoping to see a familiar mess of hair in the crowd.  He’d find you, you knew he would.

“Y/N!” 

You snapped your head towards the sound of your name and your heart leaped.  Connor!

“Hi!” You basically sprang from your position to lunge at him.  Your drink spilled on the carpet (whoops) and you dropped your cup.  You threw your hands around his neck and threaded your fingers through his hair.  “Where’d you go?  Missed you.” 

“...How much did you drink?” Your face was close to his, and you saw him turn pink.  Was he warm too?

You backed up from him and paused, looking at your fingers to count. “Um.  Three?  Four?  It was the red stuff.”

“The red stuff.” Connor took a deep breath and grabbed your hand.  “C’mon, let’s find the others and go home.”

“But but but I don’t wanna!  I’m having so much fuuuun.” You didn’t understand, why did he want to leave?  

“Oooh I bet you are.” He tugged at your hand slightly, but you refused to budge.  “Y/N, let’s go.” 

“But why?”  You used his tight grip to your advantage and pulled him towards you, the sudden movement making him stumble.  Wrapping your arms around his middle, you nuzzled your head into his neck.  “Con, can we please stay?  Only for ten more minutes?”

“Y/N—you know what, sure.” His voice was flat, and he grumbled something under his breath but you couldn’t hear it.  He reluctantly wrapped his arms around you and placed his chin on your head.  “You’re staying with me though, alright?”

“Okay!” 

He stepped back and you gave a squeak of protest.  He grabbed your hand again and laced your fingers together, “Let’s go find Evan and Jared.”

You squeezed his hand and hummed in agreement.  You were just happy you didn’t have to go yet.  

You two weaved through the crowd, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were going.  Connor seemed to know what he was doing.  You trusted him.

Although now that you thought about it, you didn’t really want to be here anymore.  You were starting to get sweaty, and the music wasn’t even good...  And Connor seemed to really want to leave… Maybe you should?  You wanted him to be happy, and you were getting kind of sleepy.

Actually, nah.  I just want more alcohol. 

You spotted a cup full of… something on a banister as you two passed by.  Your foggy brain made a snap decision, and you snatched it.  You grinned (a little deviously if you were being honest) to yourself as you sipped it, almost as if you were playing a game with Connor that he didn’t know he was playing.  Let’s see how much I can sneak before he notices, that sounds fun. 

You two stopped in what seemed like the dining room.  You looked up from your cup to see Evan smiling amusingly at Jared (who was… twerking?  Good for him.) 

My friends!

You beamed at them and called out, “Evan!  Jared!” 

They looked over at you, Jared cheering your name and Evan waving back.  They both had red solo cups in their hands.  

“Christ, someone please kill me.” Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and tugged you along with him as you two walked closer.  

“Connor my man, what’s shaking?” Jared laughed loudly and slung an arm around Evan’s shoulders.  “And Y/N, there’s our favorite girl!” 

Evan rolled his eyes at Jared and slung him off.  He looked so much more at ease than he normally does. 

You mumbled hi and leaned against Connor.  You sipped your drink again, smiling.  Your face hurt with how much you were smiling tonight. 

Connor ignored Jared and looked at Evan, “How sober are you right now?” 

“Not enough to drive, but enough to see straight.” He shrugged, but set his cup down.  

“That’s good enough.  We’re leaving.” Connor gave Evan a pointed look.  The two seemed to have an unspoken conversation with an occasional glance between you and Jared. 

You ignored it and took a swig of your drink again. 

“Yo, what’s that?” Jared pointed at your cup and stumbled towards you. 

“Um, it tastes like Coke.  Want some?” You blinked.  Every reaction you had seemed to be in slow motion, like you were living in a world of molasses.  Jared nodded vigorously, but didn’t have enough time to take it from you before Connor noticed. 

“Wait, what?” His head snapped towards you and he gave you an incredulous look.  “Where did you get that?” 

You tried to fight your grin, knowing full and well you were about to get in trouble.  You might as well have been a child that was about to get scolded by her parent for stealing a piece of candy.  You vaguely gestured in the direction you just came from.  

“Give me that!” He took the cup from your hand and dumped it in a potted plant next to you, chucking it on the ground somewhere.  You pouted and hugged his side as a silent apology.  

Oops, game over. 

“You’re all cut off.  Jared, hand it over.” Surprisingly, Jared offered the cup he was holding with no resistance.  

Evan grabbed Jared’s arm to steady him.  “Alright buddy, let’s go.”

Connor glanced down at you snuggling into his side.  You weren’t really paying attention to anything, and you had this vacant look in your eyes.  Yeah, you were ready to go too. 

“Y/N/N, you okay?  Can you walk?” Connor bent down to mumble in your ear.  You just smiled and nodded.  He didn’t look like he believed you. 

“Okay then.  Let’s go to the car.” Connor gently untangled you from him to grasp your elbow, making sure you wouldn’t fall.  He turned his head to look at Evan, “You got him?” 

“Uh, sure?  Jared, please stand up—!”

“Bro, like, not gonna lie—I legit feel like I’m about to puke.” 

Connor whipped his head back around, “You vomit in my mother’s car and you’re dead.”

“Maybe we should make our way outside?” Evan had his arm around Jared’s waist with his arm around Evan’s shoulders.  His eyes were pleading with Connor to just go.

Connor narrowed his eyes, but nodded.  He secured his grip on you and started to walk to the front of the house.  The four of you maneuvered through the thick crowd, but it was admittedly difficult.  You wondered why the ground kept on moving, sort of like you were in a fun house and everything was distorted.  Sure, everything seemed fuzzy before, but now you couldn’t seem to keep your balance.  Why was everything spinning?

Oh.  Maybe you really did have one drink too many.  

The temperature dropped a few degrees, and you noticed that it smelled less like body odor.  The lighting changed, and you assumed you were outside.  Connor stopped and placed his hand on your waist to hold you up.  You felt your stomach lurch, almost like your stomach crawled up your throat. 

“I… don’t feel so hot.” 

Connor looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows. He would be mean to Jared, but he could never be mean to you.  “...You need to throw up?  Or can you hold on until we get to my house?” 

“I can wait.” You were quiet, and it would have been almost pitiful if you weren’t absolutely trashed. You knew you were never going to hear the end of this later.  Connor was sweet now, but this was perfect blackmail material.  

I’m so fucked, but that’s a tomorrow problem. 

“Yo, I gotta—I’m just gonna—“ Jared pulled away from Evan and basically threw himself to the bushes by the house.  You decided you kind of didn’t want to see him throw up and that maybe he wanted some privacy. 

“Oh gross.” Evan whispered to himself but didn’t realize that it wasn’t a whisper at all. “Uh, you okay Jared?”

All Jared gave as a response was a muffled groan as he leaned forward on his knees.  You kind of just wanted to lay down.  

“...Jesus Christ.” Connor’s eyes were wide, exasperated and a little bit helpless.  

You hugged him again (which you were doing quite a lot tonight, weren’t you?).  “You’re the best you know.”

“I’m well aware.” He didn’t look at you but you saw his lips twitch upward. “You guys good?  I’m taking Y/N to the car.” 

“We’re, uh, we’re good!” Evan gave an awkward thumbs up as Jared dry heaved.  You would have laughed if the world wasn’t spinning.  

“Cool cool.  Y/N/N, I’m going to carry you, okay?  Is that okay?” 

“That’s okay.” That sounded like fun, actually. 

All of a sudden, you were lifted off the ground with Connor’s arms under you, and your hands instinctively went around his neck.  

“Oh!  I’m flying!”

“Uh huh.” 

You thought for a second, playing with some strands of his hair.  “Thank you for coming with me.” 

He glanced at you, but quickly looked away. “I wasn’t gonna leave you alone.” 

“I know,” You leaned your head against his shoulder, “But still. You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“...And you’re mine.”

[imagineyoungjustice]

1.5k Followers Milestone Drabbles 3/10

I need to cringe! I'd like to request a drabble where Bart decides to only speak in slang and dead memes for a week. He'd probably drive the team insane -Anonymous

Set in between season’s 2 and 3 but probably closer to the end of season 2! Also thank you guys once again for sending in your meme and slang suggestions I’ve never cringed harder when writing a drabble! -Terra

Tags: @ljblve​ @loverbug1123​ @aworldwideapart​ @wallywestie

Want to be added to our tag list? Send us and ask!

Also the easiest way for me to write this was to do a small collection of “mini scenes” in which Bart would use his memes instead of spending hours I didn’t have this week with all my assignments to make it one long story so I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted but this was the way I could push it out faster! Enjoy!

Monday:

           When Tim walked into the Watchtower that morning the last thing he expected was to see Bart, dressed in his Kid Flash uniform lying across a gap between two of the branches in the Watchtowers courtyard. He paused mid-step as he looked at the speedster’s placement, a faint flicker of familiarity pricking at the back of his mind at the rigid posture to Bart’s body. Then it finally dawned on him.

           “Bart… are you… planking?”

           “Fo’ shizzle Tim Drizzle.” Scratch that maybe that was the last thing he expected today.

           “Excuse me?”

           “You’re really harshing my mellow with all those questions, not very radical behavior of you man.”

           He’s sure his eyes were as wide as saucers by now as his mind scrambled to make sense of what he was hearing. He even pinched his arms a few times to make sure he was actually experiencing this right now and it wasn’t just some weird concussion dream.

           “Flash said he spent the whole weekend reading up on slang and memes, he hasn’t stopped speaking and acting like this ever since.” Jaime mumbled, his head resting on his palm from where he sat under a different tree. “I already tried explaining dead memes and dead slang to him, but I don’t think he’s quite grasped it yet.”

           Tim already knew this was going to be a long week.

Tuesday:

           Tim crouched among the underbrush of the jungle, using the thick foliage and natural shadows to conceal himself. The rain was light, but enough to make their stealth mission somewhat miserable with the wet seeping through the seems of their costumes and mud cling to their boots. They had been trudging through this for hours now, and now the end was in sight. There just ahead of them was the plant that had been pushing out a Reach-like drug under a new name. Kaldur had placed Tim in charge, giving him Bart, Jaime, and Vrigil to take it down.

           “Okay.” He whispered, looking over to his gathered team. “We need to do this carefully. Jaime, you and your scarab need to crunch the numbers, what are we looking at in terms of numbers and success percentage if we proceed with plan A?”

           Jaime paused, looking out over the small compound while the scarab did what it needed to do with its sensors. “Scarab says we’re looking at a thirty-two-point three repeating percent chance of success if we just barge through the front door in a full assault.”

           “Okay let’s not do that then. Static you’ll be on point.” Tim started dishing out orders for their plan B strategy when Bart stood up, pulling his red visor down in front of his eyes.

           “This is taking too long, time’s up let’s do this! LEEEEEEROOOYYYYY JENKINSSSSSSS.” Bart had sped off into the plant before any of them could stop him. The sounds of gunfire and shouting erupted from inside.

           “Oh my god we need to go in after him! Move let’s go!” Tim shouted vaulting over his hiding spot and rushing in through the front doors. Jaime and Virgil were thankfully right behind him. Inside they were met with complete chaos, enemies were scattered everywhere spraying gunfire in every which direction they though Bart was. Tim could only grumble as he threw himself into the fight, dodging what he could and taking the guards out one by one.

           Just when they thought they were in the clear, the last of the guards tied up and down for the count, Sportsmaster appeared on the catwalks above them. “I thought I heard the sound of you brats in here. Where’s the rest of your little team? Don’t tell me you’re all that came to shut this place down?” He laughed and jumped over the rails, landing on the concrete in front of them. Tim threw down some smoke pellets and circled around. Jaime and Virgil did their best to keep hitting him from range while Tim did his best to get up close and get a few hits in at crucial points. So far, it wasn’t working out well for them. He didn’t know where Bart was, but they were losing the fight badly, and they really needed his speed.

           With a few lucky hits, Virgil and Jaime were down and out. The small distraction from glancing at his teammates let Sportsmaster land a hit to him that sent him flying back and gasping for the air that had been knocked out of his lungs. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of yellow and red at the crate crane control panel, and one of the cranes lifting up.

           The crate came back around and smacked into Sportsmaster before he could advance on Tim, slapping him into the adjacent wall hard enough to knock him out. Over his shoulder he could hear Bart in the near distance.

           “HE NEEDS SOME MILK.”

           He would deny ever laughing as hard as he did later when he was giving his report on what happened.

Wednesday:

           Tim was speeding after Brick on his cycle, Cassie and Jaime right behind him. It wasn’t often the team ended up in high-speed chases but if Tim were being honest, he liked the change from the usual stealth missions where they had to watch each and every step. Bart had sped off ahead to try and cut off Brick and his thugs’ convoy. They had stolen important weapons tech, and they couldn’t afford to let him escape.

           “KF we’re losing ground where are you!?” Tim shouted into his comm. His motorcycle was fast but not fast enough apparently, especially with the way Brick and his gang were currently swerving through traffic. As much as he liked the change of pace, he did hate it when it was through the middle of a densely populated city.

           “I’m practically right there, just hang on tight for a moment everything will be totally tubular just wait!”

           “Ay mi dios.” Jaime mumbled from above. “You’d think with as fast as he goes, he would have at least caught up to current slang by now.”

           “Tell me about it.” Cassie replied, “I never thought I’d miss him saying ‘crash’ and ‘mode’ as much as I do right now.”

           “Let’s focus guys, please?” Tim called. “Blue can you get a shot at any of their tires yet?”

           Before Jaime could respond, they saw a familiar yellow and red blur cut into the street just ahead of Brick.

           “Damn Daniel, back at it again with the white vans!”

           Clever use, Tim just gave snort as Brick and the rest of his gang, very much driving white vans, had no choice but to suddenly swerve and crash into each other in order to avoid hitting Bart.

Thursday:

           Tim knew Bart was up to something as soon as he saw the shit-eating grin on the young hero’s face. The shaving cream in his hand was also a pretty good clue. With a small glance in the direction Bart was looking he confirmed exactly what was about to happen.

           “Bart if you value your life you will definitely abort exactly what you have planned.” His grin only grew wider.

           “Bart I promise you, as someone who lives with the guy. Don’t.”

           “SMACK CAM” Bart screeched as he used his speed to race forward, outstretching his hand at the last moment and slapping Batman right across the right cheek with the hand that was full of shaving cream.

           “Oh my god that poor dead bastard.” Tim whispered.

           It was dead silent in the Watchtower as everyone held their breath for the Dark Knight’s reaction. For his part he stayed silent as he wiped the shaving cream off his face, completely stoic before he turned to Barry.

           “Say goodbye to your grandson until he’s born Allen.”

           A muffled “YOLO” was the only thing Tim could hear as Bart sped away with Batman hot on his heels.

Friday:

           By now it was safe to say the entire team was sick of Bart’s new slang and meme knowledge. Sure every now and again Bart would have a clever use that would earn a small laugh or two, but for the most part they largely missed their mark prompting a lot of groans and sighs.

           Jaime had even tried bribing Bart with thirty bags of Chicken Wizee’s in order to get him to stop. It hadn’t worked so far. Nothing had, they were stuck in dead meme and dead slang hell until whatever this was had run its course with him.

           That’s why they all cringed as Bart walked up to the group. “What’s up my homeboys and homegirls?”

           “Bart we are literally begging you to stop.” Tim said.

           “No can do, haters gonna hate!”

           “Bart I will literally give you free Chicken Wizee’s for life if you stop.”

           “Lit, but as swag as that sounds, I’ll have to pass. Catch you guys on the flip side!” He called as he walked out of the room.

Saturday:

           “Hey Robin!” Tim just cringed and tried to ignore him, hoping that Bart would leave if he didn’t say anything. From the sympathetic look Cassie gave him, that wasn’t going to be the case. “Robin! Yo Rob! Robster! Robmiester!”

           He just sighed, “Yes Bart?”

           “Something came for you in the mail!”

           In a momentary lapse of judgement, Tim made a fatal error in his next choice of words. “Oh? What came?”

           “DEEZ NUTS.” Bart’s cackles could be heard all over the Watchtower. Tim was going to murder him.

Sunday:

           Once again Tim found himself in the middle of a fight with Cassie, Jaime, Virgil and Bart. This time however, the team had been called to assist the League with another bust this time being a large-scale reproduction of the Reach drink under a new name. Zatanna had been stationed with Tim’s squad for their particular section. Their job was to fight their way and disable of the brewery rooms.

           “Hey Zatanna!”

           “No Bart.”

           “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

           “I know what you want me to do and my answer is still no.”

           He stopped right in front of her, fixing her with his best puppy dog look. “Pleaseeee?”

           She just sighed and turned towards the rest of the team. “Everyone get up off the ground now!” Confused they did as they were told except for Bart who looked like a kid in a candy store being told he could get whatever he wanted. “eht roolf si aval!”

           Oh, that’s what he had wanted. The floor morphed from simple concrete to burning lava right before the team’s very eyes, taking out the robotic guards they had been pinned down by in mere moments. As soon as Zatanna called off the spell, Tim was quick to get his birdarangs ready before the next wave could barge in.

           “Hey Bart.” Tim handed the speedster the birdarangs primed for detonation upon impact. “These bitches empty.”

           Bart looked at him with big hopeful eyes as if he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. With a nod from Tim, he gently took them from his hand, turning towards the vats. “YEET.” Bart put his whole body into the throw, each of the birdarangs hitting their target and detonating the vats in an impressive show.

           “You’re encouraging him now?” Cassie called as they watched the compound explode in the distance.

           “Hey at least this one was current.”

[appendicitusdolan]

the one with the cancellation // gbd

summary: you and grayson haven’t seen each other in a few weeks and when you finally have the time to see him, he tells you he’s got too many other things to do

a/n: yo i’m 53054389% in ethan’s lane, but writing this made me swerve so hard so watch out

          “Gray, are you serious?  Like, you’re actually not joking?” you asked Grayson over the phone, annoyance clear in your tone of voice.  Classes were finally done for the day and as soon as you got to your car you had called Grayson to confirm your plans for tonight, but instead, he cancelled on you.

          “Babe, I’m so sorry.  But E and I still have so much to do before we leave for New York on Sunday.  I honestly didn’t think it was going to take this long,” Grayson grovels.  This was the fourth time in the last three weeks that you had planned to see each other and one of you have to back out due to your busy schedules.  Between school and Grayson’s YouTube channel with Ethan, your schedules were almost completely opposite and you haven’t seen each other in person in almost a whole month.  Tonight was supposed to be the one night that you both were one hundred percent available.  You had been looking forward to seeing Grayson, and now that it was Friday afternoon, there was a whole week of build up just to be let down again.  But with Grayson and Ethan about to leave for a week trip to New York for work, they had been working nonstop in order to have pre-filmed videos for while they were away from Los Angeles.  You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was really starting to take a toll on your relationship with Grayson.  You found yourself arguing with him more than enjoying his conversations.

          “It’s okay, I understand,” you said with a sigh.

          ���I love you,” Grayson said softly over the phone.

          “I love you back,” you said to Grayson, sadness evident in your tone.

         “As soon as we’re back from New York, you’re the first person I’m coming to see,” he promises.  With those words, your mind was a little bit more at ease.  Things had been getting really hard between you and Grayson, but you knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel and this seemed to be it.

         “You better,” you teased back into the phone.  After you said your goodbyes, you started your car and drove back to your apartment.  On the way, you stopped at the grocery store and picked up a couple pints of Ben and Jerry’s.  Since you were banking on hanging out with Grayson tonight, all of your friends already had other plans and so your Friday night was bound to consist of ice cream, your bed, and Netflix originals of the romantic comedy variety.  Three movies later, you looked at the clock and noticed it was nearly midnight, so you decided to try and get some sleep.  it was easier than expected and fifteen minutes later, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep.

          A couple hours later, you woke up and looked at your phone to see what time it was; almost three in the morning.  Still half asleep, you rolled over in your bed and ran into another body.  Before you could process that there was another person in your bed when you knew for a fact that you fell asleep alone, they woke up.

         “Hi,” Grayson said.  His tired voice was your favorite and you instantly smiled.

         “HI,” you replied as he pulled you into his chest and you wrapped an around around his torso.

         “I know you gave me a spare key to your apartment for emergencies only, but I think this counts,” he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead.

         “This definitely counts,” you whispered into his bare chest.  His hand reached for your chin to pull your face up to his.

          “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you and missed this so much.  I felt so bad for telling you I couldn’t hang out tonight and Ethan noticed how distracted I was from it all night.  He cancelled our plans that we had for the morning and told me to come see you, so of course I immediately came over, but when you didn’t answer the door, I assumed you were already sleeping.  So I let myself in and came to bed with you.  I just wanted to wake up next to you,” he said with sad eyes.

          Just as you open your mouth to tell him that t’s really okay, his lips meet yours.  Instantly, all of your sadness about the fact that it had been so long since you’ve seen your boyfriend fades away.  It was true what they said about absence making the heart grow fonder.  As you laid in your bed kissing Grayson, you couldn’t imagine life without him.  Even when he was in the midst of the busiest time of his life, he still found time to make sure you knew how much he cared about you.  You forgot about all of the times you had to cancel on each other and just enjoyed this moment without him.  Without pulling away from your kiss, he rolled you over on your back and was now hovering over you, his toned arms holding his body up.

          “I just want you to know how much I love you.  Like, I feel like recently I haven’t told you that enough.  But I do.  I never want to spend a day in my life without you and I know that’s been happening a lot lately where we don’t get to see each other, but I know in the back of my mind that you’re still mine and I don’t want the day to come where that’s not a thing anymore,” Grayson says to you, resting a hand on your cheek.

         “Gray, I know that, I love you too,” you start to say, but he interrupts.

         “Babe, I know you know, but I really feel like lately it’s been a little weird between us and like there’s a distance growing and that scares the fuck out of me because I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you in it.  I literally can’t remember what it was like before you came along and I never want to have to remember what it’s like.  I’m so afraid of losing you,” he says to you with worry in his eyes.

         “You’ll never lose my, Grayson Bailey Dolan,” you tell him slightly shaking your head.  “I’m here for the long run, as long as you’ll have me.  I’m so in love with you.”  He lowers his body down onto yours and slides his hands under your shirt to remove it as he starts to kiss you again.

          The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed beside you and you realize that being with Grayson last night was only a dream.  With a sigh, you roll out of bed and drag your feet to the bathroom for your morning pee and then make your way to the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal for breakfast.  However, as you round the corner to the kitchen, you saw Grayson standing at the stove already making breakfast.

          He stood there shirtless, hair still ruffled from sleep and you leaned your shoulder against the wall to admire just how beautiful he was.  You saw the muscles in his back move as he stirred the eggs around in the pan on the stovetop.  He didn’t know you were watching him and that made it so much more enjoyable.  There he was, cooking breakfast for you just because he wanted to.  It was the little things like this that made you so grateful that he was in your life.  You quietly crossed the room to him, wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head on his back.

         “Good morning, baby,” he said as he touched his free hand to yours rested on his stomach and you could practically hear him smiling.

         “Morning, Gray,” you replied.  He turned around and leaned against the stove, running his fingers through your hair as he rested his forearms on your shoulders.

          “How’d you sleep?” he asked.

         “Fantastically,” you smiled, “I thought I just dreamed it all when I woke up and you weren’t there, though.”

         “I just wanted to make breakfast for you before I had to leave again to go home and pack fo New York,” he said as he pulling you in for a hug and kissed your forehead.

         “Thank you, I love it when you make breakfast for us,” you told him.

          “Well, I’m glad, because all Ethan does is complain when I cook for him,” he laughed as he resumed cooking.

         “How long until everything’s done?” you asked.

         “Mmm, probably like fifteen minutes,” Grayson said as he pulled the raw bacon from the fridge.

         “Okay, I’m going to go take a quick shower, then,” he quickly set the pack of bacon on the counter and grabbed your hand as you started to walk away.  He spun you around into a tight hug with a devious smirk playing on his lips.

         “Oh no you’re not, you’re going to wait until after breakfast so I can join you.”

[imaginetonyandbucky]

And Still, You’re Next To Me - Chapter 4/4

Once Bucky stopped freaking out about his relapse, he noticed the only one freaking out was him. No shrieks of horror from the civilians, no glares from the Avengers…Wanda was even smiling at him for fuck’s sake! He knew the Soldier wouldn’t listen to that agent, no matter how many trigger words he had in store for them. Murder’s just not in his nature anymore. He knew, but still freaked about it because in all honesty, he expected Clint to riddle him with arrows the second he snapped into the Soldier.

And then there was Tony, who witnessed the Soldier in his new element many times by now and wasn’t fazed by him coming to the surface at all.

So it took a failed HYDRA attack for Bucky to realize a lot of…interesting things. Concerning Tony. He can’t sleep through the entire night after the attack, mulling over the revelation and devising his next move.

The Avengers beat him to it during breakfast.

Steve approaches him first, apologizing for not supporting him more in the past few months.

Being half-way through his sandwich, he doesn’t really know what to say, completely caught off guard by his absolutely devastated looking best friend so he just nods and waves him off.

“S’not a big deal.”

“Yes it is!” he widens his eyes and keeps apologizing for the remainder of his meal until Bucky finally persuades him it’s fine and forgiven.

Because it is. Since Tony subtly inserted himself in between him and the Avengers’ bullshit – quite literally like a knight in the shining armor – Bucky decided not to dwell too much on it anymore. Of course it hurt. And it was so unfair on so many levels. But with Tony in charge of damage control, the Avengers were slowly coming around and he also shifted his demeanor onto the positive side as a result.

Natasha whips around the corner at one point, giving him a challenging look. “I was a real bitch to you. Wanna spar after lunch and kick my ass for it?”

“Uh…,” he frowns and her look intensifies a hundred fold which is just damn scary. “Yeah, sure.

“Cool,” she nods in approval and disappears again.

One by one, the other members approach him to say sorry – each in their own specific way. Except for Wanda, who is probably not in the apologizing stage quite yet, but at least she’s not all up in his business anymore.

And then there’s Clint, who mandrops on him from the vent in the hallway leading to the elevator some time later.

“Yo, Barnes!”

He’s lucky Bucky doesn’t scare easily these days. No need to let him know that he caught him completely by surprise though. God forbid he’d grow an ego. “Lemme guess. You wanna say sorry by…challenging me to a cook off. Oh wait, no. That was Vision. So, what are we gon’ do?”

Clint’s the surprised one now. He takes a step back and squints. “Guess I’m the last one, huh? Well, I was thinking I’d take you on a tour de Compound, show you all the secret paths and hideaways so we could do some serious spy off later…while profusely apologizing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he grins at the archer and takes a step forward, but Clint blocks his way.

“Great! So in the spirit of apologizing, you might wanna know that Tony is in the workshop…as usual.”

“O…kay? Why are you - ”

“He’s in the lockdown mode…meaning that he won’t be coming up anytime soon and nobody’s making it past the doors inside either. Unless you know the supersecret password of course,” he smirks. “Which I can tell you.”

“Becaaause…?”

“Because you were heading there anyway? And because he only ever goes into lockdown mode if he’s either in the middle of a scientific breakthrough, or in the middle of a personal crises. My money’s on the second one this time. So you might wanna go…lift his spirits.”

Oh. Who knew Birdbrain - as Tony so loves to call him - was this insightful? He actually thought Hawkeye doesn’t even like Tony very much, and yet…

“Dinner would…lift his spirits. Or a movie night. He likes movies. Especially bad sci-fi ones, those entertain him to no end.”

“Uh, a’right? Why would I - ”

“Because I’m not blind? And only half-deaf, so make a move, Snowflake, before he either drowns in self-doubt, again, or someone else will. Make a move. If you know what I mean.”

Maybe too insightful, for Bucky’s liking. “Okay, fine, give me the damn password, Birdbrain.”

Clint’s shit-eating grin as he tells him the password is probably going to stick for days, that’s how strong it is. But Bucky can wipe if off for him later when he totally owns him in the spy off.

He’s got a date to plan and a man to dig out of a workshop first.

(read-more ahead!)

“This doesn’t look right, DUM-E,” Tony inspects the bot’s handy work. How hard can it be to sort the tools in alphabetical order?! In DUM-E’s case real damn hard apparently, otherwise the welding stuff wouldn’t be put first and the hammer wouldn’t be all the way over there with the screwdrivers. “Wh…why is U and Butterfingers in here too?!”

DUM-E, the little shit that he is, just beeps happily and considers his work done, rolling away from the scene. 

“We’ll be talking about that later young man! You can’t think of your brothers as t - ” he yells after him, but cuts himself off as soon as he spots one very much present Bucky Barnes sitting on the table opposite of the workbench. “Tools. And we’ll be going over your alphabet! You little…should have left you in the Tower,” he mumbles when the only reply he gets is another happy beep that seems to be aimed at Bucky anyway. “How did you get in here?” he looks between the definitely password protected entrance and the…grinning supersoldier. Nope, he’s beaming. He’s been smiling more lately but this is…a suspicious increase by a ton.

He looks happy. And hell if that sight doesn’t do weird things to Tony’s brain.

“Through the door,” he answers, grin widening.

Tony glares at him, folding his hands. “It’s password protected!”

“Yeah,” he nods, still smiling. “One, two, three, four, five is a real good password.”

Son of a…okay, the password is the worst but he didn’t expect the tech illiterates here to crack it and anyone with any tech knowledge would never guess his password to be this shitty.

“Clint gave it to me. I bet he’s spied it off from the AC vent over there.”

“Son of a bitch!” he grumbles out loud this time. Usually, he would go inspect the vent…and rig it with deadly explosives, and then have Fry change the password to something more formidable this time around, but he can’t tear his eyes off of the man in front of him. “What’s with the…,” he waves a hand at the whole of him, realizing he doesn’t know how to describe what he’s seeing. It’s a bit weird to ask ‘oh hey, why are you looking so damn happy?!’. And what the hell is he wearing?! A beige shirt?! Since when does he own colors other than black?! And those jeans he totally got from whoever Steve stole his pair of the all too fitting ones years ago. What’s with supersoldiers never wearing their actual clothing size?!

He’s dressed to kill. Not the assassin kinda killing.

“All the…what?” he smirks and that’s it.

That’s the end of Tony, right there. “The uh…you’re…smiling. Like…a lot,” he stutters out, willing his thoughts to behave.

“Had a good day. A really good day,” he adds.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” he hums an octave lower than should be legal and continues to just stare at Tony. “Had five club sandwiches for breakfast along with seven heartfelt apologies from the team and then Wanda took me shoppin’. And didn’t kill me on the way there or back so yeah, that’s my definition of a really good day.”

Tony’s brain takes a minute to stop conjuring dirty thoughts and then processes what he’s just said. “Wait…apologies? They apologized? The team?” he shakes his head, holding a finger up. “No no no, never mind that, but Wanda took you shopping?!” he blurts out and Bucky nods. “Wanda…are we talking about the same Wanda? Are you sure? You’re not hallucinating or anything?” he asks but the man only gives him more nods and wider damn smirks. “Am I hallucinating? Or drunk?”

“Your haven’t drunk anything, boss,” FRIDAY reassures him. “Including water, by the way. And I can confirm that Sergeant Barnes did actually go shopping with Ms. Maximoff. Without any incidents.”

So if he’s not drunk or losing his mind…that means the Avengers really did apologize to Bucky and Wanda took him shopping…what?!

He decides solving the mystery behind those actions is not the priority right now and focuses on the result instead. The happy, grinning result standing just over there and looking at Tony like he’s the Sun and Bucky’s the Winter and he can’t get enough of the warmth.

Yep, his brain is so done for. 

He relaxes his tense posture and slowly cracks a smile of his own. “Wow…was about time they got their heads out of their asses. You better not be letting them off too easily, especially the SHIELD twins.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’m happy with the way it turned out…no vengeful thoughts in mind. Yet,” he shrugs. “Besides, I’m gonna be too busy anyway.”

“Busy?” he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows raised. Busy doing what, looking like a new deadly sin?

“Yeah. Busy inviting a guy to dinner to thank him…for a lotta things.”

“Oh?” Oh…okay, sure. A thank-you dinner. Awesome. Very…friendly. And appropriate. And is it too late to fly into a black hole in the sky and disappear forever? He hopes not.

“And when the thank you’s part is done, I’m thinkin’ we forget the food and just…make out. Hoping the Soldier won’t go berserk because of the spaghetti he’s made are going cold in the background,” he says with a flare of confidence Tony didn’t think he possessed.

“Oh really? S’what you’re thinking?” he asks, trying to look and sound uninterested but failing miserably. He can’t stop the excitement and he can’t stop the smile.

“Unless I got this all wrong…me and the whole team, by the way…then yeah. That’s what I’m thinkin’.”

Tony’s brain snaps back into action and with one swift motion to the side of the workbench, he shuts down the project he’s been pretending to work on through the night. “Why don’t we forget the thank you part and just make out on the way up to the kitchen and eat? Wouldn’t wanna make the Soldier angry, would we?”

“That’s a great idea,” he chuckles, leaning away from the table.

Tony walks up to him with a smirk and winks. “Been full of great ideas lately.”

“Yeah, you have,” Bucky’s grin eases into a gentle smile and it’s the final thing that wipes all the fears and doubts away from Tony’s mind.

They move in for the kiss and Tony has to quickly forget about the damn Birdbrain, who he’s gonna have to thank for all this later. And then promptly kill him for spying on people from the vents.

But for now, he’ll enjoy the moment, the kiss, the dinner and the man whose smile is definitely gonna be the death of him.

~Fin

[womenofcolor15]

DMX Is BACK! Chats With GQ About Solitary Confinement, Forgiving His Abusive Mother & New Music Set To Drop Via Def Jam

DMX is on the comeback tip, giving his first interview since being released from prison back in January over tax evasion charges. Find out what he told GQ about what it was like being in solitary confinement, forgiving his abusive mother, and releasing new music after inking a deal with Def Jam inside….

          View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by GQ (@gq) on Sep 23, 2019 at 5:57am PDT

  If you’re a Hip Hop head, you know DMX has been through the ringer and back, especially when it comes to getting locked up. The 48-year-old rapper has been to jail countless times. He was first arrested at the tender age of 10 for arson and he’s still fighting those demons.

The NYC rapper was released from federal prison in January 2019 after he was sentenced to one year behind bars for tax evasion in March 2018. He must complete three years of probation and he has been ordered to pay $2.29 million in restitution to the government.

X has made headlines for his wild antics and legal situations over the years. However, when he first hit the scene, he was mega successful. He’s in the Hip Hop History books as the only rapper to have his first five studio albums debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200. He’s also the only living rapper to have two albums go platinum in the same year. So yeah, he’s definitely an important component of the culture.

Since his release, he has been spotted attending Kanye West’s Sunday Service where he gave a prayer. He also was featured on a recent episode of “Black Ink” where his fiancée/son’s mother Desiree Lindstrom copped some new ink with her bridesmaids.

And he's still relevant. The #DMXChallenge blew up on Instagram:

        View this post on Instagram

                  Love @therealeve

A post shared by DMX (@dmx) on Sep 9, 2019 at 9:49pm PDT

  Now, he’s preparing a musical comeback. It was recently reported X signed a new deal with the label that first helped catapult his career.  He does have at least 15 mouths to feed, afterall.  The Yonkers rapper reportedly signed with Def Jam Records and he plans to release a Christmas album, titled DMX-Mas.

"Yeah, it's good to be back home,” the “How’s It Goin’ Down” rapper said during an interview with GQ – his first since being released from prison earlier this year.

”I wanted to be a part of Def Jam since 1985, when the movie Krush Groove came out. And I found out that Run's last name was Simmons, and Russell's last name was Simmons. And Russell was running Def Jam. I saw the movie Krush Groove, and I was like, “Yo.” And at that point, I was so naive then. I was like, “Yo. If I could just meet them.” And like, “Yo, my last name is Simmons too.” And that's it.”

The rap game is totally different since he released his last album, Undisputed, in 2012. Although the rap game isn’t the same as it was back when he was in his prime, he said he isn’t worried about making good music. He knows it's going to be fire.

”Right. It’s going to be great,” he said. “The standard that I hold myself to is the same: Better than everything I hear. I need to be better than everything that I hear. And I can hear it. They winning with that? Oh, I'm good. If you don't give people something incredible to listen to, they're going to listen to whatever. And I get that. I'm not mad at the fans for enjoying these songs, or the DJs for playing songs they play. I'm not mad at them or the artists that's winning even though they suck. I'm not mad at them.”

          View this post on Instagram

                  “The standard that I hold myself to is the same: Better than everything I hear…If you don’t give people something incredible to listen to, they’re going to listen to whatever. And I get that.” In his first interview since going to prison in 2018, @DMX opens up to GQ's @markanthonygreen at the link in bio. ( @awolerizku, styled by @mobolajidawodu) #dmx

A post shared by GQ (@gq) on Sep 23, 2019 at 9:15am PDT

  When asked how he ended up at Kanye West’s Sunday Service, he confirmed the Chi-town rapper “reached out” to him.

"I wouldn't call it a church service. There's no word,” he shared. “Yeah. It's joyful, which God says to do. We about to make a joyful noise. I enjoyed it. It was moving. I didn't know what to expect, though. I didn't know what to expect.”

X has always been vocal about his upbringing, and "hard" would be an understatement. As a child, his mother abused him. He talked about how his mom knocked two of his teeth out with a broom. Despite the abuse, he has been able to overcome those issues and said he loves his mother now.

”That doesn't mean I don't love her [because she abused him growing up]. That doesn't mean she's the same person. Children don't come with a f*cking instruction manual. She was 20 when she had me. Four sisters; I'm the only boy. Maybe she didn't know what to do with me. I found out I just knew things that she didn't know when I was only six years old. I would get up at night sometimes to drink water because I was so hungry. And I saw something in her notebook that was open on the kitchen table. And it was wrong, so I erased it. I thought I was helping. I don't know what she thought I was doing, but… I don't know if she thought I was trying to sabotage her or whatever. I don't know what she thought. But she beat two teeth out of my fucking mouth with a broom. And I think about this today, I'm like, “Okay, you saw me erase something in your notebook. What did you think I was trying to do? What could you have possibly thought I was trying to do?”

  Speaking of teeth, the “Party Up” rapper revealed he has a lot less teeth than most people.

“You have to have teeth to have cavities. I don't have many teeth left. I think the average person has 36 teeth, right? I have like 20 left.”

Yikes.

          View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by DMX (@dmx) on Sep 23, 2019 at 7:55am PDT

  He opened up about how he was able to forgive both of his parents for his upbringing.

“I think a lot of people struggle with forgiving their parents. In fact, I personally struggle with forgiving my parents. But until you learn how to forgive others, you can't forgive yourself. You can't forgive yourself if you don't know how to forgive."

He shared he has learned to fully forgive himself for the mistakes he has made in the past. Good for him.

While serving time in prison last year, he had to spend a lot of time in solitary confinement.

"Ninety days. My last 90 days. One fourth of my bid," he shared.

He continued:

"You know, police target you. I went to the hole once because I was paying people for their phone time. Because you only get 300 minutes a month. That's not enough time to talk to my baby. The second time, I got caught with a bag of wine. I bought the wine, and after I paid for the wine, the guy said, “Your wine will be done Friday.” Friday we go to rec… boom. When he handed it to me, it had a hole in it. So I put it in my shirt and tried to walk out. The wine bag fell out when I reached for something in my pocket. I picked it up and tried to walk to my cell real quick but got caught.

Lord.

"If you don't got a strong mind, it'll fuck you up. I didn't get out of my cell at all," he said.

"What you try to do is sleep as much as you can. Read books. Because you got to think of shit that's going to pass the time. Then they give you rubber pencils. I swear to God, a pencil that bends. Like, I'm saying to myself, “How the fuck do they make lead bend?” So you can't stab someone. And then they give you paper with no lines. It's just a bunch of shit that they don't have to do that they do anyway, just to make your time harder.

You can read his full interview here.

  GQ: So what kind of vibe are you going for in this photo shoot, DMX? DMX: Supervillain. GQ:........okay. Which one? DMX: All of 'em. pic.twitter.com/a6KweFg5CC

— Cornell West Coast Customs (@cambrewhaha) September 24, 2019

  X also chopped it up with GQ about how some of his hit tracks came into fruition. Peep the clip below:

Photo: Getty

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2019/09/24/dmx-is-back-chats-with-gq-about-solitary-confinement-forgiving-his-abusive-mother-new-mus

[zell-dincht]

It's High-namura Noon

Chapter One Words: 3029 Warnings: None for now, besides a brawl. Summary: First off, I just want to say that spite is a powerful motivator. Without it, this fic would never exist. So thank you, random internet jagoff #374 who said, “But Hanzo is Japanese.” No fucking shit, Sherlock, but thank you, because without your uninformed comment of calling my idea a “shitty AU,” I would never have intended on writing this at all. Cheers.

Anyway, loosely inspired by Shanghai Noon, but in a modern setting, obviously with backstories suitably appropriate for the characters involved. I say “loosely” because obviously it’s not - and cannot be - a direct ripoff, but you’ll see certain similarities. Call me salty or butthurt or whatever, I don’t give a shit what you call me because this idea has made people Mad and that’s a win, in my books. Anyway. Here’s the first chapter of what I’ve lovingly nicknamed “the spitefic.”

(Also posted to my AO3

———

Once the plane finally landed in the United States, Hanzo removed a cheap flip phone from his small travel bag. Instead of using his usual smartphone and worrying about international fees and the general hassle of out-of-country service, he opted to buy a temporary burner phone for his very brief time in the States.

His brother Genji had been attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, but lately there had been some issues with his grades slipping. As the problem grew worse, Genji also neglected several attempts by his family to contact him. So, their father tasked Hanzo with travelling to Boston and bringing Genji back to Japan.

As soon as the pilot gave the okay to use cellular devices, Hanzo used the number pad to laboriously type out a text:

”Genji, this is your brother. I have just landed in Boston, as I’m sure you’re already aware, after the numerous messages Father and I have left you. I expect to see you at your apartment soon.”

Outside, there were plenty of taxis ready to pick up the various travelers exiting the airport. Hanzo easily hailed a cab and gave the driver Genji’s address.

Their father had paid not only for Genji’s tuition, but also his rent. Seeing that he had given everything to his son, the head of the Shimada family felt it was well within his right to take it all away, now that Genji’s behavior had become less than satisfactory. And since he paid for the apartment, their father also had a copy of the key, which he had given to Hanzo to take with him on his trip.

It was a tall, modern building that stood out against the historical aesthetic throughout the city. The way the old buildings mixed with new almost reminded Hanzo of home. Of course, Hanamura was much older than Boston, but he couldn’t help but think of how to this day, his old family manor stood tall as the city around it continued to grow and modernize. Hanzo already felt a little pang of homesickness, and he hadn’t even been off the plane five minutes.

The drive to the apartment didn’t take long. Though he did have a key, Hanzo still remained polite and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He knocked again, this time a bit more loudly, but still, he could hear no sound coming from the other side. Hanzo finally retrieved the key from his bag and let himself into the apartment.

There was a bit more space than one person needed, but most of that space had been taken up with clutter. Empty liquor bottles were scattered throughout the kitchen and living room, along with various articles of clothing. There was no reason Genji shouldn’t be here. He should have expected Hanzo, and besides, it was just the beginning of spring break, so classes shouldn’t have been an issue.

“Genji,” Hanzo called out as he tentatively opened the bedroom door.

Again, the room was empty, aside from more piles of messes. Hanzo frowned and grumbled in frustration as he pulled out the flip phone again, this time to call his brother.

“Yo, you’ve reached Genji’s phone. Leave a message, and I probably still won’t get back to you.” Hanzo took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper, but spoke in a stern voice, “Genji. I am in your apartment. Please come home immediately. I must speak with you.”

As he waited for a reply, Hanzo called home to let his father know that he arrived safely and to update him on the situation. The conversation was brief, leaving Hanzo to poke around the apartment. The mess confirmed what the Shimada family had suspected all along - instead of applying himself to his studies, Genji had been shirking his responsibilities by spending too much time partying.

A calendar hanging on the kitchen wall caught Hanzo’s eye. The most recent Friday had a big, red circle around it with one word: “PADRE.” A red line extended from Friday and led through the entirety of the week.

So wherever Genji was, something called “Padre” was occupying his time. A little more snooping around the apartment, and Hanzo found his brother’s laptop, left carelessly without password protection, and the passwords to all his accounts were saved on auto-fill as well. It was no trouble for Hanzo to find Genji’s various social media accounts, where he found mention of “Padre Island.”

Knowing that his brother would be visiting, it seemed Genji still decided to take a vacation. Hanzo was not pleased, yet still determined to track down his brother. Since Genji wouldn’t be home anytime soon, Hanzo immediately purchased tickets for a Greyhound bus to San Antonio, and from there, he’d continue towards this island.

The soonest available bus to Texas didn’t depart until the next day, so Hanzo made himself comfortable and spent the night sleeping on the couch.

The next day, he wasted no time leaving the apartment and making his way to the Greyhound station. Along the way, he called his father to update him once again on the situation and notifying him of the delay. His father was furious with Genji, of course, but Hanzo swore he would handle everything on his own.

Travel by bus took much longer than Hanzo expected. He knew the States were big, yet he was still unprepared for the experience. At this point, he could have travelled through half of Japan, yet his journey had only taken him a few states away, and there was still such a long drive down to Texas.

By the time he reached a middle-of-nowhere rest stop in Tennessee, Hanzo regretted not buying another plane ticket. He hadn’t thought another flight would be worth the hassle, but seeing that a trip by bus was so insufferably dull, perhaps a plane would have been wise. But it was too late now. The tickets were purchased, and he didn’t intend to waste money so frivolously. He made his decision, and now he would have to live with it.

As the bus prepared to continue the journey and passengers began to return to their seats, Hanzo spotted the most overbearingly gaudy-looking stereotype of an American. The man looked like he just stepped out of an old spaghetti Western, decked out with a cowboy hat, boots, sarape… the full cowboy getup. He never imagined anyone actually dressed like this for real. Strange, that Hanzo never noticed this man earlier on his trip.

The two suddenly made eye contact, and before Hanzo could look away, embarrassed to be caught staring, the cowboy offered a grin and a wink before sitting down in an empty seat.

After that, Hanzo kept his eyes out the window, watching the scenery. Not that there was much of any scenery, but there wasn’t anything better to look at, anyway. At least, not without the risk of being caught staring again.

“All right, everybody, listen up.” After a while, one of the passengers spoke loudly with a noticeable Southern drawl in his voice.

Hanzo looked up to see that the strange cowboy stood in the aisle as he addressed the bus. Another weasley-looking man excitedly jumped out of his seat as well, joining the cowboy in the aisle.

“Reach for the sky!” the second man announced. “It’s a stick-up!”

The cowboy sighed and muttered softly to his partner, “C’mon, man, that's… this is my thing, all right? Just lemme do the talkin’, and you collect the money.”

“My bad. Sorry, Jesse,” the man said with a sheepish grin.

“No names,” the cowboy hissed, then turned to loudly address the bus once again. “Well you heard ‘im, wallets out. Don’t try anything, and no one gets hurt, all right?”

Since this “Jesse” made his announcement, two other men had also revealed themselves - one in the back of the bus, and the fourth was monitoring the driver, who had begun to pull over on the side of the road.

“Faster you cough it all up, the faster we’ll be on our way,” Jesse continued as his men extorted passengers for their valuables.

As the cowboy made his way to Hanzo, he rested an elbow on the back of a seat and casually leaned in towards the other man.

“How’s it goin’?” Jesse casually asked, as if they weren’t in the middle of a robbery.

Hanzo remained silent and simply gave the man a cold, defiant stare.

“Speechless? I get it, these things can be pretty intimidating,” Jesse flashed a toothy grin, “‘specially for someone who looks so out of his element. You a city boy?”

In response to Hanzo’s continued silence, the cowboy continued, “Foreign? No English?”

Hanzo knit his eyebrows together and scoffed, “Yes, I do speak English, you–”

His sentence was cut off by a sudden shriek coming from the back of the train. Jesse and Hanzo looked up to see the first, mouthy thug roughly grabbing a woman by the arm.

“Guys, guys,” the cowboy called out, “Remember the plan? No violence!”

Seeing his opening, Hanzo launched his fist into Jesse’s gut, and the next blow landed on the cowboy’s jaw. He knew only had a brief moment to take advantage of the gang’s shock, so Hanzo immediately jumped into action and went straight for the man who had been harassing the woman.

The thug released his victim and reached for a gun at his hip, but Hanzo was too quick for him. Gripping the backs of the seats as support, he swung his legs forward and launched himself feet-first at the enemy, slamming him into the back wall of the bus. As the gun fell from his grip, Hanzo kicked it underneath the seats, out of reach. A larger man came at him with a knife, but Hanzo easily deflected the blow and knocked his elbow into the man’s face.

It wasn’t enough to completely disable the two, but it delayed them enough to give Hanzo time to address the thug that still held the bus driver hostage. He turned back towards the front of the aisle, roughly shoving past Jesse on the way. The man at the front turned to face Hanzo, also reaching for a gun, which was once again immediately disarmed.

“Drive!” Hanzo ordered as he grappled with the other man, pinning him to the broad, flat windshield of the bus.

The driver quickly obeyed, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. The bus swerved down the country road as the driver panicked, but Hanzo skillfully continued to wrestle with the other man. Desperate to not be pushed further, the thug tightly gripped the metal railings that flanked the stairs descending from the bus.

“Open the doors!” Hanzo shouted. The driver hesitated, so he called out to him again, “Do it!”

The driver pulled a lever and as the doors creaked open, Hanzo planted a solid kick to the thug’s chest, launching him out of the bus as it barrelled down the road.

Now that the driver was no longer held hostage, he radioed in to the local police to report what was happening on his bus. In the meantime, Hanzo continued dealing with the rest of the gang that remained. Jesse seemed to be hiding someplace, but Hanzo was more concerned about the two men that he could see, who were still an apparent danger.

“C’mon, he’s just one guy! Get ‘im!” the weasley man shouted as he and the larger thug cautiously advanced down the aisle.

“You get ‘im,” the larger one snapped back.

Hanzo, however, didn’t wait for them to continue arguing. He chose to attack the larger one first, careful not to accidentally hit any of the innocent passengers who had remained huddled in place. The spar proved much more difficult. Not only was this man larger, but Hanzo had already begun to wear down after all the fighting he’d already done. His opponent landed a few blows, but Hanzo never gave up. Even as he fell to the floor, Hanzo had a plan. He swept his leg out, knocking the larger man down with him.

Just as Hanzo leapt on top of the other man, ready to knock him out with just a few more punches, the weasley man shouted over the noise from the brawl. “Hey, hey, now hang on just a minute there!”

Hanzo looked up to see that the man had retrieved his discarded gun and grabbed a young woman as a hostage. “Don’t you move one more muscle!”

“You Americans and your guns,” Hanzo said through clenched teeth. “Only a coward threatens the defenseless.”

The larger thug took advantage of the moment and knocked Hanzo away with a powerful sweep of his arm. Hanzo quickly scrambled to his feet but remained in place as he carefully watched the other two, clearly worried for the woman.

“Please, there’s no need for violence,” an elderly passenger spoke as he rose from his chair. “The police are on their way. You don’t want to add a murder charge on top of robbery, son, do you?”

“Shut it, geezer!” the man yelled as he pointed his gun towards the passenger. “Y’all are gonna let us off this bus, all right? Don’t think I won’t shoot, ‘cause I will!”

Hanzo’s eyes darted around the bus, looking for any weakness he could exploit, and just where was Jesse? The man seemed to be the ringleader and was opposed to violence. Where was he, now that his gang seemed out of control?

“That’s a heavy burden, taking a human life,” the elderly man continued to reason, hands held defensively in the air. “It’s not too late, son, drop the weapon.”

“Please, you have our money, just let us go!” another passenger cried out.

The thug waved his gun in the direction of the voice, unsure where it came from. His other arm, however, remained tight around his hostage. “I ain’t no one’s ‘son’!”

With the weasley man distracted, the hostage decided to try her hand at escape. Before Hanzo or anyone could stop her, she managed to pull a small can of pepper spray out of her pocket, which she shot square in her captor’s face. With a loud cry of pain, the man released her, but in a panic, pulled the trigger on his gun. It was a blind shot, but the bullet still managed to hit the elderly man in the chest.

Hanzo’s eyes widened as he immediately jumped to the man’s aid, applying pressure to the wound. With their main obstacle distracted, the larger thug grabbed his temporarily disabled partner and dragged him to the front of the bus, where they demanded to be let off. Without Hanzo’s protection, the driver was too scared to deny their request, so the two men successfully made their escape.

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo muttered to the injured man. “I’ve failed.”

“No, no,” the man insisted, “you did just fine.”

“Don’t speak. Please, save your energy. Help is on the way.”

Hanzo felt his chest tighten in despair as he realized there was nothing he could do for this man. He fought his hardest to protect these people, yet still, he failed and was unable to do anything to ease this man’s suffering. He didn’t know how serious the injury was, or if the man would even survive, but Hanzo sat there with him, doing his best to try and keep him awake and comfortable until the medics could arrive.

Thankfully, it wasn’t much longer until they reached the next rest stop, where they remained until the authorities could catch up with them. Hanzo prayed silently as the elderly man was carried away on a stretcher, hoping he would recover soon.

After giving his statement to the police, Hanzo leaned against the wall of the small gas station and sighed as he tried to simply put his mind at ease. His eyes glanced over at the bus, empty of passengers. Even after the police had spoken to everyone and began to leave, nobody was eager to get back on the bus. They purchased water from the shop, or simply sat outside for some fresh air.

However, Hanzo noticed a subtle motion in the back of the bus. It seemed like the door to the bathroom opened up, and the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat slowly crept towards a window. The window opened, and the shadow began to climb out the other side.

So that’s where he was hiding, Hanzo thought to himself as he briskly walked towards the bus. He arrived just in time to find Jesse straighten up after landing on the ground.

“You,” Hanzo hissed, glaring at the other man.

“Howdy,” the cowboy replied, then immediately turned heel and dashed away from the rest stop, towards the highway.

They were still in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn’t any traffic to dodge as Hanzo chased Jesse across the road. The cowboy purposely took a path that would keep the bus between them and the crowd, leaving him out of sight from the others as he fled.

Hanzo almost caught up, but Jesse disappeared into a corn field. The crop was tall, making it difficult to pursue. Hanzo followed as long as he could, but eventually lost track of the other man. He stood still, trying to listen for the crackle of stalks being trampled as the cowboy made his escape, but it was no use. Jesse was gone.

Distraught by another failure, Hanzo made his way back to the bus. He found an open seat all the way in back. The rest of the passengers loaded in, and the bus continued down the road, almost as if nothing had happened at all. Exhausted from the day’s events, Hanzo huddled into himself and easily drifted off to sleep.

[heysnowflake]

Oh boy...

I do these types of ‘questions blogs’ every once in a blue moon as they’re interesting to read back on and cringe over. Without further ado, let’s embarrass myself further 

1. What was the last thing you googled?

I googled ‘questions tumblr’ to find these questions but if that doesn’t count, I googled ‘snowfall’ in google images 

2. You have to listen to these songs:

Shadowland- The Lion King Broadway OST

and whilst we’re talking about The Lion King

The Circle Of Life- The Lion King OST

As The World Falls Down- Labyrinth OST

Within You- Labyrinth OST

In A Crowd of Thousands- Anastasia Broadway OST

I’m Still Standing- Elton John

For A Moment- The Little Mermaid 2 OST

Be Somebody- Paula Cole

The Handler- Muse

Mambo No.5- Lou Bega

I Like It Heavy- Halestorm

Thunderstruck- AC/DC

A Dream Worth Keeping- Sheena Easton

Sandy’s Song- Crimson Doves

What You Feel- Once More With Feeling OST (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

In The End- Black Veil Brides

and just to add even more to the list, I’m going to add scores as well as I listen to movie and game scores just as much as I do songs, if not more (also piano pieces)

Harry In Winter- Goblet of Fire OST

Paintings On The Wall- Layers of Fear OST

Waterfall- Undertale OST

Transformation (Piano)- Beauty and the Beast OST

One Day- Pirates of the Caribbean OST

The Nightmare’s Beginning (Piano)- Final Fantasy 7 OST

Swan Lake- Tchaikovsky

Now We Are Free- Gladiator OST

Song of the Stream (Piano)- FIrefly

Fairy Dance- Peter Pan (2003) OST

Basically every piece from the Abzu OST

Aslan’s Camp- The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe OST

Okay, okay, okay, if I name any more, I’ll bore both you and myself to death. But hey, you can’t say I haven’t given you a solid list to both listen to whilst also completely judging me based on my taste of music 

3. Do you chew on your straws?

Depends on the day

4. Have you ever been awake for 48hours straight?

Pffftttt I’ve been up for 62

5. Will you get married? Do you see yourself getting married in the next 5 years?

Absolutely! As for the next five years, I highly doubt it :P 

6. If you could move somewhere else would you?

Yeah. For sure. Though I would miss being two minutes away from the beach

7. Read on a Kindle or paperback book?

A paperback every time, if I can

8. If money was no object, what would you do all day?

Yo mAM- no. Disneyland. All day. Everyday of my life. 

9. University or life experience, which do you feel best prepares you for life?

LIFE EXPERIENCE, I can’t stress that enough. However, I do find that, if you do particular courses at Uni, it can be highly beneficial also. For example, Business Management

10. What is the one thing that should be taught in school that isn’t already?

General Life Skills. It still baffles me that this isn’t a compulsory subject from day one of secondary school, let alone not being taught at all. 

11. If you could go back in time, what year would you travel to?

1743 to see if I can find Jamie Fraser 

12. When you have 30 minutes of free-time, how do you pass the time?

Writing, composing on the piano or reading 

13. What’s the best/worst gift you’ve ever given/received?

Assuming we’re talking about physical gifts, it would have to be either the personalised Harry Potter letter that my best friend made for me who also played Hedwig’s theme as I opened the envelope (quite the magical moment), or it would be the envelope my dad gave to me, inside of which was the confirmation letter to my very own dog business that I’ve been dreaming about for as long as I can remember. It was made even more special as he combined my first two dogs’ names to make the business name. 

14. What was the first thing you bought with your own money?

I imagine it was a Freddo, back when they were the reasonable price of 5p and not the ridiculous 25p that they are now

15. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you?

There really isn’t anything my parents don’t know, to be honest. I’ve always been extremely open with them.Bit of a boring answer, I know, but I literally can’t think of anything my parents don’t know.... well anything I can say on here anyway ;)

16. Apologize or ask permission?

... eh?

17. Beach vacation or European vacation?

Europe!

18. What is the ideal number of people to have over on a Friday night?

One. My best friend. Don’t need anyone else. 

19. Who is a non-politician you wish would run for office?

THE ROCK!!!

20. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

Telekinesis, hands down!!!

21. What do you usually think about right before falling asleep?

My fantasy romance scenarios playing over and over in my head, the face changing on whoever I’m ‘crushing on’ at that time

22. Ever been addicted to a iOS/android game? Which one(s)?

Where the fuck do I begin? Disney Magic Kingdom, Dragon City. My Singing Monsters, Pyramid Solitaire, Candy Crush Saga, Piano Tiles 2, Angry Birds, Angry Birds Go, Hearthstone (I’m aware it’s a  Battle.net game and didn’t come onto iOS until much later, I just preferred playing it on my phone ssshhhh)

23. List 5 goals on your life’s to-do list:

1. Go to Disneyland in Florida, 2. Buy my own Newfoundland puppy, 3. Eventually grow my dog business that I have the domain name for, 4. Move in with my best friend, and 5. Publishing my own book would be pretty neat

24. If you HAD to change your name, what would you change it to?

I have two in mind that I can’t decide on. Crysta (from FernGully, one of my all time favourite films) or Odette (from Swan Princess/Swan Lake). Fun fact: these are also the names I have picked out for a baby girl, if I were to ever have one 

25. What is one thing you will never do again?

Read Fifty Shades of Grey

26. What words of wisdom would you pass onto your childhood self?

Being ‘cool’ in secondary school literally doesn’t mean anything, the adults weren’t lying about that one. 

I know your temper is out of control now but eventually you’ll see the light and change your ways for the better as you reach your 13th birthday.

Never stop believing in magic, it makes the world more wonderful. 

That girl Ellie? Hold onto that one because she’ll become the bestest friend you could have ever dreamed of. 

Speaking of dreams, write those down. 

Those stories you’re thinking up in your mind, write those down too. 

Most importantly, have courage and be kind. Also, say ‘fuck it’ to decisions most of the time, they make for the best memories. 

27. If you could speak another language, which would it be and why?

French, easily. I can already read and write Ancient Runes though, does that count?

28. If you were head of a major TV station for one day, what would you play?

Spongebob Squarepants 24/7

29. Which one of your friends would make the best U.S. President and why?

I like how you think I have more than one friend 

30. What’s your favorite holiday and why?

Christmas because everyone turns into a little kid again

31. How would you survive a zombie apocalypse?

I wouldn’t 

32. In what ways are you the same as your childhood self?

I watch and irrevocably love Disney. I think Spongebob Squarepants is quality content. I still order my pieces of a chocolate bar by size... honestly the question is ‘in what ways am I different from my childhood self?’

33. If you could master one skill you don’t have right now, what would it be?

Painting

34. What was your dream job growing up?

Working with, caring for and training dogs. Spoiler: dreams do come true :) 

35. If you could live forever, how would you spend eternity?

Reading

36. If you could bring one musician back from the dead, who would it be and why?

Freddie Mercury because good lord, the man had talent and could everything from rock to opera. One of the best voices to have ever graced this earth

37. What was the last picture you took with your phone?

A picture of one of the dogs I look after, his name is Maxwell and I want to steal him 

38. What kind of sickness have you lied about so you wouldn’t go to work?

Not exactly a sickness but menstrual cramps. It’s a great excuse because it makes the men uncomfortable and women are completely and 100% sympathetic of you 

39. What was the last lie you told?

‘I wasn’t watching Tinker Bell, it just flicked onto that channel when you turned the TV on’

40. What is your perfect pizza?

Pepperoni with extra cheese

41. What question do you hate to answer?

Questions that are like ‘if you could one thing about yourself’ or ‘if you could change one thing in your past’ etc. because I just wouldn’t

42. What keys on a keyboard do you not use?

On a computer keyboard, the function key because who uses that? XD 

43. Who would you most like to be stuck in an elevator with?

Russell Howard so that not a single moment would be dull and plus, he’s easy on the eyes

44. Is there anything purple within 10 feet of you? What is it?

A purple candle next to ONE of my series of the Harry Potter books

45. When was the last time you ran/went for a jog?

I don’t like this question because i can’t remember and, even if I did, it probably involved food 

46. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?

No :(

47. What after school activities did you do in high school?

I did art club in primary school. Then, in secondary school, I didn’t really join any clubs but I did used to love sneaking into the music room and playing on the piano 

48. What ice-cream flavours do you love/hate?

Love Vanilla and I don’t necessarily hate it but I’m not the biggest fan of chocolate 

49. What is your secret recipe?

For scrambled eggs, I put paprika and other assorted spices in it. For pasta, I cook it with a little bit of chicken stock mixed into the water 

50. What channels do you have subscribed on YouTube?

I CAN’T NAME ALL OF THEM!!! XD to name a few favs (which probably won’t surprise anyone), jacksepticeye, Markiplier, Dan and Phil Games, Dan and Phil’s separate channels, CalikoKat, Glam&Gore, Jenna Marbles, Carrie Hope Fletcher, Matthew Hussey- they’re the main people I watch